Handbook of African Philosophy (Handbooks in Philosophy) [1st ed. 2023] 3031251482, 9783031251481

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Handbooks in Philosophy

Elvis Imafidon Mpho Tshivhase Björn Freter Editors

Handbook of African Philosophy

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 it will focus particularly in 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, these handbooks can be easily updated creating a dynamic overview on the topic • Useful reading for researchers and students in all branches of philosophy

Elvis Imafidon • Mpho Tshivhase • Bjo¨rn Freter Editors

Handbook of African Philosophy With 4 Figures

Editors Elvis Imafidon Director of the Centre for Global and Comparative Philosophies, School of History, Religions and Philosophies School of Oriental and African Studies SOAS University of London London, UK

Mpho Tshivhase Department of Philosophy University of Pretoria Pretoria, South Africa

Björn Freter Visiting Assistant Professor in Philosophy Gettysburg College Gettysburg College Pennsylvania, USA

ISSN 2524-4361 ISSN 2524-437X (electronic) Handbooks in Philosophy ISBN 978-3-031-25148-1 ISBN 978-3-031-25149-8 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed 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 Paper in this product is recyclable.

In memory of the Ghanaian philosopher, Emeritus Professor Joseph Osei (1951–2022), who passed on only a few months after submitting a chapter to this Handbook, joining the list of the revered ancestors of African Philosophy, which has recently included Kwasi Wiredu (1931–2022), Ifeanyi Menkiti (1940–2019), John S. Mbiti (1931–2019), and Sophie Oluwole (1935–2018). Their positive impact remains immeasurable.

Preface

This Handbook of African Philosophy has been developed in the last few years through one of the most frightening and tumultuous periods of human and non-human history, ranging from the lived realities of a questionable global pandemic to exciting yet threatening advances in posthuman and transhuman technologies. These lived experiences have not only impacted the project in terms of delays to its completion but also in terms of the contents of the contributions made to it. Philosophical inquiries are by their very nature attempts to understand and interpret the very essence of our experiences and to search for reliable, meaningful, yet debatable and questionable answers to such fundamental questions as what is real, what it means to be, what is truth, what is knowledge, what is permissible action, what is beautiful, and what is just. Such questions immediately imply a concern with the unreal, the non-being, the untruth, the unknowable, the impermissible, the un-beautiful, and the unjust as well as a concern with the constant struggle by philosophers to sharpen and/or blur the dichotomies between the former and the latter. A philosophical tradition thus consists of the longstanding, time-tested responses to philosophical questions from a place in such forms as theories, concepts formulation, arguments, and principles. It also consists of the means by which such responses have been transmitted from generation to generation through various repositories of knowledge, and the relevance and limits of such cherished responses in a philosophical tradition for current users in understanding their world and lived experiences. The analysis of the relevance and limits of a philosophical tradition becomes a basis for re-philosophizing the contents of a philosophical tradition in order to produce new knowledges, concepts, theories, and arguments for transmission onward to future generations in an endless progression of thought and action. African philosophy as a tradition of philosophy showcases these features of a philosophical tradition. It is intensely rich and filled with longstanding and timetested principles, theories, concepts, and arguments that are interpretive of human and non-human existential conditions; the nature of being, knowledge, truth, and reality; the meaningfulness of life, beauty, personhood, values, the body, and so on, that contemporary African philosophers draw on, explore, and interrogate in terms of relevance and shortcomings. In this Handbook, such reliance and critique of timetested philosophical theories in Africa run through the chapters. For example, the Handbook consists of an engaging and fascinating exploration and critical vii

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interrogation in its chapters of Afro-communitarianism as a longstanding, overarching philosophical theory in African places as well as its application to current global issues. It also consists of interesting discussions and analyses of longstanding indigenous African philosophies of personhood, knowledge, morality, reality, phenomenology, education, human rights, development, existence, death, and so on and how these apply to such global issues as bioethics, animal ethics, AI, transhumanism, and democracies. Furthermore, African philosophy acknowledges and relies heavily on the diverse philosophical repositories in its tradition. This is because it acknowledges that it is not merely a textual tradition but also an oral and symbolic one. Contributors to this Handbook have thus drawn heavily on the textual, oral, and symbolic repositories of African philosophy to develop their thoughts and ideas. These include the use of indigenous languages to arrive at the genealogy of concepts and theories; reliance on indigenous African adages, proverbs, and concepts; and the interpretation of indigenous symbols of philosophical importance. African philosophy like any other philosophical tradition requires a selfcritique to flourish and remain relevant. This Handbook thus consists also of a critical self-examination of African philosophical thought in many of its chapters. It offers, for example, constructive criticisms of African communitarian philosophy, African philosophy of education, indigenous perspectives on gender and womanhood, understanding of the problem of evil, and perspectives on personhood. It also consists of a philosophical critique of the colonial/postcolonial experience in African places, including issues of epistemic injustice, freedom, gender, and human rights. The 11 parts of this Handbook are organized around core and emerging subject areas in contemporary academic African philosophy. Part I provides an Introduction to the book by exploring the meaning of African Philosophy. Part II – AfroCommunitarian Philosophy – consists of chapters that explore and analyze this overarching philosophy in sub-Saharan Africa. These chapters examine the meaning, challenges, and relevance of Afro-communitarianism for global issues today. Part III – Ethics – contains chapters dealing with the meaning, nature, contents, and application of African normative ethics. Part IV – Epistemology, Metaphysics, and Logic – consists of chapters discussing different aspects of African epistemology, logic, and metaphysics. Part V – Political Philosophy – critically examines different aspects of African political philosophy including conceptual and thematic issues such as human rights, freedom, development, and sovereignty. Part VI – Feminist Philosophy – of this Handbook pays close attention to some aspects of feminist discourses in African philosophy. These include the implications of African understanding of personhood for gender discourse and the challenges of womanhood in postcolonial Africa. Part VII – Philosophy and the Nonhuman – examines the question of the nonhuman in African philosophy drawing on African Sufist understanding of the world and sub-Saharan perspectives on animals. Part VIII – Existentialism and Phenomenology – contains chapters that discuss existentialist and phenomenological issues in African philosophy such as death, the meaningfulness and meaninglessness of life, suffering, relationality, the struggle for meaning, the problem of subjectivity, and the phenomenology of language. Part IX – Philosophy of Religion – examines various aspects of African philosophy of religion such as the

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idea of endogenous religion, the problem of evil, and the arguments for the existence of God in African places. Part X – Philosophy of Education – consists of chapters that discuss African philosophy of education through Southern African indigenous repositories of philosophical knowledge as contained, for example, in the concept of Ubuntu. Finally, Part XI – Future Considerations – provides an enthusiastic and interesting conclusion in examining historically considerations of the future in African philosophy. I am indebted to my co-editors, Mpho Tshivhase and Björn Freter, for not only accepting my invitation to join me in editing this important major reference work in African philosophy but also for their sterling display of patience, collegiality, and rigorous scholarship. This work would not be complete without them. And as editors, we would like to express our sincere gratitude to the fine scholars and African philosophers who contributed to this Handbook, for their patience, ideas, cooperation, and collegiality. We are also very grateful to our families for creating the enabling physical and mental environment for research, editing, and writing: Sandra Imafidon, Evelyn Imafidon, Ellen Imafidon, Elliott Imafidon, Emilia Imafidon, Ellen Tshivhase, Shonisani Tshivhase, and Yvette Freter to mention a few. We also thank colleagues at our respective institutions for their support and encouragement. We sincerely thank the editorial team at Springer including Michael Hermann, Christopher Coughlin, and Shobana Lenin, who worked tirelessly to ensure the successful completion of this Handbook. London, United Kingdom September 2023

Elvis Imafidon

Contents

Part I

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

1

The Meaning of African Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Isaac E. Ukpokolo

3

Part II

Introduction

Afro-communitarian Philosophy

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11

African Philosophy of Communalism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . F. Ochieng’-Odhiambo

13

Challenges of African Communitarian Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Elvis Imafidon

31

Afro-communitarianism and Transhumanism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Amara Esther Chimakonam

49

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

69

Robots and Dignity: An Afro-communitarian Argument in Eldercare . . . Karabo Maiyane

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Social Robots as Persons in Community Mpho Tshivhase

Part III

Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

103

African Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fainos Mangena

105

Doing Moral Philosophy Through Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Motsamai Molefe

121

African Research Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joseph Balatedi Radinkudikae Gaie

139

Ubuntu and Bioethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nancy S. Jecker

161

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Contents

Personal Autonomy and Shared-Value in Bioethics: An African Communal Ethics Outlook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Samuel J. Ujewe

181

Part IV

197

Epistemology, Metaphysics, and Logic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .................

199

Knowledge and Testimony in African Communitarian Epistemology . . . Anselm Kole Jimoh

223

Exploring Ignorance and Injustice in African Epistemology . . . . . . . . . Kenneth Uyi Abudu

245

Trivalent Logic, African Logic, and African Metaphysics . . . . . . . . . . . Edwin Etieyibo

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Part V

281

African Epistemology: Past, Present, and Future Peter Aloysius Ikhane

Political Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

African Political Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joseph Balatedi Radinkudikae Gaie Doing Contemporary African Social and Political Philosophy from Below . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yeelen Badona Monteiro The Philosophy of Human Rights: The Akan Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joseph Osei Technologies of Human Rights Protection, Sovereignty, and Freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Uchenna Okeja

283

309

329

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African Philosophy of Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Monday Lewis Igbafen

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Part VI

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Feminist Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gender and Afro-personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lindokuhle B. Gama An African Feminist Interrogation of Existential Epistemology: Women as the “Other of the Other” in (Post)Colonial Africa . . . . . . . . Abosede Priscilla Ipadeola

389

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Contents

Part VII

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Philosophy and the Nonhuman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

429

The Nonhuman in African Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alena Rettová

431

The Animal in African Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kai Horsthemke

457

Part VIII

471

Existentialism and Phenomenology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ........................

473

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491

African Phenomenology: Introductory Perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Abraham Olivier

509

Part IX

537

Key Concerns in African Existentialism Austine E. Iyare

African Conceptions of the Meaning of Life Aribiah David Attoe and Yolanda Mlungwana

Philosophy of Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ............

539

God’s Existence and the Problem of Evil in African Philosophy of Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ada Agada

555

Part X

575

Toward a Philosophy of African Endogenous Religions Lawrence Ogbo Ugwuanyi

Philosophy of Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A Sketch of an Ubuntu Philosophy of Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chikumbutso Herbert Manthalu

577

Imfundo, Ubulumko, Nomthetho: A South African Philosophy of Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Siseko H. Kumalo

593

Part XI

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Future Considerations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

African Philosophy and the Question of the Future . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bruce B. Janz

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

643

About the Editors

Elvis Imafidon (PhD) lectures in the Department of Religions and Philosophies at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London. He is also the Director of the Centre for Global and Comparative Philosophies at the same institution and a Research Associate at the African Centre for Epistemology and the Philosophy of Science (ACEPS), University of Johannesburg, South Africa. His background is in the philosophy of difference, philosophy of corporeality, philosophy of healthcare, philosophy of disability, comparative philosophy, ethics, and ontology, primarily from African philosophical perspectives. He is the author and editor of several books including Ontologized Ethics: New Essays in African Meta-ethics (Lexington Books 2014), The Ethics of Subjectivity: Perspectives since the Dawn of Modernity (Palgrave Macmillan 2015), African Philosophy and the Otherness of Albinism: White Skin, Black Race (Routledge 2019), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference (Springer 2020), and Cultural Representations of Albinism in Africa: Narratives of Change (Peter Lang 2022). Mpho Tshivhase is a senior lecturer in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Pretoria. Her research interests include, but are not limited to, existential uniqueness, personhood, and themes of love, autonomy, authenticity, death, aspects of race and feminism, as well as African ethics. Mpho has worked on different interdisciplinary institutional projects at the University of Pretoria that were hosted by the Center for Human Rights, the Human Sciences Research Council, and the Center for Advancement of Scholarship. She was a xv

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member of the Moralities Research Group at Bayreuth University in Germany where she was invited as a visiting scholar. Mpho recently completed a fellowship at the Center for Advanced Study in Behavioral Sciences at Stanford University. She is a research associate in the Center for Artificial Intelligence Research: AI & Society Research Group. Björn Freter received his doctorate with his thesis “On Facticity and Existentiality” in 2014 from Free University, Berlin, Germany. Until 2023 he was Lecturer for World Philosophy at the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London, UK, and works now as Visiting Assistant Professor at Gettysburg College, Pennsylvania, USA. He has published on a wide variety of topics, including pre-Socratic philosophy, Baroque and Classical German literature, as well as Decolonization, White Supremacy, and Veganism. His current main research project aims at the Desuperiorization of Philosophy, i.e., developing a radically anti-oppressive moral philosophy, and at the Foundation of Superaltern Studies, a research area investigating the Western superiorist traditions and its self-representation as a global moral authority.

Contributors

Kenneth Uyi Abudu Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Edo State, Nigeria Ada Agada Centre for Leadership Ethics in Africa, University of Fort Hare, Alice, South Africa Aribiah David Attoe University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa Yeelen Badona Monteiro Vita-Salute San Raffaele University, Milan, Italy Amara Esther Chimakonam Centre for Phenomenology in South Africa, University of Forte Hare, Alice, South Africa Edwin Etieyibo Department of Philosophy, School of Social Sciences, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa Joseph Balatedi Radinkudikae Gaie Department of Theology and Religious Studies, Faculty of Humanities, University of Botswana, Gaborone, Botswana Lindokuhle B. Gama Rhodes University, Makhanda, South Africa Kai Horsthemke KU Eichstätt-Ingolstadt, Eichstätt, Germany University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa Oxford Centre for Animal Ethics, Oxford, UK Monday Lewis Igbafen Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria Peter Aloysius Ikhane Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria African Centre for Epistemology and Philosophy of Science, University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa Elvis Imafidon Director of the Centre for Global and Comparative Philosophies, School of History, Religions and Philosophies, School of Oriental and African Studies SOAS, University of London, London, UK Abosede Priscilla Ipadeola Department of Philosophy, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria xvii

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Contributors

Faculty of Philosophy and Education, Katholische Universitaet, Eichstatt-Ingolstadt, Eischtaett, Germany Austine E. Iyare Department of Philosophy, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria Bruce B. Janz University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL, USA Nancy S. Jecker University of Washington School of Medicine, Seattle, WA, USA Anselm Kole Jimoh Department of Philosophy, SS. Peter and Paul Major Seminary, Ibadan, Nigeria Siseko H. Kumalo Philosophy Department, University of Fort Hare, East London, South Africa Karabo Maiyane Department of Philosophy, Nelson Mandela University, Gqeberha, South Africa Fainos Mangena Faculty of Arts and Humanities, University of Zimbabwe, Harare, Zimbabwe Chikumbutso Herbert Manthalu School of Education, Chancellor College, University of Malawi, Zomba, Malawi Yolanda Mlungwana University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa Motsamai Molefe Centre for Leadership Ethics in Africa, University of Fort Hare, East London, South Africa F. Ochieng’-Odhiambo Department of History and Philosophy, The University of the West Indies, Cave Hill, Barbados Uchenna Okeja Faculty of Humanities, Nelson Mandela University, Gqeberha, South Africa Abraham Olivier University of Fort Hare, East London, South Africa Joseph Osei Fayetteville State University, Fayetteville, NC, USA Alena Rettová University of Bayreuth, Bayreuth, Germany Mpho Tshivhase Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa Lawrence Ogbo Ugwuanyi Department of Philosophy, University of Abuja, Abuja, Nigeria Samuel J. Ujewe Global Emerging Pathogens Treatment Consortium, Lagos, Nigeria Isaac E. Ukpokolo Department of Philosophy, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria

Part I Introduction

The Meaning of African Philosophy Isaac E. Ukpokolo

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Whose Philosophy? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 What Is Meant by an African Place? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 The Handbook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

Abstract

This chapter introduces this handbook. It begins with an examination of the meaning of African philosophy and analyses some of the key challenges that emerge from the definition of African philosophy as philosophy in an African place. The key challenges examined are the extent to which the “philosophy” in African philosophy can be genuinely said to be African, and the problem of defining which place is exactly represented by “African” in African philosophy without unduly essentializing the discourse and overgeneralizing theory. The chapter then proceeds to examine the importance, rich contents, and limitations of the handbook by highlighting the different parts and chapters. This introductory chapter thus provides an entry point for a robust engagement with the handbook. Keywords

African · Philosophy · Place · Postcolonial · Hanbook of African philosophy

I. E. Ukpokolo (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_1

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Introduction The question of the meaning of African philosophy has preoccupied the recent history and discourse of African philosophy in academic circles. This is primarily because although indigenous African philosophical thought has always existed since ancient times, such as how indigenous African communities understand reality, existence, knowledge, and values and how they present and represent such understandings in repositories of knowledge, the need to interpret that thought to a global audience, to do that interpretation within dominant institutional politics and structures, and to do the interpretation using nonindigenous African languages have never been felt the way it has been in the last seven or so decades. So, African philosophers are immediately and increasingly confronted with the problem of self-definition – Who am I (who is an African philosopher)? What do I do (What is African philosophy)? Kwasi Wiredu, therefore, captures this problem in the opening lines of his Introduction to “A Companion to African Philosophy” (2004) as the postcolonial situation for African philosophy: A principal driving force in postcolonial African philosophy has been a quest for selfdefinition. It was therefore quite appropriate that Masolo entitled his history of contemporary African philosophy. . . African Philosophy in Search of Identity. This search is part of a general postcolonial soul-searching in Africa. Because the colonialists and related personnel perceived African culture as inferior in at least some important respects, colonialism included a systematic program of de-Africanization. The most unmistakable example, perhaps, of this pattern of activity was in the sphere of religion, where mighty efforts were made by the missionaries to save African souls perceived to be caught up in the darkness of “paganism.” But, at least, it did seem to them that Africans had something somewhat similar to religion, and some of them actually wrote books on African religion and even, in some cases, mentioned that subject in their university teaching. . . The position was markedly different as regards African philosophy. Philosophy departments tended not to develop the impression that there was any such thing (2004: 1).

Thus, closely tied to the question of self-definition was the question of existence. Thus a lot of time and effort were devoted to answering these questions in the late twentieth century and fragments of these questions continue to hunt African philosophy and African philosophers to date. The responses to these questions in the last seven decades have been robust, rich, and quite overwhelming. The available literature on the meaning, nature, contents, and thematic concerns of African philosophy as well as the academic fora for same such as conferences, journals, workshops, taught modules, and research programs that have emerged within this period consist of brilliant, comprehensive, and interesting responses to these questions. These, at the very least, put to rest the existential question and deal substantially but not conclusively with the self-definition question. Be that as it may, there is more clarity now to a global audience about what is meant by African philosophy. But it is surprisingly interesting that many books on African philosophy do not always begin by explicitly stating the meaning of African philosophy (e.g., Bell, 2002; Brown, 2004; Hallen, 2002; Wiredu, 2004). There is rather a conceptual dance around it particularly due to the awareness of the questions

The Meaning of African Philosophy

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of self-definition and of existence as well as related questions such as that of the postcolonial challenge, the challenge of positionality, of Western philosophy, and so on. But even in this conceptual dance, it is still possible to foreground what African philosophy means. Thus, in response to the question of self-definition and bearing in mind the rich scholarly discourse on African philosophy since the second half of the twentieth century, there will be little or no contention to this definition of African philosophy: African philosophy consists of the theories deducible from indigenous African places and postcolonial African literature as responses to questions and problems that are fundamentally philosophical by nature as well as the critique and reconstruction or deconstruction of such theories and responses. Thus, it is the African formulative and critical responses to human philosophical questions such as the nature of reality, being, knowledge, and morality, the essence of beauty and of existence, and the nature of the human mind and of personal identity, responses that are embedded in the interconnected indigenous and postcolonial repositories of knowledge in African places. But this raises at least two questions: What makes such questions and responses legitimately philosophical – who decides what is fundamentally philosophical? What constitutes an African place?

Whose Philosophy? A dominant answer to this question of the ownership of philosophy is that philosophy is genealogically a Greek and subsequently a Western academic activity based on the fact that the naming of this field of inquiry as philosophy is coined obviously from Greek words philos (lover) and sophia (wisdom). More so, the naming of its core branches and other not-so-core branches are mostly from Greek words. For example, epistemology, ontology, metaphysics, aesthetics, and logic are words that emerge from Greek words and represent the Greek expressions of these forms of inquiry. For example, we are familiar with how Andronicus of Rhodes coined the word metaphysics from the Greek phrase meta-ta-phusika (things beyond the physical) when editing Aristotle’s manuscripts. But does the naming of the inquiry on the things beyond the physical imply that the inquiry is experienced only by the one who named it and, thus, the inquiry becomes the sole experience of the individual and collective self that named it? More broadly speaking, does the naming of philosophy and its several branches from Greek words imply that philosophizing in general or inquiries about the nature of reality, knowledge, beauty, and so on are essentially Greek experiences? There is ample evidence from all human traditions that philosophizing and concerns with philosophical issues have existed in all human traditions, taking different forms, stored in different repositories of knowledge and approached using different methods within and across traditions. The “thing” or “activity” that has been named by the Greeks as philosophy is a human thing or activity and not an exclusively Greek thing or activity. Colonization came with it the imposition of the colonizer’s language on the colonized and by implication, the imposition in this particular case, of the Western, Greek-originating categories of philosophy on

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colonized peoples (Wa Thiong’o, 1986; Wiredu, 2002; Ravishankar, 2020). Worst still, colonization brought with it the denial of philosophizing as a human activity and form of inquiry and the insistence that by virtue of naming, philosophizing is a Greek-originated Western activity. But as it has now been made abundantly clear in the postcolonial critique of philosophy and the deconstruction of this field of inquiry, philosophy is a human activity and rich and comprehensive traditions of philosophy exist around the globe. African philosophy – or the activities and experiences in African places in precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial eras that dealt with philosophical questions and problems – has especially been marginalized and ignored in the global repositories of philosophical knowledge. Only recently has African philosophy been given fair attention in academic philosophy, particularly since the increase in the textual repository of African philosophical knowledge. This handbook provides an important and much-needed contribution to enriching the textual repository of African philosophical knowledge showcasing in its chapters the form of philosophizing that has ensued in indigenous and modern postcolonial African contexts. But does the continuous use of Western categories in presenting and representing African forms of philosophizing not further perpetuate the claim that African philosophy is only a mimicking of Western philosophy which would imply that philosophy remains a Greek experience rather than a human experience? This seems a fair question but yet a problematic one. First, as we see from this handbook and already existing literature on African philosophy, not all categories and terms in African philosophy are Western ones. More so, in an increasingly globalizing world, with academia already suffocated by the English language and with the continuing struggle to disentangle colonial legacies, the use of “philosophy” and related philosophical terms such as epistemology, ontology, and logic may remain in philosophical vocabulary for a while. But the contents of these terms will increasingly become more de-Westernized, inclusive, and human. The “philosophy” in African philosophy is thus meant to represent and signify philosophizing as a human – in this case, African – rather than as a Western activity.

What Is Meant by an African Place? In the words of Bruce Janz (2009: 1–9): Why should “where” matter to African philosophers? The history of African philosophy has been the history of struggle to find a place, or to claim a place, or to assert the entitlement to a place, in the face of those who have maintained that it has no place. . . What is it to do philosophy in this (African) place?. . . Where is this place?

Janz aptly captures a fundamental question in African philosophy: What place do we refer to when we use the word “African” in African philosophy? To be sure, there is already a lot of debate on the politics and problematics of the largely colonial

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creation and construction of this physical, epistemic, philosophical, social, and cultural place called Africa. Here, one can think easily of the important work of V. Y. Mudimbe, The Invention of Africa: Gnosis, Philosophy, and the Order of Knowledge (1988), one of the most excellent critical narratives of the colonial construction of a hermeneutics of African knowledge systems. But the interest here is to briefly clarify what the African place is in terms of African philosophy in a way that avoids the challenge of essentialism, the overgeneralization fallacy, and the colonial construction of Africa. There are at least two senses in which we used the word “African” in relation to African philosophy. First, it implies philosophizing that draws from, and consists of a critical reflection on, theories, principles, methods, arguments, thought experiments, illustrations, examples, and frameworks from an African place, or from a multiplicity of indigenous African places and thought systems such as the Zulus, Akans, Yorubas, Igbos, Esans, Massais, Kikuyus, Sothos, and Xhosas. In this sense, African philosophy does not essentialize Africa and philosophize about it as if the philosophical resources within this huge, multicultural, and multifaceted place are the same and uniform. Rather, it showcases the relevance of a commitment to a place in the very definition of a philosophical tradition. An unavoidable comparison is found in our use of the phrase “Western philosophy.” No doubt Western philosophy does not in any way imply that there is uniformity of philosophical thought in the West. Far from it – Western philosophy is as diverse and comprehensive as it can get. It simply implies that ideally, Western philosophy emerges from the Western place. It is a philosophical tradition from the West. African philosophers are conscious of and generally carry with them a sense of an African place. Many chapters in this handbook display this aptly. There is clear evidence of the drawing of philosophical resources from several indigenous and postcolonial African places. As Janz puts it, African philosophers, . . . evoke in their writings a sense of place. . . speak eloquently about the way that place affects how we understand the world. We are necessarily rooted in place, in the sense that we necessarily come at the world from an understanding, from a set of commitments. We come caring about something, no matter how dispassionate we try to be. We come from a place. It is no accident that one of the great virtues of the Enlightenment was cosmopolitanism. People thought that knowledge meant that you could draw back from any particular commitments, and be a citizen of the world. . . Place, then, brings a great deal with it. In various ways, to address place we must also address identity, history, memory, aspiration, family and social connection (2009: 10–11).

Second, the use of “African” in African philosophy signals the critical reflection on the shared lived experiences and concrete realities of African peoples, particularly since the colonial-borne invention of Africa around the seventeenth century for the purpose of exploitation. This critical encounter with Africa’s shared colonial past is the basic foundation for postcolonial African philosophy. African philosophers engage in postcolonial African philosophy, critically analyzing such issues as the disentanglement of African philosophy from colonial webs and categories, trauma,

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memory, identity, social order, democracy, language, art, gender, and religion. To be sure, there is the danger of essentialism here as even the experience of colonization, slave trade, and other forms of violence in Africa was not uniform and the same. African philosophy is thus in a constant struggle to overcome such essentialism and take the lived experiences of specific places seriously. But what is evident in the exploration of the African place in these two senses of using the “African” in relation to African places is that while the sameness or uniformity of philosophical resources, concrete realities, and lived experiences is neither available nor cherished, there exist a multitude of semblances across sub-Saharan African places that legitimates a sense of relationality across places in Africa.

The Handbook This handbook of African philosophy is an invaluable and important addition to the textual repositories of African philosophy in the contemporary history of global philosophy for at least two reasons. First, there are currently very few major reference works on African philosophy. The major resources that have become available in academic spaces as comprehensive references that touch on the different subject matters and core conversations in African philosophy primarily include Eze’s African Philosophy: An Anthology (Eze, 1997), Serequeberhan’s African Philosophy: The Essential Readings (Serequeberhan, 1998), Coetzee and Roux’s The African Philosophy Reader (Coetzee and Roux, 2003), Wiredu’s A Companion to African Philosophy (Wiredu, 2004), and the Palgrave Handbook of African Philosophy (Afolayan and Falola, 2017). This current handbook increases this small list of important resources not as a mere addition but as one that provides fresh insights into long and protracted debates, explores the focus of several subdisciplinary areas, and engages new and emerging issues and realities around the globe from the African philosophical perspective. Second, there is a strong sense of commitment to place in this handbook as the novel exploration of conventional, new, and emerging discourses in African philosophy in the handbook does not only draw on the rich philosophical repositories in Africa, textual and oral, but are largely engaged in and voiced by Africans themselves, Africans whose identities belong to different indigenous communities in sub-Saharan Africa. In the few cases where nonindigenous Africans have contributed to the discourse in the handbook, such contributions have been made by persons who can with no hesitations be called African philosophers, not by virtue of their racial, indigenous, or ethnic identities but by virtue of their commitment to a form of philosophizing that is at once African and about the African experience. The Handbook of African Philosophy has 11 parts organized in terms of subdisciplinary and thematic areas. Part II titled ▶ “Afro-communitarian Philosophy” provides a theoretical and applied discussion of an overarching philosophical theory from sub-Saharan Africa: African communitarian philosophy, also called Afro-communitarianism. Chapters in this part examine the meaning and

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nature of Afro-communitarianism and its major challenges as a theory. This part also consists of novel chapters that explore the prospects and limits of the contribution of African philosophy to global issues by engaging in ongoing debates on transhumanism, artificial intelligence (AI), and robotic technologies from the perspective of Afro-communitarian philosophy. Part III (▶ “Ethics”) consists of chapters that explore several aspects of African ethics. These aspects include the conceptualization of African ethics, African philosophical perspectives on bioethics and bioethical issues, African research ethics, and the personhood foundation for ethics in Africa. Part IV (▶ “Epistemology, Metaphysics, and Logic”) consists of chapters exploring nature and key themes in African epistemology, logic, and metaphysics. Some of the themes explored in this part from African philosophical perspectives include knowledge, testimony epistemic injustice, and epistemic ignorance. Part V (▶ “Political Philosophy”) examines various aspects of, and themes in, the discourse of African political philosophy. These include discourses on the conceptualization of African political philosophy, human rights, and the philosophy of development. It also consists of thematic issues relating to questions of freedom, democracy in Africa, sovereignty, and the technologies of human rights protection. Part VI (▶ “Feminist Philosophy”) consists of chapters that explore the African philosophy of personhood in relation to gender and the problem of heteropatriarchy. This part also explores the challenges of womanhood in postcolonial Africa. The two chapters in Part VII (▶ “Philosophy and the Nonhuman”) provide an interesting exploration of the African philosophical perspectives on the nonhuman. While the first explores a Sufist and existentialist reading of the world in specific African contexts, the second provides a robust and critical discussion of the status of animals in African ontology and metaphysics, epistemology, sociopolitical and moral philosophy, and aesthetics. Part VIII (▶ “Existentialism and Phenomenology”) contains chapters that discuss specifically existentialism and phenomenology in African philosophy covering themes such as different African conceptions of the meaning of life, the nature of human existence, the understanding of death, the relevance of relationality for existence, the philosophy of suffering, the crisis of identity, and some key themes in African phenomenology. The ninth and tenth parts (▶ “Philosophy of Religion” and ▶ “Philosophy of Education”) focus on the philosophy of religion and the philosophy of education, respectively. Chapters in these parts explore relevant themes in these subdisciplines of African philosophy such as the African philosophy of the existence of God, African perspectives on the problem of evil, the nature and philosophical contents of African endogenous religions, and the grounding of education on Ubuntu. The final part titled ▶ “Future Considerations” explores some questions of the future emerging from and entangled with African philosophy’s past, present, and future, its contents and debates, and, more broadly speaking, the futurity of philosophy in general and of African philosophy in particular. Thus, this handbook brings together in one volume rich, robust, and interesting subject areas, themes, and issues in African philosophy and comprehensively engages with some of the most fundamental conversations in African philosophy

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today. But it does not pretend to cover all of the important topics, themes, and issues in African philosophy. However, the goal to present in one volume a major resource for the study of African philosophy in academic and nonacademic settings has been achieved.

References Afolayan, A., & Falola, T. (Eds.). (2017). The Palgrave handbook of African philosophy. Palgrave Macmillan. Bell, R. H. (2002). Understanding African philosophy: A cross-cultural approach to classical and contemporary issues. Routledge. Brown, L. M. (2004). African philosophy: New and traditional perspectives. Oxford University Press. Coetzee, P. H., & Roux, A. P. J. (Eds.). (2003). The African philosophy reader. Routledge. Eze, E. C. (Ed.). (1997). African philosophy: An anthology. John Wiley and Sons. Hallen, B. (2002). A short history of African philosophy. Indiana University Press. Janz, B. B. (2009). Philosophy in an African place. Lexington Books. Mudimbe, V. Y. (1988). The invention of Africa: Gnosis, philosophy and the order of knowledge. Indiana University Press. Ravishankar, A. (2020). Linguistic imperialism: Colonial violence through Language. The Trinity Papers. https://digitalrepository.trincoll.edu/trinitypapers/87 Serequeberhan, T. (Ed.). (1998). African philosophy: The essential readings. Paragon House. Wa Thiong’o, N. (1986). Decolonising the mind: The politics of language in African literature. Pearson Education Limited. Wiredu, K. (2002). Conceptual decolonisation as an imperative in contemporary African philosophy: Some personal reflections. Dans Rue Descartes, 2(36), 53–64. Wiredu, K. (Ed.). (2004). A companion to African philosophy. Blackwell.

Part II Afro-communitarian Philosophy

African Philosophy of Communalism F. Ochieng’-Odhiambo

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Part I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Person Is a Person Through Other Persons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . To Be Is to Participate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Personhood in African Cultures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Part II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Identity and Moral Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concept of Time . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Buying and Selling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The starting point of this chapter is that there is a basic distinction between indigenous African societies and Western societies. It is argued that while the former are largely communal, the latter are predominantly individualistic. The communal emphasis in indigenous African societies is demonstrated on the basis of Mbiti’s adage of “I am because we are, and since we are, therefore I am,” while the individualistic attention in Western societies is exemplified on the basis of Descartes’ dictum of “cogito ergo sum (I think, therefore I am).” It is further argued that in order to understand and appreciate some of the different attitudes and behaviors found in indigenous African societies and Western societies, one must comprehend this communal/individual distinction; this is the distinction that underlies several other differences in the two societies. Differently stated, several other differences that punctuate the two societies are explainable in terms of this

F. Ochieng’-Odhiambo (*) Department of History and Philosophy, The University of the West Indies, Cave Hill, Barbados e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_21

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distinction. The chapter goes on to illustrate some of these differences whilst showing how they are derived from the basic communal/individual distinction. In making the comparison, the interest is to assist in comprehension of some of the notions and practices in indigenous African societies. The chapter is not judgmental. Keywords

Communalism · Individualism · Ujamaa · Ubuntu · Personhood · Concept of time · Buying and selling · Rationale for greeting · Activity of eating

Introduction One noticeable characteristic of indigenous African societies is the integral communal spirit upon which they are embedded. This spirit is concomitantly reflected in their indigenous institutions, structures, beliefs, and behaviors. This chapter gives an account of the communal spirit in indigenous African societies and also demonstrates a reflection of the same in some issues and practices in Africa. For the sake of clarity and comprehension, the issues and practices in indigenous Africa are juxtaposed with their “equivalents” in the Western world. There are two points to be noted on the outset. These are: (1) In spite of the contention that communalism is a common feature found in indigenous African cultures, it is necessary to add a rider that the assertion is not being made as a factual feature of all and every African culture. Doing so would be presumptuous. Even more fundamentally is the recognition that in Africa today individualistic elements have crept in making it fairly challenging to argue that the cultures are (still) communalistic. However, the truth is that African traditions are still privileged in the villages (in the rural areas) and therefore the functional cultures there are still largely communalistic. The urban centers, on the other hand, because of their cosmopolitan and interethnic natures harbor explicit individualistic tendencies. This fact should not however detract one from explicating the communal spirit and its attendant cognate concepts and systems in indigenous Africa. (2) By indigenous society it is meant a society that has existed for a considerable period of time with minimal changes; a society where the role of custom and habit is predominant. Its people are directed by collective memories sanctioned by social norms to ensure continuity of its practices and way of life. This feature is more evident and clearly practiced among the majority of rural rather than urban populations of the African continent. The centrality of the notion of communalism in indigenous Africa is tied to the idea that the indexical “we” in African indigenous thought should not be construed simply as the aggregate sum of individuals comprising a community. In truth, it refers to a comprehensively fused collectivity. The “we” is not just a loose conglomeration of individuals but a consolidated absolute collectivity. It is not simply an additive whole, but rather a composite whole. Communalism in indigenous African

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societies therefore promotes unity, togetherness, and cooperation which are key pillars in serious human relations. The second part of the chapter demonstrates the communal spirit in some notions and practices in indigenous Africa. It sketches out some ramifications of communalism in indigenous Africa, in particular, to the question of identity and moral personhood, the concept of time, the activity of buying and selling, and, to a lesser extent, the notions of greeting and eating.

Part I A Person Is a Person Through Other Persons In indigenous African experience, the notion of communalism characterizes the African spirit. On the face of it, what this suggests is that there is a high evaluation of the community in indigenous African thought and practice: the community is valued higher than the individual. Put differently, communalism as a set of cultural practices prioritizes the role and function of the collective group over the individual. While this may be true, it should be noted that the high evaluation of the community is not granted at the expense of forgetting or abandoning the individual person. This is because the community and the individual are indivisible. In indigenous African practice, the individual does not – indeed, cannot – exist alone except collectively. This is essentially because in indigenous Africa the community is a thoroughly amalgamated collectivity of individuals. Each individual owes his or her existence to other members of the community. The individual’s existence is intricately interwoven with the existence of other members of the community, including those of past generations. Bearing in mind the thoroughly fused nature of indigenous communities in Africa, the community has an overall responsibility for its individuals. The community must therefore take care of the individual since the individual depends on the corporate group. The relationship between the individual and the community in the indigenous setup is such that it is the community that gives meaning to the individual. The individual is but a reflection of his or her community. It is the corporate group that humanizes the individual; it is what models an individual into a human being. In other words, it is the group that humanizes one’s being, it is what transforms an individual being into a being that is human. In the absence of members of the group, the individual would simply remain at the level of being, at the level of mere thingness. In his essay “Ujamaa: The Basis of African Socialism,” Nyerere underscores the same point. He argues that the communal spirit in African cultures enabled indigenous African communities succeed in taking care of their members. Ujamaa is Kiswahili word meaning familyhood, where family is understood in both the extended and nuclear senses. Ujamaa is therefore the grounding of communalism and is inseparable from indigenous African communities. The family in indigenous African communities includes not only the husband, wife, and children but also the grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Hence, a number of kindred living with their wives and children come together as one large extended family. This extended

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family system makes the kindred not only conscious of their identity but also gives them a sense of unity and solidarity. It discourages dehumanization, domination of each other, and exploitative practices. Accordingly, present-day distinctions between the haves and the have nots, between the rich and the poor are as such nonexistent. Both the “rich” and the “poor” are completely secure in indigenous African communities. Even if natural catastrophe brought famine, the famine affected all in society including both the “rich” and the “poor.” Everybody shared in the misery. Nyerere categorically affirms that in indigenous African communities, “nobody starved, either of food or of human dignity, because he lacked personal wealth; he could depend on the wealth possessed by the community of which he was a member” (Nyerere, 1973: 164). The underlying communal spirit in indigenous African communities is what the Bantu peoples of the Republic of South Africa refer to as ubuntu. Ubuntu is part of the Zulu phrase “Umuntu Ngumuntu Ngabantu,” which literally means “a person is a person through other persons.” To put it another way, one affirms one’s humanity when one acknowledges the humanity of others. Ubuntu therefore speaks to the question of humanity and could be translated to mean “humanity towards others” in that an individual is expected to treat others with compassion, kindness, and magnanimity. Ubuntu is therefore key to understanding the African view of a person as will be demonstrated below. A person is a person only in relation to others in the community. A person’s identity, and indeed his or her very life, is viewed through the lens of his or her ethnic group. The deeper meaning is that an individual by himself or herself is helpless and has little value. Desmond Tutu, South African theologian and veteran anti-apartheid and human rights activist, in his No Future Without Forgiveness captures the essence of ubuntu when he asserts that: It [Ubuntu] speaks of the very essence of being human. . . . It is to say, ‘My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours.’ We belong in a bundle of life. . . It is not, ‘I think therefore I am.’ It says rather, ‘I am human because I belong. I participate, I share.’. . . Harmony, friendliness, community are great goods. Social harmony is for us the summum bonum - the greatest good. . . To forgive is not just to be altruistic. It is the best form of selfinterest. What dehumanizes you inexorably dehumanizes me. It gives people resilience, enabling them to survive and emerge still human despite all efforts to dehumanize them. (Tutu, 1999: 31)

The Venda of the Republic of South Africa have a proverb that clearly expresses this conception of personhood. The proverb is: “Muthu u bebelwa munwe” which means “A person is born for the other.” This shows that, according to the Venda philosophy, which is similar to the philosophy of other African peoples, one cannot regard even one’s own life as a purely personal property or concern. It is the group which is the owner of life, a person just being a link in the chain uniting the present and future generations. In affirming the same view, Mbiti explicitly asserts that it is only in terms of other people – the community – that the individual becomes conscious of his or her own being, his or her own duties, his or her privileges, and his or her responsibilities towards other people. Differently put, it is the community that endows the individual

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with humanity. When the individual suffers, he or she does not suffer alone but suffers with his or her corporate group. When the individual rejoices, he or she rejoices not alone but with his or her kindred, his or her neighbors, and his or her relatives – whether dead or living. Whatever happens to the individual happens to the whole group, and whatever happens to the whole group happens to the individual. The relationship between the individual and the group is reciprocal. The individual can only say “I am because we are; and since we are, therefore, I am” (Mbiti, 1989: 106). The indigenous African setup embraces the idea that individuals cannot exist in isolation. An individual cannot meaningfully and purposely exist without the others. While society is considered to be composed of individuals, it is not construed simply as the sum of individuals and their behaviors, actions, and thoughts. Rather, the society is construed as having a structure and existence that is tied to that of the individuals in it. And what is more, society influences and constrains individuals in it through norms and social currents. Another fitting way of expressing Mbiti’s dictum is that an individual is human because of others, with others, and for others, and since others are, therefore an individual is: “I belong therefore I am.”

To Be Is to Participate For a Westerner to understand and, perhaps, appreciate the beliefs and attitudes of Africans in their indigenous setup, the Westerner must be cognizant of the communalistic emphasis of the indigenous African weltanschauung. Communalism is the pedestal upon which their everyday existence, reality, behavior, and practices are all grounded. African communalism points to an existing kinship link between members of the community and membership to that community is constitutive. For Africans in the indigenous setting, to be human is to belong to the whole community, and to do so involves participating in the beliefs, ceremonies, rituals, and festivals of the community. To be a person necessarily implies that one’s actions and thoughts are in accord with those of the community. It follows therefore that an African in the indigenous setup would find it extremely difficult to detach himself/ herself from the religion of his or her group because to do so is to be severed from one’s roots, from one’s foundation and context of security, from one’s kinships, and the entire group of those who make one aware of his or her own existence (Mbiti, 1989: 2). Detaching oneself from the religion and beliefs of one’s society amounts to self-excommunication from the entire life of society, and African peoples in the indigenous setting do not know how to exist in such a situation. In the indigenous African locale, it is the community that gives meaning and significance to the individual. It is the encircling community that defines and gives reference to the individual. The individual is meaningless by himself or herself and makes sense only as part of the group. The existence of an individual derives its meaning from the individual’s participation in the activities of the community. No one can isolate oneself from one’s community since the community is the vehicle through which the rituals and activities of the people is practiced. Otherwise stated, the individual apart from the community is not anything real. Hence, while Berkeley

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reduced existence to perception (“to be is to be perceived”), in African indigenous worldview human existence is seen in terms of participation: “to be is to participate.” Therefore, just like the much known and cited “I am because we are,” “to be is to participate” is also a synonymic expression of the communal spirit in indigenous Africa. An individual is human if he or she says “I participate, therefore I am.” One can safely argue that there exists a clear and momentous distinction of what constitutes a person in indigenous Africa on the one hand and in a typical Western world on the other. In the Western setting, a person is construed as an isolated individual having the attributes of will and rationality. The individual is perceived as a singular, personal, and impenetrable entity, but nevertheless capable of living in glorious isolation. The individual is meaningful by himself or herself and does not really need the community to make sense of his or her existence. To be or to exist is not necessarily to participate. Though the individual is in nature and society, he or she is distinct from these. Individuality is an island, is a knot in the web of cosmological, biological, and social relations (Van der Walt, 1975: 103–108). Given the underlying preeminence of individualistic tendency, emphasis is not only on the self – the individual – but the individual is seen as consisting primarily of personal attributes such as personality traits, beliefs, and attitudes. In his text Bantu Philosophy, Tempels not only argues for the existence of African philosophy but contends that the underpinnings of that philosophy is communalism. Prior to the original publication of his book in 1945, the existence of African philosophy was denied within academia. In the text, he highlights the significance of the communal spirit among the Baluba, a Bantu group within the lower Congo in Central Africa. He outlines the overriding role played by the communal-based ontology among the Baluba. It is this communal ontology that gives a special character, a local color, to their beliefs and religious practices, to their mores, to their language, to their institutions and customs, to their psychological reactions and, more generally, to their whole behavior. So, according to Tempels, if one wants to understand the worldview and life of the Baluba, one must understand their communal-based ontology. In accentuating the communal spirit among the Bantu people, Tempels asserts that: For the Bantu, man never appears in fact as an isolated individual, as an independent entity. Every man, every individual, forms a link in the chain of vital forces, a link, active and passive, joined from above to the ascending line of his ancestry and sustaining below him the line of his descendants . . . the bantu is quite unable to conceive an individual apart from his relationship.. . . (Tempels, 1959: 71, 72)

In the text, Tempels also asserts that the Bantu theory of muntu (person) is quite different from the Western concept of individuated things, where things are conceived as existing in themselves, isolated from others. The Bantu theory of muntu, on the other hand, cannot conceive of a human being as an individual, as a force existing by itself and apart from its ontological relationships with other living beings and from its connection with animals or inanimate forces around it. The Bantu cannot be a lone being since to be human is to belong to a community (Tempels, 1959: 48).

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Ruch expresses this communal characteristic by using a fitting analogy. He asserts that an African even when immersed in a sea of uncontrollable forces would not feel the forces as a threat, but rather as a beneficial protection and the life-spring of whatever he or she is or does. He or she does not feel himself or herself like a swimmer in a hostile and foreign sea; he or she is part of that sea, he or she participates in it as it participates in him or her (Ruch, 1975: 2).

Personhood in African Cultures In order to understand and fully appreciate the nature of communalism in African cultures as a way of life and as a normative theory and practice, one must be familiar not only with both their conceptions of a person and community, but also with the relationship between the two. Within philosophical circles in general, two broad conceptions of personhood are often outlined, namely, the metaphysical (descriptive) and the normative (moral). In the indigenous African worldview, the idea of a person takes into account both descriptive and normative dimensions though premium is accorded to one of the dimensions, the normative. The normative conception of a person is based on an intragroup’s moral and social acceptance and recognition. In the indigenous African setting, the concept of personhood is not primarily understood as a metaphysical stance regarding the nature of the individual, but rather as a depiction of intragroup recognition. Stated differently, in African cultures, personhood is conceptualized more in terms of the moral and social norms of the community rather than explained and recognized in terms of characteristics that make up an individual. The recognition of a person implies that there are normative standards of awareness. The standards that are normatively used to describe a recognized person implies a moral view of personhood. Thus, the moral view of a person, which is based on the social and moral identity a person has or acquires, emanates from social recognition. Within the normative, personhood is therefore explained in terms of moral capacity and ability to live by societal norms. It involves duties and obligations. To be accorded personhood status requires conducting oneself as expected of other persons. Being a person has to do with what qualities one has as a human being. It concerns the qualities in an individual that is in line with norms of the group or community that the individual belongs to. Certain behavioral and characteristic outcomes are expected from each person within the community and these outcomes must of necessity accord with societal rules and norms before ascriptions of personhood can be made. One is therefore not accorded personhood if one’s behavior runs counter to rules and social harmony. By contrast, a metaphysical or descriptive conception of personhood is the view that all persons are first and foremost human beings who are embodied and endowed with certain abilities. Within academia, therefore, scholars who adhere to this conception of personhood analyze the ontological makeup of a person. They, for instance, examine whether a person is material or immaterial, or whether a person is made up of one or two essential characteristics. The metaphysical analysis of the

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nature of the mind and body and the relationship between them, as an example, is in essence a descriptive account of personhood. Metaphysical personhood is, therefore, a descriptive notion. Attributing metaphysical personhood to an entity provides “at least a partial description of it” (Kind, 2015: 12). This description allows one to better understand what distinguishes metaphysical persons from nonpersons. It follows therefore that metaphysical persons are basically biologically constituted. However, it should be noted that when the question boils down to the exact characteristics or abilities that constitute personhood in the metaphysical sense, scholars have not been unanimous in their responses. For instance, some scholars define metaphysical personhood as the existence of seven innate abilities: ability for self-awareness, ability to sense, ability to imagine, ability to think, ability to reason, ability to feel emotion, and ability to empathize. But others contest some of these abilities. They do not think that each of these abilities must exist to the degree necessary for its subject to have status dignity. It should be noted that it is the normative conception of a person, and not the metaphysical, which lends itself to communalism and is, therefore, the conception indigenous African communities place a premium on. It is the conception that has currency in African traditions. However, the two conceptions should not be viewed as diametrically opposed with nothing in common between them. A normative conception or dimension of a person does illuminate, and in some sense, depend on the metaphysical conception or descriptive dimension of a person. One cannot be described as a person if one has not satisfied the normative dimension and one cannot satisfy the normative criteria if one does not have the descriptive features of a person. For a detailed discussion on the distinction between the normative and metaphysical conceptions of personhood, see chapter two of Polycarp Ikuenobe’s (2006) publication Philosophical Perspectives on Communalism and Morality in African Traditions; Lanham: Lexington Books. The normative conceptions of personhood and community provide the foundation for an understanding of African ontology, which indicates the concrete reality and circumstances that help to account for the personal and social life of people. A community, in a normative sense, is a group of normative persons, principles, processes, and structures that define social norms or moral expectations and responsibilities, on the basis of which a person is recognized and the community is sustained. The moral or social recognition of a person depends, in part, on the metaphysical view that a person is not a determined physical object that is governed solely by physical laws over which a person has no control. The normative view of personhood also depends on the idea that a mind is metaphysically free, is capable of rational, voluntary, and moral agency, and hence can be ascribed moral responsibility. It is worth noting that the moral individual in indigenous African setting is quite different from the moral individual in the Western world. The moral individual in African traditions is not simply the rational and autonomous individual capable of reasoning independently about the universal and objective principles as demonstrated in typical Western ethics as, for example, in Kantian ethics. The moral individual in African traditions is one who aside from being rational and autonomous

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is also familiar and endowed with the normative principles and attitudes of his or her community. In other words, over and above having the descriptive metaphysical features of an individual, namely, being rational and autonomous, the moral individual must reflect and abide by the norms and behaviors of his or her community. Part I of the chapter has been an effort to outline the communal spirit in African traditions by showing that the line of divide between the individual and the community is very thin: that there is a symbiotic relationship between the “I” and “We.” In effect, therefore, in indigenous Africa (i) a person is a person through other persons – ubuntu, ujamaa; (ii) to be is to participate in the activities and festivals of the community, and (iii) the overriding conception of personhood is normative and is pegged on the social life. In part II that follows, the endeavor is to delineate some notions and practices in indigenous Africa where the communal spirit is manifest.

Part II Given the fused nature of African indigenous communities as outlined above, certain implications regarding the conduct and behaviors of Africans necessarily follow. Put differently, some of the beliefs, attitudes, and practices found in indigenous African settings are explainable and make sense when viewed against the backdrop of the specified communal emphasis in the indigenous African worldview. One who is not cognizant of the communal ontology in indigenous Africa might not understand some of the practices and mannerisms therein. In part II, some practices, beliefs, and values in indigenous Africa have been outlined and discussed to illustrate the import of the communal spirit. These have to do with the question of identity and moral personhood, the concept of time, the practice of buying and selling and, to some extent, the notions of greeting, and eating.

Identity and Moral Personhood Hord and Lee in the introduction of their edited text I Am Because We Are: Readings in Black Philosophy underscore the fact that communalism that underpins indigenous African cultures is the idea that the identity of the individual is never separable from the sociocultural environment. They highlight the view that in African cultures identity of the individual is not some Cartesian abstractions grounded in a solipsistic self-consciousness, but rather that it is constructed in and at least partially by a set of shared beliefs, patterns of behavior, and expectations (Hord et al., 1995: 7–8). In other words, African cultures rather than defining the individual in terms of Descartes’ “thinking I” (cogito) and using it as the basis for individual identity instead emphasize on the affirmation of the community as a basis for defining the identity of the individual. It appears therefore that in African cultures the moral or social account of a person is logically or conceptually prior to the metaphysical account of a person, as opposed to the Western philosophical tradition where the

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metaphysical account of a person as the thinking, rational, autonomous, free individual is logically prior to the moral account as someone who may be shaped by a community. Unlike the predominantly individualistic West, in indigenous Africa the individual does not consider himself or herself to be at the center of the universe upon which everything else revolves. Solipsism, the philosophical idea that the self is all that can be known to exist, would be considered not only as false, but as outright absurd. Descartes’ “cogito ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am”) or Berkeley’s “esse est percipi” (“to be is to be perceived”) are theories that would hardly find space in indigenous African conversations. In indigenous Africa, personhood is a status conferred by the community, not possessed by an individual in isolation. Personhood must be understood relationally, not as a consequence of an individual’s intrinsic properties. A person is one who stands in appropriate relationships of care, responsibility, and deference to others. Persons exist in the full sense only as members of their communities. The indigenous African concept of identity is, therefore, relational. It is the community that gives meaning and personality to the individual. The connection between the individual and the community is considered to be so strong that some scholars believe that it downplays the notion of individual freedom. Okot p’Bitek, for instance, insisted that Rousseau was wrong to declare, at the beginning of The Social Contract, that “Man is born free but is everywhere in chains.” On the contrary, p’Bitek argues that “Man is not born free. He cannot be free. He is incapable of being free. For only by being human in chains can he be and remain ‘human’” (p’Bitek, 1986: 19). Accordingly, he emphasizes that: Man cannot, and must not, be free. Son, Mother, Daughter, Father, Uncle, Husband, Grandfather, Chief, Medicine man, and many other such terms are the stamps of man’s unfreedom. It is by such complex titles that a person is defined and identified. The central question ‘Who am I?’ cannot be answered in any meaningful way unless the relationship in question is known. Because ‘I’ is not only one relationship, it is many relationships. (p’Bitek, 1986: 20)

In contrasting the African and Western perspectives regarding the relationship between the community and the individual, Menkiti argues that the indexical “we” in African thought systems – as a reference to the group or community – is not simply the aggregated sum of individuals comprising a community. Instead, the “we” as used in African cultures refers to “a thoroughly fused collectivity ‘we’ (Menkiti, 1984: 179).” In other words, the “we” in African cultures is a transcendental or organic “we” and cannot be reduced to its component parts. That “we” is not simply a summation of several parts. It is in this respect that the self is indeed regarded as the community. The identity of the individual and that of the community cannot be in opposition. An individual in the indigenous African setup is known and identified in, by, and through his or her community. In the Western world, because of the individualistic emphasis, people see and identify themselves descriptively as metaphysically isolated individuals who have a

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personhood outside of the normative and cultural structures of a community and the human relationships that define and sustain a community. A clear line of divide is drawn between the “I” and “we,” between the individual and community. In the indigenous African setup, on the other hand, because of the communal emphasis, people see and identify themselves in terms of how their community trains, shapes, and morally educates them to acquire personhood. The concern is how the moral thinking of the people is shaped by the context of the community with respect to their actions and behavior (Ikuenobe, 2006: 56). The line of distinction between the individual and the community in indigenous African cultures is therefore fuzzy. One cannot define personhood without making reference to societal norms and expectations. Human relations in indigenous Africa is not simply a way in which the individual may realize his or her objectives. As Ezenweke and Nwadialor correctly assert, in indigenous Africa, “the essential element of personhood and the quality of a person is dependent on the intensity of maintaining these relationships. A common thread that runs through various definitions of human relations is the idea of being embedded in the culture and as a corollary all the ways of doing things of a community or people” (Ezenweke & Nwadialor, 2013: 62). Human conduct, behavior, and morals are therefore elements of cultural environment and consequently community-based. This is to say that the interconnections which create the human person and human communities impose moral obligations and duties on the relationship between the individual and the community, and between communities. Specifically, morality in indigenous African setups is a communal affair. Morality is grounded on human well-being and the existence or survival of the community. From the African viewpoint, moral principles are primarily concerned with the maintenance of good relationship with others as opposed to the maintenance of justice and individual rights as emphasized in the Western world. In Africa, what is right is what connects people together and what separates people is wrong. Basically, African morality is concerned with the well-being of all members of the community. Consequently, the essence of goodness and good life in African indigenous thought has to do with doing well and not harming others. To this extent, indigenous African morality or ethics is essentially social-oriented and anchored on the well-being of social being. Moreover, Africans in their indigenous ethics place some sort of emphasis on goodness of character that promotes the good life of the community. The promotion of good life is therefore the determinant principle of indigenous African morality and this promotion is guaranteed only in the community. In indigenous Africa, morality is not merely a set of abstract justificatory principles. It is instead fundamentally a practical communal method and guide for action that is externalized and finds expression in all aspects of people’s everyday lives and activities. It is therefore this communalistic mentality that determines and makes sense of not only the notion of personhood but the concept of individual identity as well. An individual’s identity is defined by his or her actions, achievements, and responsibilities that are pedestalled on a moral outlook that is communal, egalitarian, and care-oriented. Stated differently, indigenous African communities are egalitarian

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in that they emphasize equal distribution of communal goods, equality of communal opportunity, and caring of others in order for an individual to achieve personhood and identity (Ikuenobe, 2006: 66). The Yoruba proverb “However far the stream flows, it never forgets its source” captures this African notion of personhood and identity. In indigenous African communities, the interests of the community provide the moral basis for the various social institutions, such as marriage and its attendant relationships and responsibilities. Take the activity of parenting as an example. The notion of a father in the Western world is generally conceptualized in terms of a filialbiological relationship or a parenting relationship in the case of step or adopted father/child. In the West, one does not need any social recognition or initiation to perform the role or have the relationship of a father. In Africa, however social recognition is necessary. In this regard, Nzegwu in her Family Matters: Feminist Concepts in African Philosophy of Culture points out that the roles and responsibilities that are specified by certain relationships, such as being a father, are, in the different African cultural and communal arrangements, exercised only by those who have been formally and publicly declared, ritualistically initiated into adulthood, or socially recognized as adults in the context of the community, based on their readiness to perform the relevant duties (Nzegwu, 2012: 38–41). It is important to underscore the fact that, in African cultures, the readiness to perform parental roles and duties, for example, is determined by social achievements and recognition as an adult in the community. The readiness is not based solely on chronological age. Fatherhood in African cultures is therefore more of a social than biological phenomenon, and the social aspect is cogently connected to the communal spirit. And it is for this reason that in African traditions one has several fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, etc. Persons who in the Western world are referred to as uncles – that is, brothers of one’s biological father – are in African traditions referred to as fathers. Those who are referred to as aunts – that is, sisters to one’s biological mother – are referred to as mothers. This is essentially because they play the same social role as the biological father and biological mother. Also, the English term “cousin” would be translated properly as brother or sister in African languages. A child of one’s “uncle” or “aunt” is a brother (if male) or a sister (if female). Moreover, within the indigenous African setup, children do not belong only to their biological parents; other family members are expected to take an active responsibility for the well-being of their relatives’ children. Hence, as already signaled above, one’s father’s brother is also one’s father. He is not only addressed as such but is expected to behave in a manner deserving of a father. The same is expected of one’s mother’s sister as well. All this is a reflection that in indigenous African communities relationships are seen more in social terms undergirded by communalism rather than in purely biological terms. In indigenous African cultures, a community is defined by its ability to guide individuals in it achieve moral personhood. Hence, a community is judged by the nature of the people found in it. The community as a whole and each adult member has the responsibility of morally educating a person. The idea of education involves the broad process of learning, upbringing, socialization, initiation,

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acculturation, and teaching people the community’s ways of life. The community’s way of life would include its tradition, beliefs, values, a broad range of prescribed conduct, and the general and moral principles that determine the acceptable actions and behavior. Such principles constitute the foundation upon which the community is able to practically ensure its own social, political, moral equilibrium, and organic wholeness. Given the “I am because we are” axiom, a person is always seen both as “a representative of oneself” and as an integral part of the community that one hails from. A person is judged by how much that person has internalized the virtues, beliefs, values, and attitudes that the community has taught the person in terms of how that person displays them in his or her everyday actions and decisions.

Concept of Time The concept of time in indigenous Africa is quite different from the Western conception and this has to do largely with the communal emphasis in African cultures. Mbiti gave a clear outline of the African conception of time in his two books African Religions and Philosophy and New Testament Eschatology in an African Background: A Study of the Encounter between New Testament Theology and African Traditional Concepts. In the texts, he contends that for one to understand indigenous African beliefs, attitudes, practices, and activities, it is crucial that one be familiar with their concept of time. Mbiti believes that the indigenous African concept of time is intimately bound with the entire life of the people, including their religious systems and philosophy. In the indigenous African setup, according to Mbiti, time is simply a composition of events: events which have occurred, those which are taking place now, and those which are immediately to occur. It follows, therefore, that what has not taken place or has no likelihood of an immediate occurrence falls in the category of “No-time.” However, what is certain to occur, or what falls within the rhythm of natural phenomena, is in the category of inevitable or potential time (Mbiti, 1989: 17). The key word in the definition of the concept of time in indigenous Africa is events. What has not taken place is not an event and, therefore, cannot constitute time. Mbiti emphasizes that the African concept of time is therefore two-dimensional: it consists of events that have happened (past) and events that are taking place now or about to occur (present). The future dimension is evidently missing in this conception of time. The three-dimensional linear conception of time with an indefinite past, present, and infinite future is foreign in indigenous African setup where time is perceived in the perspective of actuality, dominated by events. Time has to be experienced. It makes meaning, for example, when it is related to weather, seasons, and natural phenomena. Time then is not mathematical or numerical. It is simply time as experienced by the people in relation to events around them. Of the two dimensions in the African concept of time, it is the past (tene or zamani) that is important. Tene is the Kikamba word for “past” and is equivalent to the Kiswahili word zamani.

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F. Ochieng’-Odhiambo Tene period is technically an extension of mituki (present or sasa) . . . [Mituki is the Kikamba word for “present” and is equivalent to the Kiswahili word sasa] . . ., but in the ‘backward’ direction. Both of these overlap: and when something disappears from mituki period, it enters the tene dimension of Time. Before anything has been absorbed into the tene period, it must go through mituki dimension. Tene becomes the final storehouse, the point beyond which a phenomenon cannot go, the ultimate destiny of all things that maybe caught up in the rhythm of motion. (Mbiti, 1971: 28)

So, in African thought, tene is the period beyond which nothing can go. It is the graveyard of time, the period of termination, the dimension in which everything finds its halting point. It is the final store house of all phenomenon and events, the ocean of time in which everything becomes absorbed into a reality that is neither after nor before (Mbiti, 1989: 23). Given that tene is the dimension into which all phenomena sink, it follows that, just like actual time, history: According to Akamba, is a movement from the mituki (temporal dimension signifying present, very near past, or the future just about to be realized) dimension to the tene period. History moves backwards from the now moment to that period in the past beyond which nothing can go. So the tene period is the centre of gravity in the Akamba conception of history: people’s thinking and understanding of the world are orientated towards this finality - not in the future but in the past, in the tene dimension of time. (Mbiti, 1971: 28)

From the African conception of time outlined above, it follows that African people in their indigenous setup are oriented more towards the past direction and not towards the future as such. In this chapter, the relationship between the concept of time and communal emphasis in indigenous African communities is underscored. It is contended that the African conception of time and history is aligned to their conception of community which includes the living as well as the living-dead (ancestors). Connected to the past orientation of time, African ontology has it that what lies in the past is regarded as much more powerful than the present; that which is good, therefore, lies in the past and not in the future. In African ontological hierarchy, God followed by spirits occupy a higher position than living humans. The living humans occupy the sasa dimension of time and it is in this category that time (history) starts. The living-dead are the departed of the community whose names are still retained and transmitted to descendants, that is, their personalities are still living with the people. They make part of the sasa or the nearest zamani. However, “after three to five generations, when ordinary people can no longer recognize a livingdead by name, he becomes a spirit, Iimu (pl. Aimu)” (Mbiti, 1971: 133). The spiritual world is therefore the center towards which existence is directed. It is where the good resides and concerted efforts of all living humans are directed towards becoming aimu. In consideration of the fact that time is a composition of events, it follows that it is something relative, it depends on the context as well as on how one uses it in relationship to others or how one experiences it. For that reason, the indigenous African concept of time is dynamic, concrete, and interwoven with one’s daily existence. Africans reckon time for a concrete and specific purpose and not just for

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the sake of mathematics or in a vacuum. The African time is either time-for or time-to or time-of. Numerical calendars stretching into the future and in a vacuum are not African. Mbiti argues that what exists for the African are phenomenon calendars, in which events which constitute time are reckoned. For instance, an expectant mother counts the lunar months of her pregnancy. What is significant here is the pregnancy and not the months; the months make meaning only because of the pregnancy. Thus time is meaningful at the point of the event and not at the mathematical time. One can also say that principally the time is kairological in that it is more concerned with the right moment; it is contextual and concerned with the qualitative aspect. This can be contrasted to the chronological perception of time which measures out time in a linear and absolute sense where time is conceptualized as static, mathematical, and measured in figures. It can also be argued that in indigenous Africa, time is community-centered in that relationships are considered to be more important than tasks. What follows therefore is that time is made when and to the extent that it is needed, for example, for interpersonal communication. In the linear conception of time which is dominant in the Western world, time is future-directed and less directed upon the past. In the linear conception, time is not made but has to be filled; hence, one can either lose, waste, or save time. An implication of the conception of time in terms of events is that it is people who create time. Van der Walt captures this succinctly when he infers that Africans in the indigenous setup are masters, rather than slaves, of time. They are the architects of time. More eminently, time is construed as a socialized activity, it is programmed into sociocultural norms of human behavior and interpersonal relationship. Human relationships are relaxed and the pace at which chores are undertaken is tranquil (Van der Walt, 1997: 63). In this conception of time, premium is placed on relationships than on tasks. Better yet, here tasks are subjugated to the relational aspect of life and are completed in order to help the family, clan, and the community. In this socialized conception, the use of time does not sacrifice social duties and human relations on the altar unlike the Western linear clock time calculation which emphasizes on tasks even at the expense of relationships. In clock time, tasks precede relationships.

Buying and Selling Buying and selling are two sides of the same coin. When one sells something, someone else is buying it. Buying is the acquisition of an object in exchange of money, whereas selling is acquiring money, in exchange of relinquishing all claims of ownership from an object. Therefore, buying and selling involves an agreement between the buyer and the seller whereby the seller has the duty to transfer the ownership of property to the buyer and the buyer pays the price of the property to the seller. In this chapter, the contention is that even in the activity of buying and selling the communal attention in indigenous Africa is reflected. There is a sense in which the economic activity of buying and selling in indigenous African communities is conducted somehow differently from the way it is conducted in the Western world.

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In the Western world, the activity of buying and selling is regarded as a purely impersonal economic transaction where prices of the commodities being sold are fixed and clearly displayed on the items. Both the buyer and seller are not interested in each other as such; the buyer is interested in the commodity and the seller in the money. If the transaction can be undertaken in the shortest possible time with minimal conversation, all the better. Why waste time; time is money! In indigenous Africa, on the other hand, over and above the economic activity, buying and selling is viewed as a social person-to-person transaction. The prices of the commodities are not fixed as such and therefore no prices are displayed on the items. The seller and buyer could therefore spend a considerable amount of time “wrangling” over the price. However, underlying all the “wrangling” over the price is the desire or wish to establish a social person-to-person relationship between the buyer and the seller. Ordinarily the “wrangling” over the price would have nothing to do with the buyer not having enough money to purchase the desired commodity. In actuality, the buyer might even have much more money in his or her pockets but would still choose to “bicker” over the price. In some cases, even before actually engaging in the buying and selling activity, the buyer and the seller may in the initial stages engage in a social conversation: greetings, discussing the weather and current affairs, inquiring about each other’s family, etc. despite the fact that they could be “strangers” meeting for the very first time. All this takes place because the whole process of buying and selling is seen against the backdrop of communalism; the social person-to-person activity is not lost sight of. Here one should note that the African concept of time fits in very well. Because time is a two-dimensional phenomenon entailing a movement from the sasa to the zamani, human relationships are relaxed and activities are conducted at a tranquil pace. Other instances or activities that reflect the communal emphasis in indigenous African societies in contradistinction to the Western world include the rationale for greeting and also eating. In indigenous Africa, the intent to greet is to build relationships; one builds relationships by greeting people. One would not pass others on the wayside without greeting them even if he or she is not acquainted with them. Doing so would be considered inappropriate and rude. Given the intensity underlying the communal spirit with its attendant cognate conceptions of identity and moral personhood, one is under an obligation to greet others since it is an avenue for establishing relationships and communication. In the Western world, on the other hand, because of its strong individualistic character, one is under no such obligation. In a typical individualistic environment, if one happens to greet someone then chances are that that person wants to request something of you or obtain some information. In the rural areas and villages in Africa, greeting is a common phenomenon whereas in the urban areas it is not. In the villages, if someone passes another without greeting the person (whether one is acquainted with the person or not), that would be considered bizarre and morally unacceptable. In the urban areas, on the contrary, what would be considered bizarre would be when one was to greet someone whom he or she was not acquainted with. All this boils down to the fact that while the rural areas and villages are largely communalistic in outlook and orientation, the urban areas having adapted Western values and are generally individualistic.

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Another activity in indigenous Africa which has a somewhat additional justification based on the communal emphasis is that of eating. It can be reasonably argued that in a typical individualistic Western setup, the activity of eating is mainly directed at acquiring new energy. The foods people eat provide the much needed energy to work, to support their everyday activities, and promote their survival. In indigenous African setup, however, eating has an added justification. It is also viewed as a social event. People eat not merely in order to acquire new energy but also with a view to sharing food and having discussions. As people eat, they chat, they tell stories, they discuss. So eating is seen as an activity that goes beyond acquisition of new energy; it has the social dimension to it. Again, in the urban areas it is quite common to find that during meal times families do not engage in discussions; they would rather have their discussions before or after meals. This is because in their minds, meal times are basically occasions for acquiring new energy and not talking. The only sounds one would hear during meal times are those made by the clattering of the eating utensils and plates. However, in some few occasions, the urbanites may engage in socialized eating. This could be when they are celebrating a holiday or an anniversary. In some cases, it could be a family eat out in the city center or it could be on a date.

Conclusion Part I of the chapter is an effort to show that communalism is a view that underlies indigenous African communities and is a cardinal theory that punctuates cultural traditions in Africa from those in the West. In the West the dominant underlying postulate is individualism. Hence whereas indigenous African societies stress human community, the West emphasizes the individual as the most important. Indigenous Africa would therefore not easily understand human individuality because the individual only exists in a community. The person is a reflection of the community. “I am, because we are.” On the other hand, the West would not easily and genuinely understand communality because a community is simply viewed as the collection of a number of independent individuals. Community is an expression of the individual will. “We are, because I am.” Several differences in the beliefs, attitudes, and realities found in the two societies emanate from and are intelligible based on the communalism/individualism divide. These include differences in their metaphysics, ethics, epistemology, religion, psychology, etc. In part II, the intention has been to explicate some of the notions and practices in indigenous African societies that are grounded upon and reflect the communal character. The notions and practices that have been discussed include in the main the notions of identity and moral personhood, the concept of time, and the practice of buying and selling, and in parenthesis the notion of greeting and the justification for eating. While discussing these notions and activities in indigenous Africa, the chapter has juxtaposed them with how the very notions and activities are conceptualized in an individualistic society. The chapter has underscored the fact that the comparison is purely for the sake of clear comprehension and not evaluative. This chapter is an exercise in African sage philosophy which is one of the four major trends in, or approaches to, the discipline of African philosophy as identified

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by Odera Oruka. The other three are ethnophilosophy, professional philosophy, and nationalist-ideological philosophy (Odera Oruka, 1981: 1–7). One of the definitions of sagacity is that it is a body of basic principles and tenets that underlie and justify the beliefs, customs, and practices of a given culture. This chapter has not only been a demonstration of the communal principle, but it has justified some of the notions and activities in indigenous Africa that are based on it.

References Ezenweke, E. O., & Nwadialor, L. K. (2013). Understanding human relations in African traditional religious context in the face of globalization: Nigerian perspectives. American International Journal of Contemporary Research, 3(2), 61–70. Hord, F. L., Okpara, M. L., & Lee, J. S. (1995). I am because we are: Readings in black philosophy. University of Massachusetts Press. Ikuenobe, P. (2006). Philosophical perspectives on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lexington Books. Kind, A. (2015). Persons and personal identity. Polity. Mbiti, J. S. (1971). New testament eschatology in an African background: A study of the encounter between new testament theology and African traditional concepts. Oxford University Press. Mbiti, J. S. (1989). African religions and philosophy (2nd rev. and enl. ed.). Heinemann. Menkiti, I. A. (1984). Person and community in African traditional thought. In R. A. Wright (Ed.), African philosophy: An introduction (pp. 171–181). University Press of America. Nyerere, J. K. (1973). Ujamaa: The basis of African socialism. In J. K. Nyerere (Ed.), Freedom and unity (pp. 160–165). Oxford University Press. Nzegwu, N. (2012). Family matters: Feminist concepts in African philosophy of culture. SUNY Press. Odera Oruka, H. (1981). Four trends in current African philosophy. In A. Diemer (Ed.), Philosophy in the present situation of Africa. Franz Steiner Verlag. p’Bitek, O. (1986). Artist the ruler: Essays on art, culture and values. East African Educational Publishers Ltd.. Ruch, E. A. (1975). Towards a theory of African knowledge. In D. S. Georgiades & I. G. Oelvare (Eds.), Philosophy in the African context (pp. 1–22). Witwatersrand University Press. Tempels, P. (1959). Bantu philosophy. Présence Africaine. Tutu, D. M. (1999). No future without forgiveness: A personal overview of South Africa’s truth and reconciliation commission. Doubleday. Van der Walt, B. J. (1975). A comparison between Bantu and western thought. In D. S. Georgiades & I. G. Oelvare (Eds.), Philosophy in the African context (pp. 103–108). Witwatersrand University Press. Van der Walt, B. J. (1997). Afrocentric or Eurocentric? Our task in a multicultural South Africa. Potchefstroom University for Christian Higher Education.

Challenges of African Communitarian Philosophy Elvis Imafidon

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bridging the Theory-Praxis Gap . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Narrow Conception of Community and the Exclusion Challenge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Normativity of Being and the Difference Challenge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hierarchical Communing and the Participatory Challenge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Relational Dwelling and the Autonomy Challenge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The chapter critically examines the fundamental and all-embracing philosophy of sub-Saharan African peoples, Afro-communitarianism or African communitarian philosophy. The chapter shows that recent theoretical scholarship on African communitarian philosophy is often removed from the concrete and lived experiences of African peoples in terms of how community and communing are understood. This results in a theory-praxis gap or dichotomy that needs to be bridged to ensure that this philosophy remains relevant for African peoples. The chapter analyses this gap and ways to bridge them by examining four challenges of African communitarian philosophy: the exclusion challenge in relation to an existentially narrow conception of community, the difference challenge in relation to a normative ontology of being in sub-Saharan African communities, the participatory challenge in relation to hierarchies in African communities, and the autonomy challenge in relation to the understanding of relationality. The chapter concludes that the theorization of African communitarian philosophy can only

E. Imafidon (*) Director of the Centre for Global and Comparative Philosophies, School of History, Religions and Philosophies, School of Oriental and African Studies SOAS, University of London, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_22

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overcome a crisis of relevance and avoid the tendency of serving only the West if it bridges the theory-praxis gap and pay closer attention to the lived experience of African peoples. Keywords

Afro-communitarianism · Ubuntu · Participation · Difference · Exclusion · Autonomy · Theory-praxis gap

Introduction The overarching philosophy in sub-Saharan African traditions has been variedly coined as Afro-communitarianism, African communal philosophy, African communalism, African communitarianism, or, as used in this chapter, African communitarian philosophy. Notwithstanding the different coinages, the central idea remains the same: African communitarian philosophy is an all-encompassing, all-inclusive, and extensively broad philosophical framework by which sub-Saharan African peoples think about, contemplate, reflect, deliberate, and provide answers to questions about reality, knowledge, truth, morality, values, existence, well-being, art, beauty, governance, duties to the non-human, and other philosophical questions. African communitarian philosophy is thus a philosophical, metaphysical, ethical, epistemological, political, aesthetic, environmental, religious, and existential philosophy that is (i) embedded in African oral, symbolic and textual heritages such as languages, arts, symbols, storytelling, texts, and other repositories of knowledge, (ii) hermeneutical in that it helps to understand, interpret and analyzing individual, collective and shared, life-course, attitudinal dispositions, lived and concrete experiences in an African place, and (iii) crucial in theorizing the African philosophical contribution to global issues and challenges such as environmental crises, health and well-being, governance, international relations, trans-human and post-human technologies, and business management. In the more recent history of academic and largely textual African philosophical discourses, there is a rich and growing clarification, conceptualization and application of African communitarian philosophy (see, for example, Eze, 2008; Ikuenobe, 2006; Gyekye, 1992; Menkiti, 2004; Tutu, 1999; Metz, 2007; Molefe, 2017). As Elvis Imafidon (2021: 50) puts it, The value and pride that many African scholars have for African communitarian philosophy is evident in the way that they have applied it as a theoretical framework for resolving issues, challenges, and problems in different spheres of life in Africa and around the globe, including environmental problems, business problems, governance issues, healthcare challenges. . . and so on. For example, African environmental ethicists argue for an African relational environmental ethics on the basis of African communitarianism. . . Other scholars have applied African thought to business situations by theorising the ways that arguments in business ethics can be deduced from African communitarian philosophy. . . In the area of healthcare, some African healthcare professionals have also discussed in detail how the relational, solidaristic, and the care-for-one-another or live-and-let’s-live elements of African communitarian ethics can improve relationships between healthcare workers and patients. . .

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In short, African communitarian philosophy has become a rich and reliable theoretical resource for African scholars.

But there is the danger for this rich and growing discourse of African communitarian philosophy to be carried on in ways that essentialize and idealize the concept, such that it is removed and binarized from the concrete and lived communal experiences of African peoples. To avoid this danger, it is fundamental that a critical engagement with the idea of African communitarian philosophy is not only vigorously pursued but sustained. This is not to say that there have not been critical engagements with the concept in recent times (see for example Wiredu, 1980; Matolino & Kwindingwi, 2013), but one needs to be careful as well in problematizing and critically engaging with African communitarian philosophy in order not to do so in ways that are completely destructive, colonial, Eurocentric and in ways that are meant to radically sustain the tradition-modernity dichotomy, one that remains a nightmare in African scholarship; most of the criticism of African communitarian philosophy that has emerged in recent scholarship often resembles the claim that it is a philosophy for the past (tradition) and not for the present (modernity) (Matolino & Kwindingwi, 2013). A critical engagement with this all-encompassing African philosophical thought would require first, the acknowledgement of the importance and place of this philosophy for sub-Saharan African peoples’ existential experiences even in modern contexts, second, the challenges this philosophy poses to overall human well-being; and third, a constructive attempt to reformulate and reimagine it in ways that overcome such challenges, making it a philosophical framework that continues to be important and relevant for peoples within and beyond Africa. Olufemi Taiwo (2016: 81) summarizes the importance of a critical outlook on African communitarian philosophy thus, Communalism and its cognates continue to exercise a vise grip on the African intellectual imaginary. Whether the discussion is in ethics or social philosophy, in metaphysics or even, on occasion, epistemology, the play of communalism,. . . is so strong that it is difficult to escape its ubiquity. In spite of this, there is little serious analysis of the concept and its implications in the contemporary context. Yet, at no other time than now can a long-suffering continent use some robust debates on its multiple inheritances regarding how to organize life and thought in order to deliver a better future for its population. Given the continual resort to communalism as, among others, the standard of ethical behaviour, the blueprint for restoring Africans to wholeness and organizing our social life, as well as a template for political reorganization across the continent, one cannot overemphasize the importance of contributing some illumination to the discourse surrounding the idea.

Therefore, the goal of this chapter is to critically engage with African communitarian philosophy in a (re)constructive way and, perhaps, the best place to begin the critical analysis of the challenges of African communitarian philosophy that this chapter is centrally concerned with, is to attempt to bridge and deconstruct the theory-praxis gap in the discourse of African communitarian philosophy. This is crucial in establishing the continuous importance of the concept as a philosophical, hermeneutical, and existential framework in African contexts, and in clearly

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identifying the challenges that it poses to human flourishing and well-being today. The chapter will then proceed to examine four major challenges that African communitarian philosophy face: the exclusion challenge, the difference challenge, the participatory challenge, and the autonomy challenge. To be sure, these four challenges are not clear cut from one another and they intersect and are interwoven as we will see shortly.

Bridging the Theory-Praxis Gap Philosophy often traditionally proceeds as a system of abstraction, abstracting and formulating theory, idea, or concept from lived, concrete, and everyday experiences by identifying, isolating, and deducing common features or shared characteristics and by implication, disregarding or ignoring difference, concreteness, and unique practical aspects of what is being abstracted and theorized. This mental process of abstraction in philosophy breeds binaries and dichotomies in philosophy such as the binary between the intelligible and the sensible, the real and the abstract, the normative and the descriptive, the universal and the singular, the theoretical and the practical, and so on. From Thales’ theory of water as the substance of reality, Plato’s idea of being and becoming, Leibniz’s idea of monads, Lao Tzu’s theory of inaction, to Zera Yacob’s theory of harmony, the history of philosophy shows clearly that abstraction has been crucial in constructing the many isms and theories of philosophy. To be sure, the human disposition toward abstraction is ontic. Therefore, to philosophize through abstraction is a human yearning, but the challenge emerges from radically dichotomizing abstracted theories, concepts, and ideas from the concrete, lived, and everyday experiences from which the abstractions have been made. This is typical of philosophical theories, to discard and treat as unimportant that from which they have emerged. This is the theory-praxis gap. But there is a strong interdependency and interwovenness between what is abstracted and where the abstraction comes from, between theory and practice. Abstractions in philosophy emerge from the philosopher’s everyday experiences (Oladipo, 2008); the theory, idea, or concept abstract becomes an important standpoint for understanding the experiences that produced it in the first place and of similar experiences elsewhere; the everyday concrete and lived experiences also continue to unfold in ways that provide the needed resources and raw materials for revising, rethinking, and reconstructing the theory. Thus, rather than a theory-praxis gap, where theoretical philosophy pretentiously becomes star-gazing, detached, and disinterested in human concrete experiences, a theory-praxis co-dependency, as applied philosophy and social philosophy show, is crucial in making sense not only of our duties to philosophize but also of what we philosophize about. Afro-communitarianism or African communitarian philosophy is an apt example in African theoretical philosophy of the theory-praxis gap. In the last six or so decades, contemporary academic African philosophy has labored to theorize African communitarian philosophy from the lived and concrete experience of communing in African places. This labor as mentioned in the introductory section has resulted in a

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robust and important communitarian philosophy that has become crucial in tackling global issues. By implication, the abstraction of African communitarian theory as an overarching philosophical theory follows the usual binarized pattern of abstraction where the theory is detached from concrete experiences and becomes universal. The abstraction of the concrete communal experiences and repositories in and across specific African places into an overarching philosophical theory is problematic for at least two reasons. First, the abstracted theory is often portrayed as equivalent to the concrete realities of African peoples in and across African communities. There is no doubt that the textual presentation of African communitarian philosophy as a theory in contemporary academic African philosophy is derived from the textual, oral, symbolic, and lived experiences of African peoples, but it is certainly not equivalent to these experiences, for in theorizing, a lot of the lived experiences have been essentialised and discarded and the focus has fundamentally been on extracting and extrapolating essential and common features that produce an idealized theory. Thus, as a philosophical theory, African communitarian philosophy, with its emphasis on togetherness, unity, solidarity, a co-dependency ethic, ontological equilibrium, and so on, becomes nearly hermeneutically irrelevant on its own in thinking about the concrete experiences of discord, discrimination, marginalization, violence, disunity, self-aggrandizement, and willful lack of sense of public service that saturate and permeate African societies today in forms of tribalism, ethnicity, xenophobia, sexism, ableism, economic and political violence and crises, poverty, wars, and so on. More so, theoretical abstractions of African communitarian philosophy results in essentialism and hasty generalization. That African communities A, B, C, and D individually have indigenous repositories of philosophical knowledge of communitarianism in the forms of orality, symbolism, and even textuality and that within each of these communities, there is clear evidence that communal dwelling and approach to existence saturate and permeates communal life do not indicate that African communities A, B, C, and D collectively agree on what it means to commune nor does it mean that they collectively practice communitarian philosophy. More so, that African communities A, B, C, and D have developed and practiced a certain kind of communitarian philosophy does not immediately indicate that African communities X, Y, and Z live by the same or a similar philosophical outlook. Second, the essentialist and overgeneralizing character of African communitarian philosophy as a fundamental African philosophical theory becomes a foundation for a destructive and radical criticism of the theory itself, particularly in cases where it glaringly becomes hermeneutically irrelevant for concrete African experiences or where it does not take into account nuances and place-based understanding of communion and the right and duties to commune (Ekenia, 1998; Taiwo, 2016; Matolino & Kwindingwi, 2013). The disparity between what is obtainable in an African place with reference to communitarian philosophy and what has been abstracted as theory beyond specific African places often raises the issue of performative contradiction, questions the relevance of tradition for modern living and by implication, deepens the tradition – modernity dichotomy, and may further re-perpetuate colonial ideologies of the crisis of irrelevance of African philosophies.

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Dealing with these problematics of the theorization of African communitarian philosophy consists of acknowledging the two levels in which African communitarian philosophy operates and promoting a constant and ongoing dialogue between both levels. The two levels of African communitarian philosophy are the theoretical level which signifies a broad sense of the deduced and extrapolated understanding of communing from communities in Africa and the existential level which signifies a narrow sense of communing in communities in specific African places (Imafidon, 2021). At the existential level, . . . a narrow sense of community. . . is understood in a compact, restricted, sense, as primarily consisting of beings that are intrinsically connected, bonded together by shared values, culture, religion, beliefs, language, ancestry, ethnicity, and philosophy. This narrow sense of community portrays a community as a closed entity, one that is uneasy about difference and anything that departs from the specific forms of being that it recognizes. This restrictive sort of community is structured for self-preservation and is indifferent to the concerns of people outside of its closely knit frame of existence. Such a community could, therefore, easily breed oppressive relationships with other communities based on ethnicity, ethnocentrism, tribalism, discrimination, and xenophobia. (Imafidon, 2021: 55)

At the theoretical level, A broad sense of community, on the other hand, involves a more open and receptive form of communion among people, a communion that is grounded in general, flexible, and tolerant principles of humanity and solidarity that accommodate differences rather than based on very specific and rigid forms, features, or qualities of being. In this broad sense, . . . [a communitarian philosophy] will promote communal living, sense of belonging, solidarity, and togetherness, through the recognition of other possibilities and understandings of the world different from its own. (Imafidon, 2021: 55)

The crucial role of contemporary African philosophers specifically interested in communitarian philosophy is to promote a discursive formation (Eze, 2008) between the theoretical and the existential in ways that the one continues to nourish the other resulting in a situation where the theoretical becomes lived and existential, and the existential provides the concrete data for (re)conceptualizing the theoretical. In what follows, the chapter explores the tension between the existential and the theoretical as the foundation for the challenges of communitarian African philosophy and explores ways in which bridging the gap and easing this tension between theory and praxis is fundamental in dealing with these challenges.

The Narrow Conception of Community and the Exclusion Challenge A closed society at its best can be justly compared to an organism. The so-called organic or biological theory of the state can be applied to it to a considerable extent. A closed society resembles a herd or a tribe in being a semi-organic unit whose members are held together by semi-biological ties—kinship, living together, sharing common efforts, common dangers, common joys and common distress. It is still a concrete group of concrete individuals,

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related to one another not merely by such abstract social relationships as division of labour and exchange of commodities, but by concrete physical relationships such as touch, smell, and sight. (Popper, 2002: 165)

Karl Popper’s description of a closed society here (as distinct from an open one) may provide a basis for reiterating the narrow (as distinct from the broad) conception of community described in the previous section. But one must do so cautiously as the closed versus open society distinction as presented by Popper is not an easy one to sustain. For example, so-called open societies often operate with closed, tenaciously and jealously guided ideologies that it will take a sort of Copernican revolution in the Kuhnian sense (Kuhn, 1970) to open them to revision; open societies also have closed communities within them that fit quite well with Popper’s description. More so, the so-called closed societies are also characterized, at least as the history of colonization shows, by being open(able) to new ways of life and thinking. So, perhaps, the term “narrow” (vis-a-vis “broad”) conception of a community may capture best what is in mind here than “closed” (vis-à-vis “open”) community/ society, although the description of a “closed” community, for example, may in many ways be similar to the description of a “narrow” conception of community, yet different. A narrow community is a community where its members are conscious of and rigid about its ontic and normative peculiarities, elevating such peculiarities over and above those of other communities. These peculiar features such as religion, beliefs, language, modes of dressing, art, ancestry, ethnicity, kinship, genes, and culture become for this community the yardstick for admittance into the community and for assessing, evaluating, and judging non-community members. The narrow community is in this sense not closed to the ontic reality of other communities and other ways of being. In fact, it is in the recognition of other communities that it finds its pride and jealously guides and elevates its own ways of being above those of others. A narrow community does not simply regard its ways of being as different from others but as better than and superior to other ways of being and this becomes a basis for exclusion. From ethnic groups in Nigeria such as the Yorubas, Igbos, Hausas, Fulanis, Igalas, Binis, and the Ijaws, the ethnic groups in Kenya such as the Kikuyus, Maasais, Luos, and Luhyas, to the ethnic groups in South Africa such as the Zulus, the Vuwanis, and the Bantus, and beyond to ethnic groups across sub-Saharan Africa, narrow communities reign in forms of ethnocentrism, impacting politics, economy, social relationships, security, and other aspects of existence (Lentz, 1995). With reference to South Africa, for example, Baloyi (2018: 2–3) says, There is enough evidence that South Africa had been and is still a divided country, not only along racial lines but even on tribal or ethnic groupings. For apartheid regime to succeed, tribalism was a tool that ensured that black people were divided and placed in tribal zones. This became a fertile ground for racism, which ensured that South Africans are really divided and blacks were subjected. The tribalism that was evidenced by tensions between Tsongas and Vendas in the Vuwani-Malamulele municipality protests. . . potentially works against the project of uniting a divided South Africa. The fact that racism used tribalism, among other

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With reference to Kenya, Orvis (2001: 8) writes, Kenyan politics have long been among the most “ethnic” in Africa. From the battles over the constitutional formula for independence to the waning days of the one-party regime in the late 1980s, Kenyan politicians sought support from their ethnic or subethnic groups, and citizens perceived most political battles to be about dividing the “national cake” among the constituent ethnic groups. Political liberalization since 1991 has not fundamentally changed this atmosphere. Most obviously, it has allowed ethnic politics to reemerge into open, public debate. Ruling and opposition parties represent primarily all, some, or coalitions of ethnic groups. Ethnically marked electoral violence, largely instigated by the ruling regime, has come to be expected, though not accepted, as part of the campaign season. Leaders are far more prone to make appeals to the state for resources in openly ethnic terms than they dared to do in the one-party era.

To be sure, these are not different from the growing and disturbing ethnic and tribal attacks in Nigeria by Fulani herders for political, economic, and agricultural reasons (Mustapha, 2005; Ajibefun, 2018). Thus, ethnocentrism and tribalism remain major challenges to the more theoretical understanding of communalism in African philosophy as inclusive in that an ethnocentric and tribalistic community exclusively elevates herself and her interest above those of other communities and by implication, such a community is interested in building and maintaining solidarity within itself rather than beyond itself and with other communities. More so, narrow communities operate on different levels and dimensions. Beyond the tribal-ethnic level is an even more troubling level of nationalism where members of an African nation-state prioritizes their interests as a (national) community over and in exclusion of those of other nation-states in ways that are harmful and detrimental. This approach to nationalism has been the basis for exclusion, marginalization and verbal, psychological and physical violence against those not belonging to one’s nation-state, real or imagined, as it became apparent in xenophobic attacks and violence in South Africa in recent years, violence meted out against fellow Africans who would usually belong to the same Pan-African community of selves, at least in the theoretical sense of an African community, fellow Africans from far and near such as Zimbabwe, Malawi, and Nigeria (Steenkamp, 2009; Olofinbiyi, 2022; Misago & Landau, 2022). It is therefore not surprising that the deliberative and coercive expressions of xenophobia in South Africa have often been hinged on an allegedly justified exclusion of the foreign other in the interest of South Africans. As Misago and Landau (2022) puts it, Pronouncements of post-apartheid government officials illustrate this point. Previous Minister of Home Affairs and leader of the Inkatha Freedom Party, Mangosuthu Buthelezi stated in 1994: “If South Africans are going to compete for scarce resources with the millions of

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‘aliens’ that are pouring into South Africa, then we can bid goodbye to our Reconstruction and Development Programme.”

Thus, rather than formulating an all-inclusive, all-encompassing theory of African communitarian philosophy that is removed from these glaring existential, lived, and concrete experiences which showcase frictions and tensions in the theoretically constructed Pan-Africanist community, contemporary academic African philosophy must have as central goals acknowledging these tensions and exclusionary tendencies between African communities and nation-states, and identifying and theorizing shared commonalities in terms of features and experiences that cut across African communities and nation-states that could be explored to resolve these tensions. Such shared features would include similar ontological structures in sub-Saharan African communities, shared colonial and postcolonial experiences, and shared political, economic, and social challenges. The recognition of these share features would form a basis for collectively working together toward not just a theoretically but an existentially constructed and viable African communitarian philosophy, while at the same time not undermining peculiarities within specific African communities and nation-states.

The Normativity of Being and the Difference Challenge In the previous section, the discussion has been around the tensions and frictions that emerge between communities and nation-states and how such challenges lead to exclusion in ways that undermine the theoretical construction of Afrocommunitarianism. In this section, the aim is to look more closely within and inside specific African communities which are expected to be theoretically and existentially communal in themselves but still exhibit frictions and tensions that threaten communing. What can be deduced from the theoretical discourse of sub-Saharan African ontology is that what it means to be is to possess specific ontic and normative features and what it means to exist is to be in relationships with other beings. Put simply, to be is to autonomously possess specific ontic and normative qualities; to exist is to commune. For example, to be a human person is to, first of all, possess specific ontic and normative features and then, use those features to build relationships with others. The lack of some of the required ontic and normative features results quickly in difference and consequently, othering and exclusion from communing, a form of radical alterity from community members who fulfill the requirements for being a human person. Perhaps, it is at this level of theorizing African communitarian philosophy that contemporary academic African philosophers have been cautious of and have not ignored the difference challenge in African communities, difference borne out of a lack of certain ontic and normative features (Imafidon, 2020a; Ipadeola, 2023). A vivid example in many sub-Saharan African communities is the treatment of persons with disability as sub-human as disability is often interpreted as a lack of certain ontic and normative features of being a human person. The difference of

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persons with disability within African communities results in marginalization, exclusion, discrimination, violence, and harmful practices against their well-being. For example, with reference to the othering as sub-human and queer of persons with albinism in African communities, Imafidon (2019: 39–40) writes, In African ontology, persons with albinism 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. . . 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. . . 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. . . 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). . .

Besides the normative construction of disability, another lived example of the normativity of being that results in the harmful encounter of difference is the existence of caste systems in different African cultures. By implication, to be human or sub-human within the understanding of a caste system would be determined by the presence or lack thereof of certain ontic and normative features including ancestry, genetics, birth-place, normative constructions of the self and the other, endogamic norms, and so on. For example, the Osu caste system among the Igbo people of Nigeria is an ancient system that has been the basis for radical alterity of the self from the other, discrimination and marginalization with the broader Igbo community (Obinna, 2012). The normative construction of the being of the Osu people who are at the receiving end of marginalization and discrimination emerges as well from the binary between the human and the sub-human. As Emeghara explains (1994: 30), “. . . the Osu are people whose forbears were dedicated or given to some deities. The deities accepted them as their property. Consequently though human, they were no longer regarded as mere human by their kit and kin. This is because they had crossed the boundary between the free born into the community of the spirits. They were regarded as taboo once the ritual of initiation into the spirit community had been performed.” To date, this normative interpretation of their being continues to impact negatively on the life, well-being and existence of Osu people making it difficult for them to commune freely within their own community as Igbos. Therefore, the theorization of African communitarian philosophy must continue to grapple with these existential tensions within specific African communities and perhaps, find ways to explore indigenous understandings of difference that can be useful in improving the existential experiences of African peoples. For example, the richness of the concept of Ubuntu as a philosophy of difference can be foundational in theorizing social and political theories that can enrich communal life. For the assertion, “a person is a person through other persons,” encoded into the concept of Ubuntu is first and foremost the acknowledgement and recognition of differences,

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uniqueness, and diversity, and then, the acknowledgement and recognition of the need to bring together these manifold differences to create an intensely rich and diverse potpourri of social and human nourishment that every individual can benefit from (Imafidon, 2022: 10). In this sense, difference does not become a dreaded human experience, but one that can enrich humanity.

Hierarchical Communing and the Participatory Challenge A third challenge to the theoretical construction of sub-Saharan, Pan-African communitarian philosophy is the challenge of participation which, of course, is connected with the two challenges already examined: exclusion and difference. The invitation to commune, live together, and build solidarity inherent in the indigenous philosophies of African peoples is first and foremost an invitation to participate and actively take part in building a flourishing community. But as is clearly evident from the discourse of the etymology and politics of participation (Harrington, 1984; Croft & Beresford, 1992; Qvortrup, 2007), to participate invariably implies being in possession of certain qualities or attributes needed to be part of the group or association in which one participates in and, by extension, possessing or being given the power to participate, the power which determines the extent of one’s active participation and the capacity and influences one wields in the circle of participation. African communities, like all other human communities, are saturated with communing groups or sub-communities of some sort including natural, human, and supernatural levels and inter-levels of association that require the possession of certain qualities or attributes for admittance and participation. These communing groups are often structured hierarchically and require certain intrinsic and ontic qualities (Imafidon, 2020b) to be fulfilled by communing groupmembers for admittance to participate. Consider, for example, ancestorhood as a communing group in an African community, one that is crucial for understanding the transgenerational nature of community and the interwovenness of tradition, modernity, and the postmodern, posthuman future. To become an ancestor and an active participant in the ancestorhood of a community, watching “over the affairs of the living members of their families, helping deserving ones and punishing the delinquent. . .” (Wiredu, 1992: 137), one needs to have certain attributes or have fulfilled several requirements. These include being physically dead after living a community-accepted life, dying of natural causes at a ripe old age and, very crucially, being male. This patriarchal politics in the admittance into, and participation in, ancestorhood can be questioned from the perspective that in several sub-Saharan African communities, words used to describe ancestors are gender-neutral words and thus, the ancestorhood must be gender-neutral and include women who have fulfilled all other conditions for admittance and participation. If we should follow this line of argument, it would mean that in the communing groups of ancestors, there are active members (males) and there are passive members (females), replicating the patriarchal community of the physically living. The clear evidence for this is that it is the male ancestor that is venerated and approached for help by the physically living.

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Females are not considered the focus of ancestral veneration nor are they consulted as ancestors on matters affecting the kin after their physical death, and they are not seen as actively acting and influencing community life. Gable (1996: 104) explains with reference to the Manjaco people of Guinea-Bissau that ancestors are males and cannot be females, a fact that both Manjaco women and men agree on. The argument for this is that women wander. Women leave their natal kinship community – what the Manjaco refer to simply as the “house” (kato) – to marry and bear children in their husbands’ houses. They are “the gourd vine that grows under the fence to bear fruit.” Because they move at marriage, they cannot be ancestors. Thus, the patriarchal politics of ancestorhood exclude women from participating in this communing group, or at the very least, suspends their participation only admitting them as passive members. This patriarchal politics of participation is replicated in communing groups of the physically living such as elders councils, and more recently, the struggle of women to participate in politics entrepreneurship and other aspects of postcolonial modern Africa. The challenge of participation can be felt as well in the ageism emerging from gerontocratic structures and institutions in African indigenous communities, resulting in the exclusion of those outside an age bracket from actively participating and contributing to the flourishing of communal life particularly in terms of decisionmaking. Gerontocratic institutions of governance are in place for several reasons. The elderly are seen as having not only the epistemic authority and agency to lead but also the moral authority and wisdom to do so. But the rigidness around age as crucial for admittance to and participation in governance stifles and excludes youth participation. This has impacted leadership and governance in politics, academia, business, and many other sections today in postcolonial Africa (Adebayo, 2018). Presidents of several African countries are in their 80s and many have been in power for decades; the system makes it difficult for the participation of the youth in politics. It is the case that in many African nations, the youth are given youth wings in political parties in which they are expected to canvass votes for the elderly and support their gerontocratic rule. Thus, while communing takes place within and among several groups and associations in African indigenous and postcolonial societies, admittance and active participation may be exclusive to those having certain biological or ontic attributes or qualities such as sex, age, and so on. Over and above those possessing the social, epistemic, and moral attributes as well as required training to commune within such a group. The theoretical presentation of communing in these sub-communities must acknowledge the problem of participation therein and find ways to make participation more open.

Relational Dwelling and the Autonomy Challenge One of the most debated problems associated with African communitarian philosophy is the autonomy, freedom and liberty of the individual within an intensely communitarian existential structure. This is the classical radical versus moderate

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communitarianism debate that has dominated a good chunk of contemporary academic African philosophy, with each side of these debates providing different interpretations and reinterpretations of the nature of the relationship that exists between the individual and the community. In the classical sense of the debate between radical versus moderate communitarianism on the question of individual freedom and autonomy, Molefe (2017: 2) provides an apt summary: This debate is framed in terms of two disparate theses, roughly: (1) ‘the community takes priority over an individual’ – radical Communitarianism. . .; and, (2) the individual and community enjoy the same status – moderate communitarianism. . . There is general consensus in the literature that radical communitarianism is flawed because it prioritizes the community over the individual to a point of (allegedly) denying them their rights. On the other hand, scholars are equally dissatisfied with. . . [the] solution that equalizes the good of the community to that of an individual since these two will tend to clash. . .

Molefe further provides a more plausible interpretation of African communitarian philosophy that deals with the excesses of the classical interpretations in this debate by focusing on its relational element with regard to individual autonomy, personhood, and rights. In his words, . . . the only way to realize one’s true social nature is by relating with others, and this relation with others is characterised by one discharging her other-regarding duties (virtues) towards them. . . this moral-political theory emphasizes duties that connect agents’ to others. This connection is effected and maintained by other-regarding duties. . . Put simply,. . . a moral agent understands herself to have duties to promote others’ welfare in her quest to achieve the ideal of her leading a truly human life. (Molefe, 2017: 14)

Thus, central to Afro-communitarianism is the idea of relational dwelling, an in-dwelling in a here by a self that is at once deliberately conscious of others as needed for, and as needing the self. It is a collaborative, relational, collective, and solidaristic existence where true meaning and self-fulfillment are found not within the self but in and among relational selves. This explains why the community of relational selves, a transgenerational, human, non-human, and ecologically deep community of selves, is invoked and appealed to in meaning creation, knowledge production, life-course, self-understanding, cognition, moral analysis, and more generally speaking, in theorizing African philosophy. For example, in terms of cognition, . . .there is no doubt that there are individual minds cooperating, co-depending and interacting together to grasp realities as well as a collective, relational, group mind. The core principle of community in African philosophy ‘I am because we are’. . . aptly captures this. It can be formulated with regard to cognition as ‘I cognise, because we cognise together.’ In gatherings in African communities, there is a lot of emphasis on ‘we know that’ rather than on ‘I know that’. Statements such as ‘It is a taboo not to bury the dead properly’, ‘a good name is better than wealth’, or ‘colonialisation has destroyed Africa’ will not usually begin with ‘I know that. . .’ but rather with ‘We know that. . .’. The emphasis is on collective authorship and knowledge production. What is cognised and the knowledge

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But an individual weaved into an intrinsically intertwined web of relationships in this way may still find herself in a suffocating relationship even though that relationship is essential for her survival. These needed relationships may stifle creativity, difference, and individual critique and questioning of collectively held knowledge claims, bearing in mind that collectively producing knowledge and understanding does not imply that such knowledge claims and beliefs are always true and sacrosanct. Some collectively produced knowledge that are entrenched deeply into communities may be non-factual, lacking evidence, and may result from ignorance as we see in many knowledge claims about forms of disabilities in African communities (Imafidon, 2019). It might become difficult for an individual to freely challenge such knowledge claims as it would mean going against the established status quo and producing knowledge inconsistent with the established body of knowledge. But, in the words of Appiah (2005: 34–35), 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 evidence in this way does not increase the likelihood that your beliefs will be true.

Thus, while relational dwelling and coexistence are crucial for the well-being and meaningful existence of the individual and of the community in African contexts, it is crucial that in theorizing African communitarian philosophy, contemporary academic African philosophy explores ways to guarantee a healthy level of freedom and liberty for individual community members, one that allows for creativity and critique that ensures the thriving and improvement of both the individual and the community.

Conclusion That Africa has been explored and exploited for centuries for its human, natural, and capital resources is a palpable truth that requires no elaboration or substantiation here. The scramble for Africa and its rich human resources such as health workers, scientists, researchers and laborers, and natural resources such as crude oil, diamond, timber, minerals, and natural gas (Turner, 2007) continues today. In this scramble and exploitation, Africa is left worst off in all ramifications. “As the industrial powers race to extract the continent’s natural resources to feed their own consumption, they are fostering environmental degradation, corruption and human rights abuses” (Turner, 2007). “Africa not only underpinned Europe’s earlier development. Its palm oil, petroleum, copper, chromium, platinum and in particular gold were and

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are crucial to the later world economy” (Drayton, 2005). What is more worrisome is that colonial and postcolonial institutions in and outside Africa have been engineered in ways that continually perpetuate this exploitation to date of everything Africa owns including in the context of this chapter, philosophical theory. Afrocommunitarianism, African communitarian philosophy, or, as is often commonly known in Western circles, Ubuntu, is now a popular abstract concept in the West removed from the lived and existential experiences of African peoples, in similar ways human and natural resources are removed and extracted. In this smoothly operating engineered system of extraction, which includes the politics of migration, the politics of globalization, and the political economy of knowledge production, African scholars can knowingly or unknowingly become complicit. Contemporary academic African philosophers and scholars can engage in robust, interesting, and fruitful discourses on the importance of African communitarian philosophy or Ubuntu for inclusive AI, inclusive education, deep ecology, human rights, business ethics, the humanitarian field, and so on, in ways that continually detach the theory from the lived experiences of African peoples. As examined in the sections of this chapter, a close examination of the existential realities of African peoples in relation to – rather than as detached from – the constructed and abstracted theory of Afro-communitarianism does not only reveal the challenges that the theory could encounter in its application in any context but also the urgent need to bridge the theory-praxis gap. The exclusion, difference, participation, and autonomy challenges that have been discussed above are concrete challenges in African places that must be paid attention to more fully in the discourse of African communitarian philosophy in order for it to be a useful theory for the African place it originally emerged from. A critique of African communitarian philosophy means reimagining and interrogating the meaning of community, the duty to commune, and the understanding of inclusion, participation, and autonomy, drawing from the philosophies as well as lived and concrete experiences in African communities.

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Emeghara, N. (1994). The Osu caste system in Nigeria: A Christian response. African Journal of Evangelical Theology, 13(1), 26–43. Eze, M. O. (2008). What is African communitarianism? Against consensus as a regulative ideal. South African Journal of Philosophy, 27(4), 386–399. Gable, E. (1996). Women, ancestors and alterity among the Manjaco of Guinea-Bissau. Journal of Religion in Africa, 26(2), 104–121. Gyekye, K. (1992). Person and community in African thought. In K. Wiredu & K. Gyekye (Eds.), Person and community: Ghanaian philosophical studies (pp. 101–122). Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Harrington, C. B. (1984). The politics of participation and nonparticipation in dispute processes. Law and Policy, 6(2), 203–230. Ikuenobe, P. (2006). Philosophical perspective on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lexington Books. Imafidon, E. (2019). African philosophy and the otherness of albinism: White skin, black race. Routledge. Imafidon, E. (Ed.). (2020a). Handbook of African philosophy of difference. Springer. Imafidon, E. (2020b). Intrinsic versus earned worth in African conception of personhood. In E. Imafidon (Ed.), Handbook of African philosophy of difference (pp. 239–254). Springer. Imafidon, E. (2021). African communitarian philosophy of personhood and disability: The asymmetry of value and power in access to healthcare. International Journal of Critical Diversity Studies, 4(1), 46–57. Imafidon, E. (2022). Exploring African relational ethic of Ubuntu for inclusion and solidarity in the humanitarian field. Europe Talks Solidarity, SALTO-YOUTH. Imafidon, E. (2023). Exploring the theory of communo-cognition. In P. A. Ikhane & I. E. Ukpokolo (Eds.), African epistemology: Essays on being and knowledge. Routledge. Ipadeola, A. P. (2023). Feminist African philosophy: Women and the politics of difference. Routledge. Kuhn, T. S. (1970). The structure of scientific revolutions. University of Chicago Press. Lentz, C. (1995). ‘Tribalism’ and ethnicity in Africa: A review of four decades of anglophone research. Cahiers des Sciences Humaines, 31(2), 303–328. Matolino, B., & Kwindingwi, W. (2013). The end of Ubuntu. South African Journal of Philosophy, 32(2), 197–205. Menkiti, I. A. (2004). On the normative conception of a person. In K. Wiredu (Ed.), A companion to African philosophy (pp. 324–331). Blackwell Publishing. Metz, T. (2007). Toward an African moral theory. The Journal of Political Philosophy., 15(3), 321–341. Misago, J. P., & Landau, L. B. (2022). ‘Running them out of time:’ Xenophobia, violence, and co-authoring spatiotemporal exclusion in South Africa. Geopolitics. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 14650045.2022.2078707 Molefe, M. (2017). Critical comments on Afro-communitarianism: The community versus individual. Filosofia Theoretica Journal of African Philosophy Culture and Religions, 6(1), 1–22. Mustapha, A. R. (2005). Ethnic structure, inequality and governance of the public sector in Nigeria. Centre for Research on Inequality, Human Security and Ethnicity working paper. 18. https:// assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/57a08c97ed915d3cfd0014aa/wp18.pdf Obinna, E. (2012). Contesting identity: The Osu caste system among Igbo of Nigeria. African Identities, 10(1), 111–121. Oladipo, O. (2008). What philosophy is. Hope Publication. Olofinbiyi, S. A. (2022). Anti-immigrant violence and xenophobia in South Africa: Untreated malady and potential snag for national development. Insight on Africa, 14(2), 193–211. Orvis, S. (2001). Moral ethnicity and political tribalism in Kenya’s “virtual democracy”. African Issues, 29(1–2), 8–13. Popper, K. R. (2002). The Open Society and its enemies. Routledge Classics.

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Afro-communitarianism and Transhumanism Amara Esther Chimakonam

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding Transhumanism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Afro-communitarian Understanding of Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Will the Transhumanization of Our World Change Our Values System? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter examines the status of the transhumanist future that seeks to use the means of science and technology to radically enhance human moral capacities. I investigate the claim about the possible transformation of the human social conditions that could enable them to transcend the limitations imposed on them by biology and nature to become posthumans. I suppose that such a transhumanist future would be possible and then pose the question: How would the transhumanization of our world change our Afro-communitarian values system? In exploring this question, I employ the Afro-communitarian idea of personhood as a foil to argue that such transhumanization would affect our current values system in surprising ways. I will argue that it could cause a radical shift from the orientation of normal values system to the orientation of anormal values system and diminish the importance of moral choice.

A. E. Chimakonam (*) Centre for Phenomenology in South Africa, University of Forte Hare, Alice, South Africa © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_44

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Keywords

Transhumanism · Afro-communitarianism · Personhood · Normal values system · Anormal values system · Moral zombies · Technologized personhood · Technologized moralism

Introduction In this chapter, I invoke the Afro-communitarian idea of personhood to question several presuppositions of the transhumanist future. I will do so by deploying Ifeanyi Menkiti’s account of the normative conception of personhood based on harmonious communal relationship salient to Africans of the Sub-Saharan region. As such, this chapter differs from extant literature on the Afro-communitarian perspective on transhumanism by employing the normative conception of personhood in critical conversation with transhumanists. In exploring the transhumanist future, I will offer new criticisms against transhumanism. First, I will argue that the transhumanist future would be a radical change from the orientation of the normal values system that characterizes the normative conception of personhood to the orientation of anormal values system that would characterize the transhumanist future. And second, I will argue that there would be an absence of moral choice in the transhumanist future since personhood would be technologically engineered. These criticisms have not been considered in African perspectives of transhumanism. They stand to represent a new vista for thought that will give a global shape to the discourse as it brings to the limelight a differing view other than what is obtainable in mainstream Western criticisms of transhumanism. To achieve my aim in this chapter, I divide this work into three sections. In section “Understanding Transhumanism,” I will do two things: First, I will conceptualize transhumanism and moral enhancement. Second, I will offer an overview of transhumanism. This section is important because it will show how I will employ transhumanism and moral enhancement in this chapter. Section “Afro-communitarian Understanding of Personhood” represents the theoretical framework of my chapter. I will discuss Menkiti’s account of normative personhood. Further, I will investigate transhumanism using this theoretical framework. In the final section: “Will the Transhumanization of our World Change our Values System?,” I will critically engage with the question of how would the transhumanization of our world change our Afro-communitarian values system? In responding to this question, I will argue that the transhumanization of the world would significantly impact the Afro-communitarian values system and eliminate moral choice encapsulated in the journey toward personhood.

Understanding Transhumanism It is important to state from the outset that I will not be able to address the complex conceptual issues with transhumanism in this section. Yet, the following must be

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noted: Scholars have variously defined the term “transhumanism” (see Bostrom, 2014; More, 2013; Lee, 2019; Manzocco, 2019; Vita-More, 2019). Transhumanism is defined as a philosophical movement that seeks the transcendence of human biological and natural limitations through science and technology. Max More, in his 1990 article, defines transhumanism as “[p]hilosophies of life (such as extropian perspectives) that seek the continuation and acceleration of the evolution of intelligent life beyond its currently human form and human limitations by means of science and technology, guided by life-promoting principles and values” (quoted from More, 2013: 3). Also, transhumanism is conceived as a cultural movement that affirms the rational use of applied technology to enhance human capacities. Nick Bostrom construes transhumanism to mean “[t]he intellectual and cultural movement that affirms the possibility and desirability of fundamentally improving the human condition through applied reason, especially by developing and making widely available technologies to eliminate ageing and to greatly enhance human intellectual, physical, and psychological capacities” (Bostrom, 2014: 1). Others construe transhumanism to mean a kind of pseudoscience that fantasizes a technoscientific world inhabited by superhumans. According to David Livingstone, transhumanism “represents the idealistic and false appropriation of fantasies about the possibilities of science into the real world. In other words, transhumanism is pseudo-science” (Livingstone, 2015: 315). Some others understand transhumanism to be a form of “para-scientific fantasies” that seek a secular solution to human biological and natural limitations such as aging, disease, and death. Roberto Manzocco conceives transhumanism as a “coherent system of rational para-scientific fantasies that act as a secular answer to the eschatological aspirations of traditional religions” (Manzocco, 2019: 32). However, what seems to be the recurrent themes in these various definitions are science, technology, enhancement, and human nature. In my perspective, transhumanism can be defined broadly as seeking to use the means of science and technology to enhance human capacities radically and to transform their social conditions by transcending the limitations imposed on them by their biology and nature in order to create posthumans. This definition means that transhumanism aims at enhancing humans’ physical, psychological, moral, and mental abilities and capacities. It also aims at eliminating diseases, reversing aging, and radically extending human life through the techniques of cognitive enhancement, moral enhancement, genetic enhancement, bionic limbs, cryonics, singularity, brain-computer interface, and other emerging and converging biotechnologies. According to Hava Tirosh-Samuelson, “transhumanism advocates the application of science and technology to the amelioration of the human condition through genetic engineering, robotics, informatics and nanotechnology” (TiroshSamuelson, 2014: 49). One might object that this definition is too narrow, rigid, and radical to account for the transhumanists’ project. It might be claimed that this definition cannot be broadly applied. So, it eliminates some essential features of transhumanism: Defining transhumanism as seeking to create posthumans would lead one to a rather absurd conclusion that the transhumanists’ aim to make the human species more human by creating transhumans is not transhumanism. A plausible response to this

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objection would be that transhumanists’ ultimate aim is to create posthumans (supermoral agents) who would surpass all known human limitations (Kurzweil, 2005; Bostrom, 2014; More, 2013). Biologist Julian Huxley is said to have coined the term “transhumanism” (see Bostrom, 2005; Tirosh-Samuelson, 2014; More, 2013; Ranisch & Sorgner, 2014). In his book, New Bottles for New Wine, Huxley introduces transhumanism thus: The human species can, if it wishes, transcend itself not just sporadically, an individual here in one way, an individual there in another way, but in its entirety, as humanity. We need a name for this new belief. Perhaps transhumanism will serve: man remaining man but transcending himself, by realizing new possibilities of and for his human nature. (quoted from Ranisch & Sorgner, 2014: 10)

He continues, “‘I believe in transhumanism’: once there are enough people who can truly say that, the human species will be on the threshold of new kind of existence, as different from ours as ours is from that of the Peking man. It will at least be consciously fulfilling its real destiny” (Huxley, 1957, quoted from Ranisch & Sorgner, 2014: 10). Earlier than this, he writes in his Religion without Revelation (1927) that “[Man] is always not only surmounting what it thought were the limitations of its nature, but, in individual and social development alike, transcending its own nature and emerging in newness of achievement” (quoted from Bashford, 2013: footnote 14). However, studies have reported that before Julian Huxley’s introduction of the term transhumanism, there have been fragments of it in other literature. For example, in 1312, Dante Alighieri, in his book, Divine Comedy, uses the term “transumanare.” Transumanare is an Italian word that means “go-outside the human perception” (see More, 2013: 8; Vita-More, 2019: 50). In The Cocktail Party, T. S. Eliot used “transhumanized” to mean an “illumination” process in which humans are “transhumanized” (see More, 2013: 8; Vita-More, 2019: 50). Pierre Teilhard de Chardin employed the term “transhuman” when he writes in his The Future of Man that “liberty is the chance offered to every man . . . of ‘transhumanizing’ himself by developing his potentialities to the fullest extent” (Teilhard de Chardin, 1964; see Ranisch & Sorgner, 2014: footnote 4). But none of these scholars used transhumanism in a sense Huxley had introduced it. Huxley inspired the idea that human nature can be transcended, which is at the core of contemporary transhumanism. Traditionally, the talk on human nature is based on those essences possessed by humans that differentiate them from other species, i.e., those distinct traits that make humans who they are (Devitt, 2008; Dumsday, 2012). Elliott Sober puts it this way: “The essentialist hypothesizes that there exists some characteristic unique to and shared by all members of Homo sapiens which explains why they are the way they are” (Sober, 1980: 354). This traditional sense, often referred to as “essentialism,” sees humankind as having some intrinsic and unique characteristics that make them stand out from other species. In this traditional sense, human nature is seen as something sacrosanct and unalterable, because any attempt to alter human nature would strip humans of their humanity.

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Huxley rejects this idea that human nature is sacrosanct, unchanging, and unalterable. He upholds that human nature is not an end; instead, it is something that can be changed using applied reason. However, transhumanism has assumed a meaning other than that of Huxley. Transhumanism has become an attempt to undo the human biological and natural limitations through the techniques of cognitive enhancement, moral enhancement, and other emerging and converging technologies that will possibly birth transhuman (a transitional human) and posthuman (supermoral and immortal species). I will further explain these two concepts later in this chapter. While Huxley foresaw a future where humanity will triumph its biological limitations through education and cultural reorientation that will leave the biological nature of humans unaltered, the contemporary transhumanists envisage a future where humanity will employ biotechnologies to augment its abilities and become more than human, possibly transhumans and posthumans. Other founding fathers of transhumanism are the following: Francis Bacon, in his Novum Organum, advocated for scientific method; John Burdon Sanderson Haldane, in his book, Daedalus, or Science and the Future, articulated the idea of “gene crafting” that would help humans to live on “other planets, satellites, asteroids, or artificial vehicles”; J. D. Bernal, The World, the Flesh and the Devil, envisioned that humans would in the future colonize other planets (the idea known as space colonization), augment their intelligence, and attain long life span; Robert Ettinger’s The Prospect of Immortality proposed cryonics – the idea that we can clinically freeze our corpse at ultralow temperature for future resuscitation; Fereidoum M. Esfandiary (later known as FM-2030), maintained in his work, Are You a Transhuman?, that humans can overcome death and attain immortality by becoming “transhumans,” whom he described as a “transitional human”; Irving J. Good (1965), Venor Vinge (1993), and Ray Kurzweil (2005) foretold the possibility of ultraintelligent artificial intelligence through the technological singularity, an idea known as “The Singularity”; and Eric Drexler’s Engines of Creation (1986) envisioned nanotechnology that can manipulate data at a molecular and atomic level. Others are Max More (2013), Nick Bostrom (2014), and Natasha Vita-More (2019), among others. It has been said that the contemporary understanding of transhumanism, especially in the field of philosophy, was introduced by Max More in his 1990 paper titled, “Transhumanism: Towards a Futuristic Philosophy” (see Bostrom, 2005; More, 2013). In this paper, More describes transhumanism as life philosophies that promote the “continual evolution of intelligent life” beyond its current human limitation through the reasonable use of science and technology guided by “lifepromoting principles and values” (quoted from More, 2013: 3). Furthermore, he created “extropianism” that rides on the principles of “perpetual progress, selftransformation, practical optimism, intelligent technology, open society, selfdirection, and rational thinking” as his variant of transhumanism (More, 2013: 5). Transhumanism sees itself to be compatible with the ideologies of Enlightenment that affirm reason, science, progress, individual right, self-perfection, and secular humanism. For example, Ranisch and Sorgner point out that “transhumanism . . . is a

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contemporary renewal of humanism. It embraces and eventually amplifies central aspects of secular and Enlightenment humanist thought, such as belief in reason, individualism, science, progress, as well as self-perfection or cultivation” (Ranisch & Sorgner, 2014: 8). Transhumanism renews and revises the main ideas of Enlightenment in light of new knowledge. The humanism strong emphasis on man, for instance, has been changed to include transhuman and posthuman. The recent developments in genetics, robotics, nanotechnology, and informatics will not only enable humans to enhance their biological states, but they can also replace their brain with nonbiological computing power and become transhumans and posthumans. More articulates this point thusly: The search for absolute foundations for reason, for instance, has given way to a more sophisticated, uncertain, and self-critical form of critical rationalism. The simple, unified self has been replaced by the far more complex and puzzling self-revealed by the neurosciences. The utterly unique status of human beings has been superseded by an understanding that we are part of a spectrum of biological organisms and possible nonbiological species of the future. (More, 2013: 10)

Transhumanism, unlike humanism, does not see humanity as the finality of creation. It considers humanity as another stage in the creation process. It is in this light that transhumanism considers itself at par with the tenet of evolution, which posits humanity, not as an end but a phase in the evolutionary process. In the spirit of evolutionism, transhumanism affirms that humanity is in its early stage of development and aims at technologically evolving the human species to a new phase of transhumans and then to a higher stage of posthumans, at which stage humanity must have “overcome” itself, to use Friedrich Nietzsche’s word. Humans are saddled with the responsibility of engineering this technological evolution that would create transhumans and posthumans. Humans as self-creating animals possess the innate “Will to Evolve,” which is “the instinctive drive . . . to expand (their) abilities in pursuit of ever-increasing survivability and well-being” (Young, 2006: 39). In this way, “[H]umanity will take evolution out of the hands of butterfingered nature into its own transhuman hands” (Young, 2006: 38). The starting point for this technological evolution is human nature. Proponents of this idea (such as Stock, 2002; De Grey & Rae, 2007; Kurzweil, 2005; More, 2013; Bostrom, 2003; Lee, 2019) see human nature as something that can be altered and remade. As Newton Lee claims, “[T]he human body is a good beginning, but we can certainly improve it, upgrade it, and transcend it” (Lee, 2019: 70). Human nature is no longer fixated but evolving. It is dynamic and improvable through technology. Transhumanists are very optimistic that human nature can undergo some fundamental alterations because of the exponential growth of science and technology. Through these technoscientific means, humans can alter their nature to be happier, smarter, wiser, and so on. As Bostrom succinctly puts it: [T]ranshumanists view human nature as a work-in-progress, a half baked beginning that we can learn to remold in desirable ways. Current humanity need not be the endpoint of evolution. Transhumanists hope that by responsible use of science, technology, and other

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rational means, we shall eventually manage to become posthuman, beings with vastly greater capacities than present human beings have. (Bostrom, 2003: 493)

Transhumanists aim at promoting individual happiness. Transhumanists see individual happiness as the main aim of life and assume that human emotions can be improved to achieve this. Transhumanists are confident that biotechnology would be used to abolish suffering, ameliorate human conditions, and increase happiness. For example, transhumanists see aging as conferring great suffering on humans and aim to wage “war on ageing” through radical life extension (De Grey & Rae, 2007: 312). In his Ending Aging: The Rejuvenation Breakthroughs that Could Reverse Human Aging in Our Lifetime (2007), Aubrey de Grey defines aging as a “deadly pandemic disease” (De Grey & Rae, 2007: 78) and describes it as a “humanitarian crisis” (De Grey & Rae, 2007: 36). The problem with aging is that it not only destroys our youthful vitality, but it also denies us the opportunity to enjoy life in its fullest and kills us in the end. Transhumanists believe that altering some of our cells through cloning techniques would make us live younger than what is considered normal for humans since aging occurs by the mutations of defective mitochondria caused by free radicals. As Kurzweil says: [W]e are beginning to understand ageing, not as a single inexorable progression but as a group of related processes. Strategies are emerging for fully reversing each of these ageing progressions, using different combinations of biotechnology techniques. (Kurzweil, 2005: 212–213)

The key to the transhumanists understanding of human nature is the remaking of humanity through technology. The Transhumanist Declaration signed by the World Transhumanist Association in 1998 is very explicit on this point. For instance, article one states: “[H]umanity will be radically changed by technology in the future. We foresee the feasibility of redesigning the human condition, including such parameters as the inevitability of ageing, limitations on human and artificial intellects, unchosen psychology, suffering, and our confinement to the planet earth” (The Transhumanist Association, 1998). This technological remaking of humanity will birth transhumans and then posthumans characterized by unifying humans and technology. On the one hand, transhumans are “transitional humans” that possess both human and technology features. According to Sorgner; “[T]ranshumans are transitory human beings who still belong to the human species but have technologically enhanced capacities, which is why they represent the evolutionary link to post humans” (Sorgner, 2009: 1376). The continuous and rational application of technology on ourselves would help us transform from our present human form to a transhuman form. Our abilities will be technologically enhanced beyond their current states. We will become happier, smarter, healthier, and more intelligent, live longer, and be better at actualizing our goals at the individual and societal levels. At this stage, we will no longer be talking about humanity but transhumanity – a stage where all humans have moderately use of technology to enhance themselves,

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being half-human and half-technology. Transhumans stand between humans and posthumans. On the other hand, posthumans are ultraintelligent minds with supermoral capacities who have overcome the biological and natural limitations that confront humans. Posthumans would possess greater physical, intellectual, moral, and psychological capacities. They would be immortal persons with unlimited abilities. Posthumans will no longer bear the burden of disease, aging, cognitive incapacity, moral disability, and even death. Nick Bostrom conceptualizes posthumans thusly: I shall define a posthuman as a being that has at least one posthuman capacity. By a posthuman capacity, I mean a general central capacity greatly exceeding the maximum attainable by any current human being without recourse to new technological means. I will use a general central capacity to refer to the following: healthspan – the capacity to remain fully healthy, active, and productive, both mentally and physically; cognition – general intellectual capacities, such as memory, deductive and analogical reasoning, and attention, as well as special faculties such as the capacity to understand and appreciate music, humour, eroticism, narration, spirituality, mathematics, etc.; emotion – the capacity to enjoy life and to respond with appropriate affect to life situations and other people. (Bostrom, 2013: 28–29)

One of the key concerns of transhumanism is human enhancement. Transhumanists conceive human enhancement as “any intervention . . . aimed primarily at the improvement of one or more core capacities of an individual beyond speciestypical limits with the aim of overcoming human biological limitations” (Cabrera, 2015: 64; see also Miah, 2003: 5). Given this definition, one can consider human enhancement as involving radical technological intervention that can directly improve individuals’ capacities beyond what is normal for humans in order to overcome the biological, cognitive, moral, emotional, natural, and psychological human limitations. Transhumanists suggest that we can achieve human enhancement using different means. Moral enhancement (or moral bioenhancement) is one of those means through which transhumanists aim to enhance humans. Moral enhancement is mostly focused on augmenting our moral capacities, moral beliefs, moral behaviors, and moral motivations beyond their current state using technology. Individuals’ emotions can be enhanced through the use of pharmaceuticals and biomedical technologies to incorporate moral virtues and forgo all vices. Such individuals would be morally upright, responsible, and virtuous. The rationale here is that individuals’ moral dispositions are connected to their biological makeup, and morally enhancing those biological aspects responsible for moral dispositions would help humans to behave morally. Mark Walker (2009: 28) has observed that genes influence human behavior in such a way that altering them may alter the influence they exert on human behavior. Altering individuals’ biological nature through science and technology would help avoid immoral dispositions and promote moral dispositions. Although there is currently not a single “morality pill” one could take to always be morally upright, scholars are very optimistic that such a pill, or any other biotechnological means, would be available in the near future (see Shook, 2012; Lavazza & Reichlin, 2019). Such optimism arises from the recent research in neuroscience that has shown that structural and functional deviation in the brain

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contributes to an understanding of antisocial behaviors in individuals (Horstkötter et al., 2010) and that the administration of neurotransmitters like serotonin and oxytocin can decrease antisocial behaviors, like aggression, and increase prosocial behaviors, like empathy. Also, brain activity can be affected through noninvasive or minimally invasive electromodulation techniques to increase self-control, and psychoactive substances, such as methylphenidate or lithium, that can inhibit violent or sexually inappropriate behavior (Lavazza & Reichlin, 2019: 2). According to Thomas Douglas, moral enhancement is those “interventions that will expectably leave an individual with more moral (viz., morally better) motives or behavior than she would otherwise have had” (Douglas, 2011: 3). An individual is morally enhanced when they improve themselves using technological means to become more moral other than what they would have if they have not done so. A moral agent, “P,” who in their natural state can only be motivated to Ώ, morally right actions, at T1, a specific moral circumstance, and not at other T2 or T3, might be improved to be motivated to Ώ in all possible Ts. Through enhancement, moral agents are motivated to make a better moral judgment, choose the right actions, and confirm to such actions. As such, moral enhancement improves moral capacities from a former state to a new and better state within human-moral limits. This form of procedural moral enhancement implies that there would be chains of improvement that would leave humans in a better state than they formerly were. Individuals are allowed to keep on improving their moral abilities from one state to another until they attain a higher level of moral functioning where they would be better motivated to do the right thing within what is normal for humanity. However, this definition of “moral enhancement” is too loose, for any intervention that would leave an individual with morally better motives would be counted as a moral enhancement. For example, moral therapy would account as moral enhancement since it is a procedural attempt at making individuals more moral. Moral improvement up to the level that is designated “human” “aims at a therapeutic end by making good a specific deficiency” (Agar, 2014: 369). For instance, the recent empirical studies on oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine have proven that human beings can biologically improve their moral capacities and better place themselves in a position of making moral choices. Paul Zak’s (2005) work on oxytocin suggests that this hormone has a role to play in trustworthiness, empathy, and generosity. It has also been suggested by Molly Crockett (2010) that the neurotransmitter serotonin can regulate human emotions as well as mediate between the moral judgment of harm and fairness. Research conducted by James Hughes reveals that dopamine is a neurochemical that influences “the personality factor of consciousness” which “is associated with carefulness, self-discipline and thinking carefully before acting” (Hughes, 2012). All these studies show how neurobiological substances can help human beings behave in a certain morally recognizable way. Moral therapy then includes those interventions that would leave individuals with better moral motives at levels considered normal for humans. An individual who exhibits violent aggression against gay couples due to a deficiency in his empathy would be assisted through oxytocin therapy to improve his proclivity to empathize with them.

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Drawing a clear distinction between moral therapy and moral enhancement would help delineate the conceptual sphere of moral enhancement (see Shook, 2012). Moral therapy is characterized by “moral normality.” What we might call moral normality arises from the “interplay among normal moral motive, normal moral insight and normal moral behavioral capacities” (Agar, 2014: 369). Individuals acting at this level are often motivated to do the right thing. Most of the time, they conform to appropriate norms both at personal and societal levels. They are not individuals who always do the right thing in all possible moral situations, but they do the right thing most of the time. Moral therapy involves those interventions that would improve an individual’s moral motives for better within the human-normal limit, whereas moral enhancement aims at augmenting moral motives beyond the human-normal limit. Norman Daniels has rightly pointed out that interventions “designed to restore or preserve a species-typical level of functioning for an individual should count as a treatment,” whereas those that “would give individuals capabilities beyond the range of normal human variation” are enhancement (Daniels, 1992: 46). Moral therapy aims at maintaining individuals’ moral capacities at levels of functioning that humans consider normal. Taking all of this into consideration, I agree with Nicholas Agar that moral enhancement “has the purpose of boosting responsiveness to ethical or moral reasons to levels beyond that considered normal for human beings” (Agar, 2010: 73). Moral enhancement refers to those interventions that would leave individuals with moral capacities never seen among humans. In this case, a morally enhanced individual possesses moral capacities that are far beyond humans. This radical moral enhancement refers exclusively to those interventions that would radically augment individuals’ moral motives, or behaviors, to always act morally, which would result in such an individual becoming a supermoral agent. Elsewhere I have defined moral enhancement as “biomedical and genetic interventions that would directly and radically augment individuals’ moral capacities beyond what is therapeutically necessary and considered normal for humans so that they always act morally and become more virtuous” (Chimakonam, 2021: 48, footnote 2). Two things can be drawn from this definition: One, a moral agent that has undergone moral enhancement will continue at all times do what is right; two, under no circumstances should such a moral agent do what is wrong. For example, let us take Y to stand for every moral actions, Z to represent immoral actions, and X to be a moral agent. According to our definition, an agent X is morally enhanced if and only if they always do Y over and above Z in all possible moral circumstances. Again, let us take a, b, and c, as possible moral circumstances. X would be morally enhanced if they do Y at possible moral circumstances a, b, and c and never do Z in any of these circumstances. Contrary, X would be morally not enhanced if they do Y at a moral circumstance a and do Z at a moral circumstance b. From this, it is evident that while a morally enhanced agent persistently does what is right at all times, a morally not enhanced agent fails at some point. Before exploring the question of how transhumanism would change our values system, it will be pertinent to provide an overview of the Afro-communitarian personhood within the African philosophical context. In the next section, while

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discussing Afro-communitarian personhood, I will focus primarily on Ifeanyi Menkiti’s account of the normative conception of personhood.

Afro-communitarian Understanding of Personhood One area in which African philosophers have produced rich ideas is on the topic of personhood and the ethics of personhood. Since the last decade of the twentieth century, that area of study has become a site for intellectual opposition to Western epistemic hegemony. As a result, there is now a parallel between what is done on the topic in both Western and African philosophical traditions. Kwame Appiah (2004) has pointed out that African notions of personhood are different from Western notions of personhood. Unfortunately, instead of interpreting such a difference in terms of varying perspectives, some dismiss African modes of thought as irrational, prelogical, unscientific, mythical, and ahistorical (Levy-Bruhl, 1947; Horton, 1967). They claim that it lacks any intellectual rigor and reflection definitive of a sophisticated philosophical exercise. Similarly, some African scholars, like Kwasi Wiredu (1980) and Pauline Hountondji (1983), have denied the existence of Traditional African philosophy on the basis that it is a communal worldview lacking philosophical rigor. It does appear that one way of countering such a claim was to demonstrate its baselessness in facts by doing African philosophy. So, as a response to the false categorization of the cognitive significance of African modes of thought, many African philosophers employed the “idea of difference” (see Oyowe, 2013: 205) to expound the thoughts, worldviews, beliefs, and philosophies that emerge from Africa and to assert its intellectual place in world history. Some illustrious examples would include but are by no means limited to the following: (Abraham, 1962; Senghor, 1964; Mbiti, 1970). This idea of difference has been employed to show that Africa has a distinct and unique mode of thought. One area in which this assertion of difference is more compelling and obvious is in the African discourse on personhood (see Oyowe, 2013). Many African philosophers believe that this Western approach to personhood is contrary to the African approach that considers not only isolated individual quality but also other holistic qualities. It has been said that while the dominant Western notion of personhood is subjective, individualistic, and solitary (see Atkins, 2005; Doyle, 2018), the dominant African notions of personhood are communal, relational, and holistic. To this regard, Placid Tempels (1959), Alexis Kagame (1989), Kwame Gyekye (1992), Segun Gbadegesin (1991), Barry Hallen (2000), Appiah (2004), Kwasi Wiredu (2009), and Menkiti (1984, 2004, 2018), among others, have articulated distinctive African notions of personhood. Within the African philosophical context, the discourse on personhood oscillates between the ontological and normative accounts of personhood (see Ikuenobe, 2016; Molefe, 2019, 2020). Motsamai Molefe discusses these accounts. He explains that the ontological account of personhood “deals with the fact of being human,” while the normative account “refers to the reflexive process of moral becoming, where the agent adds dimensions of moral virtue to her humanity” (Molefe, 2020: 18; see also

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Ikuenobe, 2016: 144–145). On the one hand, ontological personhood involves those biological traits that define a human being, which has necessitated questions about human nature. The notion of human nature denotes those attributes that make a being human without which such a being will not be included in the species of Homo sapiens. This ontological notion of personhood seems to be what Gyekye refers to when he insists that “[W]hat a person [human being] acquires are status, habits, and personality or character traits: he, qua person acquires and thus becomes the subject of acquisition, and being thus prior to the acquisition process, he cannot be defined by what he acquires. One is a person because of what he is, not because of what he acquires” (Gyekye, 1992: 108). This implies that a person is first a human being before the acquisition of personal and social traits. In this sense, Gyekye refers to a person’s ontological makeup independent of their socialization. As Molefe’s work has demonstrated, the ontological personhood stipulates those metaphysical and descriptive properties that are constitutive of human nature. Central to the ontological personhood is the attempt to deal with the question of what is a person? The ontological enquiry into this question is supposedly descriptive. According to Polycarp Ikuenobe, “a descriptive conception of personhood seeks to analyze the features and ontological makeup of an isolated individual” (Ikuenobe, 2016: 118). It seeks to specify those attributes that are typically and distinctively human. Such attributes will be what differentiates humans from other creatures. For instance, let A stand for attributes, H for humans, and C for other creatures. Attributes A make H a human being and not C. These attributes prevent H from being a member of C. In this regard, ontological personhood seeks to specify those descriptive qualities that are definitive of human nature. On the other hand, the normative conception of a person deals with the question of what makes an individual a person as distinct from them being a member of homo sapiens. What this question tends to establish is that individuals are first and foremost humans before becoming persons. As D. A. Masolo points out: We are born humans but become persons. We are human beings by virtue of the particular biological organism that we are. . . we become persons through acquiring and participating in the socially generated knowledge of norms and actions that we learn to live by in order to impose humaneness upon our humanness. (Masolo, 2010: 13, 154–155)

The normative conception of personhood deals with a process of becoming morally virtuous individuals in society. In this sense, having personhood is to exhibit humaneness, such as kindness, courage, love, empathy, compassion, and mercifulness, and also to become a virtuous person. A normative account of personhood seeks to analyze ways in which individuals acquire moral virtues or excellences, examining, for instance, whether “social relationships help to achieve personhood or personhood just is being engaged in certain kinds of social relationships” (Molefe, 2019: 55). Analyses of the relationship between the individual and the society are efforts to give a normative account of personhood. In Personhood and Community in African Traditional Thought (1984), Menkiti provides an account of normative conception of personhood. In this article, Menkiti

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aims to portray personhood in a certain traditional African thought system as distinct from the conception in Western literature (Menkiti, 1984: 171). He pins the difference between Western and African worldviews on the premium which the former places on the “physical or psychological characteristics of the lone individual” that differs from the emphasis by the latter on humans being defined by their “environing community” (Menkiti, 1984: 171). In a sense, we will understand Menkiti as saying that what defines a person in Western thought is his rational capacity, autonomy, knowledge, and self-realization, unlike in the African context where community defines humans. Another way of putting this is that individualism – “broadly conceived as the view that the individual human being is a maker of the world they inhabit” (Soares, 2018: 11) – chiefly characterizes dominant Western concepts of personhood (Vincent, 1995; Metz, 2015). He refers to the former as “minimal conception of personhood and the later as “maximal conception of personhood” (Menkiti, 1984). In the maximal conception of personhood, individuals attain personhood through an incorporation into the community that involves adherence to social norms. As Menkiti points out: Without incorporation into this or that community, individuals are considered to be mere danglers to whom the description person does not fully apply. For personhood is something which has to be achieved, is not given simply because one is born of human seed. Personhood is something at which individuals could fail, at which they could be competent or ineffective, better or worse. We must also conceive of this organism as going through a long process of social and ritual transformation until it attains the full complement of excellencies seen as truly definitive of man. And during this long process of attainment, the community plays a vital role as a catalyst and a prescriber of norms. Hence, the African emphasized the rituals of incorporation and the overarching necessity of learning the social rules by which the community lives so that what was initially biologically given come to attain social self-hood, i.e., become a person with all the inbuilt excellencies implied by the term. (Menkiti, 1984: 172–173)

Personhood involves the process of character formation that depicts excellencies and virtues. One of these excellencies, according to Menkiti, is wisdom. He believes that as we grow old, we become wiser and better disposed to comply with social rules and norms. At this stage of life, one would have performed the proper rituals, and accumulated moral characters and massive experiences that would accord one full personhood since one has been an active community member. Menkiti treats the accumulation of excellencies obtained through compliance with societal rules and norms as a necessary condition of personhood. Menkiti would say that individuals can only strive to be approximations of full personhood since they sometimes fail at it. As such, an individual acquires personhood to the extent they adhere to communal norms and discharge their communal obligations. This is what Menkiti describes as “processual,” which means that “[P]ersonhood is the sort of thing which has to be attained and is attained in direct proportion as one participates in communal life through the discharge of various obligations defined by one’s stations” (Menkiti, 1984: 176). Processual personhood involves an “ontological progression” that begins with the child (“it”) to moral persons, then to ancestors, and finally, ends

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with the nameless dead (it), what Menkiti describes as “. . . a journey from an it to an it” (Menkiti, 1984: 173, 2004: 325–326). In Menkiti’s account, a child assumes personality, identity, and name that work together to formalize the process of reaching “ethical maturity” that is definitive of personhood. Menkiti’s use of ontological progression is somewhat different from the ontological personhood we considered above. This is because it does not offer a descriptive account of a person but a normative sense of a person. Menkiti employs this normative ontology to show that morality plays a vital role in the consideration of the ontological person. Biological and metaphysically speaking, Menkiti acknowledges that a person is a human being without any moral features, i.e., ontological personhood precedes normative personhood. However, he maintains that a person in this normative ontological sense can move processurally into normative personhood based on incorporation into and adherence to communal norms. In the next section, I will examine the impact of the transhumanist future on Afrocommunitarian conception of personhood. Imagining the transhumanist future shows the influence it would exact on our current Afro-communitarian values system. For the sake of argument, I will assume that the transhumanist future would be feasible, and I will explore its implications for the normative personhood.

Will the Transhumanization of Our World Change Our Values System? Imagine a transhumanist future where people have been morally enhanced to inevitably act morally, where people have surpassed all known biological and natural limitations, and where biological and technological enhancement makes life happier. People in this future would be fully aware that their actions result from their moral enhancement, even though each individual did not decide whether to be morally enhanced since society imposes such enhancement on them. But they find it perfectly satisfactory, even though they have not chosen it. No one misses having the option to choose between moral alternatives: right and wrong, good and evil, and just and unjust. They are happy to always act morally. The transhumanist future is not apocalyptic. Functioning values do exist in this future. Individuals are susceptible to technologized personhood. But the world in which such values take place is different from our Afro-communitarian natural community. The transhumanist future would be feasible since there is a likelihood that the exponential advancement of science and technology would make it possible for people to be morally enhanced. And there is no certainty that such a world would not happen. No one can reasonably be confident that such a future would not emerge. This should not be construed to mean that the transhumanist future would definitely occur; rather it should be conceived as one possibility. For the present discussion, I suppose that the transhumanist future is feasible and pose the question: How would it affect our current Afro-communitarian values system? I stipulate that the transhumanist future would be morally problematic. Since every moral enquiry seems to have some controversial claims, I will consider

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these to be mine: First, there would be a radical shift in the society from what can be described as the orientation of normal values system, where communal norms prescribe the criteria for personhood and individuals strive to conform to them, to the orientation of anormal values system, where persons would be those who are enhanced to “inevitably” conform to relevant social norms. Second, there would be the absence of moral choice in the orientation of anormal values system, which would eliminate the premium placed on personhood. Something of great value would be lost in the transition to the transhumanist future. These moral judgments are not uncontroversial. But this might be the general intuitions of Africans in the Afro-communitarian community who would probably find the transhumanist future undesirable. They may claim that something vital is lost in a transhumanist future if one is morally enhanced to attain personhood. However perfect, it tends to be compared to the less perfect Afro-communitarian community. I will begin with the first controversial claim. From the Afro-communitarian standpoint that prizes communal relationship and common good, individuals would be technologically enhanced, irrespective of their personal preferences, to inevitably conform to social norms (Chimakonam, 2021). There will also be a radical change of norms since the transhuman society would be an entirely new one and requires new moral orientations for the enhanced individuals. As Werner Stegmaier (2019) points out, moral orientation is a self-binding commitment due to certain norms and values originating from a specific ethical situation. Moral enhancement then would be a radical shift from one orientation (normal values system) to another (anormal values system). I introduce the concept of “normal values system” to describe the norms, values, and moral orientations of Afrocommunitarian community where the normative conception of personhood obtains. In such a community, there is a presence of choice and the possibility of success and failure in attaining personhood. In the orientations of the normal values system, communal norms prescribe the criteria for personhood, and individuals strive to conform to them, which makes it possible for the individual to succeed or fail at personhood (Menkiti, 1984, 2004). Communal norms provide the context that locates individuals within a network of harmonious, communal relationships. Individuals act according to norms that entail specific goods within the normal values system. In ordering their actions according to such norms, they participate in communal relationships. In other words, every individual has a particular set of norms guiding their action based on the notion of the good or bad, right or wrong, and just or unjust, which could be contextdependent, i.e., based on communal norms and practices. However, I introduce the concept of anormal values system to describe the nature of the norms, values, and moral orientations of the community in the transhuman world, where there is the absence of choice and no possibility of failure in attaining personhood and where technologized personhood obtains (see Chimakonam, 2021). The transhumanist future values would center around technologized moralism – conceived as the technological determination of values that involves adherence to social norms without reference to the journey and strive associated with acquiring

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personhood. Normative personhood would need to earn its keep within the overarching transhumanist future governed by technologized moralism. In the anormal values system, personhood is approached primarily through biological means. Individuals could be biologically or genetically enhanced to behave morally. Through moral enhancement, persons would be those who are enhanced to “inevitably” conform to relevant social norms. They would be wired to always behave in specific ways that are morally upright (see Persson & Savulescu, 2008). There is no doubt, however, that moral behavior could be biologically engineered – an idea that happens to embody a distorting misrepresentation of normative personhood to technologized personhood in which personhood can be technologically given by simply pumping a few biological or genetic pills. In this sense, what matters in personhood is the biological element. However, the biological, psychological, cognitive, sociocultural, motivational, environmental, political, personal, emotional, economic, religious/spiritual, and other elements that play a role in the journey toward personhood are ruled out. Personhood requires the interaction of complex biological, psychological, sociocultural, and many other elements that cannot be reduced to a biological element alone. Normative personhood then is an integrated combination of these elements, which can be characterized as a potpourri. It is within the interconnectedness of these elements that the real complexities of normative personhood arise. First, an individual acquires personhood by adhering to communal norms and practices that inform and shape his identity. Second, in acquiring personhood, an individual goes through a journey that involves learning and mistakes making and corrections that inform his moral character. We should bear this interconnectedness in mind while considering the biological engineering of normative personhood and acknowledge that biology is but one element of personhood, one among many potpourri. Furthermore, one ethical concept that is difficult to translate is our notion of moral choice, which is suggestive of the normative personhood in the normal values system. Would moral choice be nonexistent in the orientations of anormal values system of the transhumanist future? I begin with the Afro-communitarian notion of moral choice obtainable in the normal values system. Within the normal values system, moral choice consists of the freedom to choose between right and wrong alternatives. Individuals have the autonomy to choose whether to comply or not to comply with social norms, making them to either succeed or fail at personhood. This Afro-communitarian moral choice faces serious difficulty in the anormal system of the transhumanist future. If we insist that moral choice is having the freedom or autonomy to choose between good and wrong, to comply or not to comply, then the very idea of moral choice seems to disappear in such a future. If individuals are morally enhanced to inevitably conform to the personhood-based theory of right action, how can we say they have moral choice? One might conclude that the transhumanist future would abandon moral choice. A consequence of this would be that individuals would be what I call moral zombies – human technological replicas that inevitably lack moral choices. My use of the word zombie is somewhat different from philosophical zombies in the context of philosophy of mind, which is often invoked as a counterexample to physicalism. On the one hand, philosophical

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zombies are thought experiments designed to show the problem between consciousness and the physical world. They are imaginary beings that are identical to humans but lack consciousness. On the other hand, moral zombies are human technological replicas that lack moral choices designed to illuminate the problem about Afrocommunitarian personhood and the transhumanist future. While moral zombies would never be susceptible to immoral conduct, it will arguably eliminate autonomy or freedom to comply or not to comply with the norms. One might argue that individuals in the anormal values system of the transhumanist future would find new ways to think about moral choices. In this future, moral choices would only be conceived in terms of choosing from degrees of good, right, or just. This might be necessary to guarantee moral choice in the transhumanist future. Perhaps, for them, this is what moral choices would be: choosing between degrees of good, right, and just. However, a plausible response would be that to apply this to our Afro-communitarian community would be a monstrous violation of normative personhood since it accords individuals the freedom to decide whether to adhere to social norms. For instance, let us call the Afro-communitarian ethical paradigm in a normal values system a disjunctive moralism. Let us invoke this example again: Take Y to stand for every moral action, Z to represent immoral action, and X to be a moral agent. In a normal values system, X is a moral agent if he has the capacity to choose Y or Z moral course of action at a specific time. Also, let us call the Afro-communitarian ethical paradigm in anormal values system negative moralism, where X is a moral agent if he inevitably does Y course of action, and he never does Z course of action in all possible moral circumstances. While in the former there is a presence of moral choices, there is an absence of moral choices in the latter. In turn, Afro-communitarian natural community prizes moral choices through the journey of personhood that allows individuals to either adhere or not to adhere to social norms.

Conclusion In this chapter, I introduced transhumanism and moral enhancement. It defined transhumanism as the idea that seeks to use the means of science and technology to enhance human capacities radically and to transform their social conditions by transcending the limitations imposed on them by their biology and nature in order to create posthumans. And it conceived moral enhancement as the biomedical and genetic interventions that would directly and radically augment individuals’ moral capacities beyond what is therapeutically necessary and considered normal for humans so that they always act morally and become more virtuous. I have also unpacked the various conceptions of personhood within the African philosophical context by discussing both the ontological and normative accounts of personhood. While the ontological account of personhood deals with those metaphysical qualities that constitute a person, the normative deals with moral becoming. I provided a brief background to the African conceptions of personhood by discussing how Western intellectual hegemony has sidelined intellectual contributions from Africa, which led

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some African scholars to claim that African modes of thought are unique and distinct. And I discussed Menkiti’s account of normative personhood, which I deployed to question some of the presuppositions of transhumanist moral enhancement. Finally, I have shown that the transhumanization of our world would impact our Afro-communitarian values system. Given the exponential growth of science and technology, there is the possibility that humans would be able to transform themselves into technologized beings, attain personhood, and even create technologized species. And given that this transhumanist future may be our future (since there are not already existing technologized species in a distant world), there is a need to worry about this future.

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Social Robots as Persons in Community Mpho Tshivhase

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Relationality in Afro-communitarianism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nature of Moral Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Humanity, Uniqueness, and Social Robots in Sociopolitical Contexts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The enthusiastic introduction of artificial agents in society raises many questions relating to humanity. One of the questions that comes up has to do with the place of social robots in society. While social robots tend to be awarded legal personhood, it is unclear that they should automatically be considered moral persons. A closely related concern has to do with the kind of membership to community that can be allocated to social robots. Are humans to consider social robots as members of the moral community in virtue of their presence in society and their interaction with persons in society? I will analyze the membership of social robots in society using the framework of the Afro-communitarian view of persons in community. The overall aim is to arrive at a plausible way to situate social robots in community with persons. The Afro-communitarian view of persons accommodates humans, nonhuman animals, as well as the environment. In this chapter, I aim to test whether the Afro-communitarian view of person could be stretched to accommodate social robots as well.

M. Tshivhase (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_48

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Keywords

Community of fate · Norm creation · Economies of relationality · Technorelationality · Toxic relationality · Techno-communal beings · Social robots

Introduction One of the commonly accepted assumptions is that humans are social animals and therefore, they always enter the world as members of some or other community, wherein they develop into beings who are self-aware and conscious of their relational state of being which necessitates that their behavior be governed by certain norms and principles that are aimed at the welfare of the community (p’Bitek, 1998: 73–74). Afro-communitarianism is an approach in African philosophy that captures the moral way that humans ought to interact with each other in community. Given the existence of synthetic beings in the form of social robots and the existing knowledge about the nature of humanity as captured in the sense of sociality, one cannot help but become curious about the human understanding of community and what conditions need to be met for one to become a recognized member of community. In light of such sociality, should social robots be considered members of community in much the same way people have come to recognize humans, other animals, and the environment as members of community? Is it even necessary for humans to rethink the organization of community to include (or exclude) social robots? If social robots are included as members of community, people might have to think about the kind of regard humans should extend toward social robots and vice versa. The presence of artificial agents in community has implications for the ways in which individuals think about community and what conditions need to be met to become a member of community. The Afro-communitarian theory of personhood deals with the relationship between persons and community and so I will look to this theory to unpack the plausibility of social robots joining moral communities and what this might imply for human-to-human as well as human-to-machine relations. Afro-communitarian theories have been used to account for the moral value of humans, nonhuman animals, as well as the environment. Given the advent of artificial intelligence (AI) – in the form of social robots, conversational agents such as chatbots, algorithms that can track one’s activity to tell when one is conscious and unconscious, care robots, and the like – has thrown humans into some form of relations with various forms of technology, it seems apt to question how to make communal sense of AI in community. It seems pertinent to ask whether the Afro-communitarian theory could help account for this techno-relationality in the context of human-to-machine interactions. The overarching question here has to do with how humans should understand relationality considering the presence of artificial conversational agents, who may not be moral persons, but whose activities and/or functionalities can have a moral impact on human lives. In a world of diversity and technological advancements, what accommodations, if any should humans make to include social robots in existing communities? The

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underlying concern has to do with the human-to-machine relations and the implications these relations might have for a clear understanding of the requirements for membership in a community. It matters to discuss this issue as it affects the way humans organize and consider each other, other animals, as well as the environment in the techno-communal sense of being with others. In the first section, I will briefly discuss the nature of Afro-communitarianism to illustrate relationality in the context of humans in community. Thereafter, I will move on to discuss the nature of community in its generic and moral forms with the aim to illustrate the concept of community that applies in the discussion of the membership of social robots in community. This conception of community will help clarify considerations of the conditions that would have to be in place to accommodate social robots as members of a community. In the sections that follow I interrogate what it means be a member of community and whether this is a privilege set aside only for humans and thus not pertinent for the consideration of human-tomachine relationality. Overall, my concern is that social robots may present humanity with a new reality that requires recognition and management of a kind of dislocated relationality that meets the expectations of utility with the undesirable consequence of the potential displacement of human interaction and unmediated human relationality. Before I construct that argument, I will explain relationality in the Afro-communitarian sense to set the tone of relationality relevant in the consideration of social robots as persons in community. Overall, I argue for distinguishing different economies of relationality that need not misrecognize social robots as persons in order to enable coexistence in community.

Relationality in Afro-communitarianism One clear characteristic of Afro-communitarianism is the fact that its primary focus has to do with the relation between persons and community. What is at issue here is the nature of the relationship between persons and community with a focus on which of the two takes priority in the determination of one’s personhood. This discussion is central in debates about what it means to be a person in the relational sense of it. Radical Afro-communitarianism recommends the primacy of community in the relational concept of persons (Menkiti, 1984: 171–174). Herein what it means to be a person already implies a connectedness in and with community. On this view, community is ontologically prior to a person, thereby implying that what matters in defining a person is centrally communal. That is to say that the personal goals of individuals should not take precedence over the welfare of a community. The welfare of a community is characterized by a maintained harmony that enables solidarity among persons in community (Metz, 2022: 91–92). What is prioritized here is the overall welfare of community which, when secured, would bring harmony and solidarity to the community’s social structure. Herein, the principles of mutual respect and reciprocity form an integral part of the guiding principles of living well with others (Imafidon, 2021: 48–49). Herein, the central tenet of Afro-communitarianism reveals the good relations among persons as a

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matter that is beneficial to both persons and community. It captures an interdependency among persons as well as the community (Gbadegesin, 1998: 131–134). The relationality that is championed in this theory draws two forms of connectivity: one among persons and another between persons and community where the sense of community here extends to nonhumans and the environment. What drives the interconnectivity is a morally loaded concern for the well-being of others with the encompassing aim to secure harmony and unity in the community. It is the values of unity and harmony, among fellow members of community, that should motivate individuals to create a moral environment that is conducive to morally perfect individuals living well together in a moral community. It is this requirement for moral perfection that enables persons to behave in prosocial ways that enable overall social welfare. What ought to be recognized in individuals to consider them persons is their prosocial relationality which illustrates a person’s value in community and grounds one’s dignity (Molefe, 2019: 29–30; 50). A community in this relational sense then comprises, in the main, of persons with dignity so that community maintains a morally loaded significance. The aspect about humans that should move them to respect each other and refrain from violating their welfare and their normative value, which are generally thought to, in part, comprise of dignity (Gyekye, 1997: 63–64). It matters that an agent who is acting in society has a normative value that is recognized and respected by fellow members of the community. Judgments about actions as well as the allocation of accountability for praise or blame are often informed by the normative value of the acting agent as well as the agent on the receiving end of the action. Viewed in this way, moral value is central to determining the moral consideration and treatment of the individual in question as well the consequences for agents who act against or for another being. As the community expands with the addition of social robots, so too the idea of community should be reexamined with the aim to clarify the plausibility of the inclusion of social robots in community and the conditions that should be met to accommodate the technological members of the community. Humanity might need to think about how they determine membership in community. In relation to social robots, the relation between community and social robots might seem a bit straightforward. Classic Afro-communitarianism might be right about the community being ontologically prior to social robots as it is indeed a fact that social robots developed post the formation of the communities that are centrally designed with the aim to govern mainly human-to-human relations. The complication would possibly arise with the accompanying expectation of reciprocity in the morally loaded idea of communities. While it seems obvious that social robots exhibit actions that have moral implications, it is unclear that they can express relationality in its moral form as they are not moral agents with the accompanying normative values and the capacity to recognize the moral value of humans and other nonhuman members of community. The principle of moral value in Afro-communitarianism is not as straight forward when applied to social robots. While they are present in society, they are – in a considerably limited sense – somewhat akin to animals and the environment in the

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sense that they are not conscientious moral actors but could loosely be considered moral patients. Social robots may be interacting with persons, but in the event of a moral dilemma, it is unclear that they can be held accountable. One of the requirements of moral praise or blame is autonomy. On the technological reference to social robots as autonomous agents, one could intimate that artificial agents are in the mechanical sense of self-governing. However, I would caution against conflating this mechanical application of “autonomous” with the sense of moral autonomy that has moral connotations – at least the kind that is relevant for moral decision-making and awarding personhood to humans, wherein such personhood is a matter of moral excellence, at least according to the Afro-communitarian view of persons. The point is that there are several factors that determine moral responsibility, and autonomy is one of them. But the kind of autonomy that is relevant to moral decision-making and moral value of the individual is unlike the sense of autonomy used in reference to artificial intelligence (Laceulle, 2008: 162–165). In order to best contemplate the plausible African perspective on the community membership of social robots, it is worthwhile discussing the concept of community upon which the idea of Afro-communitarianism is based. This concept of community in Afro-communitarianism is central to this discussion as it also gives insight into the African view of the relational nature of humanity. Herein what grounds an interest in the concept of human is the curiosity about the nature of a human. African thought, according to Kwame Gyekye (Gyekye, 1998: 59–61), locates the essence of a person in a combination of three elements: ōkra (soul), sunsum (spirit), and honam (body) – all expressed in social relations in community. The ōkra is constituted by the life force closely related to what we understand as breath – honhom. The departure of one’s ōkra is marked by the cessation of breath. “Thus the honhom is the tangible manifestation or evidence of the presence of ōkra (ibid). Another metaphysical element of a person is the sunsum, which is considered an element relating to dreams, desires and personality. The sunsum has a psychical foundation (ibid, 60-61). Sunsum is the source of dynamism of a person, the active part of the human psychological system; its energy is grounded for its interaction with the external world” (ibid, 63). This sunsum is not to be mistaken for the brain even though it is understood to have extrasensory capacities of thinking, desiring, and feeling. The third element of a person’s essence is the honam – the body, which accounts for the material elements of being (ibid). The person’s essence is also characterized by a complex relation to time and space, which expresses itself in culture and ritual where such rituals contain symbolic significance that convey the value of persons in society (Etim, 2019: 3, 6–9). The cosmological extension of the world of spirits forms part of the essence of humanity which is characterized by the meaningfulness of the relationship between persons and the living dead. Human life is physically and spiritually dynamic. Humans relate to others in forms of attachments that make them partial to those they relate with. They rely on moral principles to manage their partiality especially when faced with moral dilemmas. Said partiality indicates an emotional sensitivity toward the needs of others. Humans also have social and spiritual interests that tend

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to align to make their lives sensible. Humans care about experiences that involve love, identity, and culture. They care about the future and tend to plan for those envisioned futures. They also generally commit to causes that contribute to the welfare of others who are less fortunate and to the environment and many other things in the world that add value to society. They are curious about the meaning of life and reflect on political issues as they pertain to the welfare of all persons. The point is humans are multidimensional in ways that cannot be captured and replicated in algorithms but hold significance for society as they inform human alignment with Afro-communitarian ideals grounded on relationality. On a basic understanding of relationality, humans currently share their communal spaces with machines, which indicates a basic connectivity characterized by the instrumentality of machines to humans. What is important here is that social robots exist in virtue of their usefulness to humanity. Social robots are often designed for the convenience of humans. Viewed in this way, social robots are the tools that erase the inconveniences that disrupt or slow down human productivity (Taipale et al. 2015: 12–15). So, we use them to organize and manage our time, measure the frequency of movement, count our calories, do the mundane tasks to free up time for humans so that they can perform tasks that yield more value in productivity. The point is that the relationship between social robots and humans is mainly one of utility. What we get from the node of social relations is the notion of relationality, which has a compelling moral tone. The moral value of a person is grounded on three things: capacities, normative value, and recognition. The relationship between these three facets of moral life is the main considerations of personhood, where personhood matters as a requirement for membership in a moral community. Herein, personhood matters for the human-to-human relationality (Laitinen, 2007: 250–257). The question is, should personhood matter for human-to-machine relationality in ways that require machines to meet the requirements for personhood? In answering the question above, one should consider the other aspect of relationality has to do with the fact that personhood, which is characterized by moral value, is an aspect about humans that is attained and not given. Given that the idea of community embedded in the Afro-communitarian theory of personhood is morally loaded, it follows that the developmental process of personhood will also be morally loaded. This is in line with the logic of Afro-communitarianism which maintains the normative requirement for membership into community. The foundation of that normative requirement is the recognition of human dignity and taking care to avoid violating their welfare (Molefe, 2019). To have dignity means that each person commands the respect of all human beings – dignity is a sign of moral characters achieved by one’s particular contribution to the whole community (Bell, 1997: 213).

Given that when it comes to humans, it is the value of dignity that persons are encouraged to respect and not violate, what would move persons to offer the same

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moral consideration to social robots? Would social robots have to meet the dignity requirement to become members of community? What matters to take note of here is the moral value of dignity as one condition that is relevant to the understanding of the traits of relational members of community. On the classic view of Afro-communitarianism, one could gather from the fact that the theory is said to be grounded in “traditional African thought,” that this is a reference to communities that are governed by traditional African norms. The popular Afro-communitarian theory of personhood, in its varied compositions, is built on the assumption that persons exist within communities and that their actions should always be in the moral interest of the community (Masolo, 2010). Afropersonhood can be seen as a theory that determines which beings in the world should be considered part of the community of persons. Herein, the biological makeup of an individual being is not enough since what it means to be a person is a matter of moral excellence, which can only be developed by beings with an understanding of moral rules and their significance for a community that is characterized by harmony and mutual respect. In close relation with Afro-communitarianism, one finds that the theory of ubuntu, which I have come to understand as a theory that illuminates the kinds of principles that make a person moral – the kinds of principles one must espouse if they are to be considered morally excellent. It is from the ubuntu theorists such as Ramose (2002: 326–327), Murove (2014: 42–44), Metz (2022), and others that one gets that a prosocial tone that drives relationality on the Afro-communitarian view of personhood. In short, being relational is a matter of behavior toward others, wherein such behavior is grounded on prosocial norms that inform the acceptable ways of interacting as persons. This raises curiosity about how the principles of engagement among humans might inform the principles of engagement that would govern interactions between humans and machines. The question here is mainly about the principled organization of communities given the introduction of social robots as synthetic persons. One could argue that the prosocial norms that govern human relations could be applied to machines. This would imply that norms that regulate human behavior are programmable. Indeed, humans are not born moral; however, they are born in communities that teach them the difference between morally blameworthy and morally praiseworthy actions, so it is not implausible to argue that machines could “learn” to be moral agents. The learning of such norms does not take place in a formal classroom. It is dynamic and often met with critical analysis when children require the moral members of community to explain why they are expected to act a certain way. This implies that moral development is communal and can be detected in expressions such as “it takes a village to raise a child.” This expression illustrates that children are raised by the nuclear family, the extended family, as well as neighbors, teachers, priests, and others. This means that the moral fabric of the community is a communal responsibility. Nonetheless, the idea of moral community still needs to be unpacked if one is to figure out whether social robots should be considered members of moral communities.

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Nature of Moral Community The word “community” is used expansively in society to capture different size groups. Sometimes the “community” captures the smaller face-to-face associations/groupings or larger global alliances. Viewed in this way, a community can vary in size. Another element of community is the kinds of relationships that exist within communities. Andrew Mason (2000) identifies two kinds of relationships that can be found in relation to the notion of community, namely, ordinary and moralized senses of community. For Mason a community is a group of people who share some values and a way of life, identify with the group and recognize each other as members of the group. What Mason adds to this account is the distinction between an ordinary concept of community – one that meets the criteria just indicated – and a moralized concept of community. The latter is the concept of a community whose members display solidarity with, that is mutual concern for, one another and between whom there is no systematic exploitation or injustice. The two concepts play different roles, and the moralized concept will inevitably be the subject of contestation (David Archard, 2006: 188).

According to Mason, the formation of an ordinary community required four criteria: (1) a shared range of values among the people involved in the process of forming a community; (2) a shared way of life; (3) a way of identifying with the group and its practices; and (4) mutual recognition of each other as members belonging to that community (Mason, 2000: 21). The moralized sense of community requires two more criteria to be met – solidarity or mutual concern and justice (Mason, 2000: 27). The moralized sense of community necessarily involves a concern for the good – a kind of good that is based on the welfare of all persons involved in the community’s formation and occupancy. A community can meet conditions that grant it the ordinary character of community but lack the moralized sense of it. Slave-owning communities, for instance, were communities in the ordinary sense of it but lacked the additional concern for solidarity and justice that would grant them the moralized character of community. Furthermore, the ordinary and moralized senses of community have instrumental and noninstrumental value. The noninstrumental value is evident in the cooperative activities that characterize a shared way of life (Ikäheimo, 2009: 38). A shared way of life is one aspect about humanity that connects humans. Herein, the cooperative activities are part and parcel of the mechanisms that generate moral rules of engagement. The shared way of life connects humans across different communities and thus matters for the interconnectivity among humans in a global context. The cooperative activities enable persons to negotiate and renegotiate similarities and differences in personalities and values, both of which matter in issues of co-authorship of norms and values (Ikäheimo, 2009: 36–38). These ideas of cooperative activities and co-authorship of norms are understood to be specifically human activities.

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Most people are part of many different communities with different characters and so it is not impossible that they might encounter conflicting values as they move through the different communities. When persons think about issues of identity – whether ethnic, racial, gendered, religious, or personal – they already enter a space on contested values, wherein community is often expected to be a safe space for the process of self-discovery and uniqueness free from toxic relationality. Overall, community provides a space for humans to explore relations with themselves and others. This is an activity built on values that are generally aimed at maintaining harmony in community. This concern to maintain harmony and create solidarity is one borne of compassion, care, and other values that create a community of fate (Alquist & Levi, 2013). These values require certain sensitivities in order to engage fruitfully in relations with others in community, thereby giving rise to an inclusive processes of norm creation. Norm creation is understood loosely as the process(es) that members of society engage in with the aim to settle on principles that will guide human behavior in a way that minimizes harm and enhances the welfare of the members of society. John Rawls (1999: 17; 118–119) suggested the veil of ignorance as a neutral starting point from which to begin thinking about norms that govern redistribution of goods. Here, the standard he was aiming for was equality, where equality is considered central to ideas of fairness. On his logic, unequal starting points in norm creation have the potential of muddying the process as norms may be created to benefit some and disadvantage others. The point is that there cannot be inequality in the starting point of norm creation, and if the starting point is equal, the expectation is that the norms that will be created will maintain the equality. Immanuel Kant (2002) approaches morality in a similar way. He advocates for norm creation processes that are built on impartiality; the point being that there should be some principles that guide the processes of authoring norms. Impartiality is regarded a useful guiding tool in the process of authoring norms as it champions the removal of the influence of personal relationships when individuals decide what counts as right or wrong. Kant’s view is based on the idea that the judgment of right or wrong should not be driven by the fact that one is related to the individual in question in one way or another. When adjudicating moral options, one ought to look at the merits of the case and not the familiarity one has to the parties involved. Viewed in this way, norm creation should be driven by impartiality. Rawls and Kant’s processes support Heikki Ikäheimo’s view that co-authorship of norms is fundamental to the equal recognition of members of society. According to Ikäheimo (2009), part of what it means to be a member of society should involve co-authorship of the norms that govern society so that one’s deontic aspect of personhood is recognized and respected accordingly. This idea of deontological value reemerges in Drucilla Cornell’s idea of respecting the deontological core of a person if humanity is to fix what has gone wrong in society (1997: 8; 10). Although her focus is on women, her view on recognizing and respecting the deontological core remains pertinent in activities of norm creation in moral communities.

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This idea of co-authorship is not spelled out in terms of how much contribution one makes in the authorship of societal norms. However, one can imagine that co-authorship is not limited to penning down the rules and guidelines for human behavior, but that co-authorship could come in the form of behavior modeled in society. Whatever form the co-authorship takes, it is unclear that social robots can be viewed as co-authors of societal norms. But we could take a moment to imagine what it might look like if moral agents considered them to be co-authors. In order to do this, we may have to look more loosely at the idea of the deontological core that Cornell refers to in her work against patriarchy. This idea of the deontological core speaks to the requirements for moral participation on norm creation, where such norm creation is understood in terms of pro-sociality that may be seen to be unique to humans, thereby intimating a kind of humanism as necessary for moral participation. What is important to distill from the abovementioned assertion is the duty humans have to fellow humans, nonhumans, and the environment through drafting norms that aid social cohesion and welfare of beings in the world. It remains unclear that social robots should be objects to be considered under concerns of moral welfare or participation in norm creation as they lack a fundamental aspect of a deontological core, i.e., subjectivity – where subjectivity is, presently, not a programmable aspect of being.

Humanity, Uniqueness, and Social Robots in Sociopolitical Contexts The technology community aims to develop systems and machines that will improve the lives of humans in the world. This aim is based on a misconceived neutrality of technology. The view here is that this aim to improve society is meaningless and misdirected given that it is blind to the power inequities that subjugate, dehumanize, and disenfranchise marginalized people, thereby missing the core values of co-authorship fundamental to pro-sociality. The argument that will be advanced is that AI engineers are building general AI based on a misconstrued view of humanity that is adopted from the colonial view that awards legitimacy to whiteness. The definition of humanity, prevalent in the technology community, is based on the disenfranchising sense of personhood that is built on the idea of rationality. Rationality has been systematically used to dehumanize and subjugate black people. When creating AI systems patterned on this rationality-based humanity, what the technology community is essentially doing is perpetuating the preexisting structures of exclusion and devaluation of some members of society, thereby showcasing the discriminatory foundation of technology. We live in a world built on inequities that reinforce a hierarchy of white humanity. When the technology community fails to take into account the superiority that is foiled in the superficial social cohesion, then it diverges from its aim to contribute toward the greater good and creates a form of technological oppression, which leads to greater entrenchment of inequities and injustices.

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African ontology, as conceived by Alexis Kagame, illuminates and clarifies the misperception that AI engineers have about humanity. The categories he identifies are muntu (human being), kintu (thing), hantu (place and time), and kuntu (modality), all of which are understood as present in the world of being and becoming. We can correctly categorize AI mainly as kintu (though it also lends itself to hantu). Kintu do not have agency, for they exist as “frozen forces” that demand the command of a muntu to function (Kagame in Ramose, 2002: 324–325). This structure of categories could help capture the different natures of things in the world without anthropomorphizing AI and/or removing its connectivity with humans. Moreover, Kagame’s structure of African ontology enables a decolonizing of the language used to capture what it means to be human in the age of technology. It also allows social robot engineers to reimagine humanity and human intelligence in useful ways that can offer nuanced variations of social robot capabilities that are patterned after diverse representations of human intelligences and the accompanying ethical considerations. Ubuntu is the ethical theory that captures the fifth category of African philosophy, which is normative, and prescribes relationality and the interconnectedness between the muntu, kintu, hantu, and kuntu. Mogobe Ramose unbundles ubuntu to explain that ubu- captures the universal force that guides being and becoming, and it is the -ntu that gives beings in the world the epistemologically concrete mode of existence in the process of becoming (Ramose, 2002: 324–327). Given that technology is being developed in an antiblack world, ubuntu’s emphasis on relationality encourages the technology community to design algorithms that contribute to social cohesion; drive reconciliation through prioritizing the needs of the disenfranchised communities, thereby stimulating upward mobility of persons from those communities and counteract the abuses by the antiblack world through the authentic inclusion of marginalized communities in the design stages of AI; and reduce inequality by recognizing the interconnectedness of all humans in society. Overall, ubuntu prizes the relationality because it combines principles of virtue, duty, and utility to capture the right way in which people ought to interact to serve the society well and flourish as individuals. Ubuntu’s emphasis on relationality can help champion the need to structure a balance between capitalism and ethical consideration of all persons and this requires co-authorship with AI engineers and designers. In her work on AI ethics, Emma Ruttkamp-Bloem (2022) recognizes the potential problems that AI presents for our social reality. She focuses on the AI owners and engineers and recommends that we hold them accountable for the action of AI that have moral and legal impact. Ruttkamp-Bloem recommends virtue ethics as the appropriate moral theory that AI owners and engineers ought to employ in the design stages as this will enable a fairer approach to what is created in AI. RuttkampBloem’s main emphasis is on responsible AI creation which should be grounded on policymaking, thereby making the technology community actively accountable for what they create. Sabelo Mhlambi (2020) also expresses concern in relation to AI in community. He recognizes that AI is built on a misconceived idea of persons. He critiques rationality as a misleading foundation for the definition of humanity. He

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recommends an African view of personhood that emphasizes relationality. In addition, he offers an inductive view that begins with the correct moral recognition of all persons. In his view, the technology community has convinced itself of a kind of moral and political neutrality, which allows them to prioritize efficiency and optimization of technology. He notes that such efficiency and optimization seem to require a kind of amnesia or blindness toward the colonial histories of the world, which are then simply reproduced in the design of general AI. The claim of neutrality enables and reinforces discriminative practices in the technology community, thereby enabling toxic relationality. Mhlambi recommends ubuntu as the appropriate moral theory that can help the technology community to decolonize the processes of AI design, revivify the interconnectedness of community, and make all persons aware of their positionality as digital beings who are also data resources. His concern is that data collection could turn humans into disenfranchised slaves who, in using their devices, freely offer valuable information that enriches technology companies, thereby making those companies richer. Moreover, humans, as data resources, are at a great disadvantage since the data companies know more about the users than users know about them. Herein lies another concrete instance of a form of inequity between technology companies and the humans who offer the necessary data for technological advancements. While creating a balance in society is a noble aim, persons should not forget the emotional effect that technology has on humans. Humans have a legitimate fear that the reality of AI is minimizing opportunities that enable the upward mobility of marginalized groups. Disenfranchised humans are afraid of being replaced by AI that can perform instrumental and/or social tasks. Herein, I think humans need to recognize their roles as beings with a wealth of information that technology companies need to build useful algorithms that generate money. As data resources, humans should think about ways to protect and benefit from their own data. Humans exist in a world that has systems that know more about humans than humans know about them. As data resources, it matters for persons to know who they are and what distinguishes them from other persons as well as AI. A personal way of responding to this data exploitation might involve fostering an existential uniqueness of persons. The existential condition and identity of persons are unique in part because they are cognitive, subjective, experiential, and meaningful. Given the complexity of the existential condition of persons, AI cannot replace persons in significant ways that require collective, relational, and mental agency, as well as coherent self-interpretation/understanding. In reinventing themselves in the technological world, persons could foster existential uniqueness to create distinctive data as well as revivify their place in the world as irreplaceable and incomparable in relation to AI as well as fellow human persons. When thinking about what it means to be a human in the age of technology, I focus on the ontological categories of things in the world and the accompanying ethical principles that emphasize prosocial relationality. I also consider the human fear of being replaced by AI. When thinking about what it means to be a human in the age of technology, the technology community should critically reflect on how the

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antiblack world and the matrix of power influence what they create. In short, when thinking about creating technology that benefits the society, the technology community should recognize their positionality and the fact the capitalist machine they serve requires inequality and that it is the antiblack attitudes that enshrine the inequities. The world has existed for centuries based on systems that thrive in condition of inequality. The age of technology is radically advancing in a largely unequal society and is clear that it seems to be contributing to the continued sustenance of that unfairly empowered group. Most of us are familiar with the concept of human rights, yet it seems that these are reserved for some people and not others. Some of the material used for the technologies that we celebrate and endorse in the advancement of AI are mined by children in Africa. This is but one example of the injustices upon which the development of AI is built – injustices that destroy moral welfare of communities in ways that harm humans but leaves social robots unaffected. John Lamola (2022) argues that we seem to be in haste to enter an age of posthumanism, and his concern is the perpetuated view that the sense of “human” purported in our assumption that what it means to be human in the age of AI is the same. The question of human identity and human dignity in the age of AI becomes one that should be approached with a critical view to first understand which members of society we are referring to when we say “human.” “Human” is a contested term, and the contestation has been evident in debates on human rights where hopes for equality have been corroded and eroded by capitalistic goals, which are enshrined by racism and classism. People in society tend to speak universally about human rights, especially within Western spaces, and yet the same economic giants that champion human rights and the free-market system are built on the exploitation of poor people, some of whom are children. Viewed in this way, AI is (1) not a solution to the human problem of inequities in the society but, when placed greedy hands, an additional oppressive element to the suffering of already devalued humans who have been disenfranchised by political, economic, and social inequities, and (2) what it means to be human is dominated by Western ideas that continue to marginalize poor people. In order to understand the question regarding what it means to be human in the age of AI technology, humans must recognize the fact that the term “human” does not hold universal meaning, which makes it necessary to rephrase the question – what does it mean to be a privileged human in the age of technology? The rephrasing is necessary since there are many people who have never owned an electronic gadget which immediately excludes them from debates about rethinking their lives in light of the rapid development of technology. The technology society, while it aims to create AI that benefits the world, serves the capitalist deity and so does more for the rich and powerful at the cost of the welfare of the marginalized groups. To my mind, this necessitates that individuals become vividly aware of their context as an extended community of fate. Developments in the world – whether they be medical, political, economic, or religious – affect us all in one way or another, but it is humans who bear the consequences and not the social robots. Our existence in community connects us in ways that are obvious and covert. The idea of community of fate is borne of instances of extreme disaster, like the current

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Covid-19 pandemic. I discuss it here because I think Africans have been living in a community of fate for centuries due to the extreme disaster known as colonialism. John Ahlquist and Margaret Levi illustrate the community of fate as the recognition of shared interests that bind humans in solidarity when they aim to secure those interests. In addition to the recognition of each other’s humanity, there is an awareness of a bounded fate. “A community of fate requires recognition of common goals and enemies, and it is strengthened by interdependence” (Alqhuist and Levi, 2013: 2). Humans seem to have been thrown into a bounded fate with social robots in the sense that our actions coalesce with the activities of machines in tangible ways that require individuals to think about the connectivity with machines and how they affect relationality among humans, nonhumans, and the environment. The extended community necessitates an exercise in clarifying the economies of relationality that inform our movement in community with others.

Conclusion Given that social robots cannot be part of the cooperative activities that include coauthorship of norms, why are some humans so eager to uncritically accept social robots as moral members of the community, even in their status as moral recipients and not moral agents. This, I suspect, has to do with the error of anthropomorphizing social robots. Humans tend to attach to other beings emotionally. It is evident in the way they attach to pets and use that attachment to inform their valuation of their pets. They seem to do the same with social robots. Some go so far as falling in love with and eroticizing social robots. When people see this human attachment to animals, they call it a sexual disorder – beastiality. Is it possible that emotional attachment to machines could also land on some spectrum of psychological illness? The point I am making here is that there is something concerning about human creating and prioritizing close relations with machines rather than fellow humans. Is it a matter of humans having become so morally degraded that they feel unsafe around each other? Have humans overly romanticized human-centered relations so much that they missed the relational degradation? It takes one look at crime statistics to realize that the moral fabric of humanity is degraded. History has also shown society that part of humanity felt it was flourishing and doing the work of God when they enslaved Africans. This is a clear indication of the warped belief that toxic relationality brings about social development or advancement. More to the point, I dismiss the plausibility of the moral membership in the community of social robots based on three considerations: 1. Social robots exist as synthetic persons, and this limits their existence to information collected and transferred in mechanized ways that lack the kinds of relational considerations that enable full-personhood understood in terms of moral consciousness and worth, complex communication, and complex connections that extend into the spirit world.

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2. Because of their synthetic personhood status, social robots cannot be co-authors of social norms that inform the moral relationality that gives rise to communities driven by pro-sociality. 3. Social robot are tools and so they lack the inherent moral worth captured through dignity. The fact that social robots lack moral agency, moral consciousness, emotional intelligence, and cannot be accountable for their actions makes them ineligible for membership in moral community. They can be fully recognized for membership in descriptive community, wherein they simply add to the various thing and individuals that are present in community. While it is possible to exclude social robots from getting a membership into moral communities, one should be cautious not to award humanity moral membership by virtue of being human. Herein, it helps to remember that the Afro-communitarian view does not automatically give humans moral value simply because of their ontological status. Moral value in the form of personhood is achieved, at least in the radical sense of communitarianism. It follows then that humans are not natural members of the moral community; they are expected to meet certain obligations to show their fitness for membership into a moral community. Membership is not permanent – it depends on one’s proven ability to live well with others. Social robots do not have a natural life force in the same way humans speak of it in reference to animals (humans included) and other living things such as plants. Social robots have what people may call “artificial force” – it is powered by electricity, batteries, etc. Their utility ends, but one does not refer to them as having a life. Thus, one cannot speak about social robots as having a way of life. While the designers insist on giving social robots personas and giving them human forms, it does not make them humans. Their existence does motivate one to reconsider and possibly revise the way people move in the world, the way people relate to each other, the way people value themselves in relation to others – and perhaps remain cognizant not to perpetuate social challenges such as equality, citizenship, migration, justice, and more. It might help to simply maintain a separation of values and not allow people to be fooled into overvaluing technological tools simply because they are designed to look like humans. No matter how intelligent they are, they cannot be persons with full membership in moral communities. If anything, the Covid-19 pandemic illustrated that while humans can live without direct human contact, it is weird to do so and still truly flourish as well-balanced persons. Indeed, AI enables the individual to stay in touch with loved ones and even allowed individuals to broaden their reach professionally, so they were able to attend international conferences, meetings, and other events from the comfort of their own homes. This kind of relationality is driven by the sophisticated utility of artificial agents. In short, how do humans maintain relationality in the communitarian sense in a world that is growing globally, yet the growth of technology seems to create a disconnect among humans? The proliferation and deployment of technologies create a new form of human-to-machine relationality that may not be compatible with the

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moral principles that regulate human-to-human relations. My sense is that, if left unrestricted, human-to-machine relations may further degrade the moral fabric of human-to-human interactions by creating a kind of techno-communal relational dissonance.

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Robots and Dignity: An Afro-communitarian Argument in Eldercare Karabo Maiyane

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 Robots in Eldercare . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Afro-communitarian Conceptions of Human Dignity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 Afro-communitarian Evaluation of Eldercare Robots . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Abstract

This chapter evaluates the impact eldercare robots could have on human dignity. It specifically seeks to answer the question: under which conditions would the application of robots in eldercare undermine human dignity? This question is motivated by the recent disparity between the number of older persons in need of care and the number of care providers able to give care. While the number of older persons needing care has steadily risen, there has been a shortage of healthcare providers. In addition, negligence and ill-treatment of older persons in care facilities have been reported. These issues have increased the interest and development of care robots. Debates regarding whether it is ethical to enable certain aspects of care for older persons to be relegated to robots have since emanated. One of the chief arguments is that using robots in eldercare would undermine the dignity of older persons. The chapter responds to the proposed question by outlining the approaches to dignity that are salient in the discourse. It then introduces the Afro-communitarian conception of dignity as another plausible approach to evaluate such impact, especially in communitarian societies. It argues that robot-assisted care does not pose much risk in a communitarian setting, while robot-based care is unlikely. This point will be highlighted by evaluating existing K. Maiyane (*) Department of Philosophy, Nelson Mandela University, Gqeberha, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_49

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and espoused robot technologies within the care paradigm. It concludes that there are more instances where using such robots would benefit the dignity of both the older persons and the community. Thus, conducting such evaluations helps mitigate the risks before such systems are implemented. Keywords

Human dignity · Afro-communitarian · African · Artificial intelligence · Care robots · Eldercare robots

Introduction The development and introduction of Artificial Intelligence (AI) technologies, especially within the care paradigm, hold a serious potential to improve people’s lives. One such development is that of care robots, also known as “socially assistive robots.” Care robots are artificially intelligent technologies designed to help care for those who cannot care for themselves, such as older persons, people with disabilities, and children. These robots can assist people with daily tasks such as eating and bathing. They can also provide social and emotional support. Since their introduction, these robots have found the most prominence in eldercare for several reasons, such as their potential to mitigate an increasing shortage of caregivers for aging populations (Girling, 2021) and reported cases of ill-treatment in certain care facilities by caregivers (Sharkey, 2014; Sharkey & Sharkey, 2012). There has been an increased interest in developing such technologies for these reasons. Examples of such AI-enhanced robots are “Lovot,” “Pillo,” “Paro,” “Moflin,” and “Qoobo,” to name a few. As with many new developments, these robots are both praised and criticized. Those supporting their development argue that robot caregivers, unlike humans, do not become tired, stressed, and overworked, and they cannot be cruel and unkind. Robots helping adults with toileting facilities would reduce the humiliation of being assisted by a human caregiver. They could stimulate older persons mentally, thus avoiding cognitive deterioration and providing entertainment (Arkin et al., 2012; Coeckelbergh, 2016; Sharkey & Sharkey, 2012). In terms of criticisms, one of the often-cited reasons these technologies should not be developed or should be strongly regulated is that they would undermine human dignity. It is argued that in their use, they would infantilize, manipulate, objectify, or deny privacy to the very people meant to be in their care (Sharkey & Sharkey, 2012; Sparrow, 2016; Sparrow & Sparrow, 2006). The question that emanates from these claims and this chapter seeks to answer is as follows: Under which conditions would robots in eldercare undermine human dignity? Amanda Sharkey (2014) has responded to this question by applying Martha Nussbaum’s Capabilities Approach (CA). The other response is from Laitinen et al. (2019). Both these responses are based on Western individualist normative positions. Thus, this chapter proposes the African communal conception of human

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dignity as another plausible approach when evaluating the conditions under which robot caregivers could undermine older persons’ dignity. This proposition has several motivations: First, African communal conceptions of dignity introduce a relational component often neglected in Euro-American conceptions due to their focus on individualist values. Also, ethical debates resulting from various AI applications have almost always exclusively existed in Euro-American discourses. The novelty of the chapter is evaluating the impact of eldercare robots on human dignity from an Afro-communitarian perspective. It argues that a plausible African conception of dignity suitable for evaluating the impact of eldercare robots is one that enhances one’s capacity for communal relationships, promotes communal values, protects individuals’ rights, is inclusive, and ensures respect for all. The chapter first discusses conceptions of dignity that are prevalent in eldercare robot discourses. These are Nussbaum (2008, 2011) and Laitinen et al.’s conception (2019). Following this, two African communal conceptions of dignity will be discussed: Metz (2012, 2021) and Ikuenobe (2016). An argument will be made as to why Metz’s conception is best. His conception will then be applied to evaluate how various AI robots could impact human dignity. The evaluation will reveal that there are more instances where eldercare robots would enhance the dignity of those they are aimed at caring for instead of undermining it.

Robots in Eldercare This section previews the existing AI-based technology prevalent in eldercare. The aim is to provide the reader with a brief overview of the technologies and arguments currently in place to clearly understand the ethical challenges of already existing technologies and the potential impacts of upcoming technologies. The technologies under review here are broadly called care robots based on their primary function: providing care and support for the young, old, and disabled. Sharkey (2014) categorizes these technologies into three broad categories: assistive robots, monitoring robots, and companion robots. Assistive robots are designed to aid people with tasks that become increasingly difficult to do as they age. These robots can help older persons by picking them up and placing them in bathtubs or helping them reach toileting facilities, dispensing medication, or with mobility. These include robots such as “My Spoon,” an automatic feeding robot that enables people with limited motor control to feed themselves. The Sanyo bathtub robot provides an automatic washing facility (Sharkey, 2014: 69). There has also been a growing prominence in the development of exoskeletons. These “improve the mobility of frail older people or could help their carers to have the strength to lift and move them” (ibid.). One of the recent robots introduced in this category is called “Pillo,” a home health robot that manages and personalizes a family’s healthcare regimen. “Pillo” is equipped with facial recognition technology. As such, it can differentiate between patients nd thus dispense medication to the appropriate member of the family. It can also store medicine and refill prescriptions (Girling, 2021).

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Monitoring robots are used to monitor the behavior of frail older people. They can also serve as mobile entertainment and communication devices. They are not too different from assistive robots, except that other people outside the patient can connect, access their mechanisms, and communicate with them, such as family members and human caregivers (Sharkey, 2014). These robots can send emergency messages if anything goes wrong. Most are fitted with cameras, meaning others can observe the person cared for, even from a distance. For example, Gecko Systems has developed the CareBotTM, a personal robot that can follow an older person in their home. This robot can also deliver medicine, conduct remote video monitoring, and give verbal reminders at predetermined dates and times. There is also the “Kompai robot” developed by RoboSoft, which can find its way around the home, respond to simple spoken commands, and even connect family members to the person being contacted via Skype (ibid.). Another exciting development in this category is a robot called HECTOR. This mobile companion robot interfaces with a “smart home” and offers support services such as fall detection, diary management and reminders about taking medicines, and remote videoconferencing with family members (ibid.). Companion robots are built to create some form of relationship with the user. Many such robots have been built, and some are already used in care facilities. Some can even be bought for personal use (Sharkey, 2014). The most famous robot in this category is Paro, a seal-like-looking robot that provides the benefits of having an animal pet that can be used in places that are not pet friendly. An older person having this robot would enjoy the benefits of owning a pet without the responsibility of caring for it (Girling, 2021). Laitinen et al. (2019) conduct a similar comparison to the one above. They argue that robots in eldercare can be based on three categories: robot-based, robot-assisted, and teleoperated care. With robot-assisted care, the robot can be near the older person or in the background. In cases where the older person has certain capabilities, the robot can assist them or their caregivers with things they both struggle with. In robot-based care, the robot is in direct contact with the older person. It is the robot that provides care without any assistance. The third category is robots, where the caregiver teleoperates. Below is a diagram that shows Laitinen et al.’s (2019: 371) three categories and examples of robots (Fig. 1). Distinguishing between these robots assists in evaluating how care by robots could affect dignity. Some authors have argued in favor of and against using robots in eldercare (Coeckelbergh, 2012, 2016; Sharkey & Sharkey, 2012; Sparrow, 2016; Sparrow & Sparrow, 2006). These authors raised many issues, including privacy, autonomy, infantilization, and dignity. Issues raised about how using some of these technologies could undermine human dignity are of particular concern to this chapter. In the literature about dignity, Amanda and Noel Sharkey (2012) highlight that using robots in eldercare could result in increased social isolation and involve deception and a loss of dignity. Later, Amanda Sharkey (2014) highlights that although robots could undermine the dignity of older persons, there are evident cases of ill-treatment at the hands of human caregivers and that certain use of AI technologies could provide better treatment. Sparrow and Sparrow (2006) and Michael Decker (2008) also point out that using robots in eldercare could undermine

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Fig. 1 Categories of robot care (Laitinen et al., 2019)

the dignity of older persons if their introduction is for commercial purposes. The idea that robots could be sold to older persons for commercial benefits can be seen as treating older persons as a means to an end, thus undermining their intrinsic value. Although the concern for dignity is often listed as one of the ethical challenges that could emanate from the use of robots in eldercare, not much systematic work has been conducted to highlight how dignity can be undermined; Sharkey (2014) and Laitinen et al. (2019) conduct such an evaluation using the capabilities approach to dignity and multiple sense approaches. Sharkey (2014) conducts this evaluation using Martha Nussbaum’s capabilities approach to dignity. Nussbaum’s (2008, 2011) capabilities approach to human dignity suggests that human beings have dignity because of their capacity for basic capabilities. Because of these capacities, they deserve a life worthy of dignity, a life that guarantees ten basic capabilities. These capabilities are life; bodily health; bodily integrity; senses, imagination, thought, and emotions; practical reason; affiliation; other species; and play and control over one’s environment. Accordingly, these ten capabilities are the necessary conditions for a life worthy of dignity and, thus, the bare minimum to which every individual should be entitled. The central characteristic of these capabilities is that they “belong first and foremost to individual persons and only derivatively to groups” (Nussbaum, 2011: 35). They are also “heterogeneous and irreducible” (ibid.). They are irreducible in that no capability is derived from any other. Furthermore, they are heterogeneous in that, in providing for

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these capabilities, a state cannot implement a one-size-fits-all approach to provide such capabilities. The level at which any capabilities should be realized must vary based on individual needs. Of importance is that all central capabilities are realized to ensure that people are guaranteed a life worthy of dignity. Using this approach, Sharkey (2014) found that there are cases where the use of such could enhance dignity and cases where it could undermine it. In terms of assistive robots, “Exoskeletons and driverless cars such as the ROPITS (Robot for Personal Intelligent Transport) could provide fragile older people with improved ‘Bodily Integrity, and increased ability ‘to move freely from place to place’” (ibid., 69). Assistive robots that increase older persons’ mobility could assist them in other capabilities, such as affiliating with others. These robots could also assist caregivers in that they could help them with the heavy work of having to lift patients. They could also have adverse effects, such as the patient feeling objectified while being lifted by these robots. Such could make them feel humiliated and thus affect their self-respect. Another example would be that the improper and unsafe use of exoskeletons might cause injury the elderly. In effect, this would affect their bodily integrity. Lastly, the increased use of assistive robots could mean less human contact, affecting the patient’s sense of affiliation. Sharkey (2014: 70) argues that monitoring robots would enhance the dignity of older persons by expanding their range of capabilities, whereby they would increase: their bodily health; their ability to move freely; communication, thus increasing their ability to engage in social interaction; and to use imagination and thought to produce works and events of one’s own choice. These robots could also improve the lives of caregivers in that they would not have to constantly monitor the older persons since they would be alerted whenever there is a problem. Such assistance could also benefit families as they would not have to live in constant anxiety and stress caused by worrying about whether their loved ones are okay. The disadvantage or potential negative impact of such robots on the older persons’ dignity would be that monitoring is intrusive. No one wants to live under constant surveillance. Such surveillance would undermine the elder’s rights to privacy. Another possible adverse effect would be that the effectiveness of such robots might minimize social contact since those caring for the older person would only really pay attention to them when there is a problem. Typically, people do not check on each other as much if they believe one is fine and adequately monitored. Another issue would be that such robots could prohibit specific actions because said actions are “not safe.” By so doing, they would be limiting the elder’s freedoms. With companion robots, Sharkey (2014: 71 – 72) argues that these robots could address the commonly held criticism against robot care –that it would take away the older persons’ need for social interaction. Having companion robots would fulfill the need for interaction with older people and thus could be fulfilling the capabilities of affiliation, emotion, and play. A robot pet would mean the older persons have a play, conversation, and interaction companion. Such social contact has been said to reduce stress and anxiety in older persons. However, the risk remains that such an application could reduce human social contact, which could be detrimental. However, that would result from the robot’s effectiveness, not its lack thereof.

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Having applied the CA to evaluate the effects of three kinds of eldercare robots, Sharkey (2014: 74) argues that “[s]ince the CA offers an account of what is required for a life worthy of human dignity, its use as a framework for evaluating the effects of robots on the dignity of older people equates to assessing how robots can increase, or impede their access to the central capabilities.” From the evaluation, she concludes that “the CA permits a valuable and balanced perspective on the relationship between robots and the dignity of older people, highlighting some positive consequences that could result from the careful deployment of certain forms of robotics and warning of potentially negative ones” (ibid.). Laitinen et al. (2019) conduct a similar investigation to that of Sharkey (2014). They argue that the answer to whether eldercare robots could affect dignity depends on two things: first, whether the care at stake is robot-based, robot-assisted, or teleoperated, and second the distinction between the demands and realizations of human dignity applies. They consider dignity as having two aspects: the inalienable aspect and the variable aspect. First, dignity as an inalienable aspect is “a source of strictly undeniable, stringent, and unconditional normative claim; dignity is something that everyone possesses automatically and equally merely because they are humans or persons” (Laitinen et al., 2019: 372). They argue that the normative demands for this aspect of dignity do not dimimish regardless of any behavior or treatment. Because persons inherently have this high moral value, they demand respectful treatment. These demands take the form of negative and positive duties. The second aspect is dignity as a variable aspect. This aspect is gradable and contingent on how it can be realized (ibid). In this regard, inaction would constitute respecting negative duties because harm to dignity cannot occur through inaction. In contrast, positive duties would aid in enhancing one’s dignity. Laitinen et al. (2019: 372) argue that although robots are not moral agents, yet they must be designed so that their actions align with the positive and negative duties of moral agents. They call this robot requirement “ought to be norms.” They argue that “How these requirements are met in practice, by each agent in their self-regard and in their recognition of others’ living conditions, will constitute the variable realisation-aspect of dignity” (ibid.). The second aspect of dignity (D2) is “contingent and gradable in how it is fully realised in actual living” (ibid.). Regarding the impact that eldercare robots could have on dignity, Laitinen et al. apply the three norms that emanate from positive duties, i.e., vulnerability, agency, and experiential and cognitive subjectivity, to evaluate three types of robot technologies: robot-based, robot-assisted, and teleoperated robots. What is key about their findings is that the major controversy regarding robots in eldercare comes from robot-based care. The challenge with robot-based care is that it is unclear “whether interaction with or recognition from robots can be directly constitutive of human dignity; whether robot-based care could directly provide the needed recognition for patients” (ibid., 377). With assistive and teleoperated robots, “it is easy to see how robots could help support dignity by assisting the agent’s actions, and how they can be a smart part of living conditions consistent with human dignity” (ibid.). Another central challenge highlighted in human contact is that these technologies’ sole or increased use would reduce human contact.

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Both Sharkey (2014) and Laitinen et al. (2019) provide a convincing evaluation of the impact that eldercare robots could have on dignity. Similar to them is that both sources agree that there are identifiable benefits to assistive, teleoperated, and monitoring robots. Their instrumental use makes them less likely candidates for fundamental harm to human dignity, especially when used with human caregivers or by patients with some discernment capabilities. Although there could be harm from using these robots, that harm does not pose much threat to human dignity. The injury from these can easily be covered in risk and liability principles in other technologies such as cell phones or cars. The challenge emerges when these assistive technologies are used exclusively for caregivers. Robot-based care might be challenging because it takes away human contact, which is already challenging in the care environment. Of course, Sharkey (2014) clearly remarks that companion robots such as “Paro” are created to alleviate this very problem. There should, however, always be a conscious effort to reinforce companionship, not to substitute it. Although Robot-based care is frowned upon by others, such as Sparrow (2016), their use has clear advantages. If the patient in question still has certain capabilities, then such care would advance their agency and alleviate having to feel like one is a burden. However, if they rely entirely on care, it might perpetuate loneliness and, thus, unhappiness. These two analyses show a clear case about the benefits and consequences of using robots in care – their differences lie in their approaches to human dignity. They are, however, both based on individualist normative principles. On these grounds, the next section aims to conduct a similar evaluation from an Afro-communitarian perspective. The chapter does not in any way argue for the inadequacy of the existing evaluations above. It argues that individualist conceptions have limitations in communitarian contexts. It thus proposes the Afro-communitarian conception of dignity as a plausible way from which one can evaluate the impact of eldercare robots. For this reason, the following section proposes two conceptions of dignity based on communitarian underpinnings. These conceptions that will be proposed are based on African articulations of communitarianism. This choice is based on the fact that it is not a debated point that African normative ascriptions have communitarian features (Gyekye, 2002; Ikuenobe, 2016; Matolino, 2009; Menkiti, 1984). The proposition is not meant to overlook or overtake the already made propositions but to contribute another plausible way of evaluating the impact robots could have on human dignity in communitarian societies, particularly in Africa. This chapter ensures that the debate on robots and eldercare finds expression in other parts of the world and is not largely polarized in Europe and America.

Afro-communitarian Conceptions of Human Dignity This section discusses the salient communitarian conceptions of dignity in Africa. It acknowledges that there are other prevalent conceptions of dignity in Africa apart from the communitarian one, such as the one based on spiritual nature and vitality (Metz, 2012, 2014; Molefe, 2022). The chapter takes on the communitarian conception because, among the ones mentioned, it is the preferred one, has a higher

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contemporary uptake, and is most linked to human rights. The section discusses two communitarian conceptions, one by Thaddeus Metz (2012, 2014, 2021), which argues that one has dignity due to their capacity for communal relationships and one by Polycarp Ikuenobe (2016), which argues that dignity is predicated on the active use of one’s capacities for harmonious communal living. The author favours Metz’s conception because it is more inclusive in that it accounts for the shortfalls other communitarian conceptions have in granting dignity on the grounds of membership or action in the community. It argues that a plausible African conception of dignity suitable for evaluating the impact of eldercare robots enhances one’s capacity for communal relationships, promotes communal values, protects individuals’ rights, is inclusive, and ensures respect for all. This section does not, however, endeavor to highlight other communitarian conceptions as it takes for granted that Metz has conducted a comprehensive report of the said conceptions (see Metz, 2012, 2014, 2021). It will only elaborate on Metz’s conception and the main criticism from Ikuenobe (2016). According to Metz (2012: 25–26), “[o]ur communal nature makes us the most important beings in the world.” Because of this, most African cultures place normative priorities on the community, with a communal account of dignity being one philosophical expression of such an orientation. However, this does not mean community membership is obvious and open to all. Certain conditions must be met before one qualifies to enter a community. Metz (2012: 26) argues that “the capacity to enter into a community with human beings grounded in African thought is well construed in terms of a combination of two logically distinct kinds of relationships, identity and solidarity.” Identity refers to people conceiving themselves as a collective that engages in joint projects, coordinating their behavior to realize common ends and sharing a way of life (ibid.). Solidarity refers to people who “care about each other’s quality of life” (ibid.) by engaging in mutual aid, acting in beneficial ways, and caring for one another. Thus, a sought-after community that embraces African communal values embraces relationships with a combination of identity and solidarity. From this idea of a sought-after community, Metz constructs his communal conception of dignity. According to Metz (2012, 2021), agents have dignity, a superlative noninstrumental value, by virtue of their capacity for loving relationships. Unlike Ikuenobe (2016), agents have dignity because they have the capacity, not because of the use of the capacity. One does not have to be in a said relationship to have dignity. One has dignity by merely having the capacity to be in a communal relationship. Metz (2021) argues that one can be part of or party to a communal relationship as a subject or object. One can be a subject in a communal relationship if one considers themselves a collective member, cooperates with others, helps them, and acts out of sympathy. As a subject of communal relationships, a being has the capacity to befriend others. This requires identifying with others and exhibiting solidarity. In comparison, one can be an object in a communal relationship if other human beings consider them part of a collective, advance their goals, benefit it, and act out of sympathy for them. As an object, the being is recognized by others as an entity that can be befriended, meaning that other subjects can identify with them and exhibit solidarity toward them. What is involved in being capable of being a subject

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or object of a communal relationship is simply “being able in principle, i.e., without changes to a thing’s nature” (Metz, 2021). A being can be a subject or object in a communal relationship if their moral status remains unchanged. In sum, the capacity to be part of or party to communal relationships based on identity and solidarity grants agents a superlative noninstrumental value that warrants respectful treatment. One can have this capacity as a subject or an object of communal relationships. Important in his conception is that one has dignity by virtue of having the capacity to be a party to or part of a communal relationship, not by being in said relationship. Hence being an object of such a relationship does not require any action on the part of the being. Respect is also owed by virtue of having such capacity. Respecting others can be in the form of respecting their human rights – such respect can be construed as respecting one’s capacity to love and be loved. Violating others’ human rights would mean degrading this capacity. Since rights are (or at least are supposed to be) equal for everyone, respecting others’ rights does, in a way, guarantee that one’s rights will be protected as well. Violating them undermines others’ rights which might result in negative treatment of the self by others. Ikuenobe challenges Metz’s communitarian conception that dignity is the capacity for loving relationships. He (2016: 454) argues that “dignity is not just mere capacity for harmonious communal relationships, but the proper use and actualisation of one’s capacity as manifested in virtuous character and good behaviour within the context and help of the community.” For Ikuenobe, capacities in themselves have no inherent moral worth; they are just instrumentally good. Their moral worth depends on how they are used to promote the moral good of the community. Using Metz’s conception as a foil, Ikuenobe (2016: 453) proposes a conception of dignity that “involves earned respect by others based on a person’s actions and a proper use of his capacity for harmonious communal living.” Like Laitinen et al.’s (2019), this conception of dignity addresses multiple aspects or use-senses of dignity and their connections. His formulation of dignity accounting for the different senses is as follows: (1) x has dignity (as a fact or a natural inherent feature), (2) x ought to be treated with dignity, (3a) x acted or behaved with dignity, and (3b) x or x’s character manifests or exemplifies dignity. The first sense is a factually descriptive statement of capacity as a potential. The second is a normatively prescriptive statement, while the third (a & b) are evaluative statements of a judgment of one’s personhood, character, action, or comportment regarding the actualisation of one’s potential. (Ikuenobe, 2016: 457)

Accordingly, the first sense could be based on spiritual, metaphysical, or psychological factors such as autonomy, capacity, relationality, agency, or community. This sense can also refer to one’s profession, class, position, or office. So, when people refer to having dignity, they refer to this sense. However, Ikuenobe argues that having these capacities does not necessarily warrant the moral and evaluative component of dignity or what he calls moral dignity. For him, moral dignity involves:

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normative evaluative judgment about someone based on the moral quality of her character, achievement, comportment, or behaviour. This judgment engenders moral respect regarding a normative prescription of how we ought to treat someone. People say usually that ‘one is a person of dignity’ in a moral sense. However, this is usually not understood in the factual sense, simply as the affirmation of the descriptive features, one has inherently or of one’s position, profession, and achievement. (Ikuenobe, 2016: 458)

This sense of dignity is based on how others judge one’s actions. It is from this judgment that one will either receive deserts or not. The moral sense of dignity also combines both the prescriptive (2) and the evaluative (3a&b) senses. The relationship between the two senses is that the moral sense of dignity depends on the factual sense in that “one must be seen as having the factual sense in order for the other two senses to be applicable” (Ikuenobe, 2016: 459). According to Ikuenobe, when conceiving a comprehensive conception of dignity from an African communal viewpoint, it should be conceived as a coin with two sides. On the one side, it is the factual descriptive sense, and on the other, the normative, prescriptive sense. To be a person of dignity (or dignified person) would require one to possess these senses. Only when a person possesses both senses, it can be said with confidence that they are “a person with dignity” and thus are “worthy of moral and social respect by others based on communal values” (ibid.). Having only descriptive capacities is insufficient to warrant total moral consideration and respect. One must possess the normative and evaluative components to be worthy of moral dignity. Having examined both conceptions of human dignity, as argued by Metz and Ikuenobe, what follows is the response to highlight why Metz’s conception would fare better in evaluating the impact of eldercare robots on human dignity in a communal sense. It will start with the criticism Ikuenobe (2016) makes that dignity is beyond having the capacity for communal relationships but the active use of such capacities to benefit the community. The idea that dignity is contingent on acting in ways that satisfy the community tends to be challenging because it imposes membership to a community as a necessary condition for dignity. This, in turn, discriminates against those unable to be members of a community either by choice or by circumstance. If dignity requires morally worthy actions which earn the agent some respect, this suggests that the actions will occur in a context where said actions could be evaluated, such as a community, which means that a hermit or a prisoner in solitary confinement would not have dignity (Metz, 2012). This is because these agents, although they have the capacity, cannot use it (a prisoner in solitary confinement has no community from whom to act) or choose not to (a hermit lives in solitude by choice), unable to act because of their disposition. Denying these entities such moral consideration might put them at risk of bad treatment. Basing dignity on the action also means that those who are unable to act because of old age, disability, or infants (marginal cases) are also removed from the scope of dignity. Ikuenobe’s (2016: 464) defense on this is that his conception implies that “we have unconditional responsibility to respect, love and care for those (children, those with mental or physical disability) who lack the ability to use their capacity to earn respect.” He argues that if one feels a diminished sense of dignity because of the

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lack of autonomy or lost physical or mental capacities, they deserve a high degree or duty of respect from others. Essentially the burden of care and respect for those lacking the capacity to earn it themselves befall those who can. The capable would do this as part of their roles and responsibility to the community mainly because acting this way would earn them more respect. In this sense, the thriving of the incapable in the community would be at the mercy of the capable. In Ikuenobe’s conception, those who act to enhance the community and those who cannot deserve respectful treatment. Those who act earn it, and those who cannot deserve it (perhaps because if they could, they would). Molefe (2019) also points out that Ikuenobe’s conception of dignity does not state where this “unconditional respect” would emerge. Ikuenobe’s justification of “ought implies can” bases this unconditional respect on the unknown and unprovable claim that if these agents had capacities, they would use them. However, this does not provide a sufficient reason why there is an exception to his rule that respect is earned through positive action that benefits the community. On these grounds, Metz’s conception is more attractive because it ascribes dignity merely by having a capacity for communal relationships. This avoids the pitfalls Ikuenobe and other communitarians face by basing dignity on the capacity to act or on community membership. An attractive conception of dignity is one based merely on having capacities. Whether one uses said capacities lies squarely on the person involved. That means that even respectful treatment is granted regardless of any action. So, whether one is an active community member, their dignity will not be affected. The key takeaway from Ikuenobe’s conception is emphasizing agents’ responsibility in ensuring harmonious relationships. This positive outlook on the community ensures communal relationships exhibiting identity and solidary. In essence, it emphasizes communal relationships that are friendly. The emphasis on duties as more central than rights in African communitarian contexts is also attractive. However, it is important to note that although duties are pertinent in communitarian contexts, they do not take away the significance of rights. As a part of protecting one’s rights and those of other members of the community, persons are likely to act in a way that encourages friendly and harmonious relationships. From this evaluation, the author reiterates that a plausible African conception of dignity suitable for evaluating the impact of eldercare robots on dignity is one that enhances one’s capacity for communal relationships, promotes communal values, protects individuals’ rights, is inclusive, and ensures respect for all. In comparison to Ikuenobe, Metz’s conceptions does well in this regard. In what follows, this chapter applies Metz’s conception of human dignity as a possible framework to evaluate whether using robots in eldercare would impact the dignity of older persons in an African communal setting.

Afro-communitarian Evaluation of Eldercare Robots This section evaluates the impact of eldercare robots on dignity. It seeks to answer the question: Under which conditions would robots in eldercare undermine dignity? Metz’s conception of dignity will be applied as a framework to evaluate the impact

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eldercare robots could have on dignity. Metz (2012, 2021) argues that an agent has dignity by virtue of their capacity to be part of or party to communal relationships. Because of these capacities, they are owed duties by other agents. In essence, agents must act friendly toward each other. So, the response to the above-stated question is that robots would undermine the patients’ dignity if their use were construed as unfriendly either by the patient or any agent observing, that is, if their use undermines the agent’s capacity to commune with others or others to commune with them. The evaluation will be conducted on assistive, monitoring, and companion robots. Assistive robots in eldercare could positively or negatively impact human dignity in a communal society. Using robots would enhance the dignity of older persons if their use can help them with their capacities for harmonious relationships, such as ensuring their mobility, communication, or health needs are met. Wheelchairs, as one of the mobility technologies, have empowered so many people that they do not have to rely on others for the most rudimentary of tasks, such as moving. These, in effect, have drastically improved the quality of life of their users. Thus, more advanced mobility technologies would do the same, even on a greater scale. For example, exoskeletons would enhance the elder’s capacity for movement without the aid of others, and self-driving cars could assist visually impaired older persons in traveling to their desired destination without having to rely on others. The ability to move freely could mean older persons can participate in community activities in a meaningful way. A person who feels empowered and self-sufficient is more likely to be a productive community member. Other assistive robots such as “Pillo,” “Robert the Robot,” “My Spoon,” and others would help them with bathing themselves, accessing toileting facilities, or eating, thus alleviating the humiliation that could emerge from relying on others for such basic needs. The use of assistive robots could benefit the patient and, thus, the rest of the community. Such help could mean alleviating the burden on their loved ones who would otherwise have to do so. If one does not have to care for their parents on full-time bases, they would have more time to do other things. Enabling older persons to have such capacities would ensure they can contribute to and benefit from communal relationships without being compelled to be in them because of their needs. This would, in effect, enhance their dignity. Of course, there are risks, such as injuries or improper use. These risks are not so novel that they would require new risk mitigation processes or undermine the patient’s dignity because they would be used with the patient’s consent, who could stop using them when they feel discomfort. Thus, the risks of assistive robots do not outweigh their benefits. Having assistive technologies is like having an extra hand to do what is essential. Similarly, the use of monitoring robots would enhance elder’s dignity if their use assists them in ensuring that: They take their medications on time, fill up their prescriptions, remind them to eat, ensure that they feel safe knowing that someone is watching over them, and enable them to communicate with their loved ones, even from a distance. Having such assistance would minimize the load for the caregivers and ensure that the patient does not feel like a burden to those who care for them. These robots can also send emergency messages to caregivers in times of danger. Like assistive robots, monitoring robots would give the older person and other

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members of the family peace of mind knowing that their loved ones are safe. They would not have to be physically present all the time to care for their loved ones. Thus, the cost of caring for one’s loved ones would not require them to forfeit their ambitions. One of the risks of such robots would be that monitoring is intrusive. No one wants to live under constant surveillance. Such surveillance would undermine the elder’s need for privacy. One way to resolve this would be to ensure that the use of such robots is consented to by the older persons. It would have to be the responsibility of other family members to explain the benefits and risks of such robots to their loved ones. If there is informed consent from the patient, then at least the patient would be aware of the risk. That way, it would be something they agree to, not something imposed. If monitoring robots are applied in the way proposed here, their use would enhance the patients’ dignity by enhancing their capacities for friendly communal relationships. One of the often-cited rebuttals against robots in eldercare is that such use would diminish the level of human contact the older persons could receive. This criticism is especially prevalent in companion robots because, as their names suggest, their function is to offer companionship, a quality usually attributed to humans. There is a fear, especially in cases where older persons stay in care homes, that their family members and caregivers would rely on these robots to keep their family members company and therefore neglect to visit them. Although this criticism could be the case in other parts of the world, it is not likely to be the case in African communal societies. Here older persons carry such a high value that it would be unlikely first that they would be sent to nursing homes and second that they would be neglected if they were there. Many families would even opt to hire a nurse as an additional caregiver at home rather than send a family member to care institutions. In this regard, companion robots would not be a substitute for humans or human contact but serve as a value added as and when the patient needs it. Thus, having such robots would only enhance already existing networks of care. The risks of such would be mitigated by the fact that there is always someone available to care for older persons or monitor the technologies instituted. In essence, the use of companion robots would not remove human contact. It would only add more ways of receiving companionship, thus not undermining dignity in a communal sense. The evaluation conducted in this section shows that the use of robots in eldercare in African communal settings would not undermine human dignity. They would, in fact, enhance the capacities of the older persons if their use is meant to complement already existing, tightly-knit values that inform many communities. They would enhance the patient’s dignity if used in the ways explained above. If used contrarily, such as without the patient’s consent, used to substitute human care, then they would undermine the patient’s dignity. Any robot that, in use, enhances the community’s well-being and enhances the dignity of its members would be welcomed. Suppose robots are used to assist older persons in everyday tasks. Such assistance would minimize the responsibility of other community members, who can then contribute in other ways that complement their well-being.

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In confronting contemporary technologies, one must accept that communities’ contemporary formation and functions have changed from what they were in the past. People now have to work to maintain their livelihoods and care for their loved ones. Because of this, they sometimes have to rely on other means to connect and care for them. In this context, the use of robots seems to be one way this is possible. The recent COVID-19 pandemic has highlighted the need for technologies to do certain things that were taken for granted, like connecting with loved ones from different parts of the world. Productivity applications are used to track, submit work, and meet virtually, using video calls and e hailing services for food and transportation. In combination, all these technologies assist in social and productive aspects. During the full lockdown in 2020 at the start of the pandemic, people were confined to spaces they found themselves in, with no opportunity to visit their loved ones. The only way to safely communicate with community members was through various technologies such as cell phones. Even if one was in a different country, in times of danger, they could call an ambulance for their family members, call a neighbor to check on them, or send money using electronic means. Essentially, one could care for their loved ones without being physically there. Those who could galvanize such technologies were not as isolated and in danger as those who could not. The lesson from this time is that technologies are almost always created to resolve societal issues. Of course, some would use them for malicious purposes. That is why it is always important to monitor them and ensure that they align with the values of those they are meant for in use. That way, the use of various technologies will be beneficial to society.

Conclusion This chapter highlighted the impact of care robots in eldercare on human dignity. It first discusses Nussbaum and Laitinen et al.’s conceptions as salient in eldercare robot discourses. The chapter argues that these approaches provide a good framework for evaluating the implications of the application of robots in eldercare to human dignity. They are, however, based on Western normative principles and might fall short in communitarian contexts. It thus proposed Metz’s communitarian conception of dignity as a plausible conception to evaluate the impact of eldercare robots on human dignity. It found that robot-assistive care does not pose much threat to human dignity, while robot-based care is unlikely in African communities. The chapter provided a novel approach to evaluating the impact eldercare robots could have on human dignity. Thus far, the evaluations in eldercare apply the Western individualist approaches. The evaluation based on the African communitarian approach is a novel contribution to the discourse of eldercare robots. The contribution ensures that there is yet another way of making these considerations in line with African communal values. Within a larger human-robot interaction domain, this approach could also be applied as a framework to evaluate the impact of dignity in childcare and care for people with disabilities.

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References Arkin, R. C., Ulam, P., & Wagner, A. R. (2012). Moral decision making in autonomous systems: Enforcement, moral emotions, dignity, trust, and deception. In Proceedings of the IEEE (Vol. 100, pp. 571–589). https://doi.org/10.1109/JPROC.2011.2173265 Coeckelbergh, M. (2012). “How I learned to love the robot”: Capabilities, information technologies, and elderly care. Philosophy of Engineering and Technology, 5, 77–86. https://doi.org/10. 1007/978-94-007-3879-9_5 Coeckelbergh, M. (2016). Care robots and the future of ICT-mediated elderly care: A response to doom scenarios. AI & Society, 31(4), 455–462. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00146-015-0626-3 Decker, M. (2008). Caregiving robots and ethical reflection: The perspective of interdisciplinary technology assessment. AI & Society, 22. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00146-007-0151-0 Girling, R. (2021). Can care robots improve the quality of life as we age? Forbes. https://www. forbes.com/sites/robgirling/2021/01/18/can-care-robots-improve-quality-of-life-as-we-age/? sh¼79596e6a668b. Accessed 28 Jan 2022. Gyekye, K. (2002). Person and community in African thought. In P. Coetzee & A. Roux (Eds.), Philosophy from Africa: A text with readings (pp. 297–312). Oxford University Press. Ikuenobe, P. A. (2016). The communal basis for moral dignity: An African perspective. Philosophical Papers, 45(3), 437–469. https://doi.org/10.1080/05568641.2016.1245833 Laitinen, A., Niemelä, M., & Pirhonen, J. (2019). Demands of dignity in robotic care: Recognising vulnerability, agency, and subjectivity in robot-based, robot-assisted, and teleoperated elderly care. Techné: Research in Philosophy and Technology, 23(3), 366–401. https://doi.org/10.5840/ techne20191127108 Matolino, B. (2009). Radicals versus moderates: A critique of Gyekye’s moderate communitarianism. South African Journal of Philosophy, 28(2), 160–170. https://doi.org/10.4314/sajpem. v28i2.46674 Menkiti, I. A. (1984). Person and community in African traditional thought. In African philosophy: An introduction (pp. 171–182). Metz, T. (2012). African conceptions of human dignity: Vitality and community as the ground of human rights. Human Rights Review, 13(1), 19–37. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12142-011-0200-4 Metz, T. (2014). Dignity in the Ubuntu tradition. In The Cambridge handbook of human dignity (pp. 310–318). Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511979033.037 Metz, T. (2021). A relational moral theory. Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/ 9780198748960.001.0001 Molefe, M. (2019). An African philosophy of personhood, morality, and politics. Springer International Publishing. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15561-2 Molefe, M. (2022). Human dignity in African philosophy. Springer International Publishing. https:// doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-93217-6 Nussbaum, M. (2008). Human dignity and political entitlements. In Human dignity and bioethics: Essays commissioned by the President’s council on bioethics (pp. 351–380). Nussbaum, M. (2011). Creating capabilities: The human development approach. Belknap Press: Harvard University. https://doi.org/10.4159/harvard.9780674061200. Accessed 5 June 2023. Sharkey, A. (2014). Robots and human dignity: A consideration of the effects of robot care on the dignity of older people. Ethics and Information Technology, 16(1), 63–75. https://doi.org/10. 1007/s10676-014-9338-5 Sharkey, A., & Sharkey, N. (2012). Granny and the robots: Ethical issues in robot care for the elderly. Ethics and Information Technology, 14(1), 27–40. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10676-0109234-6 Sparrow, R. (2016). Robots in aged care: A dystopian future? AI & Society, 31(4), 445–454. https:// doi.org/10.1007/s00146-015-0625-4 Sparrow, R., & Sparrow, L. (2006). In the hands of machines? The future of aged care. Minds and Machines, 16(2), 141–161. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11023-006-9030-6

Part III Ethics

African Ethics Fainos Mangena

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Ethics: Definitions and Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Religion as the basis of African Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Ethics and Intercultural Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Recourse to African Applied Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter focused on some of the pertinent questions in African ethics such as: What is the status of African ethics today? What is the basis of African ethics? Do African ethics practitioners have any contribution to the wider discourse of intercultural philosophy? These three pertinent questions clearly guided this chapter. In an attempt to address the first question, I made a cursory survey of the current debates on the status and place of African ethics today. In particular, I made the discovery that African ethics is suffering from distortions especially by African ethics practitioners who are non-Africans by descent such as Thaddeus Metz and others. In my attempt to answer the second question, I exposed some of Metz’s fallacies with regard to this subject matter, one of which is that African ethics do not need religion to authenticate them. In answering the third question,

F. Mangena (*) Faculty of Arts and Humanities, University of Zimbabwe, Harare, Zimbabwe e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_4

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I sought to show that the failure by African ethicists of non-African descent to recognize and valorize African ethics as a competitive discipline was tantamount to epistemic genocide meant to disadvantage indigenous African ethicists, ensuring that they are denied the opportunity to engage in intercultural debates under the banner of intercultural philosophy. Keywords

African ethics · Hunhu/ubuntu · Religion · Intercultural philosophy · Applied African ethics · Commom moral position

Introduction In this chapter, I argue that African ethics need not be compared with Western ethics in order to establish its status as a genuine or authentic ethic. Firstly, I argue that claims by some African ethics practitioners of non-African descent that African ethics is not genuine because it lacks form and content are, in my view, not justified and are tantamount to epistemic genocide. Such insinuations also imply that African ethics lack conceptual constructs, organization, and method. Secondly, I refute the claim that religion should not have a part to play in the definition of African ethics. My position is that culture is made up of beliefs and values, and in the majority of cases, people’s values are derived from their belief systems. I divide this chapter into four sections. The first section focuses on the status of African ethics in the global arena, through interrogating the work of Metz and others. In this section, arguments from Wiredu and Ramose are also marshaled to challenge Metz. The second section focuses on the merits of the claim that “religion is the basis of African ethics,” a view which is completely dismissed by Metz and other like-minded philosophers. Here I argue that religion is an important aspect of culture, which cannot be easily separated from philosophy; in particular, ethics as the values of a society also derive their impetus from the society’s belief systems. Thus, I argue that religion is part of the garbage of being African, and this view finds expression in the claim by John S Mbiti (1969: 215) that “Africans are notoriously religious.” The third section focuses on whether or not African ethics can contribute something in the discourse of intercultural philosophy. In this section I argue that only an authentic African ethic will contribute to intercultural philosophy. By “authentic,” I mean, one that is not based on distortions but that recognizes the contributions of indigenous African ethicists as well. This section relies on the works of Jonathan Chimakonam (2017) who defines the province of the Global Expansion of Thought (GET), which is achieved through conversations, and Kaltenbacher (2014) who tries to define and map the contours of Intercultural philosophy. The fourth section is a recourse to African applied ethics.

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African Ethics: Definitions and Issues For more than five decades, philosophers from diverse cultural orientations have sought to establish the status of African ethics. Those with Western cultural roots have sought to make comparisons between African ethics and the so-called dominant Western theories of ethics, with a view to show that on its own, African ethics is deficient. Thus, they have defined African ethics by laying a lot of emphasis on rules/ principles that should guide and regulate behavior in the African place. Conversely, those with African cultural roots, have put emphasis on the place of the community, group, or family in relation to behavior expected in an African context, without necessarily having to make comparisons with ethics from other cultures or putting emphasis on the place of rules/principles in their definition and characterization of African ethics. It is important to note that while both groups of African ethicists (those from the West and those from Africa) endeavor to show the true nature and character of African ethics, they both differ fundamentally with regard to the place of the individual and community in the definition of African ethics. While Western philosophers believe that the individual is prior to the community, Indigenous African philosophers view community as being prior to the individual. At this moment in time, I sample two of the many definitions of African ethics that are more common to most readers of African ethics. One of these definitions is from an African ethics practitioner who has Western cultural roots, while the other one is from an African ethics practitioner who has African cultural roots. The first definition is by Thaddeus Metz (2007a, b: 321) who defines African ethics as relating to the “values associated with the largely black and Bantu-speaking peoples residing in the sub-Saharan part of the continent, thereby excluding Islamic Arabs in North Africa and white Afrikaners in South Africa, among others.” Metz (2007a, b: 321) further argues that African ethics is bereft of a general principle that prescribes the duties or obligations of moral agents in a sub-Saharan African context. Metz (2007a, b: 321) also argues that this general principle which should be derived from these values must be comparable to the dominant Western principles that include Hobbesian egoism or Kantian respect for persons, but he does not explain why this is important. For this view, Edwin Etieyibo (2016: 87) labels Metz a Western Universalist (WU) given his tendency to evaluate the ethical experiences of Africa using his own Western understanding of the same. Etieyibo (2016) calls this attitude “double consciousness,” borrowing the term from Du Bois (1903). I now get into the details of Metz’s argument by looking at his sixth Ubuntu account for the simple reason that he considers it to be quite promising in explaining the moral judgments typically held by Africans. Before I do that, I will very briefly go through the first five Ubuntu accounts for the sake of those who are not familiar with Metz’s project. To begin with, the first Ubuntu account which Metz (2007a, b: 328) calls U1 says:

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An action is right just insofar as it respects a person’s dignity: an act is wrong to the extent that it degrades humanity.

Though some positives can be drawn from this account, Metz (2007a, b: 329) dismisses it for failing to account for “several of the intuitions” cited earlier. In particular, Metz argues that if “respect means treating human life as the most important intrinsic value in the world, then it cannot easily account for the wrongness of deceiving (C) and breaking promises (E), for such actions need not eradicate, impair or degrade life” (Metz, 2007a, b: 329). The second Ubuntu account which Metz (2007a, b: 330) calls U2 says: An action is right just insofar as it promotes the well-being of others: an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to enhance the welfare of one’s fellows.

Metz has problems with this Ubuntu account because of its inclination towards utilitarianism. Metz (2007a, b: 330) thinks that “an exclusively consequentialist focus on human well-being has notorious difficulties grounding constraints. . .against stealing (D) or discriminating (F) as means to the greater good.” The third Ubuntu account which Metz (2007a, b: 330) calls U3 says: An action is right just insofar as it promotes the well-being of others without violating their rights: an act is wrong to the extent that it either violates rights or fails to enhance the welfare of one’s fellows without violating rights.

Notwithstanding the positives, Metz dismisses this account for failing to account for all his list of intuitions in this project. In particular, Metz (2007a, b: 331) argues that this Ubuntu account cannot speak to intuitions such as Consensus (G), Cooperation (I), and Tradition (K), which are desirable from an African perspective but can be inefficient as ways to promote human well-being. The fourth Ubuntu account which Metz (2007a, b: 331) calls U4 says: An action is right insofar as it positively relates and thereby realizes oneself: an act is wrong to the extent that it does not perfect one’s valuable nature as a social being.

Despite seemingly having some positives, given that it is perceived to be the dominant interpretation of African ethics in the literature, Metz (2007a, b: 332) criticizes this account for failing to justify why an individual should act for selfrealization. Remarks Metz (2007a, b: 332): If I ask why I should help others, for example, this theory says that the basic justificatory reason to do so is that it will help me by making me. . .a better person. However, a better fundamental explanation of why I ought to help others appeals not to the fact that it would be good for me. . .but to the fact that it would be good for them.

The fifth Ubuntu account which Metz (2007a, b: 333) calls U5 says:

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An action is right just insofar as it is in solidarity with groups whose survival is threaten: an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to support a vulnerable community.

Metz (2007a, b: 334) argues that although this Ubuntu account has the potential to account for all the 12 intuitions, he criticizes it for being vague, especially as it does not clearly articulate the idea of harmony. Metz (2007a, b: 334) argues that “there are respects in which the fundamental requirement to promote harmony and to prevent discord could use clarification and specification.” For starters, U6 states that: An action is right just insofar as it produces harmony and reduces discord; an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to develop community. Metz (2007a, b: 334) thinks that when compared to the other 5 Ubuntu theories, U6 has the potential to account for all the 12 intuitions alluded to earlier, but he acknowledges that the account is still too vague as it does not quite explain what “harmony” means. I will return to this argument later. For Metz (2007a, b: 335) harmony is made up of two ideas, namely, shared identity and goodwill. With regard to the idea of shared identity, Metz (2007a, b: 335) makes the important point that an individual firstly thinks of him/herself as being part of a group. Thus, one refers to him/herself in the plural as “we.” Secondly, the group that one considers him/herself to be part of also affirms his/her membership (Metz, 2007a, b: 335). Thirdly, Metz observes that people share identity when they have common ends or motives (2007a, b: 335). Fourthly, Metz (2007a, b: 335) argues that “shared identity consists of people in the group coordinating their activities in order to realize their ends, even if they do not use the same means or make the same amount of effort.” Coming to the notion of goodwill, Metz (2007a, b) observes that “one has a relationship of goodwill insofar as one”: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Wishes another person well Believes that another person is worthy of help Aims to help another person Acts so as to help another person Acts for the other’s sake Feels good upon realizing that another person has benefitted from his/her actions and feels bad upon realizing that she has been harmed

Metz (2007a, b: 336) further argues that goodwill and shared identity are distinct types of relationship in the sense that there exist cases of shared identity without goodwill as well as cases of goodwill without shared identity. Metz (2007a, b: 336) gives an example of the former when he makes reference to the relationship between management and workers at a firm where, in his view, workers will not always work for the management. I will not give an example of the later as outlined and explained by Metz as it lies outside the scope of this chapter. Most importantly for this chapter, Metz (2007a, b: 336) remarks that goodwill without shared identity has more moral value than does shared identity without goodwill. Metz, however, thinks that U6 can be enriched by combining the notions of shared identity and goodwill and thereby leading to the formulation that: An action is right just in so far as it promotes shared

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identity among people grounded on goodwill; an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to do so and tends to encourage the opposites of division and ill-will (Metz, 2007a, b: 338). I do agree with Metz when he makes the observation that ubuntu entails living a harmonious relationship with others and that harmony entails two aspects, namely, the aspect of shared identity and the aspect of goodwill. Although Metz reformulates U6 by combining shared identity and goodwill and thereby making the principle “less vague and metaphorical,” I still submit that Metz considers goodwill to foreground shared identity. In my view, shared identity should be the basis for goodwill. For instance, one is more inclined to wish another person well (1) when he or she knows that they have something in common that they share, which is that they belong to the same community, and that they share the same value system. One’s belief that a colleague needs help (2) will usually stem from the fact that the two have shared identity. One’s motivation to act in order to help another person (4 and 5) will almost always be motivated by his or her desire not to see one of his or her own suffering. Thus, using this reasoning, it can be argued that shared identity does not necessarily depend on goodwill. It is therefore probably wrong for Metz to argue that goodwill has more moral value compared to shared identity since shared identity is a precondition of or antecedent to goodwill. There is another criticism from Motsamai Molefe (2017: 59–60) who argues that Metz’s relational ethic tends to focus more on relations than the self. Thus, Molefe argues that Metz’s African ethics is impartial rather than partial, and he sees a problem in that. In his parentchild relationship example, Molefe argues that one should not save a drowning daughter because she is her mother, but that she is an individual with a threatened welfare (2017: 60). I find this criticism to be unwarranted because African ethics cannot be based on partiality as this has the effect of promoting an individualistic moral ethos, which is a negation of Ubuntu. Metz does not seek to do that, although I differ with him with regard to his prioritization of goodwill over shared identity. There is also another sense in which harmony can be construed, which lends credence to the view that shared identity does not necessarily depend on goodwill. For instance, Mogobe Ramose (2005: 43) explains the notion of harmony in Africa using a music-dance metaphor. Ramose (2005: 42) begins his account by critiquing De Tejada (1960, 1979) who argues that African music seems to point to the conclusion that Africans are more emotional than rational because they (Africans) dance spontaneously to music, and the rhythm of their dance consistently rhymes with the music. In response, Ramose (2005: 42) argues that African philosophy does not subscribe to the radical opposition between reason and emotion. He also challenges the naïve view that Africans are persistently in search of harmony in all spheres of life, although he agrees with the notion that “the concrete expression of African thought is the continual quest for consensus aimed to establish harmony.” My analysis of Ramose’s thinking is that he does not seem to view harmony as a stand-alone concept; instead he thinks that it is an idea that is preceded by consensus building. In my view, Ramose succeeds in showing that the idea of a shared identity, which, according to Metz, is of less value when compared to goodwill, is at the

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core of Ubuntu. The reasons are twofold: Firstly, Ramose (2005: 43) is on point when he argues that the Bantu people do not dance spontaneously to music, instead dancing is a rational act that is aimed at establishing harmony. My position, which is based on personal experience, is that the Bantu people do not always dance without their dances being occasioned by an important function. In the context of the Shona people of Zimbabwe, people dance at different occasions or festivals which include humwe (a gathering of people helping a fellow to till the land in preparation for farming), mutambo wekukunda (a gathering to celebrate the success of one of the family members), Mutambo we Kuwana kana kuwanikwa (a marriage ceremony), or Mutambo wekuzvagwa kwe mwana (a gathering to welcome new life into the world). So when they dance, they are doing it to show solidarity with one of their own, a fellow they share identity with. Secondly, Ramose (2005: 43) is spot on when he argues that “the concrete expression of African thought is the continual quest for consensus aimed to establish harmony.” Ramose’s point is that consensus is a precursor to shared identity, which, in turn, is an important aspect of harmony. The reasoning, here, is that before people share something, including identity, there must be some agreed principle(s) or position (s) which must undergird the sharing. Elsewhere, I have called this agreement, the Common Moral Position (CMP) (Mangena, 2012: 11). I have argued that the CMP is attained when the moral opinions of the elders are put together in order to come up with a common position regarding issues of right and wrong (cf. Mangena, 2012: 11). The opinions of the elders matter because they are considered to be wise because of the experiences that have accrued to them as a result of agedness, as well as their connection with the spirit world. I have also argued that the CMP is packaged in proverbs. Thus, Bantu people share their identity because they believe that what unites them is more than what divides them. The point is that the Bantu people subscribe to the position that they have a common identity which is derived from their shared values of empathy, love, respect, and togetherness, among other values. It is these shared values that bring about shared identity. It is important to note that this reasoning challenges Metz’s position to the effect that goodwill is more valuable than shared identity as it generates the equation that: Consensus þ Shared Identity ¼ Harmony I do not have problems with the first part of Metz’s definition of African ethics, where he remarks that African ethics refers to the values of black or Bantu speaking people resident in sub-Saharan Africa. I have problems with Metz when he makes the claim in U6 that in Africa, goodwill is more important than shared identity. . . I also have problems with Metz when he alludes to the view that African ethics lacks a general principle of right action which could be compared to Western ethics. The second definition is by Kwasi Wiredu in his 2010 publication entitled: The Moral Foundations of an African Culture. In this publication, Wiredu (2010: 193) begins by making the claim that “morality is universal to human culture.” Wiredu argues that any society that does not have a moral campus will not survive the test of time (2010: 193).

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In his definition of morality, Wiredu (2010: 195) puts emphasis on three key concepts, namely, rules, harmony, and individual interests. Thus, for him, morality has to do with observing rules for the harmonious adjustment of individual interests and communal interests (2010: 195). What is good, in general, is what promotes human interests, and what is good in the narrowly ethical sense is what is conducive to the harmonization of those interests (2010: 195). While Metz, Ramose, and Wiredu place a premium on harmony in their definitions of Ubuntu, Wiredu, just like Ramose, does not see the importance of distinguishing between shared identity and goodwill as Metz does. For Wiredu, it is pretty obvious that human interests in an African context presuppose that individual interests are submerged into the interests of the community. Once that is established, then there is no need to argue on whether or not shared identity has less value than goodwill.

Religion as the basis of African Ethics Many claims have been made in the field of African ethics, some of which are that: 1. The field of African ethics lacks a general principle that should guide action (Metz, 2007a, b). 2. Morality is universal to all human cultures (Wiredu, 2010). 3. African ethics need not be undergirded by a supernatural power or religion (Metz, 2007a, b). In this section, while I can confirm the validity and soundness of the second claim, I challenge the validity and soundness of the last claim. In the interest of time and space constraints, I do not intend to challenge the first claim in this chapter as I have done that elsewhere (cf. Mangena, 2016a, b; Mangena, 2018). To begin with, Metz (2007a, b: 328) believes that African ethics does not require religion to be at its base in order to validate it. He remarks, thus: There is debate about the respects in which religion and morality relate to each other in African thinking, with some arguing that religion is foundational with respect to morality, and others denying it. . . I think it is clear that at least many African societies are best interpreted as believing moral norms to be logical independent of supernatural theses. However, I am not out to defend an anthropological representation of the nature of African belief systems here; I instead stipulate that I seek to develop a moral theory that is non-religious at its base. (Metz, 2007a, b: 328)

From the foregoing, it is clear that Metz does not think that religion has any association with African ethics, the same way religion has no association with Western ethics. Metz seems to be taking a Western moral template and applying it to an African context as if to suggest that all cultures in the world use one moral template. Metz also uses a general statement as he bases his argument on a very general claim: “I think it is clear that at least many African societies are best

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interpreted as believing moral norms to be logically independent of supernatural theses” (Metz, 2007a, b: 328). There is no indication, in the text, where he got this idea. There is also no indication as for how he wishes to use this claim to defend his argument. It is just thrown into the picture without a clear explanation. In this chapter, I seek to completely refute this claim and show that the relationship between religion and African ethics is not disparate. I begin this refutation by revisiting 4 of Metz’s 12 intuitions, showing how they, in fact, resonate with a view that religion and African ethics are not disparate concepts. I concentrate on those moral judgments which, according to Metz, are accepted by Africans than by Westerners. I show that these four moral intuitions point to one thing that African ethics have both horizontal and vertical dimensions. By horizontal, I mean that these intuitions explain the relationship between a person and his or her fellow beings. By vertical, I refer to the relationship between human beings and the spirit world (c.f. Mangena, 2016a, b). The first Metzian intuition I discuss says: To make policy decisions in the face of dissent, as opposed to seeking consensus.

Metz (2007a, b: 324) argues that Africans value unanimity whereby discussions should go on until there is a solution to a conflict or until a compromise is reached. This is normally common in the realm of politics. Metz is quite correct here. Going by this thinking, there is nowhere people’s value system can be separated from what they hold onto as their beliefs. The second Metzian intuition I discuss in this section says: To make retribution a fundamental and central aim of criminal justice, as opposed to seeking reconciliation.

With regard to this intuition, it would seem that Metz is right to argue that Africans favor a restorative approach to punishment than a retributive one. The latter would involve appeasing angry ancestors and protecting the community from their wrath (Metz, 2007a, b: 325). I wish to point out that restorative approaches to punishment, while they are aimed at appeasing angry spirits (not ancestors), are not really aimed at protecting the community from their wrath but are aimed at bringing about social equilibrium. The point is that justice must be seen to be promoted with a view to benefit the victim of injustice. Having said, Metz is confirming the view that African conceptions of morality are not entirely divorced from African religious experiences. However, he contradicts himself when he remarks thus, “I seek to develop a moral theory that is non-religious at its base” (Metz, 2007a, b: 328). There is no prize guessing that all restorative processes especially in an African context have both horizontal and vertical dimensions. The third Metzian intuition I discuss is: To fail to marry and procreate, as opposed to creating a family.

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Metz (2007a, b: 327) argues “that many people think that there is some strong and moral reason to extend familial relationships by finding a (heterosexual) spouse and having children.” While Metz does explicitly acknowledge that Africans disapprove those who fail to marry and procreate, he does not go further to outline and explain the sanctions that accrue to them such as the loss of respect from the other members of the community and their disqualification from becoming ancestors when they finally die. The Shona people of Zimbabwe always say: munhu asina mhuri haana chiremera kubva kune vamwe (A man without a family has no respect from others.). The Shona also say: Munhu asina mhuri anotsamwisa vadzimu (A man without a family, upsets the ancestors.). Please note that before somebody can qualify to be munhu/umuntu (person), he or she should just be incorporated into the community through initiation which involves ritual enactment (Ramose, 2005: 58). Among the Tswana of Botswana, one of the most important functions of the rite of initiation is the qualification to participate in marriage, which is seen as the basis of the future community (Ramose, 2005: 64). It should, however, be noted that this qualification is only possible once somebody has become a person through a stageby-stage process of incorporation into the community (Ramose, 2005). Once somebody has been incorporated into the community, he then qualifies to marry, and once married, the expectation is that he should procreate. Thus, the main reason why Vadzimu (ancestors) disqualify those who fail to marry and procreate from becoming Vadzimu (ancestors) when they finally die is that these people do not create future communities or generations. Thus, if we go by what is obtained in Shona and Tswana cultures highlighted above, then Metz’s attempt to develop a moral theory that is nonreligious at its base would remain an exercise in futility. The fourth Metzian intuition I will look at is: To ignore others and violate communal norms, as opposed to acknowledge others, upholding tradition and partaking in rituals.

As Metz rightly points out (quoting J.S Mbiti), “. . .it is common among Africans, and more so than among Westerners, to think that one has some moral obligation to engage with one’s fellows and to support the community’s way of life” (Metz, 2007a, b: 327). Africans believe that laughing at a fellow colleague who is experiencing problems or difficulties in life is tantamount to laughing at themselves as the ancestors may allow them to suffer a similar fate tomorrow. To amplify this view, in Shona language, there is a proverb which says: Chawira hama hachisekesi (What has befallen a relative cannot be a subject of mockery or a laughable matter.). What is critical to note here is that part of the reason why Africans, in general, and the Shona, in particular, feel compelled to care for others’ welfare may not be totally divorced from their fear of receiving ancestral disapproval should they fail to do so. As a result of the role which the spirit world plays in safeguarding the moral values of the Shona, it may therefore not be correct to argue that African ethics need not be founded on religion, as Metz (2007a, b: 328) arrogantly claims.

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Thus, my claim that religion and African ethics are not disparate concepts is in line with Ramose who observes that concepts of moral personhood cannot be divorced from religion: Holism is the starting point of the concept of a person. The human person in African thought is not definable in terms of a single physical or psychological characteristic to the exclusion of everything else. For Ramose, the traditional African thought of a person is not only thisworldly; meaning to say, a person is here and now as a corporeal being, but is also otherworldly; meaning to say that in and through corporeality, the person is oriented towards the greater, all-encompassing wholeness. Thus, the person in African traditional thought is simultaneously a physical and a metaphysical being. (2005: 56–57)

This claim alone makes it very clear that personhood as a moral concept cannot be divorced from traditional African religion. Ramose (2005: 58) amplifies this view when he argues that “in traditional African thought, personhood is acquired and not merely established by virtue of being human – as is the case with the West. Thus, there is a religious dimension to it apart from the moral dimension (of moral agency) brought about by the age of consent.” In the next section, I look at African ethics in relation to the idea of Intercultural philosophy in order to buttress the foregoing.

African Ethics and Intercultural Philosophy In this section, I argue that genuine intercultural philosophy, whose aim is to promote the Global Expansion of Thought (GET), is only possible when philosophers from the so-called dominant cultures, particularly Western cultures, stop imposing their views or methods of philosophizing on people from the so-called less dominant cultures, particularly African cultures. The GET is an idea originated and developed by Chimakonam in some of his writings in conversational philosophy. Chimakonam (2017: 117–118) thoughtfully summarizes this point when he observes that: To use one’s method to evaluate another’s assumption – articulated with a different method – can only lead to two possibilities, namely; the falsification of another’s assumption or the falsification of another’s method. But we cannot proceed this way with two negative outcomes. . .True intercultural philosophy cannot proceed this way. . .Intercultural discourse, therefore, ends up as pseudo European philosophy where what is sanctioned as epistemically correct, is that which aligns with the basic assumptions of European thought.

Before I seriously delve into the problems of the views of Metz on African ethics in relation to intercultural philosophy, it is important to define the phrase intercultural philosophy itself and distinguish it from conversational philosophy. It is critical to note that although intercultural philosophy has become a buzz phrase in recent years, and although it has come to mean different things to many different people, many philosophers now seem to agree that intercultural philosophy is “the endeavor to give expression to the many voices of philosophy in their respective

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cultural contexts and, thereby, generate a shared and fruitful discussion granting equal rights to all” (Kaltenbacher, 2014: 39). Put differently, intercultural philosophy “recognizes the existence of different traditions of philosophy in different places and thereby argues that all these different traditions house ideas that can be critically and creatively harnessed for the benefit of humanity” (Chimakonam, 2017: 39). In intercultural philosophy, we see a new orientation and a new practice of philosophy that entails an attitude of mutual respect, listening, and learning (Kaltenbacher, 2014: 39). We do not seem to see this in Metz’s project which is highly prescriptive and disrespectful of the African folks. As Chimakonam (2017: 125–126) correctly observes, “Intercultural philosophy seeks to question and relativize the self-erected claim of the universality of views from reductive philosophy, in terms of the history of ideas, philosophy and development.” By so doing, argues Chimakonam, dialogue is made possible between cultures and traditions without one culture imposing itself upon the other. In other words, intercultural philosophy seeks to harmonize ideas from the global south with those from the global north through dialogue. On the basis of Metz’s project, it would seem that this is not what African ethics practitioners from non- African descent are seeking to do. In my view, adopting Metz’s ideas on African ethics will not promote genuine intercultural philosophy in the following ways: First and foremost, adopting Metz’s prescriptive approach to doing African ethics would be problematic in that he is defining and characterizing African ethics using approaches borrowed from the West. This is so because he is neither keen to learn nor keen to listen to the views of indigenous African philosophers in his foiled attempt to map the contours of African ethics. For instance, he is not conversant with any one of the Bantu languages, from which the idea of Ubuntu is extracted. As Ramose (2015) summarily put it, “... I wish to add to my criticism of Metz, the point that as a frequent and speedy writer on ubuntu philosophy, he is yet to demonstrate in his writings on the subject a working knowledge of at least one Bantu language.” It would also seem that Metz believes that his knowledge of South Africa alone is enough to help him to “develop” an African moral theory because he does not make an effort to appreciate some of the Bantu languages spoken in countries that border South Africa such as Zimbabwe, Malawi, Zambia, and Namibia. For instance, Ramose (2003) observes that in his attempt to find the equivalent of the word Ubuntu in the Shona language of Zimbabwe, Metz ends up corrupting the Shona word hunhu with a nonexistent word, nunhu, and the meaning of hunhu as relating to character or goodness is immediately lost thereof. Thus, to use Metz’s views on African ethics to promote a genuine intercultural philosophy will be to completely mislead the world, as this is tantamount to using questionable ideas to define a concept or a theory. Against this background, I argue that African ethics must be properly defined and characterized if its practitioners are to participate in any meaningful intercultural dialogue.

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Language is important in philosophizing in the sense that it is an expression of culture. This means that if one has no appreciation of a particular language, there is no way that person can have an appreciation of the culture in which that language is spoken, and by extension, the culture’s philosophy. In fact, while the colonization of Africa meant that Africans were forced to abandon their languages and adopt English, French, Portuguese, and Spanish as new and official languages of communication, it is high time that Africans revert back to their own languages and philosophize in these languages. This point is amplified by philosopher and poet Bongasu Tanla Kishani (2001) who observes that, “African languages should play significant roles in both the exploration of the past, and in contemporary and future philosophical inquiries in Africa.” As Kishani (2001) aptly puts it: The real problem is not so much to determine how far philosophy is compatible or incompatible with specific languages and with language as whole or vice versa as to discern what role African languages should play within the framework of the past, contemporary and future philosophies in Africa.

The import of the above paragraph is that Africans need to abandon the idea of philosophizing using a borrowed language or borrowed languages because African languages are capable of doing the same if not better. Thus, to consider Metz’s voice as an authoritative voice on African ethics will be gross injustice given his lack of knowledge about African languages and culture. This means that Metz cannot represent Africans when it comes to genuine intercultural dialogue. Ramose, Wiredu, and Mangena can represent Africans at the international table of dialogue by virtue of their knowledge and appreciation of the African languages as well as the African culture (s), having been born and bred in those cultures. But it is also important to briefly explain how African applied ethics can contribute to the betterment of the world. Below, I do just that.

Recourse to African Applied Ethics Unlike African ethics, African applied ethics has not been discussed widely in contemporary African philosophical discourses. The few contributions that are there do not seem to focus on the importance of this discipline in addressing global challenges and enriching perspectives from other ethical traditions. I will begin this section by defining African applied ethics. By “African applied ethics” is meant the application of African ethics in the contemporary cultural life of the African man and woman. For example, social ethics can be applied in the social set up where it can be used as a tool for hospitality or generosity. Thus, from a social ethics point of view, visitors and strangers should be treated well once they visit. They are given good food and shelter until they leave. For example, in the Shona culture of Zimbabwe, there is a proverb which says, “muyenzi haapedzi dura” (A visit cannot deplete food stocks in a home.). This thinking can

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make the world a better world and can enrich other philosophical traditions especially those that promote individualism like the Western philosophical traditions. Through African environmental ethics which connects nature to spirituality, and thereby promote harmonious living, the environment can be preserved for future generations of both human beings and non-human beings and thereby discourage anthropocentrism. Through African biomedical ethics, the relationship between a doctor and a patient could improve if the doctor could realize that his or her personhood also depends on the personhood of his or her client, who is the patient. Thus, prescriptive tendencies will disappear completely.

Conclusion This chapter argued that the status of African ethics seemed not to be properly established and recognized at the global stage because they were some philosophers who thought that the subject matter lacked in form and content, when compared to the “more established” Western ethics. One of the chief defenders of this view was cited as Metz who sought to establish the principle upon which African ethics could be based. However, counterarguments by Wiredu and Ramose seemed to point towards the direction that Metz’s project was an exercise in futility, as he was not well versed with African languages and culture. It was argued that without a proper appreciation of a people’s language, it was impossible to say something about their philosophy (ies). This view was ably defended by Ramose, Mangena, and Kishani. The chapter also argued that African ethics has a closer link with African religion since the values were derived from a people’s belief system. In the final analysis, the chapter argued that once it can be established that African ethics have the same status and appeal as Western ethics, because they both have form and content, it could not be disputed that African ethics can also make a huge contribution to the discourse of intercultural philosophy. Not only that, through the contribution of African applied ethics, such as social ethics that promote the spirit of hospitality, and African environmental ethics, that engenders harmonious living in nature, the environment can be better preserved.

References Chimakonam, J. (2017). What is conversational philosophy? A prescription of new theory and method of philosophising, in and beyond African philosophy. Phronimon, 18, 115–130. Etieyibo, E. (2016). African philosophy in the eyes of the west. Phronimon, 17(1), 84–103. Kaltenbacher, W. (2014). Beyond the cultural turn: Intercultural philosophy in its historical context. In W. Sweet (Ed.), What is intercultural philosophy? (pp. 39–50). The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Kishani, B. T. (2001). On the interface of philosophy and language in Africa: Some practical and theoretical considerations. African Studies Review, 44(3), 27–45. Mangena, F. (2012). Towards a Hunhu/Ubuntu dialogical moral theory. Phronimon, 13(2), 1–17.

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Mangena, F. (2016a). Ramose’s legacy and the future of African philosophy. Philosophia Africana: An Analysis of Philosophy and Issues in Africa and Black Diaspora, 18(1), 53–65. Mangena, F. (2016b). African ethics through Ubuntu: A postmodern exposition. Africology: Journal of Pan African studies, 9(2), 66–80. Mangena, F. (2018). Racial prejudices in current South African philosophical discourses. In F. Mangena & J. D. McClymont (Eds.), Philosophy, race and multiculturalism in Southern Africa: Zimbabwean philosophical studies III. The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Metz, T. (2007a). The motivation for toward an African moral theory. South African Journal Philosophy, 26(4), 331–335. Metz, T. (2007b). Toward an African moral theory. Journal of Political Philosophy, 15, 321–341. Molefe, M. (2017). Relational ethics and partiality: A critique of Thad Metz’s ‘towards an African moral theory’. Theoria, 64(3), 53–76. Ramose, M. B. (2003). I doubt, therefore African Philosophy Exists. South African Journal of Philosophy, 22(2), 113–137. Ramose, M. B. (2005). African philosophy through Ubuntu. Mond Books. Ramose, M. B. (2015). On the contested meaning of ‘philosophy’. South African Journal of Philosophy, 34(4), 551–558. Wiredu, K. (2010). The moral foundations of an African culture. In K. Wiredu & K. Gyekye (Eds.), Person and community: Ghanaian philosophical studies I. The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy.

Doing Moral Philosophy Through Personhood Motsamai Molefe

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Three Distinct Concepts of a Person . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ontological Personhood: Ethical Humanism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ontological Personhood: Ethics of Dignity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Normative Personhood: Character and Achievement Dignity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Miscellaneous Ethical Themes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theory of Right Action . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Partiality and Impartiality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Animal Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The chapter provides the reader with one way to approach and understand African moral philosophy. It pivots African moral philosophy on the concepts of personhood. It identifies these concepts of personhood in the salient axiological concept of Ubuntu, which is typically explained in terms of the saying “a person is a person through other persons.” In relation to the first two instances of the concepts of personhood in the saying, it identifies three crucial themes of African moral philosophy. First, it identifies foundational issues relating the source and the nature of moral value as secular and construes morality to be derived from human nature. In relation to foundations, it further clarifies that African ethics is a dignity-based ethics. Second, it identifies and elucidates the final good to revolve

M. Molefe (*) Centre for Leadership Ethics in Africa, University of Fort Hare, East London, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_5

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around the pursuit and acquisition of virtue or excellence. Finally, it considers the robustness of African moral philosophy by considering how it can account for right action, the debate on partiality and impartiality and the status and place of animals in African moral philosophy. Keywords

Animal ethics · Dignity · Excellence · Humanism · Moral philosophy · Personhood · Virtue

Introduction The chapter offers an interpretation of moral philosophy in the light of intellectual resources in African cultures. It does so by appealing to the prominent concept of personhood in African philosophy. The concept of a person or personhood is one of the most important intellectual and axiological resources in African cultures to imagine and construct African moral philosophy. In its typical day-to-day use in African communities, it functions as an honorific, or a status term. It is a status term in as far as to be recognized as a person is tantamount to receiving social approval for having lived a decent or good human life. The life of a human agent is good or decent if the agent’s conduct is characterized by excellence. To be associated with the status of being a person amounts to being praised for having led a true human life. To deny some human agent, the status of a person – to consider them to be a nonperson – denotes that they are living below the acceptable standards of human conduct. In African thought, the notion of a person is intrinsically tethered to that of achievement. To be a person denotes a status of socio-moral achievement. The association of personhood with a particular standard of achievement implies that the notion under consideration is normative (see Menkiti, 2004; Wiredu, 2004). That is, for the agent to attain personhood, they must live up to the specified norms of conduct. Scholars associate the attainment of personhood with the norm of excellence (Dzobo, 1992; Masolo, 2010; Behrens, 2013; Oyowe & Yurkivska, 2014). For example, Ifeanyi Menkiti, famous for pioneering a philosophical exposition of the concept of a person in African thought, associates it with the acquisition of excellence four times in his essay (see Wiredu, 2004). In one of the four instances, he observes that “[w]e must also conceive of this organism as going through a long process of social and ritual transformation until it attains the full complement of excellencies seen as truly definitive of man” (1984: 172). In this light, to be a person requires a socio-moral transformation of what was initially merely a biological organism to become a person, a human agent with the full complement of excellencies. The aim of this chapter, therefore, involves philosophically unfolding African moral philosophy, or African ethics, through the concept of personhood. To give the reader a picture of African moral philosophy through the lens of personhood, it is important to begin by clarifying two important issues. The first

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issue involves the very concept of a person or personhood in African philosophy. It is more accurate to think of African moral philosophy through concepts of personhood rather than the concept of a person. In other words, it is a combination of several crucial concepts of personhood that provides a more comprehensive and approximate framework to understand African moral thought than a single one – the chapter, hopefully, will justify this claim. The first section of this chapter focuses on this very point of elucidating various concepts of personhood that are crucial to constructing African moral philosophy. The second point pertains to clarifying the idea of “African moral philosophy.” The first part of the clarification is methodological as it involves explaining the use of the concept African in the phrase “African moral philosophy.” The second part involves the question of scope as far as it relates to “African moral philosophy.” To begin, it is absolutely crucial to clarify the use of the moniker African in relation to the phrase “African moral philosophy.” There is no denying that the use of the moniker African has been and can be very controversial (see Ramose, 1999). Surely there are many ways of using this term that are obviously problematic like the uses of it in the construction of the narratives and justification of colonization, which is eloquently captured by V. Y. Mudimbe (1988) in his book The Invention of Africa. The uses of Africa in this instance have racist, objectifying, animalizing, and dehumanizing connotations (Mbembe, 2001). There are also uses of Africa that tend to be characterized by gratuitous simplifications, or sweeping generalizations, which treat Africa as a single, homogenous, and monolithic, which is far from the truth (Amin, 1972). This chapter proposes two senses of the idea of Africa that do not imply the above problematic uses. First, the use of the concept “African” refers to a geography or a concrete place in the world. It is a kind of a thing, a place, one can identify on a map, as that particular region with such and such geographical details (Janz, 2009). In this light, one can identify some presidents, say, Nelson Mandela, as a president of an African country. In this instance, one will be informing us that Mandela is a president that comes from the place on the map called Africa, or at least, he is the president of one of the countries in the place Africa. The second sense of the term refers to a set of items, be it ideas or practices, which can be rightly associated with the place Africa. These practices or ideas are identified as African largely because they are salient in this place and have persisted in it for a very long time (Oyowe, 2014). Take, for example, the belief in ancestors among African cultures. The idea that when a human being dies they join a spiritual community where they serve as a guardian to their family and community is salient among African cultures (Wiredu, 1992). The belief in ancestors is ubiquitous and pervasive among African cultures (Ramose et al., 2003). It is important to note that to identify some belief as African, in the second sense, is not the same as suggesting that it only occurs in Africa, or that everyone in Africa actually believes it (Metz, 2007). Rather, to identify some view as African amounts to recognizing it as salient in that place over a long stretch of time (Metz, 2021). In light of the above, when reference is made to “African” moral philosophy, the idea being advanced is that there are certain intuitions and ideas salient in the place

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Africa that are useful to construct African ethics. In the instance of this chapter, the concept of a person will serve as an axiological resource to reflect on African ethics. There is no doubt in the literature that the concept of personhood is at the heart of African moral thought. Notice the following comments from some of the leading scholars of African thought on personhood. Kwasi Wiredu (2004: 18), in an important volume dedicated to African philosophy, discusses the importance of the normative concept of personhood in African philosophy, and he proceeds to inform us that this concept “brings us naturally to the subject of morality.” Dismas Masolo (2010: 135), an important historian of African philosophy, suggests that the notion of a person is a gateway to African moral thought describing it as the “pinnacle of an African difference in philosophical theory.” Kevin Behrens (2013: 104 emphasis mine), in his analysis of personhood, reflecting on Kwasi Wiredu and Dismas Masolo’s analysis of personhood in African philosophy concludes that “there is an African conception of personhood that is not only distinct from Western notions, but is also foundational and characteristic of African philosophical thought.” Polycarp Ikuenobe (2006: 128 emphasis mine), one of the leading contemporary scholars of African moral and political thought, informs us that “[o]ne feature of communalism, which is the core of African cultural traditions, is its normative . . . conception of personhood.” This brief survey is sufficient to secure the view that the (normative) concept of personhood is a gateway to understand African moral thought. To construct a picture of African moral philosophy through personhood, four sections follow. The first section offers a philosophical discussion of the three distinct concepts of personhood crucial to understand African moral philosophy, namely, personhood as (1) the fact of being human, (2) human dignity, and (3) virtue. The second section turns to the ontological notion as it relates to the question of foundations. Two foundational aspects associated with the ontological concept of personhood will be considered. On the one hand, it will emerge that the ontological concept of personhood embodies ethical humanism. On the other hand, it will emerge that the ontological concept embodies a dignity-based account of morality. The next section focuses on the normative concept of personhood, where it will primarily expound what it means to achieve personhood. The final section focuses on different themes that will further help the reader to have a firm grasp of African moral philosophy through the lens of personhood. Three such themes will be considered – (1) action-centered theory of value; (2) the debate on partiality and impartiality; and (3) animal ethics.

Three Distinct Concepts of a Person One of the crucial ways to understand African ethics is through the concept of Ubuntu. Ubuntu is a Nguni term that captures a prominent way to understand African moral thought below the Sahara (Ramose, 1999; Shutte, 2001; Eze, 2005). Ubuntu, as an African axiological system, is usually explained in terms of the aphorism “a person is a person through other persons.” I appeal to the ethical idea

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of Ubuntu because it presents us with the concepts of personhood that are crucial to properly frame and understand African moral philosophy. I hope the reader immediately notices the salience of the word person in the aphorism. The word person occurs three times in the aphorism. The repetition of the word person in the aphorism of Ubuntu, which is believed to be crucial to understand African ethics, implies that to grasp African ethics an analysis of the word/concept(s) of a person is necessary and inescapable. The first suggestion the reader should take notice of is that this aphorism should be understood as a normatively loaded one, though it is open to nonnormative interpretations (Munyaka & Motlhabi, 2009). Actually, it should be read as making a moral prescription to the effect that a human agent should become a person in the context of positively relating with other human agents. If the phrase “a person is a person. . .” is interpreted as a moral prescription, then it can no longer be seen as a mere tautology. Rather, it promises a rich normative framework that is evaluatively and prescriptively informative in as far as it enjoins the human agent to become or achieve personhood. The aphorism is composed of three phrases containing the word person – (1) “a person”; (2) “is a person”; and (3) “through other persons.” For the sake of getting a sense of African moral philosophy, a philosophical explication of the concepts of personhood is urgent, and much of this chapter focuses on their elucidation. The first instance of the word person, “a person,” as it appears in the aphorism, refers to the ontological concept of a human being. The ontological concept of a person identifies beings like me and you, the reader of this chapter, Homo sapiens. The second instance of the word person, as it occurs in the second phrase “is a person,” refers to the normative concept of a person, which identifies moral agents that have actually acquired virtue or moral excellence. The last instance of the word person, as it occurs in the phrase “through other persons,” refers to the importance of the community of persons as the proper and only context within which the agent can develop virtue (Lougheed, 2022). To proceed to offer an analysis of African ethics, the chapter pays special attention to the first two instances of the word person, the ontological and normative concepts of a person. The phrase “a person” in the aphorism embodies two significant ethical themes, ethical humanism (section “Ontological Personhood: Ethical Humanism”) and the ethics of dignity (section “Ontological Personhood: Ethics of Dignity”). The phrase “is a person” embodies the final good, which is typically described as the normative concept of personhood (section “Normative Personhood: Character and Achievement Dignity”). Next follows the exposition of the foundations of African ethics (section “Ontological Personhood: Ethical Humanism”), the ethics of dignity (section “Ontological Personhood: Ethics of Dignity”), the final good ala the normative concept (section “Normative Personhood: Character and Achievement Dignity”), and a discussion of miscellaneous themes like the metaethical theme of partiality and impartiality to help the reader to appreciate the robustness of African ethics. The next section focuses on the ontological concept of a person and its implications for African moral philosophy.

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Ontological Personhood: Ethical Humanism Note the distinction between the ontological and the normative concept of personhood considered above. In the literature on African philosophy, it is common for scholars to point us to this distinction (see Gyekye, 1992; Ikuenobe, 2006; Behrens, 2013). It is worth noting that scholars of African thought often observe that the normative notion of personhood is more important than the ontological notion of a person (see Gbadegesin, 1991; Wiredu, 2009). For example, Wiredu (2009: 13) informs us that “[t]he African mind is not oblivious to the ontological aspects of the concept of a person, and has ideas thereto. But ethical issues are more dominant.” The implication of this claim is that the normative concept, which will be considered at length later on in the chapter, is more relevant and important in African philosophy. This claim by Wiredu has the potential to offer a less than satisfactory approach to African moral philosophy. A more promising approach recognizes the distinction between the ontological and the normative notions of personhood without suggesting that either of the two concepts is more important than another. In fact, some scholars have started to take the line of reasoning that considers how these two concepts play distinct but equally crucial roles in African moral philosophy (see Ikuenobe, 2017; Molefe, 2020). This section helps us to appreciate the significance of the ontological notion of personhood in African moral philosophy. The significance of the ontological notion of a person involves the roles it plays in African moral thought. The first role involves the question about the nature of moral properties, i.e., is morality essentially physical or spiritual? Alternatively, it involves the question about the source of morality. The ontological notion of a person provides a particular answer to this question. The second role of the ontological view is that it embodies a metaphysical explanation for why agents ought to expect or believe that human agents can achieve personhood. It is because of these two foundational considerations, which will be elaborated below, that the ontological notion ought to receive equal consideration in the imagination and construction of African moral philosophy, contra Wiredu’s observation. The ontological concept of personhood has implications regarding the foundations of African moral thought. Remember, the first phrase “a person” is an ontological one that refers to the fact of being human. The fact that this phrase “a person” is the first suggests that the ontological notion ought to take priority in the imagination and construction of African thought. It is reasonable to interpret the phrase to suggest that human beings are the foundation of morality. In other words, the entire project of morality revolves around the fact of being human. Scholars of African thought endorse the view that humanity is the source or foundation of morality. Note, for example, that Wiredu (1992: 65) informs us that “the first axiom of all Akan axiological thinking is that man or woman is the measure of [moral] value.” For another example, consider Stephen Bantu Biko (2004: 45) who observes that “[o]ne of the most fundamental aspects of our culture is the importance we attach to Man. Ours has always been a [hum]an-centred society.” He continues to inform us that African cultures “. . . always place man [human beings] first” (46). Kwame Gyekye

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(2010) in an encyclopedia article titled “African ethics” makes the following comment about the nature of African moral thought. . . .African morality originates from considerations of human welfare and interests, not from divine pronouncements. Actions that promote human welfare or interest are good, while those that detract from human welfare are bad. It is, thus, pretty clear that African ethics is a humanistic ethics, a moral system that is preoccupied with human welfare.

The phrase “a person” points us to the primacy of humanity in grounding morality. The source and goal of morality revolves around humanity. Humanity is the source of morality in as far as there is no meaningful talk of morality without human beings. It is the very presence of human beings that occasions the very possibility of morality because the values encapsulated by morality are intrinsically connected with humanity. One upshot of the primacy of humanity, as the source and goal of morality, is that African ethics, metaethically speaking, can be described in terms of ethical naturalism. Ethical naturalism is the claim that moral properties are definable entirely by appealing to some physical property (Metz, 2007). African scholars are very specific about the nature of natural property that accounts for morality – these are humanbased properties. It is because morality is grounded on certain aspects of human nature, be it human interests, needs, or dignity, that this approach to morality is characterized as humanistic in its orientation (see Wiredu, 1992; Gyekye, 1995; Metz, 2021). The conclusion that follows is that the ontological notion of personhood entails that African moral philosophy embodies a secular (or nonreligious) ethics, which grounds the entire project of morality on certain features of human nature. The phrase “a person” captures the ethical humanism characteristic of African ethics where morality essentially involves the human good. In the next section, I consider another important aspect of the ontological notion of personhood.

Ontological Personhood: Ethics of Dignity The ontological notion of personhood captures not only ethical humanism, but also the primacy of the concept of human dignity in African moral philosophy. In other words, another underexplored insight associated with the ontological concept of personhood is that of human dignity. In this sense, the phrase “a person” signals that a human being is a bearer of intrinsic and superlative worth. In virtue of the status of dignity, a human being is owed utmost moral respect. Typically, in the philosophical literature, human dignity is described as “human” because it is a function of possessing certain value-endowing metaphysical capacities of human nature (George & Lee, 2008). In other words, the mere possession of certain distinctive metaphysical capacities, depending on the theory of human dignity under consideration, such as cognitive abilities, basic capabilities, or relational capacities, means a human being has dignity (Donnelly, 2015). Note, it is the mere possession of the

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relevant metaphysical feature that secures the status of dignity and nothing more, at least in the dominant interpretation of it. In this light, the status of dignity is not one that the agent acquires or achieves. Rather, the agent possesses it merely because of the relevant metaphysical features (Hughes, 2011). The status of dignity is thought to be inherent or intrinsic because it is a function of our human nature (Sulmasy, 2009). The significance of it being intrinsic denotes that it is a kind of value that does not depend on any external features of the world. Moreover, since dignity is a function of internal features of our nature, it is not the kind of thing that agents come to achieve; it is a natural part of metaphysical makeup of human nature. As much as agents do not achieve it, there is nothing agents can do that can lead them to lose it unless there is a fundamental change in our metaphysical makeup, which is almost impossible (Miller, 2017). Another crucial consideration related to human dignity that all those that have it have it equally – is an egalitarian value (Jaworska & Tannenbaum, 2018). This is the case because it is something agents have merely because they possess the relevant metaphysical equipment rather than its use. Finally, having dignity creates stringent duties of respect for moral agents (Darwall, 1977). The duties of respect might at least take two forms. Negative duties of respect require that agents refrain from interfering or harming beings of dignity (McNaughton & Rawling, 2006). Positive duties require that institutions and agents empower or assist, where possible, a being of dignity (Jaworska & Tannenbaum, 2018). Does the ontological notion of personhood entail a particular conception of human dignity? The answer to this question is affirmative. To get a clue that the notion of personhood embodies a conception of human dignity, one needs simply to revisit the aphorism constitutive of African thought – “a person is a person . . .” The underlying consideration in the aphorism seems to be that there are certain metaphysical facts about “a person,” the ontological notion of it, which explains and justifies the expectation that the agents/he can actually become “is a person,” the normative notion of a person. The ontological notion of a person serves as a metaphysical foundation that grounds the moral expectation in relation to the agent being able to pursue and acquire virtue. The insight that the ontological notion embodies a conception of human dignity is suggested in several ways in the literature. To begin, notice the comment by Mogobe Ramose et al. (2003: 413, emphasis mine) – the concept of a person in African thought takes the fact of being a human being for granted. It is assumed that one cannot discuss the concept of personhood without in the first place admitting the ‘human existence’ of the human being upon whom personhood is to be conferred.

By “a concept of a person in African thought,” Ramose is making reference to the normative notion of it, which he takes to be distinct from the fact of being human, the ontological notion of it. Here, Ramose recognizes the distinction between the ontological and normative concepts of personhood, and he equally recognizes the

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interconnection between the two concepts – one (the normative notion) is not possible without the other (the ontological notion). The point that might extract from Ramose’s comment is that there are certain metaphysical aspects of a human being that are necessary for the possibility of achieving personhood. Masolo (2004: 493) refers to these metaphysical aspects that inform the possibility of achieving personhood as “moral capacities” Menkiti (1984: 177). Gyekye (1992: 110) refers to these metaphysical capacities as the “capacity for moral sense.” The capacity for moral sense refers to the metaphysical equipment that ought to be developed for one to have become a moral agent, one that can be held responsible for her actions, which will explain the expectation that they ought to pursue virtue. Gyekye (1992: 110) further informs us that “the human person is considered to possess an innate capacity for virtue.” The point that emerges from the above is that there is an interconnection between the ontological concept of personhood and the normative one. The explanation of the connection under consideration resides in the ontological notion, which captures the essential metaphysical (or moral capacities) that must be nurtured so that personhood may emerge. Thus, it is the possession of the metaphysical capacities that are necessary for the emergence of a virtuous human agent (the normative concept of a person). In other words, human agents can acquire virtue, and, this expectation is justified because they possess the capacity for it. It is the capacity for virtue that refers to the metaphysical feature of human nature that explains why human beings have status of dignity. What is most distinctive and special about “a person” is the fact that s/he possesses the capacity for virtue. For example, Martha Nussbaum’s (2011) capabilities approach identifies basic capabilities, which refers to raw human abilities necessary for human freedom and agency, as the most distinctive and special of human nature. Kantian ethics identifies the superior cognitive capacity as the basis for human dignity African ethics, on the other hand, identifies the capacity for virtue (Rosen, 2012). Several things are worth noting in relation to the phrase “a person” in relation to human dignity. The value encapsulated by the capacity for virtue is an innate or intrinsic one. It is the kind of value that does not depend on the community or social relationships for its reality. It is a fact that stems in relation to the nature of the human person as a possessor of the relevant internal feature. It is also crucial to note that the value is possessed by the individual in and of herself. The idea of intrinsic value refers to the value-endowing features the individual possesses in her own right. The possession of the capacity for virtue entails that moral individualism is an escapable feature of African thought (Molefe, 2017). To associate the possession of dignity qua the possession of the capacity for virtue is not to dismiss the community, or its importance, rather it also reveals and emphasizes that the importance of the community cannot supersede the value of each individual in her own right. Moreover, the community is important as far it has the duty to recognize and respect the dignity of a person. The lack of recognition of this inherent value of the individual, however, would not negate or annihilate it. In sum, the first phrase of the aphorism “a person is a person through other persons” has two moral-theoretical implications. On the one hand, it embodies

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ethical humanism, the doctrine that humanity is the source and standard of all morality. On the other hand, it embodies an ethics of dignity, which embodies the claim that human beings are distinctive and special in the moral community because they possess the capacity for virtue. Next, the focus turns to the normative concept of a person.

Normative Personhood: Character and Achievement Dignity I hope the reader notices the connection between the ontological and normative concepts of personhood. The ontological notion captures the metaphysical features – the capacity for virtue – that make the pursuit of personhood possible in the first place. The reader will do well to remember that scholars of African thought talk of personhood as some kind of moral acquisition or achievement. For instance, Menkiti (1984: 176) informs us that “various societies found in traditional Africa routinely accept this fact that personhood is the sort of thing which has to be attained.” The question that emerges immediately in relation to personhood being some kind of achievement is – what exactly is it that a moral agent attains when they achieve personhood? The standard answer is that the attainment of personhood is tantamount to acquiring or developing a good character (Menkiti, 1984; Dzobo, 1992; Wiredu, 1996). To be a person denotes being virtuous. Note, for example, that Metz (2010: 83) observes that being a person involves a human being becoming “a full person, a real self, or a genuine human being, i.e., to exhibit virtue in a way that not everyone ends up doing.” The achievement of personhood requires the agent “to develop her capabilities,” or the capacity for virtue, and the development of this capacity for virtue leads to an agent exhibiting virtue (Wiredu, 2009: 16). The pursuit of personhood is open to human beings as long as they are alive – one can become more and better of a person. Scholars of African thought are also very specific about the nature of the virtues associated with personhood – a person tends to be characterized by other-regarding or relational virtues (Molefe, 2019). Notice that Wiredu (2009: 15) observes that the achievement of personhood refers to “a morally sound adult who has demonstrated in practice a sense of responsibility to household, lineage and society at large.” Wiredu explains personhood in terms of outward and other-oriented responsibilities. Gyekye (1992: 109–110) informs us that personhood involves “the display of moral virtue” and further explains that the “norms, ideals and moral virtues [associated with personhood] can be said to include generosity, kindness, compassion, benevolence, respect and concern for others; in fine, any action or behaviour that conduces to the promotion of the welfare of others.” Thus, to be a person involves the development of a virtuous character. In African thought, the moral story begins by recognizing that the human agent is endowed with a certain distinctive capacity, the capacity for virtue. The essence of the moral life, in African thought, involves the nurturing of the capacity for virtue, which, when successfully developed, will result in the acquisition and display of virtue. The kind of virtues usually associated with the achievement of personhood

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place emphasis on benefitting others is they are the ones that throw agents into interactive and productive social relationships with others. At this point, it might be crucial to inform the reader that the normative notion of personhood is not entirely other-regarding. The reader should remember that the quest to achieve personhood is based on the individualistic feature of the human agent – the capacity for virtue (human dignity). This is a feature of moral worth that they possess as an individual. It is also important to notice that it is she and she alone that can develop this feature. Moreover, personhood essentially involves the development of the capacity for virtue. Personhood is a function entirely of developing the capacity for virtue. An ethics associated with personhood is described as a self-realization or moral perfectionist because it essentially involves the development or perfection of a certain component of human nature (Metz, 2007; Lutz, 2009; Behrens, 2013; Molefe, 2019, 2021). The point that emerges is that the object of morality is the agent’s capacity for virtue, but this capacity can only be developed in positive social relationships with others. Another way to think about a personhood-based morality involves appreciating the relation between the self and the exhibition of virtue. The final of good of virtue is pursued by the agent, and it is achieved by the agent. It is the individual, as the moral agent that acquires virtue, which points us to the individualistic aspect of African ethics. Moreover, to bring in a balance, the agent, as an individual, can only acquire personhood, manifest virtue, by communing or participating positively in the community. It is the context of communing with others that personhood or virtue is possible. In this light, it can be duly noted that in terms of the final good, the achievement of virtue, the normative notion is self-regarding, but the content and process of acquiring personhood essentially requires and involves otherregarding duties. The conclusion that emerges is that although the essence of morality revolves around “a person,” a self, the agent, acquiring virtue, the selfrealization component, they cannot pursue virtue separated, indifferent, or alienated from others. Hence, the now-famous expression by John Mbiti (1969) “I am because we are” captures the I, the self-regarding component of morality, which can only realize her true moral destiny in the context of “being-with-others,” which implicates the other-regarding component of morality (Menkiti, 2004: 324). The normative notion of a person can also be expressed in terms of the language of dignity. The literature on human dignity distinguishes between various concepts of human dignity (see Sulmasy, 2009; Rosen, 2012; Michael, 2014). Of relevance here are two distinct but related concepts of human dignity – there is the kind of dignity that is a function of the natural endowments of human nature, and there is a kind of dignity that emerges in consequence to the agents nurturing and developing of these natural endowments. For example, Sulmasy (2009) refers to the dignity that is a function of the endowments of human nature as intrinsic dignity (Rosen 2012). Miller (2017), among others, refers to it as status dignity. These scholars variously refer to the dignity that emerges in relation to the positive use of agency or conduct in terms of inflorescent or achievement dignity (Sulmasy, 2009; Michael, 2014). In this light, a distinction can be drawn between the ontological and normative concept of personhood. The ontological concept of a person embodies a conception of human dignity, which is a function of the endowment or capacity for virtue. The capacity for

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virtue captures intrinsic or status dignity. The normative notion of personhood, which refers to the acquisition or display of virtue, captures inflorescent or achievement dignity. Hopefully, the ontological and normative concepts of a person have given the reader a clearer picture of African moral philosophy. The ontological concept identifies human beings as bearers of intrinsic dignity, which entails duties of respect for moral agents. Agents’ ought to relate with a human being, as the bearer of dignity, with utmost respect. On the other hand, the normative notion of personhood specifies the chief duty of the agent to nurture a virtuous disposition, which will render the person as a responsible member of the family, community, and society at large. The agent has a duty to herself that involves moral-personal development. This development requires her to relate positively with others. The agent is called forth to live a life of dignity – to recognize herself as a bearer of intrinsic dignity and to develop this capacity by exhibiting virtue. Next, the focus turns to select themes in ethical theory in light of the personhoodbased view of ethics.

Miscellaneous Ethical Themes Above, the reader was provided with a picture of moral philosophy in light of the concepts of personhood in African philosophy. To provide this picture, the aphorism “a person is a person through others persons” was heuristically useful. The aphorism permitted a philosophical exploration of the ontological and normative concepts of personhood. The view that emerged is that the two concepts embody two distinct concepts of human dignity, status and achievement forms of dignity. The agent has status dignity because they possess the capacity for virtue and, by arduously developing this capacity, they can achieve virtue, or achievement dignity. In what follows, the focus shall turn to several select important themes in ethical theory, namely, theory of right action, partiality and impartiality, and animal ethics.

Theory of Right Action Above, the discussion concluded that the idea of personhood embodies a dignityand-virtue-based account of morality. That is, the basis for the aspiration to pursue personhood as the final good is the fact that human beings are endowed with the capacity for virtue, which captures status or intrinsic dignity. The final goal of achieving personhood, or what we also called achievement dignity, amounts to nurturing and exhibiting virtue. The reader might complain that even after this exposition of the personhood-based account of ethics, it is still not obvious how this moral view might account for permissible or impermissible actions. Here, the inquiry involves articulating an action-centered theory of value, which will help distinguish right from wrong actions.

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The principle of right action anticipated must be able to recognize the agents and others’ human dignity. The agents’ human dignity, which they have because of their capacity for virtue, requires the agent to realize the potential of their nature – to acquire virtue. For her to do so, the agent ought to relate positively with others. In this light, it can be noted that the dignity-based interpretation of the personhoodbased account of morality requires the agent to achieve virtue by positively relating with others. Metz (2007: 331) in his exposition of the ethical concept of personhood proposes an action-centered theory of value that accommodates the self-and-otherregarding elements of it in this fashion – “An action is right just insofar as it positively relates to others and thereby realizes oneself; an act is wrong to the extent that it does not perfect one’s valuable nature as a social being.” Notice that this principle of right action specifies both the moral means and ends. Positively relating with others serves as a moral means to achieve the final good. The moral end, or the goal of morality, requires the agent to actually realize the potential of her humanity, which involves nurturing her capacity for virtue. On this view, it emerges that actions such as rape, kidnapping, unnecessary stealing, murder, and robbery are wrong because they fail to positively relate with others and they do not lead to the agent developing and exhibiting virtue, i.e., realize the destiny of her social nature. The next section considers how personhood might resolve to the debate on partiality and impartiality.

Partiality and Impartiality One of the debates that have characterized moral philosophy involves the question of the nature of moral properties, specifically the question of whether morality is essentially characterized by moral partialism or impartialism (Wolf, 1992). Moral partialism is the claim that a robust moral philosophy or theory ought to have a place for special relationships (Cottingham, 1986). There is a difference between voluntary and involuntary special relationships. The former refers to those that agents choose to form like a romantic relationship or a friendship. A nonvoluntary relationship is one that agents do not choose such as parental relationships or family. Agents owe special obligations to their special relationships. In other words, agents have special duties to prioritize or show preference for the interests, welfare, and general good of their loved ones or close ties over the interests, welfare, and general good of strangers. Moral impartialism is the view that agents have a duty to treat all moral patients equally (Jollimore, 2014). It forbids all instances of favoritism and it operates on the logic of egalitarianism. Another technical way to capture the distinction between moral partialism and impartialism is in terms of what is called in the literature in philosophy reasons for acting (McNaughton & Rawling, 2006; Loschke, 2018). Note the distinction between agent-relative and agent-neutral reasons for acting. “Agent-relative reasons” are those that have an essential self-reference to the agent as part of the explanation and motivation for the agent’s actions. For example, the reason for

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saving my mother over the stranger in the burning building is the mere fact that she is my mother. The self-referential element is an ineliminable part of the explanation for why they chose to save her over the stranger – she is my mother (Loschke, 2014). On the other hand, “agent-neutral reasons” are those that are general in nature in as far as they make no essential reference to anyone. Act-utilitarianism is the paradigm example of a moral theory characterized by agent-neutral reasons. The agent has a duty to promote anyone and everyone’s welfare so far as it is possible. Her reasons for promoting welfare essentially revolve around maximizing the good for anyone even at the expense of the agent or even her special relationships. In this case, the agent may save a stranger over her mother because saving the stranger will promote more good than saving her own mother. It is the general consideration of promoting the good that informs the agents’ reasons. Moral partialism is characterized by agentrelative reasons and moral impartialism by agent-neutral reasons (Molefe, 2021). Which, moral partialism or impartialism, captures the essence of personhood as a moral theory? Interestingly, personhood embodies both partialism and impartialism. Remember that personhood embodies two distinct concepts of human dignity – intrinsic and achievement dignity. Intrinsic dignity refers to the kind of worth equally possessed by all human beings. Intrinsic dignity embodies moral egalitarianism. In this light, in as far as personhood grounds dignity as a crucial component of moral thought, it should follow that it embodies moral impartialism, or at least impartialism is an important aspect of it. The implication is that agents do not have a no nonarbitrary basis to discriminate among two beings of dignity since they are equally valuable (Jaworska & Tannenbaum, 2018). The kind of moral impartialism associated with personhood best explains macroethical duties associated with public institutions. Public institutions, which have a responsibility to promote the common good, require that they treat all moral patients qua their status of dignity equally (Molefe, 2021). The normative notion of personhood accommodates moral partialism. Specifically, it accommodates two kinds of moral partialism – agent-and-other-centered partialisms (Molefe, 2019). For the sake of demonstrating the place of moral partialism, the discussion will be limited to the agent-centered partialism. Agentcentered partialism is accounted for by the self-realization component of the normative concept of personhood. Remember, the normative concept of personhood enjoins the agent to nurture her own humanity, her capacity for virtue, so as to achieve a good character. The personal project of acquiring virtue is one that belongs to the agent, and it is only the agent that can pursue and achieve this goal. Moreover, in the pursuit of the goal of acquiring virtue, the agent, like every other, has to prioritize her own humanity. It is the self-prioritization associated with the goal of acquiring virtue that captures the agent-centered partialism. The basic idea is that if the agent has the duty to realize her true moral destiny, then it is her sole responsibility to favor her own self in its pursuit. To further bolster the claim that the normative concept of personhood entails moral partialism consider the reasons that characterize the agent acting motivated to achieve it. The chief moral goal, which contains the agent’s reasons for acting,

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involves the agent exhibiting virtue. The question is asked about the agent regarding why they help others in society. If they act motivated by the goal to achieve virtue, an essential part of their explanation ought to include the fact that it is good for their self-realization. Remember that morality revolves around realizing one’s true moral nature, which involves developing a virtuous disposition. The reasons for her actions associated with the pursuit of virtue are, in part, essentially agent-relative (Metz, 2007; Molefe, 2019, 2021). It is in the nature of the self-realization approach to morality that part of the reason why they pursue this goal ought to make reference to the self whose goal it is. In this light, it emerges that the dignity component of personhood entails moral impartialism and the self-realization component, achievement of dignity, embodies moral partialism. The next section considers the place of animals in this moral system.

Animal Ethics Above, in relation to the ontological notion of a person, it emerged that it entails a humanistic ethical theory. The source and measure of all moral value is humanity. If it is the case that morality is humanistic, then the question that arises involves the place of animals in the personhood-based account of morality. There are two possible ways to imagine the place of animals in African moral philosophy. The first way to do so is by appealing on indirect grounds. In this approach, duties toward animals revolve around the normative concept of a person. Part of what it means to be a person involves being kind, loving, and caring, or manifesting any moral disposition that is associated with virtue. Part of what it means to be a person surely ought to involve being kind even toward sentient nonhuman entities. It is not in keeping with the nurturing and bearing of virtue to manifest unkindness or even cruelty toward sentient beings. Part of what it means to be truly human involves being sensitive and responsive to the plight of animals. Purely on the basis of this indirect consideration, grounded on what it means to be a person, the interests and goods of animals can be secured at least to some extent. Many scholars may not be entirely satisfied with an indirect animal ethics. In this approach, a robust animal ethics ought to ground the good of the animals on some facts about them at least to some extent. As example of such interpretations of what animals think, consider Peter Singer’s sentience-based account of morality. The agents’ obligations toward animals arise in relation to their ability to suffer. It is a fact about them, animals, that grounds morality. Another personhood-based interpretation of animal ethics considers animals to possess partial moral status. To have dignity is tantamount to having full moral status, and to have partial moral status denotes having lower grading in terms of being an object of direct ethical concern (Oyowe, 2021). In this view, human beings possess full moral status and the duties that agents have toward them are stronger and more demanding. To have partial moral status, as this account claims animals do, entails agents do have duties toward

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them but they are not as strong and as demanding as agents are toward a being with full moral status (Metz, 2012; Molefe, 2020). Human beings have full moral status because they can be objects and subjects of personhood, i.e., human beings can pursue virtue and they can be positively affected by its virtue (Metz, 2021). Animals have partial moral status because they cannot be subjects of virtue, but they can be objects of it. In other words, the expression of virtue or the withdrawal thereof can affect them either positively or negatively. In this view, animals, as objects of virtue, in as far as it (virtue or lack thereof) can affect them as sentient and goal-directed beings, have partial moral status. If it is true that animals are objects of virtue, then it should follow that it is immoral to be cruel toward them for two reasons. On the one hand, one will be harming animals by being cruel toward them. On the other hand, one that is cruel toward them will be acting contrary to the demands of morality associated with perfecting one’s nature. Being cruel surely cannot be part of moral development. No matter what agents can do to a tree, whether by being kind or cruel toward it, they may not harm it because it cannot be affected, in a morally relevant way, by such actions. Most animals, given their sentience and goal-direct behavior, can be made better or worse off by the agents’ expression or denial of virtue. In as far as the personhood-based account grants animals partial moral status and full moral status to human beings, it follows that it embodies a weak version of anthropocentrism (Metz, 2012; Molefe, 2020).

Conclusion This chapter sought to give the reader a rough picture of African moral philosophy. It painted this picture using the axiological resources of personhood salient in African thought. Specifically, it identified the ontological and normative concepts of personhood and used them as the basis to account for morality in an African context. The ontological concept of personhood contains two foundational considerations. On the one hand, it embodies the metaethical stance of ethical humanism, which positions humanity as the source and standard of all morality. On the other hand, it recognizes human dignity as the basis for the pursuit of virtue since human beings essentially are the kinds of things that have the capacity for virtue. The normative concept of personhood involves just the development of the capacity for virtue. To be a person means to have virtue, and the virtues associated with personhood are those that are relational like being kind, forgiving, generous, and so on. The discussion noted that the ontological notion embodies status or intrinsic dignity and the normative notion embodies inflorescent or achievement dignity. The chapter concluded its analysis by considering the action-centered theory of value according to personhood, and its implications for the partiality and impartiality debate in moral philosophy, and it also explored animal ethics in light of the humanistic orientation of this view of morality.

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African Research Ethics Joseph Balatedi Radinkudikae Gaie

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Research Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Research Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Classification of Some Research in African Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scientific Validity, Varied Understanding of Human Tissue and Medicine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sharing Research Benefits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Research Ethics is a new area even though the questions that are being addressed are as ancient as humanity since they are about doing right and avoiding moral wrong. Research ethics is a subdiscipline of applied ethics, supposing the existence of ethical theory upon which ethical solutions are based for solving the problems that arise. As a new area, scholars have been addressing its definition. Most of research ethics literature is based on the medical sciences. This chapter will identify ethical issues arising from research and give examples of how African indigenous thinking is left out when research ethics is discussed. A good understanding of African thought systems will suggest a distinct approach to African Research Ethics. This is important because African research ethics will make demands from researchers from an African perspective, not an imposition of understanding ethical decision-making from a Western perspective. The chapter therefore identifies strands in African research ethics that demand attention. It will go on to show how more needs to be done to ensure ethical considerations are

J. B. R. Gaie (*) Department of Theology and Religious Studies, Faculty of Humanities, University of Botswana, Gaborone, Botswana e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_9

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made in research in a way that acknowledges the African world view. This exercise will ensure that African societies are the authorities of their ethical perspectives on research among their people taking the question of positionality and decoloniality seriously in research. For example, when we assess risk in research, we are not going to be using Western type of analysis. If we do, we are likely to miss the people we are trying to address when we examine the ethical issues of research in Africa. Keywords

African research ethics · African epistemological liberation · Applied ethics · Bioethics · Philosophy · Responsible conduct of research

Introduction The title of this chapter is “African Research Ethics.” Firstly, it assumes the existence of African research ethics. This assumption is based on the view that out of the many branches of philosophy there is ethics, which has its own branches. As a subject, ethics is rich with theories as well as the applied and/or the contextual(ized) part. Research ethics is the applied and contextualized part of the general ethics. This means if we have research ethics, we will have the applied or contextual aspect of research ethics such as African, Australian, English, Scottish, and German research ethics. So this chapter starts with a definition of research ethics and then proceeds to define African research ethics before delving into some practical matters that need to be discussed. This is an important chapter because it provides new perspectives that can help in making African research ethics not only relevant to the continent but also more meaningful to the Africans. It is a small contribution to one of the ways in which Africans can define how they ought to investigate themselves for an authentic, disciplined, and heuristic system of knowledge making. This process is a small part of a larger endeavour for African epistemological liberation. It deals with practical issues that arise in the process of aligning African research ethics with the international movement to protect research subjects, researchers, and communities, thereby contributing to the provision of a just society. The main argument of this chapter is that in order to properly deal with African research ethics, one has to understand African traditional cultures so that they can properly identify risks in doing research within African contexts. This is well expressed in the statement: There can be no form of reflection in Africa today that does not bear a direct relation to history and culture (emphasis added). In this broad perspective of the conditions of thought and discourse, the present debate on the question of African Philosophy, for all its academic and technical character, can be seen to form part of a comprehensive process of reflection by the African intelligentsia upon our total historical being: it represents a significant moment in

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the intellectual response of Africans to the challenge of Western civilization. (Irele, 1983: 10–11)

When we engage in philosophy, a subject that is self-reflective (Hountondji, 1983: 4), we are able to come to the point of identifying not only African philosophy but also African research ethics, for: This process of self-reflection, inherent in the nature and practice of philosophy, bears not only upon its purposes, objectives and methods, upon its relation to the world and, to human experience in its multiple expressions, upon its status among other disciplines and forms of intellectual pursuit and discourse, but also, most radically, upon its very nature as an activity and as an enterprise. (Hountondji, 1983: 7)

In that spirit, we can start by looking at what research ethics is.

Research Ethics Research ethics is difficult to define because scholars have various conceptions when they think about it. The subject ranges from biomedical, medical, clinical, research, health care, biotech/genethics, public health, neuroethics, administrative, professional ethics (Holm & Williams-Jones, 2006), and Responsible Conduct of Research (RCR). For some research, ethics are rules, regulations, and laws governing the conduct of research such as the CIOMS (Council for International Organizations of Medical Sciences) guidelines in collaboration with the World Health Organization (WHO, 2002) and Belmont Report (Research, 1978) that governments, national and international professional bodies come up with from time to time. “Bioethics is understood specifically in terms of the regulations of biomedical research” (Langlais, 2016: 41). The above position is limited in the sense that it does not capture the depth and breadth of the subject of research ethics. If research ethics were just regulations, the absence of rules and regulations would mean there is no research ethics to talk of. This does not deny the fact that ethics presupposes principles and regulations that form the basis of ethical behaviour. Guidelines and regulations are different from ethical principles in the sense that the former can be changed at the pleasure of the formulator whereas the latter might be more difficult to change at will because they are based on reason and they should be applied consistently. Ethical principles are based on philosophy. It is understandable that research ethics is confused with just guidelines and regulations because of the history out of which it has developed. It is a fairly new area of specialization mainly resulting from abuse and scandal that have taken place in research (Eisen & Parker, 2004: 694; McGee et al., 2008: 31). It has mainly developed within the sphere of biomedical ethics (National Institutes of Health, n.d.; Ogundiran, 2004). No wonder some people might think biomedical ethics when they hear research ethics.

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A working definition of research ethics is that it is a philosophical discipline that studies right and wrong in research. We can borrow a leaf from Edmond Pellegrino, who in examining the history of medical ethics has pointed out: Physicians and other health workers must become familiar with shifts in contemporary moral philosophy if they are to maintain a hand in restructuring the ethics of their profession. A continuing dialogue with moral philosophers is requisite to assure that clinicians do not lose the benefits of a rigorous and critical analysis of their ethical decisions. (Pellegrino, 1993)

Likewise, research ethicists must not only be at ease with ethical theory but also with philosophy (Savulescu, 2015), not only with bioethics but also with ethics upon which their bioethics is based or makes assumptions of. It goes without saying that they should most importantly also be familiar with African bioethics (Behrens, 2015) as well as African ethics and African philosophy in general. Research ethics raises, among others, questions about what it means to say that certain actions in research are morally/ethically wrong or right; what qualifies as ethical research, whether researchers ought to obey regulations governing research and if there ought to be such regulations, what they should be and why they ought to be; and whether teaching impacts on the ethical conduct of research. Research ethics is a subdiscipline of Applied Ethics; as such it employs the moral philosophical/ethical theories and concepts in research questions. This implies research ethics is not confined to any discipline but includes all those that do research. In other words, research ethics is relevant to science, humanities, engineering, tourism, and so on. It regulates and can be used to analyze research in all these areas. Any researcher irrespective of their discipline ought to know research ethics and is therefore bound by the principles of research ethics. From the question, is it ethical to do research at all, to whether or not it is ethical to do certain types of research, whether a particular research project is ethical to do and what is the right way ethically to do different types of research and different particular research projects as well as what it all means to say these are ethical activities are all part of research ethics as a subject. Within research ethics, we can have concentrations on responsible conduct of research (RCR) generally which includes all research and research on human subjects that just looks at the ethical relationships between human beings in the context of research. Views such as the ones expressed below help clarify the subject. The ethics of scientific research is somewhat unique in professional ethics in the sense that good science requires the ethical practice of science. [. . .] A course in research ethics, [. . .] must be a course which teaches the tools for making ethical decisions relative to matters of research. (Stern & Elliot, 1996: 25)

Another helpful perspective is that: Research ethics and the responsible conduct of research (RCR) are terms that are often used interchangeably, but these are not synonymous concepts. While research ethics considers the application of research findings as well as the process of research, RCR focuses on the way

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the research is carried out. A related notion, research integrity, contains within it the concept of RCR; “(T)he responsible conduct of research is not distinct from research; on the contrary, competency in research encompasses the responsible conduct of that research and the capacity for ethical decision-making.” (Bird, 2006: 411)

This is very important to understand because it is not only “good science” that presupposes ethical practice but also other disciplines as well. This is because, for example, ethics requires competence in research – any researcher whose research design is poor potentially behaves immorally because competence in one’s area of specialization is an ethical requirement. So, a moral philosopher who is ignorant of ethical theories that they ought to know is behaving unethically when they are unable to do so. Likewise, an anthropologist who fails to fully apply anthropological knowhow in their research is behaving unethically just like an archaeologist who is incompetent in carrying out archaeological research, but that is not the whole of research ethics. The statement below clarifies this issue: Ethics is concerned with moral values, ideals, attitudes and actions of human beings. It analyses what is good/right for individuals and society, and provides an insight into the moral problems of daily and professional life. Ethics also prescribes what ought to be or how we ought to do things. In this sense, the knowledge of moral values, theories of ethics and ethical principles can provide rational and objective guidance to practicing ethically and analysing ethical problems. (Dinç, 2008: 4)

This is consistent with the view that: Ethics has been variously defined as a system of moral principles, rules of conduct recognised in respect of a particular class of human behaviour, values relating to human conduct, the rightness and wrongness of certain actions, and ‘just’ or ‘right’ standards of behaviour between parties in a situation. Translating the concept of ethics into a research procedure, the authors subscribe to the definition of ethics as the rightness and wrongness of certain actions by the parties involved. Doing the right thing, therefore, may be equated to behaving in an ethical manner. It does not mean doing what is legal; rather it transcends legal conduct and requires behaviour which is morally correct. (Fisher et al., 2002: 334)

This means a distinction between research ethics and responsible conduct of research is a detail that explains different parts of a subject called ethics. What is good (responsible conduct) is the subject of ethics and this becomes specified in research. It is also clear from the above quotation that research ethics is much more than the regulations that researchers must obey. “Research ethics are the guiding principles, based on values that esteem people and the growth of social structures, that promote and safeguard the integrity of all persons involved in the research (Vallance, 2004: 4).” Ethics according to Stanley Reiser (1993: 87) is “a foundational discipline” that scientists have to use in understanding the problems associated with their subject. Ethics is all about the study of “generic issues about doing the right thing, preventing harms, seeking benefits, and understanding the right-making and the wrong-making characteristics of actions” (Reiser, 1993: 86).

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To conclude this section, we can say ethics is the philosophical study of right and wrong. Research ethics is when the philosophical study of right and wrong is applied to research. In short, ethical questions and discussions are raised about research. Doing right and wrong; preventing harm and promoting benefits are some of the important issues in research ethics. It is clear that research ethics consists of two words (research and ethics). The word “research” can also be subjected to philosophical analysis so that one can, for example, ask what research is and what it is not; whether collection of data is research; whether the reason for data collection is morally relevant in defining research and whether research can only be done by certain people and not others. Research is a process through which new knowledge is discovered. A theory, such as a theory of motivation, or development, or learning, for example, helps us to organize this new information into a coherent body, a set of related ideas that explain events that have occurred and predict events that may happen. (Salkind, 2012: 3)

Salkind goes on to portray high-quality research as being: based on others’ work, replicable, generalizable, based on logic and theory, doable, generative of new questions, incremental, apolitical and should be undertaken for the betterment of society (Salkind, 2012: 3). This definition gives an idea of the controversy or at least the complexity of defining the term because one can raise a few issues with it. For example, research is not necessarily for new knowledge for if S does research and I repeat that, I would have done research and in this instance, it would be confirmatory rather than yielding new knowledge. Another issue is the suggestion that highquality research is apolitical. If political party P carries out research to find out what the electorate wants for it to be elected it does not mean the research is not high quality, in fact if it is high quality it would yield the desired results for political gain. Research is good quality research technically when it is done correctly. That is, when all the requirements of research are met such as good sampling methods, proper data collection procedures, appropriate tools of analysis, and correct generalization based on proper statistical methods and so on without necessarily benefitting society. It is when the question of why such a research should be funded and carried out when it does not benefit society that we are talking about research ethics. This suggests that technical research is not necessarily morally good research even though it is good quality in the technical sense. In another context, there can be debates as to whether an activity is research or not such as when a teacher asks students certain questions which enable them to write a position paper or when medical practitioner collects information in the course of their work with patients and then later see that they can write a hypothesis or theory based on the data. However research is defined, certain ethical questions may arise or be raised with regard to the activity called research. Such questions are evident in the following quote on the importance of research ethics training:

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Training in research ethics can provide future investigators a framework for addressing ethical questions raised in their work. This requires attaining knowledge about the rules and norms governing research; sensitivity to ethical implications of actions; and skills in ethics problem solving. Ethics problem-solving skills, or “ethics thinking skills,” include the abilities to identify ethical conflicts, reason about various alternatives, and resolve conflicts through an ethically adequate process. (Chen, 2003: 112)

Having said the above we can now turn to African research ethics below.

African Research Ethics To ask whether there is African research ethics, when it is clear or taken for granted that one can talk of research ethics in general is failure to understand the contextual nature of not only philosophy but also the whole epistemological enterprise. If for example, “research ethics is the most developed aspect of bioethics in Africa. Most African countries have set up Institutional Review Boards (IRBs) to provide guidelines for research and to comply with international norms (Azetsop, 2011: 4),” then it is confusing as to what research ethics means in this context. To clarify, let us understand bioethics to be the study of ethics in relation to biological organisms. If this is acceptable, it cannot easily be the case that research ethics is an aspect of bioethics. This is because we can rightly discuss research ethics in the context of physical and metaphysical reality, thus, without any reference to biology. Whilst setting up institutional review boards or research ethics committees is based on research ethics, it is not research ethics itself. Whilst there is a way in which bioethics has not been responsive to local needs and values in the rest of the continent. A new direction is needed in African bioethics. This new direction promotes the development of a locally-grounded bioethics, shaped by a dynamic understanding of local cultures and informed by structural and institutional problems that impact the public’s health, as well as cognizant of the salient contribution of social sciences and social epidemiology which can bring a lasting impact on African local communities. In today’s post-Structural Adjustment Africa, where healthcare has been liberalized and its cost increased, a bioethics agenda that focuses essentially on disease management and clinical work remains blind in the face of a structural marginalization of the masses of poor. Instead, the multidimensional public health crisis, with which most African countries are confronted, calls for a bioethics agenda that focuses primarily, but not exclusively, on health promotion and advocacy. Such an approach to bioethics reckons with the macro-determinants of health and well-being and places clinical and research ethics in the broader context of population’s health. The same approach underscores the need to become political, not only by addressing health policymaking processes and procedures, but also by becoming an advocacy forum that includes other constituencies equipped with the potentialities to impact the population’s health. (Azetsop, 2011: 4)

We still need to define research ethics in a comprehensive way, including African research ethics. The following quotation is instructive:

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Research ethics is typically common and established in most African countries [19, 24] as there is abundant funding from the United States (NIH) and Europe (EDCTP) to establish RECs so that clinical trials funded by these organisations may be reviewed in Africa. Healthcare and clinical ethics are not prioritised by funders whose interest lies more with research than healthcare despite the two disciplines intersecting inextricably in multiple ways. It may be argued that a disproportionate amount of funding is allocated to establishing RECs in Africa and that at least some of that funding ought to be diverted to clinical ethics. Likewise training curricula ought to include bioethics more broadly and not just research ethics. (Moodley et al., 2020)

The above quotation is largely talking about research ethics with reference to committees that are trained to assess research proposals for ethical compliance. It does not relate to the subject “African research ethics,” which we should be able to define below even though it is clear from what has been said already what this will entail. A book entitled “Research Ethics in Africa: A Resource for Research Ethics Committees” (Kruger et al., 2014) was published recently offering promise not only of defining African research ethics but also offering a philosophically robust treatment of the subject. It turns out that it does not define the subject but dwells on the ethical issues that arise in research in Africa, which is part of the subject but not the whole subject. The book is a good resource but does not help define the theoretical aspect of African research ethics. From the definition of philosophy, which is not easy to do, and that of ethics and applied ethics including research ethics, we should be able to derive the definition of African research ethics. Without raising much controversy, let us just say that philosophy is largely aesthetics, ethics, epistemology, logic and metaphysics, which are generic in the sense that they are applicable universally. There is, however, a context within which they can be seen such as in the case of applied or contextual aspects. In this case, African research ethics is research ethics generally within a specific context of Africa. This is in recognition of the fact that contexts differ in a morally significant way. This will become clearer as we deal with the issues below the first of which is classification.

Classification of Some Research in African Studies Joseph Gaie wanted to do a research on “the ethics of divination and theft in Botswana” (Gaie, 2015). He wanted to find out if traditional doctors can, using their divination methods, diagnose theft, help to catch the thief/thieves and make them return what they have stolen. On applying for a research permit (as per the requirement of research ethics), he approached the Ministry of Youth, Sport and Culture given that matters of divination and traditional beliefs/religion are under their ambit only to be sent away on the grounds that the research deals with research on human subjects and should be considered by the Ministry of Health. The latter rejected him on the grounds that the research had nothing to do with health. He landed at the Ministry of Home Affairs and Immigration where he was assisted and granted a research permit after refusing to be sent to another ministry.

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One might ask what connection this has to African research ethics. It is a good example of how difficult it can be for researchers to be compliant with research ethics requirements in this part of the world. It indicates the kind of problems that researchers face, as well as the confusing state officers find themselves in when they do not understand the subject. It reflects not only disparity in understanding matters but also inadequacy in dealing with ethics in research. Let us go into the major practical ethical issues that are important for African research ethics, one of which is risk assessment.

Risk Assessment and Correct Understanding of Concepts in African Research Ethics Risk assessment in African research ethics is tricky if one does not understand the context. In the case of traditional medicine, for example, there is need to closely look at it (Kaptue et al., 2014: 109). Let us consider the research quoted above that Joseph Gaie undertook. When it came to risk assessment, it was passed as being of minimal risk. After all, what is the risk in a diviner throwing bones and saying rightly or wrongly that somebody has stolen something? The contention here is that one needs to understand the context in order for them to properly assess the risks involved in this research. First and foremost, divination is risky in that when the traditional doctor says that somebody is the thief, there is always a risk of the person being attacked (Gewald, 2002). The risk is higher if the society has been terrorized by theft. This is the case whether or not the accused person is indeed guilty. But of course it is morally worse if the accused person is innocent of the accusation. This risk is probably one that many would determine. There is also risk of antagonizing the society resulting from accusations of theft. Most research ethics committee members either do not believe that traditional doctors can hurt thieves through their medicine or they do not have the means of determining that beliefs about traditional doctors’ powers are correct or incorrect. So, they are not able to determine the risk this poses for the parties concerned in the quoted research. There are risks at various levels and to various parties. For example, a ninety-year-old traditional doctor threatened to kill the thieves that were “detected” in the research. The researchers had told him the purpose of their visit – a research to find out if traditional doctors could diagnose/detect theft, to catch the thief or make them return what they had stolen. The researchers had a bag that contained things that were stolen. On divining, the old man said that “two small boys” (understand him to mean youth) were responsible. On being asked what he could do to make them return the things he said that he did not want them caught, but his solution was to kill them. The researchers pleaded with him not to kill the thieves, arguing that they would not achieve their goal of knowing that the doctor was correct in his diagnosis as well as being able to help catch the thieves. The doctor was visibly angered by the researchers whom he accused of working with thieves to terrorize the population. “The only remedy to theft is to kill the thieves even if they have stolen a cent” he said. Clearly there is a risk here if the doctor can kill the thieves. The capacity of traditional doctors to kill through their craft is not something that has been proven to be false or true; as such it is unscientific to assume either way.

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It would therefore be unethical to dismiss this doctor’s claim. The ethical requirement for the researcher to protect their research participants must be met by their awareness that the research poses this risk. If the researcher took the proposal to a European or Western institution for ethical assessment, they might not appreciate this risk. In the same Gaie research, there was diagnosis, medication, and waiting for results. They would ask a doctor to diagnose if theft took place. They would then determine if the thieves could be caught because of the “doctoring.” After diagnosing theft, the doctor can either doctor the things that are associated with the theft or give the researchers medicine to administer where theft took place. They would then be given a time frame within which the results would be seen. One traditional doctor explained that it was wrong for doctors to give the researcher (the patient/complainant) medicine to apply to scenes of theft because when the thief experiences the effects of the doctoring, they can revenge by countering the doctoring through their own doctors. When this happens, the researcher or research assistant would be affected. This poses a risk to the researchers (just in case it is true), which the Western-type research ethics committee will not project when they assess the research protocol. According to the traditional doctors in the Gaie research, when thieves are made to return their loot it is not a benign experience. The effects are so serious that the thieves would have no option but to return the stolen things. Sometimes, it is not practical for them to do so well in time, and sometimes they are unable to locate the owners of the stolen property, which results in death according to them. Whether or not this is true, we are unable to determine at this juncture, but the point is that there is a risk which might result in injury to the research participants. In the case of stolen livestock, the repercussions could affect all those who ate the meat, including the innocent (when all those who eat the stolen meat suffer from the doctoring). The above demonstrates how an apparently low-risk research in Western research ethics review could turn out to be high risk if traditional doctors are capable of doing what they claim they can do and what people believe about them. In this context, a reviewing committee would be interested in knowing how the researcher would mitigate against the risks that have been mentioned thereby being more robust in their assessment of risk and their willingness to protect research subjects whilst allowing researchers to do their work without unnecessary hindrance. Another matter that needs our consideration is what has been expressed in the following statement: The assessment of risk and benefit of a research project is the core duty of the REC, and is particularly challenging in terms of TM (traditional medicine) research. Herbal medicines have often come into use by means of a process of ‘trial and error’ over many years. (Kaptue et al., 2014: 113)

After rightly indicating the challenge of assessing risk in traditional medicine research, the authors go on to make a controversial, or at least an uninformed claim about the development of herbal medicine. This is controversial because either the authors

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dismiss what traditional medicine doctors do or they are ignorant of it. Whilst in Western medicine drugs are measured, quantified, universalized, and standardized, in traditional medicine that does not necessarily happen at least in the same shape or form. A traditional doctor firstly diagnoses through their divining instruments. They do not use a thermometer, glucometer, or a test kit (Covid-19, HIV, or pregnancy). After diagnosis, they determine if treatment is possible. This is done by divining to find out if a certain drug/herb(s) could be administered, in what way, in what quantity, and under what conditions. So the difficulty here is not that the herbs and drugs are not measured but that the method of measuring is not consistent with Western type of epistemology. Our authors rightly pointed this out when they said: TMs (traditional medicines) are often individualized for each patient, and used, or administered, in many different forms and dosages, often in combination with other herbal products. Thus, determining a dose and formulation for a particular study may, in addition to being challenging, also mean that both a positive or negative outcome may not accurately reflect the actual conditions and outcome of usage in a real-life context. Second, the diagnostic criteria that are used in a TM context may not easily translate or transfer into a biomedical context, thus making the evaluation of efficacy challenging. (14) An example of the above is provided by Kaptchuk, who notes that, if American cardiologists wanted to use a Chinese herbal medicine in the context of cardiac failure, they would most likely use the New York Heart Association criteria for the staging of heart failure to measure efficacy. However, Chinese traditional practitioners would view such a situation within the context of a deficiency or excess of ‘heart yang chi’, which is a notion that would make little sense to American physicians. (Kaptue et al., 2014: 113)

“Many peoples of the world rely on traditional medicine. Africa is among those places where traditional medicine is still in use. As much as 90% of use in some cases (Ellerby, 2006: 14).” This is important in research ethics because when assessing risk it is not just risk as perceived by the researcher but it should include risk as perceived by the participant. It is therefore important not to dismiss perceptions and beliefs of the people as unfounded. Let us take an example; in the case of doing research in HIV and AIDS and traditional medicine, there is need to be aware of potential risks arising from beliefs. On being asked what they use to protect themselves against infection with HIV, one participant, Healer 3 answered “I use muti that I know will protect me from being infected. I do not use things such as gloves as I prefer to use the muti” (Mufamadi, 2009: 31). It is clear that we are unable to determine the validity of the participant’s claim in this case but it is important to be aware of the risks associated with such a belief so that when we assess a study involving participants like this one we are able to gauge the possible risks and devise mitigating strategies. The concept of vulnerability is important in research ethics, which is relevant to what we have just said above. In fact, Examples of characteristics or behaviour that could lead to stigmatisation, particularly in Africa, include albinism, infertility, the practice of homosexuality and the practice of ‘witchcraft’ or divination (emphasis added). [. . .]Thus, for research that particularly targets

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these types of individuals, there is a need to ensure that the researchers have devised ways of minimising the negative effects of the research on those concerned. (Horn et al., 2014: 87)

Such beliefs are evident in the following report on HIV and traditional doctors: Patient 6: “Well, the last time I consulted a healer was just before I was tested. I decided to stop because this healer told me that my blood was not healthy, that I had a problem in my blood. However, he told me that I was bewitched, that someone contaminated my blood. (Mufamadi, 2009: 29)

On the other hand, another view was that: Patient 1: “Traditional healers cannot help because they do not have the machines to test, and they cannot tell you that your blood count is low, and they cannot test your blood (Mufamadi, 2009: 29).” Here both patients and traditional doctors are vulnerable as participants in this research. It is important therefore to be aware of not only the prevalence of such beliefs but the possible stigmatization that can result from a study of such phenomena. It is clear that for us to understand the phenomena and to be guided by proper research not sentiment or bias; we need to study these groups in spite of their vulnerability in order to avoid what has been expressed by the following sentiments: “moral neocolonialism is a real problem for bioethics, and that it merits continuing investigation as part of developing bioethics in African contexts (Bamford, 2019: 43).” Further: The marginalisation of African values in African education has resulted in the general Westernisation of education theory and practice in Africa, and educational research has not escaped this process. Dominant research epistemologies have developed methods of initiating and assessing research in Africa where researchers fail to acknowledge the cultural preferences and practices of African people. Instead, research epistemologies and methods are located within the cultural preferences and practices of the Western world. Such practices have perpetuated an ideology of cultural superiority that precludes the development of power-sharing processes and the legitimisation of diverse cultural epistemologies and cosmologies. (Higgs, 2011: 1)

In their contribution to the ethical review of studies in traditional medicine, Kaptue and others say among other things, “RECs should assess whether the following elements are in place: The research team should have a team member with clinical medicine and toxicology competence. Community indigenous knowledge and intellectual property rights should be preserved (Kaptue et al., 2014: 111–112).” This is instructive in that they do not see any need for a specialist in traditional medicine and divination, which is a problem because the team in my view seeks to study something that they do not fully understand. It is like a panel of English judges watching a French play and assessing the performance of characters in the play without the judges understanding a word of French. With experience and giftedness, they might make good judgements, but they are not going to be as accurate as if they knew the language. This is because traditional medicine is much more than physical and biological. It is “unscientific” to dismiss the existence of phenomena simply because the current scientific paradigm does not include them.

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This is not to suggest that these beliefs should be accepted as truth because it would equally be acceptable to do so. Secondly, indigenous knowledge is bundled together with intellectual property rights. One might think that intellectual property means the same thing in the Western tradition as it does in African traditions. But: African Knower thinks in, for and through his/her society. Via one’s participation in the social context, one knows. In this respect, knowledge comes as a given via tradition, ancestors and heritage. Here, the acquisition of knowledge becomes a ‘we’ enterprise (Hamminga, 2005, 58). In the western system on the other hand, knowledge is predominantly an individual quest. The individual sets oneself apart and analyzes objects independently. (Ani, 2013: 304)

And: magezi muliro, bwegukuggwako, ogunona wa munno (Knowledge is like firewood in the hearth, if you have none you fetch it from your neighbour). Ndi mugezi nga muburile (I am wise, only if others have informed you). Magezi gomu, galesa Magambo ku kubo (Belief in his intellectual self-sufficiency resulted in Magambo’s failure to reach home. Magambo, a blind man, failed to reach home because of his arrogance and unwillingness to consult others). (Wamala, 2004: 437–438)

This means there is a way in which my knowledge and intellectual property is not just mine but ours. All have a share in what I know since they make me what I am, in which case it is not easy for me to arrogate myself benefit at the expense and exclusion of my society. It must be made clear that African traditional religions and cultures are not averse to individual, family and exclusive secrets. Traditional doctors are specialists who hold secrets of their trade (Mgbeoji, 2007: 86); but it is within a different context to that of the Western world. The other issue that arises from the idea of Community indigenous knowledge and intellectual property preservation is that it must be done from a position of knowledge; how can that be possible if the ethics committee or research team is not knowledgeable, when there is no requirement for specialization in them? If we take the example given above of Patient 6, we find that they decided to stop consulting the traditional doctor for the treatment of AIDS because of what appeared to be mambo jumbo. The traditional doctor’s diagnosis: (1) Unhealthy blood (2) Problem in the blood (3) Blood contamination (bewitchment). Depending on context and understanding the traditional doctor might appear to be off the mark, but is he? The first turn off is the concept of witchcraft. People have the picture of a nefarious broom-riding, mysterious, ghastly figure that inflicts pain and suffering through magic and extraordinary powers. Such a character would not fit the person who “bewitched” Patient 6. But if you consider that in some cultures being a witch can mean a person who behaves in ways that are morally wrong including irresponsible behaviour that could result in the death of another person, it would be a different story. In Setswana, for example, go lowa (to bewitch) could mean a) fortification against witchcraft – this can be done by a traditional doctor; b) use of

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special powers to hurt another person; c) to behave immorally including doing hurtful things that can kill other people. Patient 6 was bewitched in the sense that their partner must have known that they could infect them with a deadly disease. In this sense, they were bewitched! It is “witchcraft” (ke boloi) to engage sexually without protection, especially when one either does not know their HIV status or they know/suspect it to be positive. Patient 6 did have their blood contaminated with HIV; therefore, the blood was unhealthy and problematic. This is consistent with the Western perspective which tells us that HIV is in the blood. This is like what Gaie found in his research with traditional doctors. A team of three doctors consisting of the master/teacher and his two initiates diagnosed that goats were stolen from the owner’s place. They insisted that they would ensure that the thieves would be caught “in two weeks.” After 2 weeks without getting any news of the goats, the researcher and owner of the stollen goats went back to the doctors who told them that the thieves were caught. “Look at this man,” said the doctor, “he has been caught and cannot escape. Go back and wait, you will hear.” As it turned out, it would take more than 2 years for the thieves to be caught and arrested. The doctors had got certain other details correct such as who the thieves were, how many they were, and the fact that they were people with whom the owner was familiar. This incident seems to suggest that the doctors and the researchers did not mean the same thing with reference to time (2 weeks) and being caught. Another example is the male circumcision campaign undertaken by the Ministry of Health and Wellness in Botswana. In an effort to “indigenize” circumcision, the ministry thought it wise to use a traditional concept whereby young men were circumcised at the initiation ceremony. The term “go rupa” (transition from one stage of development to the next) was used to mean circumcision. The hope was that parents would embrace the practice in big numbers on the basis that it is a modernized traditional practice. We do not have evidence of the success of the campaign. What is clear though is that inadequate understanding of the local tradition led to the wrong assumption and improper naming of a practice that is so different from the traditional rite of passage called go rupa. Instead of attracting parents, the naming turned them off because there were many important differences between the traditional practice and the medical practice. The former could not be done by women, young men, and ordinary people. It required a specialist traditional doctor and it was done in the context of ritual. The foreskins of the circumcised would not be incinerated in the traditional practice (taboo) as it happens in modern clinics. This last point leads us to the important idea of different understanding of phenomena from African and western perspectives, which follows below.

Scientific Validity, Varied Understanding of Human Tissue and Medicine If one were to find a bone (skull) in the main mall, there would not be much of a problem if it was established that the bone belonged to a cow (unless of course one

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belonged to extremist animal lovers group that believes animals have equal moral status with human beings). It would not cause must consternation if the bone was thrown into the rubbish bin. If the bone belonged to a human being, both Westerners and Africans would probably agree that the bone cannot just be thrown away. They would be happy if the bone were interred in a special way. But if we were to find a toe, finger, hair, nail, or a portion of a human skin, the Westerners would probably be content with incinerating it whilst the traditional Africans would not. This is caused by the way these people look at the human body, a matter that needs to be understood when dealing with African research ethics. It is instructive that currently there is no scientific instrument that we can use to determine that a piece of human hair should be treated in a certain way – it should not be easy to access because witches can use it to hurt the subject. To say this is not to suggest that the African is not telling the truth let alone that the Westerner is right in rejecting the claim. It is ethically problematic to assume one way or another without “evidence.” What is clear though is that for example: Empirical studies have also suggested that, whereas most communities across the continent appreciate the benefits that they derive from participating in research activities, there is the perception that their blood or tissue is stolen from them. For example, Fairhead and Leach report that Gambian participants view the Medical Research Council (MRC) as an institution that ‘offers good, free medication to participants, but also steals blood’. (23) Molyneux et al. have also highlighted a range of concerns expressed by local communities in coastal Kenya about blood taking, including ‘not understanding what the blood is for and concerns that the blood will be used in “other things.” (Tindana & Wasunna, 2014: 128)

In fact, one must understand that blood is an important thing in a human being from an African point of view; so any storage, use, and interaction with it is bound to raise suspicion. For example, a chicken’s blood is used after somebody has died as well as at the initiation of a boy among the Chewa of Malawi (Schoffeleers, 2000: 30). Consider a proposal by a Biologist and his colleagues. They have been doing research among a group of Africans on indigenous plant material. Ngaka, a reputable traditional doctor claims that he can cure one of the incurable diseases which modern medicine can only manage without curing it. His product called Molemo is very easy to administer. It is cheap and can be taken with the modern medicines to manage the incurable disease. Ngaka has a lot of patients who have been taking modern drugs and his claim is that the management drugs are reinforced, fortified, and completed by molemo. The people get “cured.” The Biologist and his colleagues think there is something to investigate here given anecdotal suggestions of success with molemo. The Biologist agrees with Ngaka that they want to verify his claims by subjecting molemo to a scientific experimentation. They will do this by recruiting Ngaka’s patients. After carrying out the necessary steps for recruiting subjects, the Biologist and colleagues would test them to verify they have the disease. They will draw blood and subject it to tests and so on. After taking molemo for some time, they would test the participants to determine if it has worked. There are several questions that arise based on research ethics requirements from the Western perspective. Firstly, molemo is not a registered drug. It must be

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registered before it can be used as an experimental drug. Note that this becomes an issue now when molemo must be subjected to research. Ordinarily as traditional medicine there has not been any need for it to be registered. In fact, people (patients) have been taking it and there has not been any report of adverse effects. Most significantly, Ngaka can attest to its efficacy and nontoxicity. The question then becomes, on what bases can the drug be allowed without being subjected to the requirements of an experimental drug? Why should it be licensed when it is already in use? If you ask Ngaka, he will say that his divining skill and herbal knowledge guarantee that the drug is safe. This, he can argue is verifiable by any reputable diviner and herbalist. The ethics committee does not have the know-how to deal with this. May be the solution is to go ahead and have a medical specialist look at its toxicity in preparation of licensing it as an experimental drug. If the drug is not toxic, then a license could be issued for molemo to be used in the experiment. If it is judged to be toxic molemo would then fail to qualify as an experimental drug. That would raise an objection based on the nature of traditional medicine. A plant can be used to cure a certain ailment when ingested but it can be “dangerous” when sprinkled on a patient to remove witchcraft. Ngaka can argue that he knows what he does for molemo to work in curing this disease. It is not just a matter of drinking a solution but a combination of ritual and herbs for: native healing is not necessary (necessarily) limited to or about the so-called “bio-active ingredients” of a plant or mixture of plants. The art and science of native healing often embraces a holistic approach to well being that transcends the chemical composition of the concoction or herbal decoction. Most times, herbs are prayed upon, praised as if they were living entities, sacrifices are made, et cetera. In traditional healing with biological resources such as plants, healers often maintain a monopoly of their knowledge by “tying” their biological remedies to requirements for physical objects, which the inventor can monopolize “or elaborate procedures that are hard to copy without initiation. (Mgbeoji, 2007: 86)

The next question is whether Ngaka is part of the research team or not. To be a part of the research team, one must have required educational qualifications. Ngaka has barely completed primary school. The Biologist and colleagues think that they should not include Ngaka in their research team. They rather call him a “collaborator.” The problem is that even though Ngaka has undergone traditional medicine training and other traditional doctors can attest to that fact, the validity of such a training for qualification to be a research team member is not clear. The ethical question then becomes, why somebody can be excluded from a research that deals with his product when he can contribute perspectives that other people in the research team cannot. As a traditional doctor, has he not done research for him to be in this position? Could it be true that, “as the Crucible Group recently observed, ‘farmer’s fields and forests are laboratories. Farmers and healers are researchers. Every season is an experiment.’” (Mgbeoji, 2007: 86)? The Biologist and colleagues insist that their research is an observational study. All they do is observe Ngaka’s patients and record the effects of molemo. The other perspective is that the uptake of molemo is an intervention, in which case the

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protocol must have all the elements of an intervention/experimental study. Firstly, drawing blood and testing before the consumption of molemo to verify that the patients have the incurable disease as well as testing after taking molemo is something that the researchers are introducing, which is not part of Ngaka’s original activity. All the activities and molemo consist in the intervention – it is molemo that is supposed to make a difference in the patients’ health. In that case, there ought to be another arm to the research, namely, the control group. The suggestion then would be that the research does not meet the requirements of an intervention study. For this drug to be tested, it must have been tested on animals and then it would go through the phases 1,2,3 (Dunn & Chadwick, 2002: 220–221). If the study takes place, its report or publication’s authorship must be determined. Is Ngaka an author, given that he can narrate events surrounding the study even though he is unable to explain the chemistry involved in the process of curing or otherwise of molemo. He will not be part of the discussion when issues of sampling et cetera arise. On the other hand, he will be part of the debate when issues of dosage arise, but he will not be able to determine the chemistry involved in the toxicity of molemo. He will be the sole specialist when it comes to divining, incanting, and aligning the medication to the demands of ancestors and so on. Why should or should not that be part of the report? The next question that arises is that of benefits sharing from the research to which we turn below.

Sharing Research Benefits In discussing this matter, Paulina Tindana and colleague (Tindana & Wasunna, 2014: 129) have said something meriting comment. Firstly, they rightly point out the difficulty of determining benefits to be shared and fairness in sharing them. They then call for nonexploitative behaviours in Africa as well as equitable distribution of benefits, attention being paid to “assessing the relevance of the research to the local population, as well as the benefits of the proposed research, the potential patent rights, and whether the data will be shared with for-profit companies.” Consider the case of Ngaka and the Biologist referred to above. Molemo has the potential to be a solution to an incurable disease that has caused devastation in the world. If it cures the disease in the form that it has been presented by Ngaka, the Biologist and friends would not be inventing as much as Ngaka and those who taught him would have if their research confirms its benefits. Even though Ngaka has the secret to molemo now, there is no guarantee that other traditional doctors do not know it. It is clear though that Ngaka’s community benefits from molemo (if it is potent) and Ngaka will not monopolize the benefit and prohibit others from using it if they discovered its potency, which a patent would do. In view of this, the question arises as to the justification of allowing somebody who would patent molemo and exclude everybody else from benefiting from its manufacture and sale (in the case of pills, etc.). The important question that helps answer the benefit distribution one is ownership – who owns the molemo knowledge? Clearly Ngaka is one of them, but it is not

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as clear as we want because we are unable to determine the extent to which other traditional doctors, including Ngaka’s teachers, have a share in the knowledge. In the context of the traditional value system, the community including the living dead (ancestors) have a stake in molemo. It is therefore important to consider actions that will acknowledge the traditional value system of Ngaka’s community. Given the complexity and exploitative nature of the current patent system, the Biologist and friends’ position to patent the resultant drug and medicine should the research yield anything of note would be bordering on the unethical side even if they included Ngaka as a shareholder in their enterprise. This is so because it would raise the same ethical issues that arose in the patents of neem and turmeric (Mgbeoji, 2007: 87) as well as hoodia (Kaya, 2007: 17) and devil’s claw where community knowledge was patented and exploited for the benefit of those who Mgbeoji calls “bio-prospectors.” In the case of devil’s claw, for example, a plant used for millennia by Africans and patented by some “enterprising” business persons: When the retail value of Devil’s Claw preparations in Northern markets is calculated on a dry-weight equivalent basis, prices range from US$ 300 to US$ 700 per kilogram of dry tubers. The bottom line is that Namibia captures at most 1% of the value of the trade in Devil’s Claw extracts, and harvesters no more than 0.5%. Even when the retail mark-ups and packaging, marketing and processing costs are taken into account, it seems obvious that the processors and formulators are making outrageous profits at the expense of extremely poor people. Crushed tubers intended for use in herbal teas sell for about 20 times their import price (40 times what harvesters get) in German pharmacies. (Cole, 2003: 21)

These are not the only ethical issues that arise in African research ethics. Informed consent, subject selection, payment or non-payment of research subjects, carrying out research and clinical trials in Africa, and sharing of risks and benefits of research among others are very important matters that some scholars have talked about. It might be insufficient in some cases, but they can be discussed in other works.

Conclusion Research ethics is a new area that has historically developed from ethical concerns about wrong actions done in biomedical research. This historical fact might lead to the confusion, or identification of research ethics with rules and guidelines made for researchers for the protection of research subjects. This is sometimes called responsible conduct of research. This chapter however argues that research ethics is a subdiscipline of ethics. The latter is a branch of philosophy. So research ethics is the study of right and wrong in research. There might be a debate on the definition of research, but simply put, it is the systematic collection of data for the provision of new perspectives. African Research ethics then is the study of right and wrong in research in the context of Africa. This is because there are certain things in Africa that merit special ethical attention when research is undertaken. A major consideration in ensuring that African research ethics is carried out effectively and properly is the understanding of African traditional cultures and epistemologies. The chapter started off with an example whereby it was not easy

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for implementers of research ethics to classify the kind of research that needed to be undertaken, which showed the difficulty researchers in Africa faced and the level of ethical understanding the community talked about is at. An important example of ethical issues arising from African research ethics is the risk/benefit analysis. Research ethics committees assessing protocols studying traditional African phenomena do not have the capacity to do so because they fail to appreciate African beliefs and epistemologies. In the case of the Gaie study on traditional doctors and theft, the dismissal of traditional doctors’ ability to cause harm, or lack of knowledge about that could lead to assessors assuming that the research was low risk when in fact it is high risk in the sense that findings or beliefs expressed in certain ways could cause riots and violence, or at least perpetuate biases against groups of people. The Gaie research example shows the disparity of beliefs when it comes to traditional medicine. Traditional doctors are believed to hurt people using their “powers” but the Western type skeptics dismiss this lightly. This chapter argued that since the power of traditional doctors is not something that has been disproved scientifically, it is risky to assume that they do not have the power that they are supposed to have. African epistemologies are often dismissed resulting in lack of proper consideration in assessing research on traditional beliefs. One instance is when authors suggest that African traditional herbal medicines are a result of trial and error thereby dismissing the intense and technical know-how that the herbalists would have employed in identifying the herbs. Divination is important in that herbs are not simply given without the doctor first diagnosing the ailment et cetera, which is different from the Western tradition where drugs are quantified and every tablet is supposed to be standardized for use by everyone. The chapter showed that there are vulnerabilities that African researchers and research participants face because of their beliefs. That creates a special way in which African research ethics ought to be looked at. Scholars in the Western tradition believe that every research must have specialists in order for it to meet ethical requirements but they do not require specialists in African epistemologies or cultures when a research in African culture is carried out. This chapter has argued that such a proposition is untenable. The example of molemo in the study by the Biologist and friends was used to demonstrate the problems that arise. Firstly the licensing of a herb that is in use raised problems that did not arise before the herb was not a candidate for a successful drug. Issues of specialization also arose when the traditional doctor is not included in the research team because the understanding of specialist in Western epistemologies excluded him. Classification of the study also became topical as to whether it was observational or intervention. When research succeeds and there is a patentable product, there is an issue of justice that arises as exemplified in the Biologist study since patents exclude a lot of stakeholders and yet the product or herb might be community’s knowledge who do not benefit much in the end and yet the knowledge generated to have the patentable product was gathered from them who before then were benefiting from the product. The chapter gave examples of products which were patented resulting in benefits to a few at the exclusion of the communities that generated the knowledge. This chapter acknowledges the many ethical issues that still need to be considered in the study of African research ethics. It has just scratched the surface.

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Ubuntu and Bioethics Nancy S. Jecker

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Ubuntu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Western Bioethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Juxtaposing Ubuntu and Bioethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Contributions of Ubuntu Ethics to Bioethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Personhood and Moral Standing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Human Dignity and Capabilities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Environmental Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter draws on the sub-Saharan African concept of ubuntu (humanness) to identify salient features within African ethics that can shed important light on central topics in contemporary bioethics. It describes three specific areas where ubuntu is well positioned to make transformative and lasting changes. First, an ubuntu-informed conception of what it means to be a person in the moral sense can enhance standard bioethical understandings of who qualifies as a subject of moral concern and who can be a strong claimant of moral rights. This carries implications for bioethics topics such as abortion and the treatment of newly deceased patients. Second, ubuntu can reinvigorate debates about respect for human dignity. This has both theoretical and practical implications. Theoretically, an ubuntu-informed understanding of human dignity can contribute insights to capability approaches to justice; practically, it can enhance bioethics in both

N. S. Jecker (*) University of Washington School of Medicine, Seattle, WA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_6

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pediatric and geriatric settings. Finally, an ubuntu-guided environmental philosophy can help address urgent issues in global bioethics, such as those related to emerging infectious diseases and climate change. Keywords

Ubuntu · African bioethics · Western bioethics · Personhood · Abortion · Informed consent · Human dignity · Death and dying · Ancestors · Capabilities · Environmental ethics · Resource allocation

Introduction This chapter is about ubuntu and bioethics. Since ubuntu is an African philosophy and contemporary bioethics is predominantly a Western field of inquiry, it should come as no surprise that this chapter is not just about ubuntu and bioethics, but also about the broader approaches to ethics in Africa and the West. To lay the groundwork, it will be helpful to review some central features of each approach. This orientation is not intended to be comprehensive, but rather to orient readers unfamiliar with the broad outlines of either approach, as well as those who have not thought explicitly about the similarities and differences between them. In the sections that follow, these ideas will be explored in greater depth, and more nuances and distinctions will be introduced as the chapter develops. Throughout, the chapter refers to certain views as “African” and others as “Western” as shorthand for views that are frequently espoused by people living in those regions. The point here is not to suggest that all people living in those regions hold the views in question, nor to suggest that no one outside those areas holds them. Africa and the West display a remarkable diversity in their philosophies and cultures, making any account of “African” or “Western” philosophy vulnerable to the charge that it groups diverse views together in ways that gloss over salient differences. This chapter will no doubt fall prey to this objection. Yet, despite this, a broad-brush view serves important purposes. It can introduce people to ideas and insights that they are unfamiliar with or unaware of. It can reveal unstated assumptions in their own way of thinking. It can challenge long-standing paradigms by calling attention to advantages associated with alternative paradigms. This chapter aims to inspire Western bioethicists who might be unfamiliar with African philosophy to pay attention to the ideas and insights of ubuntu. It opens the door to questioning and inquiring further about the advantages and disadvantages of another way of thinking. Likewise, some African philosophers have limited knowledge of Western bioethics, and the chapter serves an important purpose for them if it motivates learning more about this field of scholarly inquiry and how it might be helpful or unhelpful in the settings where healthcare is practiced in their societies. Finally, the chapter aims to showcase the insights of African ethics for people everywhere, especially people engaged in bioethics.

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African Ubuntu Ubuntu is an ethic recurrently espoused among sub-Saharan black people. Buthelezi traces its roots to a precolonial era in which an ethic emphasizing community and harmonious relationships reigned, noting that Long before Europeans settled in South Africa a little more than three centuries ago, indigenous African peoples had well-developed philosophical views about the worth of human beings and about desirable community relationships. A spirit of humanism – called ubuntu (humanness) in the Zulu language and botho in the Sotho language – shaped the thoughts and daily lives of our peoples. Humanism and communal traditions together encouraged harmonious social relations (Buthelezi, 1984: 2).

Reference to ubuntu first appeared in written form in 1846, when the term was used to indicate a positive human quality (Hare et al., 1846). Tracing the history of ubuntu in written discourse, Gade notes that at first, ubuntu was described as “an excellent African quality,” “the admirable qualities of the Bantu,” and more broadly as “goodness of nature,” “greatness of soul,” and “a good moral disposition” (Gade, 2011: 308). It was during the second half of the twentieth century that a shift occurred and ubuntu ceased referring to qualities of character and instead was used to indicate a more general philosophy, ethic, African humanism, or a worldview (Gade, 2011). Eventually, during the 1990s, ubuntu became associated with the Nguni proverb, “a person is a person through other persons” (umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu), taking on its distinctive modern flavor as both a philosophy and ethic. Metz characterizes a traditional ubuntu way of life as exhibiting seven interwoven features: • Small-scale communities: people tend to know each other; • Oral traditions: values are transmitted by storytelling rather than by a corpus of written work; • Ritualistic practices: community membership is marked by initiation and tradition; • Agricultural economies: people’s livelihood is agricultural and/or they are huntergatherers without the use of sophisticated science or technology; • Extended families: people live in extended families that emphasize a duty to wed and procreate and faith in the continued existence of and interaction with ancestors and forebears of a given people; • Consensus-driven: the community is governed by methods of conflict management that appeal to the majority or to the majority of appointed elders; and • Reconciliation-based enforcement: values are enforced by reconciliation rather than retribution when infractions take place (Metz, 2012a: 22–23). Some scholars argue that ubuntu’s emphasis on relational features of persons and an ethic of caring for and about others has affinities with a care-focused feminist ethics (Harding, 1987; Gouws & van Zyl, 2015). According to Harding, both

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African ethics and care-focused feminist ethics originated within systems of domination where people were subordinated; both can be thought of as challenging a dominant standpoint and moral orientation: “when we look at these racial and gender domination projects together, we will notice that it is the same group of white, European, bourgeois men who have legitimated and brought into being for the rest of us life worlds different from theirs. In this sense, it is one contrast scheme we have before us, not two” (Harding, 1987: 366). Among the similarities, Harding cites are a metaphysical (ontological) view of the self as constituted by its roles and relationships within a community and the world of nature; an epistemological view that regards the self as gaining knowledge through shared activities and projects with others; and an ethical view which holds that duties to others arise in the givenness of social community life, rather than being consented to by autonomous individuals apart from a community. However, Metz claims that despite family resemblances, care ethics and ubuntu ethics differ in key respects: “African moralists tend to value not merely caring for others’ quality of life, but also sharing a way of life with others” (Metz, 2013: 85). According to Metz, there is no parallel injunction within care-focused feminist ethics to share a life with others. A further difference between care ethics and ubuntu ethics is that ubuntu is invoked to explain or give support to a potentially wider range of outcomes, such as how people keep peace, enable reconciliation, and prevent revolution (Mwipikeni, 2018). With its strong emphasis on community, some scholars challenge ubuntu’s contemporary relevance to modern societies (Matolino & Kwindingwi, 2013) or view it as amounting to an onerous “black tax” (Mhlongo, 2019). Others recommend ubuntu as potentially furnishing part of the ethical underpinnings for contemporary conceptions of personhood (Tangwa, 2000; Molefe, 2019; Jecker, 2020a); human dignity (Metz, 2012b; Jecker, 2020b); and justice (Jecker & Atuire, 2021, 2022; Jecker et al., 2022). Without settling such debates, this chapter proceeds on the assumption that ubuntu offers important insights to bioethics. Its continued relevance turns on showing concrete ways in which it can contribute to current bioethical concerns. This chapter’s dual aim is to show the contributions of ubuntu to contemporary bioethics and, in so doing, to demonstrate its enduring value for contemporary societies.

Western Bioethics While ubuntu is rooted in a pre-colonial period in which small-scale communities thrived, contemporary bioethics as a field of scholarly inquiry arose in the aftermath of the Second World War, when atrocities came to light involving egregious violations of civilians and prisoners of war in occupied countries who were experimented on without their knowledge or consent. Following World War II, physicians and administrators were accused of “crimes against humanity” in the infamous Doctors’ Trial, which commenced in 1946. At the Trial’s conclusion, judges set forth guidelines for permissible clinical experiments with human subjects, which became

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known as “The Nuremburg Code.” The Code, which consists of ten ethical principles, stressed as its very first principle that, “The voluntary consent of the human subject is absolutely essential” (Nuremberg Code, 1947: 1448). Against this backdrop, contemporary bioethics emerged. Reflecting its origins, the field placed heavy emphasis on respecting individual autonomy and honoring the practice of informed consent. As Offer notes, “[e]ven though the [Nuremburg] Code refers specifically to human experimentation, its ten principles constitute a kind of ‘Ten Commandments’ of medical ethics” (Offer, 2018: S172). As others have noted (Behrens, 2017), the principle of respect for individual autonomy has since come to dominate contemporary bioethics. Jennings, a political scientist and long-time contributor to the field, puts the point this way: “[n]o single concept has been more important in the contemporary development of bioethics [. . .] and none better reflects both the philosophical and the political currents shaping the field” (Jennings, 2009: 72). An emphasis on individual autonomy is apparent in the three domains of bioethics discussed below: personhood and moral standing; human dignity and capabilities; and global bioethics and the environment. In each of these domains, an ethic emphasizing individual autonomy calls attention to features of individuals, such as sentience and rationality, that are viewed as intrinsic qualities of human beings, and sees these as having a superlative value that merits respect and that furnishes the basis for moral rights and duties.

Juxtaposing Ubuntu and Bioethics As bioethics has faced new challenges, such as globalization, aging societies, climate change, and emerging infectious diseases, it has become increasingly apparent that the field’s heavy emphasis on the principle of respect for individual autonomy is insufficient to address some central bioethical problems societies are facing. While respect for individual autonomy was a fitting response in the aftermath of the Second World War and continues to be an abiding ethical concern, the conditions in which people live have shifted in ways that make a central focus on autonomy inadequate. To remain relevant, the field of bioethics must articulate values that are fitting for the moment we are now in. As bioethics becomes increasingly global, its heavy emphasis on individual autonomy puts it at odds with collectivist leaning societies in many other parts of the world, such as Africa, Latin America, and Asia, which place greater weight on values of human solidarity, family, and community. This creates difficulties not only when bioethicists attempt to use their tools to help with concerns of global significance, but also when patients and/or providers come from diverse cultures and backgrounds. African approaches to philosophy and ethics can contribute to bioethics by providing insights about what it means to be a person, what it means to have human dignity and to have one’s dignity respected, and what the place of human beings is in nature and the environment. Rather than replacing Western bioethics with African bioethics, what is ultimately needed is bioethics that is global in scope and incorporates insights from diverse traditions that span the globe. Just as an

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excessive focus on individual autonomy falls short, an exclusive focus on community and relationships would fall short too. Ultimately, some balance must be struck among divergent approaches, which preserves an inherent tension. Below, this strategy is illustrated by examining the contributions of ubuntu to bioethics in three areas: moral personhood, human dignity, and environmental philosophy.

Contributions of Ubuntu Ethics to Bioethics Personhood and Moral Standing An ubuntu ethic holds that to be a person in the moral sense (hereafter “person”) requires exhibiting or having certain relational capacities, such as compassion, generosity, caring, and sociality, that arise within communities. While being a person is not a necessary condition for being an object of moral concern, being a person is linked with a conception of dignity and regarded as the highest moral status attainable (Jecker, 2020b). According to Akan ethics (the philosophy associated with the Akan people of Ghana), for example, the source of human beings’ superlative value is their activity or capacity for relating with others in morally excellent ways. The Akan people compare the human being to gleaming gold and discern, “The human being is more beautiful than gold” (Onipa ye fe sen sika). The Akan go on to contrast the value of persons with the value of objects, using pithy maxims, such as “It is the human being that counts: I call upon gold, it answers not; I call upon cloth, it answers not; it is the human being that counts (Onipa ne asem: mefre sika a, sika nnye so, mefre ntama a, ntama nnye so; onipa ne asem)” (Gyekye, 2011: n.p.). In this juxtaposition, while gold has intrinsic qualities that we value, it lacks the responsiveness to human calling, which is the hallmark of being a person in the African sense. An ubuntu-informed account of personhood is often understood as including first, a normative component, which holds that people should live a life of mutual concern, being integrated into the lives of others and being willing to integrate them within their own. This normative component directs people to live a harmonious life, with minimal friction. Second, an ubuntu approach to personhood includes an ontological component, which expresses the belief that the defining features of persons are relational features that arise within the context of living interdependently with others; in an important sense, individuals cannot exist as persons outside of these constitutive relationships and the community framework in which such relationships arise. These normative and ontological strands comprise a philosophical position (as opposed to a summary of communal practices or aspirations people hold) within the broader philosophical landscape of personhood. They are “African” in the sense that they display salient features from the African tradition, including an association with the African ethic of ubuntu. One example of how this conceptual framing of personhood plays out in a practical way is in the account of informed consent itself. If we ask, who is authorized to give informed consent or refusal to medical care, the answers are

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strikingly different depending on whether one asks the question from the perspective of Western bioethics, with its emphasis on respect for individual autonomy or sub-Saharan African ethics, with its emphasis on a relational self and an ethic of living in a community with others. Whereas standard bioethical accounts underscore an individual’s informed consent or refusal and seek to determine the benefits and harms of alternative treatment for the individual, traditional African approaches stress consensus decision-making by families and communities, and strive to preserve harmony and relationships within a community. Using a Western bioethics lens, a decision to undergo a medical procedure would require demonstrating that a patient with decision-making capacity is making an informed, voluntary choice and understands basic facts about their situation, such as their diagnosis and prognosis, the risks and benefits of a proposed treatment, and alternative treatments and their associated risks and benefits. Although the patient may and often will consult with loved ones in the process of reaching a decision, their personal medical information is considered private and the decision ultimately rests with them, not with their family members or others in their community. By contrast, an ubuntu ontology and ethics tend to spotlight the patient in the context of their group, extended family, and community and to consider medical decisions about accepting or refusing treatment as involving multiple stakeholders, such as immediate and extended family members, neighbors, caregivers, and a wider community. A second example, also related to medical decision-making, concerns the ethical standards used for making medical decisions on behalf of people who lack decisionmaking capacity. Western bioethical analyses of surrogate decision-making typically stress protecting autonomy and extending such protections both to infants and children who lack autonomy due to immaturity and to older people who have diminished capacity due to intellectual impairments, such as dementia. In the case of children, the child’s best interest is often understood as requiring safeguarding the child’s right to an “open future,” i.e., their right to have their future choices left open for their future autonomous self (Feinberg, 1980). In the case of older adults, the standard applied is substitute judgment, which appeals to prior autonomous choices and values as the decisive factor in making decisions for a presently incapacitated adult (Davis, 2002). In both instances, respect for autonomy is extended beyond the point when an individual has autonomous decision-making capacity. In contrast to a Western bioethical approach, an ubuntu ethic stresses social and community responsibility for people who lack decision-making capacity. For example, ubuntu highlights ways in which individuals and communities are entwined and, especially in sickness, individuals rely on the support and services others provide. Illustrating this, Jecker and Atuire argue against the attempt to introduce Westernstyle informed consent to solve the problem of maltreatment of people with mental illness in Ghana who are shackled when they are considered a threat to their community; they observe that in a Ghanaian context, sawing off chains without providing safe alternatives, or shunning healers rather than joining forces with them to better serve people with mental illness, does little to improve the plight of people who suffer mental illness (Jecker & Atuire, 2021). Such measures fall far short of reintegrating people with mental illness into the community and helping them find

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the community services they must have to function and live a life of dignity. Even when removing chains honors the informed consent of patients or their surrogates, it misses essential features of the ethical situation. In contrast to Western-style approaches, which emphasize past and future autonomy, an ubuntu-inspired African analysis accentuates responsibility for vulnerable people and acting in ways that preserve a patient’s place within a web of relationships. A third example that shows the distinctive features of an ubuntu-guided African approach is found in bioethical debates about allocating scarce lifesaving resources between young and old age groups. In trade-off situations, where a choice is forced, African accounts tend to give relatively more weight to older than younger people. According to Menkiti, the reason for this is not that age itself marks a moral difference between persons; instead, it is because the experience of living enables people to acquire certain moral capacities: “the reason [that] age has tended to count so heavily in African thought is because of its link to the acquisition of moral function [.] [I]t is being around for a very long time as a particular kind of human agent that counts, not being around for a very long time, simpliciter.” (Menkiti, 2004: 329). Consider, for example, a situation where there is only enough lifesaving medicine to provide it to one person; if a choice is forced between giving the medicine to an older adult or an infant, the older adult might be assigned priority on the ground that they have greater moral capacities or on the ground that they are more interwoven into the lives of others, making their removal from the community potentially more damaging (Kilner, 1984). Underlying this view is the idea that moral personhood is a matter of degree and that degree of moral standing depends on the individual’s capacity for relationships (Jecker, 2020a, 2021). On one interpretation of African ethics, called moral relationism, the degree of moral standing a person has depends on the individual’s capacity to relate to others and the extent to which the individual exercises that capacity and achieves morally excellent relationships. Menkiti expresses this view when he refers to the “processual” nature of personhood (Menkiti, 1984: 172). According to Menkiti, persons become persons only after a process of being incorporated into a particular community. Without incorporation, “individuals are considered to be mere danglers to whom the description of ‘person’ does not fully apply” (Menkiti, 1984: 172). Menkiti explains that “full personhood is not perceived as simply given at the very beginning of one’s life but is attained after one is well along in society”; in particular, “the older an individual gets, the more of a person he becomes” (Menkiti, 1984: 173). A different approach to personhood and to allocating scarce resources between age groups is evident in Western bioethics. According to some analyses, the relative strength of an individual’s claim depends on whether the total number of years they have lived represents a “natural lifespan” (Callahan, 1987) or a “fair innings” (Williams, 1997). Callahan appeals to a natural lifespan when he writes that “Death at the end of a long and full life is not an evil. [T]here is something fitting and orderly about it”; for this reason, he says, death in old age is “a sad, but nonetheless relatively acceptable event” (Callahan, 1987: 65–66). Williams invokes the concept of “fair innings” when he states that death during childhood is tragic

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because the child, unlike the older adult, misses out on years and life stages that they should have had. According to Williams: “If what we wish to equalize is lifetime experience of health, then [...] those who have had a ‘fair innings’ [...] should not expect to have as much spent on a health improvement for them as would be spent to generate the same benefit for someone who is unlikely ever to attain what we have already enjoyed”; this requires “self-restraint” by older adults, especially “by those of us who have flourished in health terms throughout [their] lives” (Williams, 1997: 129). A fourth area in which a sub-Saharan African view of personhood can contribute to bioethical concerns is in the decision to terminate a pregnancy. From an African perspective, in situations where abortion involves a trade-off between the interests of the pregnant person and the interests attributed to the developing fetus, the moral status of a younger human being (the fetus) would be less than that of the older human being (the pregnant person) due to differences in the extent to which each being is integrated into a community. In the case of pregnancy termination, appealing to ubuntu could lend support to two distinct claims. First, whenever trade-offs must be made between saving the life of the fetus or saving the life of the pregnant person, or between saving the life of the fetus or protecting the health of the pregnant person, priority should go to the pregnant person. The reason is that the pregnant person is relatively more interwoven in a web of relationships with others; for example, they may have extant children to care for and responsibilities within the wider community. Second, outside of trade-off scenarios, the fetus may have lower moral standing. The reason is that many (Singer, 2009; Tooley, 1983), but not all (Kittay, 2005), Western bioethics analyses tend to privilege inherent qualities of a developing human being, such as their ability for consciousness, self-consciousness, and subjective states such as pain and pleasure; these qualities are linked to a fetus’s developing brain and may not have emerged. An African approach, by contrast, would potentially allow a developing fetus to count as a subject of increasing moral concern from the moment of conception by virtue of standing in relationships that grow more significant over time as it develops, e.g., as a son or daughter, sibling, or grandchild. While this would not imply that the fetus has full moral standing, or qualifies as a present person, it might suggest that a fetus differs from other living cells and is on the path that can lead to personhood. Menkiti put this point the following way, “personhood is something which has to be achieved, and is not given simply because one is born of human seed” (Menkiti, 1984: 172); he adds that full personhood is not perceived as simply given at the very beginning of one's life, but is attained after one is well along in society, [...] the older an individual gets the more of a person he becomes. As an Igbo proverb has it, ‘What an old man sees sitting down, a young man cannot see standing up.’ The proverb applies [...] not just to the incremental growth of wisdom as one ages; it also applies to the ingathering of the other excellences considered to be definitive of full personhood. (Menkiti, 1984, 173)

A fifth area in which an African view of personhood sheds important light is bioethical understanding of respect for the newly dead in healthcare and caregiving

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settings. According to an African relational account, social relationships do not end abruptly at biological death, even though the body ceases functioning. Immediately after death, the newly dead continue to stand in certain kinds of relationships with the living, who have one-directional duties left to fulfill toward them. As Mbiti notes, “the departed, whether parents, brothers, sisters or children, form part of the family, and must therefore be kept in touch with their surviving relatives” (Mbiti, 2006: 9). Certain duties, such as the offering of libations and the giving of food, are tokens of fellowship, hospitality, and respect, although they are sometimes disparagingly called “ancestor worship” (Mbiti, 2006). Instead, they reflect an understanding of shifting moral status, which Menkiti characterizes as an ontological progression of personhood, which starts at infancy and ends at some point after death. According to Menkiti, the newly dead are referred to in traditional African thought as “ancestors” during the period when they are remembered by name and the living can form a community with them; following this, when no one remembers them, the dead become “nameless dead” who have lost their names and become dis-incorporated “its” (Menkiti, 1984: 175). Menkiti observes that the bookends of human life, pre-birth and death, are marked by “the absence of incorporation” in the sense that “contact with the human community is totally severed” (Menkiti, 1984: 175–176). However, rather than a sudden shift, the shift from ancestor to nameless dead is incremental; thus, “the person, once arrived, can only depart slowly, yielding incrementally his or her achieved status. Only when the stage of the nameless dead is joined does the person once again become an ‘it,’ going out of the world the same way the journey first began. Thus the movement is a movement from an it to an it” (Menkiti, 2004: 327). The moral standing of someone who is now deceased has practical significance for bioethics when questions arise about the treatment of newly dead human beings. Some Western bioethicists, influenced by views such as utilitarianism, tend to regard the newly dead as having only instrumental value. Iserson, for example, defends an instrumentalist stance, arguing that using human remains to practice minimally invasive procedures, such as endotracheal intubation, is ethically permissible when it furthers the ends of living human beings (Iserson, 1993). Iserson defends this view by arguing that deceased individuals can no longer be harmed and that they can create important benefits for patients by helping trainees hone lifesaving skills. In contrast to the instrumentalist view of human remains that Iserson espouses, African philosophy (as Menkiti characterizes it) suggests that the newly dead are not mere tools to be used by the living. Instead, if they continue to be remembered, they can stand in relationships with the living and these relationships merit respect. The notion of duties to the newly dead is not entirely at odds with Western bioethics since the field reflects many traditions other than utilitarianism. For example, a Kantian ethic of respect for persons could form the basis for arguing that a person’s prior wishes about the disposal of their body after death should be honored and that this is a form of direct duty to the once living human being. This idea is apparent in the laws of some Western countries which forbid, for example, posthumous reproduction without explicit prior consent from the now deceased person. Some Western countries also require informed consent for organ

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transplantation, which can be expressed either by “presumed consent” that people can opt out of, or by “required request” which involves a requirement to ask people to give their informed consent to organ donation. These laws and practices reflect a sense of duty to the newly dead that is more in synch with African conceptions of duties to the newly dead; however, they spring from a different philosophical source. The convergence of Kantian and African ethics in the case of duties to the newly dead thus illustrates how divergent philosophical traditions can sometimes arrive at similar practical recommendations, enabling a practical consensus to be reached that stays faithful to diverse ethical commitments and world views. In summary, African ethics and especially, the ontology and ethics associated with ubuntu spotlight features of moral situations that uphold relationships and community. Generally speaking, African ethics gives pride of place to duties to others, putting duties to others before individual rights in ethical guidance. When making medical decisions for oneself or others, and when allocating scarce healthcare resources between young and old, this leads to emphasizing social responsibility and duties to the community over upholding personal preferences and individual rights. Gyekye usefully characterizes African ethics as an ethics of duty, not rights. He explains that African ethics is duty-oriented in the sense that it “requires each individual to demonstrate concern for the interests of others. The ethical values of compassion, solidarity, reciprocity, cooperation, interdependence, and social well-being [. . .] primarily impose duties on the individual with respect to the community and its members” (Gyekye, 2011: n.p.). According to African ethics, “people fulfill – and ought to fulfill – duties to others not because of the rights of these others, but because of their needs and welfare” (Gyekye, 2011: n.p.). While African philosophical approaches are not devoid of individualistic values and a conception of rights, individual rights are not a dominant theme in African ethics as they are in many Western approaches to bioethics.

Human Dignity and Capabilities Given the conception of moral personhood described above, it is not surprising that communal and relational features of individuals figure prominently in any account of what gives human beings the superlative value we associate with human dignity. A second important contribution of African ethics and ubuntu to bioethics is the view of human dignity it sets forth, which focuses on our communal and social nature. At first blush, it might appear that emphasizing human communal and social nature would lead to an account of human dignity that excludes many people. The concern here might be that individuals who are socially outcast, displaced, or in some other way isolated from a network of relationships will be thought of as non-persons or be considered to have lesser dignity. For example, we might ask, does a hermit lack dignity, does an exiled person have less dignity than someone who is not living in exile. Metz finds a way through this morass by developing an African conception of human dignity that shifts the focus away from actual relationships in which people

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stand toward their capacity to stand in relationships. Calling this account “modal relationism,” Metz explains that according to this view, an individual has dignity only insofar as they have the capacity for communal relationships with others and they have the capacity to care about and stand in solidarity with others. Referring to the first element (the capacity to commune), Metz explains that “[d]eeming our dignity to inhere in our capacity for communal or friendly relationships means that according human rights is to treat this capacity of others with respect and, correspondingly, that violating human rights is to severely degrade this capacity” (Metz, 2012a: 27). Referring to the second element (the capacity to care about others), Metz tells us that exhibiting solidarity with others involves engaging in helping others and giving mutual aid and it involves having a stance of “being positively oriented toward others” (Metz, 2012a: 26). Metz’s account dovetails with the normative and ontological strands of African personhoods described previously. Just as the ontological conception of persons underscores interdependence between persons, the capacity to commune involves a capacity to identify with others and see oneself as part of the same group – a “we.” Just as the normative conception of personhood highlights pro-social virtues toward others, the capacity for solidarity implies a certain stance and disposition to act in ways that are other-regarding and benefit other people. In contrast to Metz’s approach and African ethics more generally, Western bioethics emphasizes individual autonomy as an overarching value and tends to think of the capacity for individual autonomy and associated cognitive capacities as necessary and/or sufficient conditions for possessing human dignity. Since Kant, and since the enlightenment era more broadly, much of the history of moral philosophy in the West proceeds without direct consideration of the interests of those who are not autonomous. Macklin, for instance, has argued that “[d]ignity is a useless concept in medical ethics and can be eliminated without any loss of content,” because it is essentially redundant with autonomy, i.e., it “seems to be nothing other than respect for autonomy” (Macklin, 2003: 1420 and 1419). A promising way to combine African and Western approaches to human dignity is to appeal to human capabilities. A capabilities approach conceives of dignity as referring to the central things that we can do and be as human beings. These might include both human capacities to be autonomous, to think and plan a life, as well as human capacities to affiliate with others and express a range of human emotions. A more complete list of capabilities might be the following, adapted from Nussbaum (Nussbaum, 2011) and defended at greater length elsewhere (Jecker, 2020b): Central Human Capabilities: 1. Life: having an unfolding story or narrative of one’s life; 2. Health: being able to have all or a cluster of the central capabilities at a threshold level; 3. Bodily integrity: being able to use one’s body to realize one’s goals; 4. Senses, imagination, and thought: being able to imagine, think, and use the senses;

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Emotions: being able to feel and express a range of human emotions; Practical reason: being able to reflect on and choose a plan of life; Affiliation: being able to live for and in relation to others; Nature: being able to live in relation to nature and other species; Play: being able to laugh, play, and recreate; and, Environment: being able to regulate the immediate physical environment.

So understood, a capabilities approach is compatible with an African relational view, provided it meets what Jecker calls a “balance condition.” The balance condition specifies that “a capability list should be reasonably balanced between individual and relational capabilities and between cognitive and noncognitive capabilities” (Jecker, 2020b: 49). This avoids granting exclusive weight to individuals or to community and it rules out allowing the focus to be solely on intellectual qualities like rationality, or solely on moral emotions, such as caring about and empathizing with others. According to Jecker, a human being has dignity if they have “some (at least one) of the central human capabilities” listed above at a threshold level (Jecker, 2020b: 60). While a balanced capabilities approach offers a way to combine diverse moral orientations, it sets limits in the sense that it rules out approaches that are exclusively individualistic or exclusively relational. Thus, the balance condition would not be met by an individualistic approach that regards human dignity as requiring intellectual capacities for reason and excludes people with lifelong intellectual impairments. This concern is apparent in the writing of Kittay, who argues that someone with intellectual limitations who lacks the capacity to make a rational plan for their life, or to have a sense of their life as an unfolding narrative, may nonetheless have a life of human dignity (Kittay, 2019). Kittay gives the example of their daughter, Sesha, who “is capable of great joy and great love” and who appreciates music, shows sensitivity to others and stands in social relationships (Kittay, 2005: 127–129). A balanced capability list would count Sesha as having human dignity because Sesha has threshold human capacities such as affiliating with others; expressing a range of human emotions; and exercising senses, imagination, and thought. The balance condition also excludes relational approaches that regard all central human capabilities in relational terms. For example, Masolo can be interpreted as suggesting this when he writes that “Almost all human capacities, including those that are vital to sheer physical survival, require some form of input from other members of the species” (Masolo, 2010: 142). Even the capacity to think, Masolo argues, is intimately tied to communication and learning a language, which depends on contact with other human beings. By contrast, Western conceptions tend to regard thinking as emanating from an individual mind of “a self-sufficient and independent agent,” except in cases of defect or illness (Masolo, 2020: 159). The proposed account is compatible with views, such as Metz’s, which hold that an account of human dignity implies that “[a]n act is wrong (at least in part) because it degrades the individual’s dignity that she has in virtue of her capacity to engage in harmonious relationships” (Metz, 2010: 94). It adds to this that an act can also be wrong when it

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degrades the individual dignity that a person has in virtue of her capacity to think, reason, and compose a narrative or plan for life that reflects their values and preferences. Within bioethics, a capabilities approach is invoked to argue for making reasonable efforts to support a minimal threshold of each of the central human capabilities and doing this in a way that is life stage informed (Jecker, 2020b). The requirement to support capability thresholds at various life stages holds that capabilities should be specified in ways that are reasonably related to what people can do and be across the lifespan. For example, in pediatrics, this involves viewing the child not just as a future adult with autonomy, but as a child now with a life that has intrinsic childhood goods, such as childhood friendship, play, health, and imagining; it would also require supporting a child’s life stage-related capacities for literacy, numeracy, and the ability to imagine, think, and use the senses. Respecting childhood dignity might call for providing children with nurturing care, to foster trusting relationships and basic education, to support their capacities to think and reason about their lives. In geriatrics, supporting capability thresholds might involve helping older adults keep their threshold capacities intact in the face of heightened risks of disease and disability associated with later life. This means for example, supporting an older person’s capacities to be healthy, well nourished, move from place to place, affiliate with others, and recreate in ways that older adults do. So understood, respecting dignity of older persons hinges on making reasonable efforts to help them in all the areas where their capabilities are at risk.

Environmental Philosophy Given ubuntu’s emphasis on harmonious relationships, it is a fair question to ask, who are the “others” which we should seek to have harmonious relationships. One way of answering this question is anthropocentric and holds that the objects of harmonious relationships should be human beings. Anthropocentric views treat nature as separate from human beings, something human beings act on or are affected by. Another way of answering the question is what Behrens dubs, “African relational environmentalism” (Behrens, 2010). It holds that “[a]ll living things are part of a single web or fabric of life. They are all mutually interdependent” and this mutual interdependence gives rise to the view that “nonhuman natural objects are morally considerable” (Behrens, 2014: 55). Ubuntu’s emphasis on relational features is arguably more amenable than an individualist-focused Western philosophy is to Behrens’ account of the environment, because an individualist philosophy holds that individuals value springs from their intrinsic qualities, such as sentience and rationality. Since many natural objects lack the kinds of intrinsic qualities that are usually put forth as a basis for moral standing, they presumably lack independent moral worth and dignity. For example, Kantian ethics holds that rational agents are the only thing that has value for its own sake. For Kant, the type of rationality that matters is moral

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reasoning and a rational agent’s ability to serve as a source of moral law. Beings without such a capacity possess what Kant considered indirect value. Thus, for Kant, “we have duties towards [...] animals because thus we cultivate the corresponding duties toward human beings”; for example, “if a man shoots his dog because the animal is no longer of service, he does not fail in his duty to the dog, for the dog cannot judge, but his act is inhuman and damages in himself that humanity which it is his duty to show towards mankind” (Kant, ~1775–1780: 240). Importantly, Kant does not regard human beings as inherently superior by virtue of their species membership, but only by virtue of their capacity for rational agency. To the extent that members of other species possess the relevant rational capacities, they too would qualify as having an inherent worth and to the extent that human beings lack such a capacity, they would lack an inherent dignity and worth. African environmental philosophy also contrasts with a Western bioethical view like Tooley’s. Tooley allows for the possibility that members of other species could be moral persons, yet requires that individuals with moral standing at some point in their life have a concept of themselves as continuing over time and preferred to continue: “An individual cannot have a right to continued existence unless there is at least one time at which it possesses the concept of a continuing self or mental substances” (Tooley, 1983: 121). Applying this idea to abortion and infanticide, Tooley reasons that both are ethically permissible because the developing human brain apparently lacks any cognitive awareness of a self that continues to exist across time until early toddlerhood (although Tooley says his view about this is open to change if knowledge of neurodevelopment changes). Other major Western traditions, such as utilitarianism, aim to maximize pleasure or well-being and minimize pain or suffering for everyone affected by an act or practice. Utilitarian ethics tends to regard any being that is sentient and capable of experiencing pleasure or pain as morally considerable (Singer, 2009). Utilitarian views play a prominent role in advocacy for nonhuman animals because they have a more expansive notion of what counts as a person compared to other Western bioethical views, such as Kantian ethics. Still, utilitarian ethics is less all-embracing than the African relational bioethics that Behrens advocates, because utilitarianism regards non-sentient natural objects (e.g., oceans, forests, and sky) as having purely instrumental value, and as counting morally only if they affect sentient human beings or sentient nonhuman animals. African relational environmentalism carries practical implications not only for issues such as abortion and infanticide, but also for issues of rising importance, such as climate change and emerging infectious diseases. Both issues highlight the interconnection between human beings and planetary conditions that impact health. In the area of climate change, bioethical issues arise not just due to the direct hazards to human health created by a changing climate, but also due to the different and unequal ways in which these risks impact human populations and communities (Ebi, 2020). For example, people with chronic illness, older age groups, indigenous populations, people with mobility challenges, and certain occupational groups face greater health risks from climate change than their counterparts who are healthy,

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young, able bodied and work in jobs that are less impacted by climate. People living in certain geographic regions, such as coastal zones, artic regions, and areas prone to drought or floods, suffer more from climate change than people in other regions do. African relational environmentalism can make sense of the ways in which human health and human survival itself is not separate from, but intricately connected with, caring for the environment and ensuring habitable planetary conditions. According to this view, it is not simply the case that the climate affects human beings, and thus, human beings have instrumental reasons to care about it; instead, as Behrens characterizes it, there is a continuous connection between the sky, the sea, nonhuman animals, and us. Behrens summarizes, although we may not ordinarily think of an ocean current as something to which we can owe a direct moral duty, we must take into account the devastating repercussions on global climate of significant changes in the flow of, say, the Gulf Stream. Thus, it seems that conceiving of such entities as morally considerable might be attractive on the pragmatic grounds that if they were treated as being morally considerable, it might turn out to be for the good of many other organisms, including humans (Behrens, 2014: 78).

Like Behrens, Tangwa points out that the African traditional world view he was taught (the Nso’ of Cameroon) “does not suppose that human beings have any mandate or special privilege, God-given or otherwise, to subdue, dominate, and exploit the rest of creation” (Tangwa, 2004: 389–390). Capturing this idea, Mbeki unpacks it in terms of the notion of gratitude for all that the earth has given us: “I owe my being to the hills and the valleys, the mountains and the glades, the rivers, the deserts, the trees, the flowers, the seas and the ever-changing seasons that define the face of our native land” (Mbeki, 2005: 17). Conceiving of inanimate objects as if they are morally considerable is at odds with many standard views in Western philosophy and bioethics, including views that press for equal consideration of nonhuman animals, such as Singer’s view. Suppositional reasoning that prescribes acting “as if” inanimate natural objects were morally considerable, relies on a form of moral reasoning that is hypothetical and/or counterfactual. With hypothetical reasoning, the antecedent of a conditional if/then statement is uncertain, while with counterfactual reasoning, the antecedent is false. Behrens defends suppositional reasoning about inanimate natural objects by arguing that it can lead to a more respectful attitude toward nature, which is needed. African relational environmentalism can also be defended on broader pragmatic grounds; namely, it furnishes the most helpful way of tackling global health concerns like climate change and environmental degradation. As Tangwa notes, “[w]ithin the African traditional outlook, human beings tend to be more cosmically humble and therefore not only more respectful of other people but also more cautious in their attitude to plants, animals, and inanimate things” (Tangwa, 2004: 389). Such a stance can benefit human beings and the planet by curbing any tendency people might have to exploit nature or treat it as a mere means to serve human purposes.

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Another defense of African environmentalism that Behrens offers holds that some natural inanimate entitles play a highly significant role in sustaining the life of many other entities and thereby function as “quasi-organisms” (Behrens, 2014: 78). Behrens gives the example of a severely polluted river, which can do enormous damage to many kinds of organisms and species. Extending Behrens’ account, it could be argued that inanimate natural objects, like rivers, are not mere means to some outside end, but instead what Korsgaard calls, “conditionally valuable,” meaning that they are objectively valuable parts of some further thing that has value, and their value is conditional on that further thing existing (Korsgaard, 1983: 179). Applied to inanimate objects in nature, we might say that rivers have conditional value, because they are parts of a valuable whole that includes many living beings and organisms, including human beings. The notion of conditional value is apparent in the environmental philosophy known as “deep ecology.” Deep ecology rejects human-centered environmentalism to emphasize instead forming intrinsically valuable relationships with natural objects in which the objects are not mere tools for human purposes, but constituents of valuable relationships (Næss, 1973). According to deep ecology, seeing natural objects as parts of valuable wholes invites us to look beyond human needs and cultivate a respectful stance toward nature. African relational environmentalism can also be defended by appealing to metaphysical animism, which is the view that everything is alive or has a life force or energy within it. Some African philosophies hold that objects in nature are animated by an ancestor spirit or hold a version of totemism, which associates a specific animal with a tribe or its people and forbid harming a totemic animal (Behrens, 2014). According to Tangwa, within the African traditional outlook, “the distinction between plants, animals, and inanimate things, between the sacred and the profane, matter and spirit, the communal and the individual, is a slim and flexible one” (Tangwa, 2004: 389). Our attitudes toward nonhuman animals and inanimate natural objects have significant implications for bioethics, especially in the area of emerging infectious diseases. For example, when we try to put in place systems for preventing future pandemic disease outbreaks, this implicates non-human species and the environment, due to the rising risk of zoonotic viruses infecting people (Dobson et al., 2020). The root causes of pandemics include the loss of habitat which brings wild animals into closer contact with human beings and wildlife markets and farms that contribute to zoonotic spillover. As with climate change, although all human beings share risk to human life and health, certain groups shoulder a greater risk of infection, such as individuals living in high-density urban areas, congregate settings, or working in certain occupations; others are at greater risk of severe disease or death if they become infected due to weakened immunity from aging or chronic disease. Since an ubuntu ethic emphasizes not only the ontological unity of human beings, but cooperating with others and standing together in solidarity, Jecker and Atuire argue that an ubuntu ethic lends support to global solidarity between nations to address emerging infectious diseases, such as the coronavirus 2019 disease

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(COVID-19) pandemic. They argue that we are all connected through a microscopic world of germs and particles that knows no borders and this interconnection forms the basis for a collective “we” (Jecker & Atuire, 2021: 6). Invoking the Adinkra symbol of conjoined crocodiles with two heads and a common stomach, they write that “[g]lobally interconnected nations instantiate the ontological dimension of solidarity conveyed in the Adinkra symbol of conjoined crocodiles,” but add that solidarity expresses not just interconnection, but coming together to cooperate for a common good: “relationships qualify as solidaristic only if they include an ethical dimension, which is cooperative, rather than competitive, and symbiotic, rather than predatory” (Jecker & Atuire, 2021: 32). Solidarity in the African sense emphasizes the language of common humanity and underscores the symmetry and equality associated with shared humanness (Jecker & Atuire, 2022). In summary, the African ethic of ubuntu contributes important insights to bioethical analyses of global bioethics, especially climate change and emerging infectious diseases. It furnishes a normative and ontological framework that stresses the interrelationship between human beings, nonhuman animals, and the environment. It helps us to see global health crises as problems requiring all the nations of the world to come together in a solidaristic fashion to address. The ontology of ubuntu helps us to entertain the possibility that inanimate objects in nature, like the sky, rivers, and seas, are not merely tools or instruments for serving human ends, but instead, parts of a valuable whole that includes human beings and all living organisms. The ethics of ubuntu invites solidarity with other nations and respectfulness toward nature.

Conclusion This chapter has presented the African ethic of ubuntu and showed with three areas of bioethics where it is making important contributions: moral personhood, human dignity, and environmental philosophy. Each of these three areas is critically important in contemporary bioethics. African personhood carries significant practical implications for bioethics topics such as informed consent, surrogate decision-making, allocating scarce resources between young and old, pregnancy termination, and treatment of the newly dead in healthcare and caregiving settings. An African account of human dignity linked with a capabilities approach offers practical insights for addressing bioethics issues within pediatrics and geriatrics, focusing on supporting threshold capabilities for people across the lifespan. Finally, African environmental philosophy has important lessons related to how we should treat nonhuman animals and inanimate natural objects. It also has implications for how nations should act in unison to address bioethical challenges that affect people everywhere, such as emerging infectious disease and climate change. Incorporating African philosophy into predominantly Western bioethics is a first step towards more global bioethics that welcomes insights and contributions from societies everywhere.

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Personal Autonomy and Shared-Value in Bioethics: An African Communal Ethics Outlook Samuel J. Ujewe

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Communal Values and Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Communal and Processual Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Values and Ethics Principles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theories of Autonomy in Bioethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Nature of Value and Value of Personal Autonomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Value of Personal Autonomy in African Socio-cultural Contexts of Healthcare . . . . . . . . . Ought-onomy as the Alternative Principle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Although the principle of “respect for personal autonomy” is largely conceptualized against the background of values of societies that espouse individual liberty, not all societies in the world place a high premium on the place of the individual person. This chapter examines the value of autonomy in bioethics and determines whether other values, such as “communal responsibility” dominant in African settings, are equally valuable in the context of healthcare and health research. It uses elderly care, as a case example, to explore the subtleties of personal autonomy and determine its valuableness in African contexts. In African settings, the care of elderly persons is binding on families and considered a responsibility of their communities. Elderly persons enjoy the privilege of being cared for, and families and communities are responsible for providing care. While some individual persons may choose not to provide the care and some elderly persons may reject care offered, the question remains whether the refusal is morally acceptable or if rejection removes the moral responsibility to provide similar care to others. S. J. Ujewe (*) Global Emerging Pathogens Treatment Consortium, Lagos, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_7

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This chapter will examine the value and place of autonomy in African sociocultural contexts, barring its already presumed universal value in bioethics. Keywords

Autonomy · Value · Personhood · Communal responsibility · Shared-value · Individual liberty · Bioethics · Informed consent

Introduction This chapter examines the value of “respect for personal autonomy” in bioethics and the extent to which other values, such as “communal responsibility” dominant in African settings, may be equally valuable in the context of healthcare and health research. It uses elderly care, as a case example, to explore the subtleties of personal autonomy and its value in African socio-cultural contexts. In African settings, generally speaking, the care of elderly persons is binding on families and considered a responsibility of their communities (Mbiti, 1990; Gyekye, 1996; Ujewe, 2012a). Elderly persons enjoy the privilege of being cared for, and families and communities are responsible for providing that care. While some individual persons may choose not to provide the care and some elderly persons may reject care offered, the question remains whether the refusal is morally acceptable or if rejection removes the moral responsibility to provide similar care to others. This chapter will examine the value and place of autonomy in African socio-cultural contexts, barring its already presumed universal value in bioethics. The traditional conception of autonomy in bioethics that espouses the sovereignty of individual persons represents the ideal referred to in ethical requirements like informed consent in healthcare and health research. Respect for personal autonomy is considered a key principle in bioethics (Beauchamp & Childress, 2009). The wide subscription to its main attribute, informed consent, presents the principle of autonomy as universally valuable, a priori. Yet, the conceptual ideals of personal autonomy present recognizable conflict with other values, like communal or family-oriented values in African settings, especially communal responsibility. A cross-cultural qualitative study shows that informed consent is difficult to apply in African contexts because it derives from a Western conception of libertarian rights-based autonomy, while affirming the predominance of communalism, customary beliefs, spirituality, and relational autonomy in most African communities (Akpa-Inyang & Chima, 2021). Yet, informed consent is adopted in healthcare and health research globally to address issues with inherent social and cultural significance, despite being underpinned by the ideals of individual liberty. Social and cultural values, like the communal responsibility exemplified in family decision-making, which appear to conflict with autonomy, are often regarded as secondary. This seems to suggest that one cannot act otherwise than autonomously in the context of healthcare or health research, and that personal autonomy must be upheld at all cost.

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The principle of “respect for personal autonomy” is largely conceptualized against the background of values of most Western societies that emphasize the sovereignty of individual persons. Yet not all societies in the world place a high premium on the place of the individual person. The theoretical weight of personal autonomy leans on the conception of persons as sole individuals. However, in communitarian societies around the world, individuals are conceived in terms of their networks of relationships. On what ground then does the bioethical theory of personal autonomy assume its presumed universal value? This chapter explores and presents an African ethical outlook to determine the place and value of personal autonomy in African contexts of healthcare and health research. It tests the conceptual valuableness of personal autonomy in communal contexts of healthcare and health research in Africa. The chapter provides an overview of African socio-cultural contexts and determines how these bear on the understanding of health and healthcare, while outlining corresponding key African communal values and ethical principles. The theory and principles of personal autonomy in bioethics are explored against this background, representing the first test for the conceptual conflict and value differentials. To better understand the place and value of personal autonomy in African socio-cultural contexts, the chapter also explores the meaning and nature of value to provide grounding for a critical analysis. In a summative analysis, the chapter proffers an alternative principle, ought-onomy, which subsumes personal autonomy and communal responsibility in African socio-cultural contexts of healthcare and health research.

African Communal Values and Ethics Communal and Processual Personhood African communal values and ethics are inherently tied to the conception of personin-community and a dynamic personhood. African socio-cultural contexts remain largely communal, as relationships are considered crucial in a person’s selfunderstanding and existence (Ujewe, 2018; Tangwa, 2019). One’s relationships with family and other essential social networks are a fundamental part of what defines one’s personhood. This communal understanding of personhood shapes African socio-cultural contexts in which healthcare and health research challenges evolve. The notion of personhood is central to the assignment of meaning in African ethics. It is linked to the African moral worldview that emphasizes harmony between three worlds – natural environment, human beings, and the supernatural world – with the human person as the focal point (Mbiti, 1990; Gyekye, 1996; Tangwa, 2010). In African socio-cultural contexts, personhood is acquired through the life process of person-in-community. The African personhood is a dynamic, gradual, and persistent process (Kaphagawani, 2003), rather than the static conscious selfdetermination constituting the dominant Western notion. Personhood is not given simply because one is born of the human seed, but through incorporation into a

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community without which individuals are mere danglers to whom the description of a person does not fully apply (Menkiti, 1984). The Dogon of Mali, for instance, acknowledge that one does not come into the world bearing all his or her potentials in full measure: being only a potential person at birth, one must be given his or her own sexual, social, and spiritual identity by the human community into which they are born (Ray, 2000). An individual is thus a person-in-process, rather than a selfsubsistent, self-determined entity; a being that never is, but always becoming. This is reflected in the three-dimensional nature of the African communal system, consisting of the living, the dead, and the not-yet born (Bujo, 2005). The community and the individuals constituting it are in constant vital flux, transiting from the not-yet born to the living, to the dead. Thus, processual personhood extends beyond individual persons to their networks of relationships. The self-subsistent individuals may view their personhood in terms of “cogito ergo sum: I think, therefore, I am” (Descartes, 1996). However, processual personhood postulates the individual as always a dialectical “I.” Here, the question, “who am I?”, cannot be answered in any meaningful way unless the relationship in question is known, since “I” is not only one relationship, but numerous relationships (p’Bitek, 1998). Hence, individuals view their personhood in terms of “cognatus sum, ergo sumus: because I am related to others, not only I, but also we, together, exist” (Bujo, 2005: 425). The “I” is always at the same time a “we”; the individual person is always several other people: 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 rejoices, he rejoices not alone but with his kinsmen, his neighbours, and his relatives whether dead or living. . . The individual can only say: ‘I am because we are; and since we are, therefore I am.’ (Mbiti, 1990: 108)

Personhood as such does not connote a passive process of being simply a member of the community. It involves vital participation with others in community: The individual becomes a person only through active participation in the life of the community. It is not membership in a community as such that constitutes the identity: only common action makes the person a human person and keeps him from an unfettered ego. (Bujo, 2001: 87) I only become fully human to the extent that I am included in relationship with others. So I must see myself as a process of becoming a person. It is not just that I change and grow. I am being built up, constructed. (Shutte, 2009: 92)

Given this outlook of personhood in African communal contexts, elderly persons are regarded as custodians of culture, morality, and tradition. They are responsible for the life of the community, and their personhood is tied to this responsibility. Whatever is committed to the care of elderly persons is considered a commitment to the community’s overall well-being. Accordingly, young and adult members of the community are obliged to participate in the care of elderly persons bearing in mind

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the preservation of life, dignity of the human person, and sustenance of family and community as primal values. Elderly persons, on their part, recognize their privileged stage in the personhood process, accepting their frailty and enjoying the generous care that the community affords them. The question of personal autonomy, either for the elderly person or for those providing the care, does not thereby arise. Elderly care constitutes a vital-force-in-participation for the entire community (Ujewe, 2012a).

African Values and Ethics Principles In African ethics, communal responsibility takes center stage, as the moral frame of reference is founded on the network of communal relationships (Gyekye, 2011). The ethic of communal responsibility emphasizes a preoccupation with the well-being of whole communities or societies; not simply of individuals constituting them. It motivates individual members to seek the good of the community or society as a whole, in virtue of which they also seek their own good and build a firm basis for a sustained well-being (Gyekye, 1996: 62). The four pillars constituting this ethic include: Ubuntu, as the social context; personhood, as the mode of meaningful engagement; vital participation, as the conceptual frame of reference; and harmony, as the essence of the dialogic process (Ujewe, 2016). The idea of Ubuntu situates every individual person within a community or society as inevitably existing in relationship with others around them. The main thesis remains: a person is a person through other persons – where the individual person is inevitably involved in varied social and moral duties and commitments that focus on the well-being of others around them (Munyaka & Motlhabi, 2009). This relational coexistence derives from the African communitarian structure that emphasizes imperatives for social relationship and vital interdependencies (Gyekye, 1996: 35ff). The ethic, thus, emphasizes reciprocal or dual responsibility (Gyekye, 1997), where individuals are drawn by shared obligations toward each other and the communities to which they belong. In light of communal ethic, the individual person is viewed as always caught up in a web of process, which mainly involves (a) building up social relationships and (b) developing one’s moral character. Among the Akan of Ghana, as with many other African cultures, moral judgments or evaluations of individuals are made in reference to their character, and how they have developed it over time or its inherent progressive development: one may be judged as being a “bad person” in view of his/her bad character; and on this basis be considered as “not a person” (Gyekye, 2011). Similarly, among the Nso tribe in Cameroon, personhood represents the ascription of moral worth in an interconnected universe, as opposed to the freestanding singularity of the Western individual (Tangwa, 2010). To be considered not-a-person does not literally mean that the individual does not exist. Rather it emphasizes that the ascription of personhood is always at the same time a statement of one’s moral worth, and to be referred to as not-a-person is a reference to a lack of moral worth.

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In Nigeria for instance, one frequently hears the Pidgin English expression, “you no be person sef” – which simply translates as, you are not a person – mostly used when someone has been offended by another. The statement expresses the offended person’s withdrawal of moral worth from the offender. It is an indication that no reasonable social relationship can be built with that person. The quality of an individual’s character is weighed against his or her social relationships, and the requirements may vary depending on their status within their various communities. The process of becoming a person has moral implications, given the consideration of character or virtue against which personhood is granted. It “implies that the pursuit or practice of moral virtue is intrinsic to the conception of person held in African thought” (Gyekye, 1997: 50). The African notion of personhood is appropriately understood in terms of the ascription of moral worth, and applying to the human being in all its possible conditions, it differs from the Western perception defined in terms of self-consciousness, rationality, freedom, and self-determination (Tangwa, 2000). Therefore, it can be said that “a person is his character, or more definitively she is her practice-in-relationship as a result of her character” (Mkhize, 2008: 39). In view of this moral dimension, personhood is not simply given to an individual for being a physically existing entity; rather, it is developed through consistent and conscious effort or practice in relationship with others-in-community (Menkiti, 1984), as if to re-echo Aristotle’s claim: Moral virtue, like the arts, is acquired by repetition of the corresponding acts. . . none of the moral virtues arise in us by nature; for nothing that exists by nature can form a habit contrary to its nature. (Aristotle, 2009: 23)

One’s possession of personal dignity is largely determined by the belongingness one accomplishes through various commitments to other members and/or to the community. Such belongingness may not be specific to a geographically locatable group, transcending geographical boundaries, especially given rapid urbanization and migration in contemporary times (Ujewe, 2016: 125). Hence, we refer to a “cultural community” which permeates geographical boundaries, and essentially involves the sense of belonging that individuals may have to a particular group. The existence of sustained harmony in the cultural community maintains a favorable atmosphere for its members to attain full personhood. Communal harmony means that individuals within a community have an identifiable sense of belonging with each other; they are united by a kind of social relationship by which they accept shared obligations toward each other and to the whole community (Ujewe, 2012b: 84ff). Where such shared obligations exist, emphasis is on shared-value (Ujewe, 2016: 126ff). Here, meaning is created not simply by individuals, but by individuals who belong with others in a community; meaning is held in common as sharedvalue. Since, in African contexts, meaning is derived in terms of the socio-cultural relevance underpinning an event, Healthcare, for instance, would only be considered meaningful or valuable if the ultimate outcome potentially sustains vital relationships within a community, i.e., if it leads to a sustenance or restoration of the

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community’s well-being. Given the socio-cultural and communal ethics outlook, it is difficult to see how personal autonomy in bioethics, as conceived in terms of individual liberty, would be applied in addressing healthcare challenges. Having explored the foundational elements of personhood in African ethics, we now turn to the outlook of personal autonomy in bioethics to explore the inherent conflict with African contexts.

Theories of Autonomy in Bioethics Personal autonomy is a broad concept and has been widely explored in bioethics. The dominant view defines it in terms of self-determination and personal independence. Four postulations of personal autonomy include: self-rule, where the individual determines his/her own course of action in accordance with a plan he chooses for himself (Katz, 2002); acting freely without coercion or manipulation, or acting intentionally with understanding and without controlling influences that determines one’s actions (Beauchamp & Childress, 2009); having minimum rationality and adequate options in regard to the range of choices available to a person (Raz, 1986); and second-order capacity to critically reflect on one’s first-order preferences or desires, and the ability to either identify with or change them in light of the higherorder preference or value (Dworkin, 1988). The autonomous person is in part the author of his own life, controlling to some degree his own destiny and fashioning it through successive personal decisions (Raz, 1986: 369). Although some effort is made to explore autonomy in relational terms, personal autonomy in bioethics remains largely subsumed in substantive selfdetermination. The discourses in bioethics are largely founded on the conception of liberty, which affirms that: . . .the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forebear because it will be better for him to do so. . .In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign. (Mill, 1996: 13)

Autonomy in bioethics has also been variously conceived, as: self-rule, free will, rational agency, and in relational terms. The concept of autonomy as self-rule derives from the Greek etymology: autos meaning self and nomos meaning rule, governance, or law – the underlying meaning being self-rule, self-governance, or self-law (Beauchamp & Childress, 2009). In these terms, personal autonomy means self-rule, where a person is free of controlling interferences and certain limitations to individual choices, where a person determines his or her own actions with a plan chosen by himself or herself (Katz, 2002). The autonomous person is in part the author of his own life, controlling to some

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degree his own destiny and fashioning it through successive personal decisions (Raz, 1986). In terms of free will, personal autonomy is founded on the right to selfdetermination, where individuals make their own decisions without interference, coercion, or manipulation by others (Katz, 2002). The free will conception focuses on an inner process of decision-making, and the conditions present. This means that the original decision must emerge from within the person without coercion or manipulation, as coercion diminishes a person’s options of choice and manipulation distorts the way a person reaches decisions, forms preferences, or adopts goals, constituting an invasion of autonomy (Raz, 1986). In the absence of coercion or manipulation, one has the ability to have acted otherwise, and free will is implied when one could have acted otherwise (Ayer, 1972). The rational agency view of personal autonomy claims that autonomous action is one emanating from endorsement through critical self-reflection, involving a person’s sense of engagement or identification with his or her preferences or desires (Stoljar, 2007). Underlying this is one’s capacity to reflect upon one’s motivational structure and to make changes or alter one’s preferences, and make them effective in action (Dworkin, 1988). This means that the individual has the capacity to reflect, choose, and act with an awareness of the internal and external influences and reasons that they would wish to accept (Katz, 2002). Simply put, a person should make choices based on personal reflection about the variety of reasons for or against a decision, especially reasons he or she would empathize with, if he or she chooses to act otherwise (Ujewe, 2018). Finally, the relational view of personal autonomy stresses the need for an autonomous person to be a free and self-governing agent; one who is also socially constituted in the sense that his or her basic value commitments are defined by interpersonal relations and mutual dependencies (Christman, 2004). This view of autonomy recognizes the significance of social bonds, but at the same time insists on the individual being free and self-governing: Only by recognizing a social view of morality, where the individual is seen as functioning within relationships, might we appreciate the insufficiency of atomistic autonomy to serve as the governing principle for healthcare. On the other hand, autonomy must be recognized for what it is in our culture, a prime value of authenticity and self-fulfilment. Perhaps paradoxically, I suggest that we use a relational ethic to achieve an individualistic ideal. (Tauber, 2005: 123)

From the four conceptions of autonomy in bioethics outlined, only the relational view considers the places of social relationships as important in defining what should constitute personal autonomy. Relational autonomy appears to be favorable in communitarian societies, such as one would find across Africa with value commitments to communal belonging (Ujewe, 2018). The difference, however, is that social interactions are not always the same in different socio-cultural contexts. For example, the kind of social networks found among British people would be different from those of South African people. A South African in Johannesburg would view

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community differently from a Briton in Newcastle. Also, the relational autonomy so described is tilted toward the final aim of achieving individual liberty. In these terms, relational autonomy may be more appreciable in contexts where individuals are considered capable of controlling the extent to which they may wish to engage with others in community. This may be more applicable to most European or North American social contexts, but would face significant challenges in African sociocultural contexts, where communal belonging is not optional, but an essential part of one’s existence (Ujewe, 2018). Summarily, personal autonomy in bioethics is understood as individual selfdetermination encapsulated in the liberty of choice and action. For instance, personal autonomy in elderly care would imply self-determination and independence of elderly persons in making all decisions relating to their health. Where such control is hampered by physical conditions, other means of personal control are initiated. The impending question remains whether personal autonomy, as described so far, is essentially valuable in elderly care as to warrant outright insistence on personal independence. A further question would be how this would play out in a sociocultural context where value is placed on a family’s capacity to provide or care for their elderly members. To address these questions, it is important to first explore the nature and meaning of value, and then determine what kind of value bioethical autonomy should have.

The Nature of Value and Value of Personal Autonomy Personal autonomy, as self-determination or independence, tends to be accorded a priori value and is often postulated as a universal attribute for healthcare. To merit this universality claim, personal autonomy’s value must impel across socio-cultural boundaries. Since the self-determination concept is tied to particular societies’ customs, traditions, and values, as is the nature of ethics concepts in general (Elliott, 2014), to insist on personal autonomy’s universal valuableness ignores the fact that moral experiences are shaped variously by particular socio-cultural environments. To qualify as universally valuable in healthcare, autonomy must be postulated as intrinsically valuable, or as appealing across socio-cultural boundaries. It is important to understand the term “value” as used in this context, to clarify what is meant by the value/valuableness of personal autonomy. Value is broadly described as the quality or fact of being excellent, useful, or desirable. If a book has value, for instance, it must be worth having. It is important to ask: excellent in whose perspective; useful to whom; and desirable according to whose standards? To address these questions, some note that value is characterized by a particular vision of the good life or how life ought to be lived, thereby reflecting a rationalization of aspects of a way of life, which may indicate defense, recommendation, justification, or critique of that which is valuable (Rescher, 1982). From this, it would follow that the value of personal autonomy in healthcare represents a particular vision of good health and the process of achieving it. For instance, there are claims to the effect that

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being competent, autonomous, and appreciated constitutes the experience of the good life for older people (Higgs et al., 1992; Nyström & Segesten, 1994; Oleson et al., 1994). Hence, good health would refer to one that also includes these attributes. If personal autonomy is valuable, is its value intrinsic, so that it automatically applies in elderly care universally? To answer this question, two senses of value are conceptualized: as beliefs about desirable modes of conduct or end-states of existence, denoting the former as instrumental and the latter as terminal value – terminal value as synonymous to intrinsic value (Rokeach, 1973): There are some things which we consider good or desirable only for their results – for what they lead to. There are other things which we consider good not because of what they lead to but because of what they are in themselves. . . The first kind of good is called instrumental good because the. . . worthwhileness of these things lies in their being instruments toward the attainment of other things. . . The second kind of good is called intrinsic good because we value these things not because of what they lead to but for what they are. (Hospers, 1972: 104–5)

A thing has instrumental value if its value is ascribed by external attributes based on which it is useful or fulfills certain desired tasks; it has intrinsic value if it is by itself desirable as an end-state of existence. For instance, medications are valuable because they help to restore health; their value is thereby only instrumental. On the other hand, life is valuable for its own sake; hence, life is intrinsically valuable. If the good life only constitutes personal self-determination and independence, personal autonomy would be intrinsically valuable and universally desirable in the care of elderly persons. However, self-determination and personal independence are perceived variously in different societies with differences imminent between communitarian and individualistic societies. Personal autonomy cannot thereby be intrinsically valuable, since its value does not transcend socio-cultural boundaries. Any conception of autonomy that insists upon substantive independence is not one that has claim to our respect as an ideal, as it is inconsistent with other values we hold, such as loyalty, objectivity, commitment, benevolence, and love; and such conception of autonomy has no legitimate claim to supreme value and hence of being generally desirable (Dworkin, 1988). Since personal autonomy in bioethics is largely based on claims to substantive independence, it may not be postulated as essentially desirable in elderly care. Individuals’ personal values are shaped by their background cultures. Although some elderly people may wish to make their own choices, there is no universal ground to insist on personal autonomy in healthcare for elderly persons. On the contrary, studies show that the desire for control over healthcare decisions is lower among elderly people as compared to younger adults (LeSage et al., 1989). This also has socio-cultural underpinnings. For instance, in parts of South Asia, a duty-based approach is emphasized in healthcare, rather than autonomy: the transcendental character of human life; the duty to preserve and guard individual and communal health; and the duty to rectify imbalances in the process of nature and to correct and repair states that threaten life and well-being, both of human and

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nonhumans (Coward, 2007). Japanese people, for instance, are generally sensitive or even subconsciously reluctant to accept personal autonomy, self-determination, and individualistic freedom in decision-making, especially in healthcare (Hoshino, 1997). Furthermore, patients in Southern European societies are generally less concerned with matters related to informed consent and respect for autonomy than with trust in their physician (Macklin, 1999).

The Value of Personal Autonomy in African Socio-cultural Contexts of Healthcare Since personal autonomy is accorded a central place in healthcare decision-making, it is important to understand what makes it sufficiently valuable to assume a universal character. It is crucial to determine whether its value is intrinsic or instrumental. One way of determining this is by situating personal autonomy within African socio-cultural contexts of healthcare. This will not only test its valuableness context, but also determine what relevant alternatives could be employed. Testing the value of autonomy in African elderly care may shed some light on the issue. General care and healthcare for the elderly may differ, are referred to interchangeably – but not synonymously – in the following discussion. In African settings, there is generally a greater appeal to communal co-existence than individual self-determination. Since personal autonomy is established against the backdrop of individual self-determination, it would follow that its value (if any) would not be as compelling in African healthcare, especially for elderly persons. To help us appreciate the place of personal autonomy in elderly care in African communitarian settings, it is important to understand their pre-eminent status within the community, as captured in key features of the African worldview, namely: processual personhood, the vital force principle, and the communal principle of Ubuntu. As noted earlier, African personhood is not static but a process. In African contexts, elderly persons are regarded as custodians of culture, morality, and tradition. They are responsible for the life of the community, and their personhood is tied to this responsibility. Whatever is committed to the care of the elderly is regarded as a commitment to the community’s overall well-being. Thus, young and adult members of the community are obliged to participate in the care of elderly persons, in which the preservation of life, dignity of the human person, and sustenance of family and community are prized as higher values. Those who abstain or fail to provide such care bear the social scar of individuality and lack of vision for the community. Elderly persons, on their part, recognize their privileged stage in the communal process, which requires the family’s or community’s support. They accept their frailty and enjoy the generous care that the community offers. The question of autonomy, either for the elderly person or for those providing care, is therefore not high on the value scale. Vital-force-in-participation stems from a composite element of personhood in African thought, referred to as the vital force, which is the life force or creative force sustaining the community and personhood of

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its individual members (Tempels, 1959). In light of vital-force-in-participation, a person’s self-understanding is bound in constant interaction with others. This informs the various expressions of the humanity of African persons in communal co-existence. Consequently, dependency is not an issue in African societies, especially for elderly persons. A person freely depends on others in times of need, and in retrospect others can freely depend on him or her. This is exemplified in the moral obligation to care for elderly members of one’s immediate family, and the provision of adequate care reflects the vitality of that family or community. The elderly’s personhood is not threatened by their dependence on others for care; rather, it is sustained – that they can freely depend is an affirmation of their co-existence within their families and communities: The imperative. . . is born of an acute sense of an essential dependency in the human condition. Dependency is, therefore, also a component of the [African] concept of person. [For as the Akan proverb affirms], a human being is not a palm tree so as to be self-sufficient. (Wiredu, 1992: 88–89)

This does not imply that elderly persons can simply choose to completely depend on others or become pathetically entitled to the support that the family or community provides. While there are instances of over-dependence, which is problematic, the dependency principle does not oblige any support than is possible or necessary. The underlying principle is that elderly persons should be free to depend on family and/or communal support as their conditions may necessitate, and only to the extent that the family or community is capable of providing such support. Hence, in providing care for elderly persons, the question of personal autonomy, as established in bioethics, does not constitute a significant issue. What is considered valuable is the sustenance of personhood for the elderly person and life of the family and/or community to which both the elderly and those caring for them belong. The principle of Ubuntu encapsulates processual personhood and vital-force-inparticipation, given its ascription that one’s personhood is incomplete without the others to whom one relates. Accordingly, in principle, people should celebrate other’s successes as though they were their own personal successes; and a difficult experience should similarly reflect a shared feeling of pain or sadness. Everyone is constantly bound to these networks of relationships, as the Igbo proverb affirms: when a mad man walks naked, it is his/her kinsmen who feel shame, not him/herself. It would be problematic then to insist on a primal value for personal autonomy in elderly care in African contexts, in the sense described in bioethics, as its value does not resonate with the African conception of person subsumed in Ubuntu. Elderly care is a mutually inclusive process; one cannot simply dissociate oneself from others, as the autonomy-caring would imply. The preservation of life and respect for the dignity of the human person are paramount, not personal autonomy. We may have to look beyond personal autonomy to other more compelling values to determine the baseline for elderly care in African contexts. There is need to turn to an alternative principle, like ought-onomy.

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Ought-onomy as the Alternative Principle The limitations of personal autonomy in African healthcare contexts arise from the conflict with fundamental African moral values, such as solidarity, sharing, reciprocity, respect, harmony, responsibility, and duty. The established presence of these values means that persons understand themselves in terms of shared-value and identity with others; and hence, the necessity for vital-participation in healthcare, as exemplified in the obligation to care for the elderly. Through Ubuntu, other persons are necessarily involved in the healthcare decision-making process for an individual, for instance, which would contradict the prospects for personal autonomy. In order to better grasp the concept and value of ought-onomy, it is worthwhile to trace its roots derived from Kant’s moral law: All imperatives command either hypothetically or categorically. . . If the action would be good solely as a means to something else, the imperative is hypothetical; if the action is represented as good in itself and therefore as necessary, in virtue of its principle. . . then the imperative is categorical. (Kant, 1993: 89)

The moral imperative, Kant notes, is expressed by an ought, which could be conceived as the reservoir of objective laws of reason and determinant of the good will. The ought is a categorical imperative, which impels us to act on the good will as the only inherently desirable thing. In the ought, the dignity of humanity itself functions as an inflexible precept of the will motivating our choices and actions (Kant, 2002). The relation of the ought to the awareness of one’s choices and actions constitutes ought-onomy. The underpinning attribute of ought-onomy is that one should be free to depend on or support others in difficult times, and the community should likewise depend on or support individual members to overcome difficult challenges. Thus, unlike the self-determined, consciousness-based personhood, African personhood does not ask questions of personal autonomy, but rather, of ought-onomy: what should I do to enhance the life of the community as a whole. To freely depend or to respond in retrospect is to be ought-onomous. In light of ought-onomy, one has the prerogative to depend on another and to help when necessary and if capable. Accordingly, personal ought-onomy would consist in making healthcare decisions as one should, cognizant of the subjective emotional and socio-cultural factors informing one’s life experiences. To the extent that I choose or act within this framework, I am ought-onomous. In African healthcare contexts for the elderly, therefore, value would be placed on the ought-onomous outlook of providing care, rather than on personal autonomy. Furthermore, in other parts of the world where society is structured on communal relationships, the ought for an individual would consist in being, choosing or acting in ways that fulfill his or her position or role in the communal network. The ought, although determined by underlying sociocultural values, represents a morally desirable option for people in those contexts.

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It is not important whether persons make decisions by themselves, or others decide on their behalf, healthcare decisions are ought-onomous insofar as they are informed by the good will as expressed in the socio-cultural context. Therefore, we can rely on ought-autonomy as the relevant alternative principle of action in healthcare for elderly persons in African contexts.

Conclusion While personal autonomy may be applicable as a principle of action in parts of the world, there are underlying conflicts in applying it in other parts of the world. Other values may need to be adopted in parts of the world where communal co-existence is accorded higher value. Reference to the principle of ought-onomy in these contexts would resonate with the socio-cultural realities and moral value placed on communal co-existence. African societies strongly adhere to family and communal values, while most Western societies adopt varying forms of individualism. Questions, however, remain on the value personal autonomy in elderly care. Personal autonomy may be meaningful in societies that accept self-subsistent individuality, and hence emphasized in elderly care for those contexts; a dependency-approach to care may be resisted. In African contexts, however, individual persons are conceived in the plural form, always as “we”; the “I” exists in a dialectical plurality, never as an independent, self-determined individual. Therefore, elderly persons are seen as constituent components of the plural individual persons in their various families; their care is imperative on all. Therefore, priority is given to the preservation of life and dignity of the elderly person. Personal autonomy is not a primal value in this communal caring process.

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Part IV Epistemology, Metaphysics, and Logic

African Epistemology: Past, Present, and Future Peter Aloysius Ikhane

Contents Introductory Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Epistemology and the Senses of the Past, Present, and Future . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Epistemology: Past Discourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Epistemology: Present Focus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Epistemology: Future Concerns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The chapter explores African epistemology by taking a historical approach to examining its nature and character. By doing so, it seeks to explain some distinctive features of African epistemology, such as the focus on cultural beliefs and practices in the attempt to describe the nature of African epistemology and the need to debate the question of method in African epistemology. To be sure, while the former is traced to attempts to respond to colonial subjugation of the African’s capacity for rational deliberation, the latter arises from the task of authentically construing what passes as ‘African’ in relation to epistemology. Aside from its explanatory engagement, the chapter elucidates pertinent future concerns for scholars of the discipline. Worthy of note is the task of construing African epistemology in the light of philosophy (and by extension, epistemology) as a normative discipline. The chapter, therefore, notes that epistemic normativity is a key challenge if African epistemology is to take its place in the global discourse of knowledge in epistemology. P. A. Ikhane (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria African Centre for Epistemology and Philosophy of Science, University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_11

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Keywords

African epistemology · Epistemic justification · The question of method · Coloniality of knowledge · Epistemic normativity

Introductory Remarks On the obvious reading from the title of this chapter that my approach is historical, I begin by paying significant attention to clarifying certain assumptions that drive my analysis. One such assumption is that the discourse of African epistemology has considerably developed enough that it is possible to talk about its history. To be sure, to talk of a history of African epistemology is to grant that there is that that can be described as African epistemology; that is, there is the body of work that is accepted to constitute African epistemology. But not to take anything for granted, it is expedient to begin by asking what African epistemology is. This is even more important given that there are some researchers who refute the existence of African epistemology (Airoboman & Asekhauno, 2012) and others who, though not immediately challenging the existence of African epistemology, query the reference to a unique African mode or way of knowing (Olu-Owolabi, 1993). In light of these, the first of the clarifications made is to explicate the understanding of what African epistemology is. There is, however, no presumption that what is said passes as an unquestionable standard view of African epistemology; rather, extant and dominant views on the subject matter are relied on to construct what is presented in the chapter as African epistemology. After explicating how African epistemology is understood, the next clarifications made would be to spell out the senses in which the past, present, and future in relation to African epistemology are construed. This will serve to address the assumption that African epistemology has developed enough content to make for its history by engaging with different concerns and literature that have addressed such concerns in the various periods of the history of African epistemology in the way it has been alluded to. Before attending to the clarifications regarding how African epistemology is understood and the senses in which the past, present, and future are understood, it is pertinent to note that in spelling out these supposed aspects of the history of African epistemology, there is no pretence to the claim that their occurrences were in strict successions of the ideas that constitute their understandings. That is, in taking the historical approach in reflecting on African epistemology, there is no assumption that this history, though short as it may seem, is linear. If, at all, there is an assumption of a direction about the history of African epistemology, it would be closer to being helix, than linear. As such, it is taken that there are overlaps of ideas, issues, debates, themes, and problems in the emergence of the different periods of the history, such that while, say, Hallen published his work on Yoruba moral epistemology in 2004, Airoboman and Asekhauno queried the existence of African epistemology in a work published in 2012.

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The point here is that if, in concrete terms, the history of African epistemology was one of strict succession of the past, present, and future, it would have been thought that works such as that of Hallen (2004) would have been sufficient to defray, at least, any doubts about the existence of African epistemology. To be sure, in a linear understanding of the historical developments of these aspects of African epistemology, it would have been expected that the meta-issue of the existence of African epistemology (as read in Airoboman and Ashekauno) should first have been settled before attempts to portray instances of African epistemology (as seen in Hallen). But as it is with many issues in the history of ideas, there are usually no clear-cut demarcations between when the conceptual understanding and debates about the existence of a said issue are settled from when portrayals of instances of the concrete existence of such issues are made. Indeed, many would argue that the very ability to attempt a portrayal of an issue in question is enough demonstration of its existence, even though from an opposing camp, it could be retorted that such a strategy amounts to begging the question. One reason that may be adduced for nonlinearity in the discussions of ideas as regards their existence and concrete expression in the history of ideas is that oftentimes in researching and writing, scholars (working independently most of the time) develop supposedly accepted arguments to portray a certain idea or issue, while others working on similar subject matters (but also independently) may not have reached such a conclusion or may see things differently when such arguments developed by others become available to them. Put differently, how things are perceived significantly accounts for how they are judged to be the case or otherwise. But in all, it seems cogent to say that debates over the existence or conceptual understanding and the concrete manifestation of an idea or issue can become intertwined that it is not straightforward to separate them in terms of how they are examined. For instance, it could be seen that Hallen’s work on Yoruba moral epistemology implied the existence of African (Yoruba) epistemology, though its main focus was on the substantial explication of a subject matter of African epistemology. It could therefore be said that the intertwined relations of the existence or conceptual understanding and the concrete manifestation of an idea are often provided for by assumptions writers make without always or necessarily explicitly examining them in relation to the issues or ideas such authors are engaged with. From the foregoing, it would therefore be appropriate to suppose overlaps in terms of the concerns that are found in each periods of the history of African epistemology as I have conceived them in the chapter. To this end, the subject matters that are taken to make for the overlaps in the history of African epistemology are presented after examining those taken to constitute the concern in the ‘Past’ of African epistemology. Before this, however, attention will be turned on the task of clarifying how African epistemology is conceived and also explicating the senses in which the past, present, and future of African epistemology are conceived in the section that follows the present one.

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African Epistemology and the Senses of the Past, Present, and Future As stated immediately above, my goal in this section is to articulate the view of African epistemology that undergirds my analyses of its past, present, and future. It is also to clarify the senses in which reference is made to the past, present, and future with respect to African epistemology. This section will begin with the former and then turn to the latter. To begin, in presenting the view of African epistemology that helps my analyses in the present chapter, allusion is made to two non-isolated currents that are considered useful. One is the theoretical current that concerns the rather abstract and generalist perspective of epistemology, while the other – the practical – bothers on the real-world configurations of what constitutes an epistemology (or how knowledge as the subject matter of epistemology manifest within a given context) and forms aspects of what is conceived in the theoretical. Put differently, these would amount to analytic and descriptive views of what is passed as epistemology. Relatedly, however, both currents constitute the discourse of epistemology. In relation to my view of African epistemology, while the analytic (/generalist or abstract) view conceives African epistemology in the light of the universal characteristics of the discourse of knowledge, the descriptive (/contextual or practical or real-world) view comprehends African epistemology by investigating cultural particulars relating to knowledge practices. Works such as Ikuenobe (1998), Ogungbure (2014), and Jimoh (2017) take the generalist approach to reflecting on African epistemology, while others such as Ani (2013) and Martin (2010) take the contextual approach. It is pertinent to note that reference to contexts of epistemological practices is not only to cultural enclaves but also with respect to such expressions as internet epistemology, epistemology of the new media, and so on. In this vein, African epistemology, theoretically, refers to abstract(ed) features of knowledge that denote the practice of knowledge within various contiguous African cultural contexts, and in practical terms – where the expression, “knowledges,” can be made use of – it denotes ways of knowing and conceptualizing what is known also in relation to particular African cultural contexts. Thus, in the discourse of African epistemology, there is the universally informed approach to describing knowledge, as well as the particularized way of recounting how the nature and character of knowledge, as well as how knowledge is acquired according to the sociocultural contexts within which knowledge claims are formulated and articulated. It is, indeed, from such considerations that one can sensibly talk of an African articulation and formulation of knowledge and hence of an African epistemology (Kaphagawani & Malherbe, 1998: 259). Although this claim seems to restrict African epistemology to ways of knowing, the enterprise of African epistemology acknowledges that epistemology, as a discourse, includes the character, the source, the scope, and the value of knowledge, and that these aspects of the discourse of epistemology are not mutually exclusive from the understanding of African epistemology here stipulated. Though the foregoing point made, it seems pertinent to ask whether this subfield of African philosophy should be named African epistemology or African

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epistemologies. To be sure, the question arises from the observation that it appears to be taken for granted in many writings about African philosophy or African epistemology that it is acceptable to say African epistemology in the singular form, rather than African epistemologies in the plural, though there is the manifest diversity of cultural practices in the geographical region that makes up the continent of Africa. The worry in raising this question, among others, is whether it would not amount to overgeneralizing, essentializing, and illegitimately reducing the many into one when the appellation “African epistemology” is used instead of “African epistemologies,” considering how culturally diverse Africa is. Would this not also become a way of marginalizing different voices on, and approaches to, knowledge within the African context? seems to be the question asked. In attempting a response here, let me state that the grounds for which reference is made to “African philosophy” rather than “African philosophies” suffice for describing the subfield “African epistemology” rather than “African epistemologies.” For clarity, one of such grounds is that though there are cultural differences and diverse concerns, there are traits, beliefs, and practices that could be picked out in individual cultural settings that are found in Africa to warrant such generalized appellations as African philosophy and African epistemology. For example, the belief in a hierarchical universe made of gods, ancestors, humans, and the yet unborn is typical of cultures, at least, Africa South of the Sahara. It is interesting to note that even with the presence and practice of other (foreign) religions, such as Christianity and Islam, the belief in a hierarchical world of gods, ancestors, humans, and the unborn is widely held among Africans and is associated with the practice of African traditional religion (ATR). The foregoing, notwithstanding, a critical note that ensues from the assertion that there are universal traits, beliefs, and practices that warrants nomenclatures as African philosophy and African epistemology, irrespective of the particular differences that marks off individual cultures, is whether such traits, beliefs, and practices would still count as African if they are found in other non-African cultures? In response to this, it is instructive to note that the reference to a trait, belief, or practice as “African” is not an exclusive one that implies that such trait or belief or practice does not occur elsewhere. Rather, it is a reference that supposes that such trait or belief or practice widely occurs in cultures found in Africa over an extended period of time. As such, the necessary (though not essentially sufficient) requirements, so to say, for a trait or belief or practice to count as African is that it is found to have occurred in (a) culture(s) in Africa over an extended period of time (see Metz, 2022). Having said this, let me state that the question of whether the subfield should be described as African epistemology or African epistemologies indicates a promising area of discourse, perhaps a futuristic one, that scholars may begin to engage with. From the foregoing, African epistemology is taken to denote reflections about knowledge and knowledge practice, both in relation to African beliefs and customs. As such, in one sense – the theorized sense – African epistemology is the written work of trained scholars who philosophically engage African beliefs and customs with the intent to put forward its epistemology. In another sense – the livedexperience sense – African epistemology describes the autochthonous practices of Africans in relation to these beliefs and customs that can be described as

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epistemological. While these senses are not exclusive, it can be said that African epistemology is embedded within African traditional belief systems and practices and becomes manifest in the academic activities of integrating concrete experiences of African traditional belief systems in the analyses of concepts and ideals relating to knowledge. It is instructive to, however, note that this position does not capture those of the generality of (African) philosophers. For instance, V. Y. Mudimbe’s (1985) supposes that, strictly speaking, African philosophy can be taken to apply to the traditional thoughts of Africans only in a metaphorical or historicist sense. The position espoused here, however, takes African philosophy (and epistemology) to reside within, and derive from an analysis of, the autochthonous knowledge practices of Africans. It is useful to also note that the phrase, “African epistemology,” is used in “the generic sense in which the term ‘African philosophy’ is normally used, which does not deny that there are significant variations among the many cultures in Africa” (see Kaphagawani & Malherbe, 1998: 259). To further appreciate this characteristic nature of African epistemology, it is pertinent to take into consideration what is assumed to have spurred its emergence in the twentieth century. For clarity, the beginnings of African epistemology (in the twentieth century) are generally ascribed to the reactionary writing of Africans (Senghor, Onyewuenyi, and other early defenders of the capacity for rationality by the African) who sort to correct the inexact descriptions of the African and her cultures by non-African researchers who had reported that she (the African) was devoid of the capacity for rationality and reason (see Hegel and Kant). In the attempt to respond to such inexact descriptions of the African and her culture, Senghor, for instance, contended that Africans’ perception and ratiocination about the world were different from that of the West; hence, the sometimes (though oftentimes intended) mistaken assumption by Western scholars that Africans lacked the capacity to reason. The mistaken assumption in this regard was that since the perceptual disposition of the African about the world was unlike that of the West, it was quickly dismissed by the colonialist attitude of Western scholars, who sort to unjustifiably project their views as the view about the world. Given that Senghor was about the earliest African scholar who defended the African way of knowing, it is taken that African epistemology (in the modern times) first materialized in Leopold Sedan Senghor’s (1964) arguments for the existence of a distinctively African mode of knowing. The defense of the possession of the capacity for rationality by Senghor was later backed, though with different proposals and justifications, by Innocent Onyewuenyi (1978) and Kane C. Anyanwu (1983). One point concerning the basis on which the view of African epistemology that Senghor defended needs to be made clearer here. This point is that Senghor’s view, and other such similar views, of (African) epistemology, is grounded on the interpretation of the universe as both sacred and secular, seen and unseen, timed and timeless, finite and infinite, among many other such formulations (Asante & Nwadiora, 2007; Gyekye, 1995, 1996; Magesa, 1997; Zahan, 1979). In this vein, many indigenous epistemological persuasions perceive existence as a whole dominated by various forces – such as ashe among the Yoruba, Ntu among the Bantu, da

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among the Fon, and nyama among Bamana – believed to empower both nature and humans (Asante & Nwadiora, 2007). These forces are often identified with nature and are revered. The point in this is that such view about the universe may be taken to largely account for the differences in what is conceived as African epistemology from that of, particularly, the Western. Indeed, Nkulu N’Sengha’s description of African epistemology is that “[t]here is no duality of matter and spirit or of faith and knowledge, and of no opposition of science and religion” (Nkulu-N’Sengha, 2005: 43). As such, though the challenge that African epistemology faces in being grounded on such ontology has to do with how to justify an epistemology inclusive of phenomena that transcend cognition through the five senses, it (African epistemology) incorporates the reality that exists beyond the five senses. Before turning to the senses of past, present, and future with respect to African epistemology, there is need to make some remarks regarding the context of “African” in the expression “African epistemology.” This has become a prominent practice when writing about Africa, because the history and existential realities of Africa make it evident that there are different contexts to which “Africa” refers. For instance, there is the Africa of precolonial subjugation and there is postindependence Africa. While their occurrences are historically linear, they presently inflect the existential reality of the African as they currently configure the African perception of the world. Marked distinctions in both Africas are discernible in the values, norms, and beliefs about, say, lifestyles, child-rearing, and religious practices. To be sure, the identity of the African resulting from these is a convoluted one that oscillates between these Africas. From the foregoing, though there are some who suggest that there is no sense in calling something “African” since it can invariably be found in other parts of the world other than Africa (see Horsthemke & Enslin, 2005), others, such as Metz (2022), opine that what makes the label, “African,” apt a description, say, in “African epistemology,” is that it refers to beliefs that have been part of the worldviews of a great many peoples indigenous to the African continent south of the Sahara for a long time, unlike many other parts of the world. Metz geographically takes “African” to include features that have been prominent in a locale over a substantial amount of time in a way that they have not been elsewhere. He identifies such a locale as Africa south of the Sahara (see Metz, 2022). In a similar vein, Kwame Gyekye holds that “in many areas of thought we can discern features of the traditional life and thought of African peoples sufficiently common to constitute a legitimate and reasonable basis for the construction (or reconstruction) of a philosophical system that may properly be called African” (Gyekye, 1995: 191). From this, therefore, the grounds for African in the expression, “African epistemology,” are that there are discernible aspects of the lived-experiences of Africans that inflect on knowledge in ways that are distinct and specific, to the extent that such ways broaden the generalist/universalist understanding of the concept of knowledge. Pertinent to note here is that there are some who, taking to a strong universalist line of thought, deny that there are any distinctive cognitive features belonging only to a group of people. Their claim is that knowledge cannot radically differ from one

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group of people to another. As such, if a claim is referred to as “knowledge,” then it is so for all peoples, irrespective of the group to which they belong. After all, say the universalists, are not the criteria by which the truth or falsity of a claim is decided the same across all cultural contexts? If they are, then the epistemological character and structure of all cultures is essentially the same. Furthermore, they seem to assert that there may well be ways in which communities differ with regard to the institution of knowledge, but they refer to these as not epistemologically important. As such, for them, epistemology, wherever it is practiced, is the same. For them, just as one does not get a distinctively Chinese or American or African mathematics, so too there is no such thing as a distinctively African epistemology, except it might be reflections on the nature of the universalist understanding of knowledge carried out on, say, the African continent. It may, however, be replied here that those who argue, as the universalists do, by referring to the nonexistence of such as African mathematics or African physics, aside other limitations, fail to appreciate the distinction between disciplines described as the humanities (such as those relating to language, history, culture, and religion) and those referred to as the sciences particularly the natural sciences and/or mathematics. The point in this is that while it does seem incorrect to talk of African or American or Chinese Mathematics or physics, the same cannot be said of philosophy, history, or language. It is, however, important to make the point that in clarifying the sense of “Africa” in African epistemology, it should be noted that the ascription of “Africa” to, say, an idea or concept does not in any way assume that such idea or concept is uniquely African, and hence, does not occur in any other part of the world. Even more important is that when asked what is meant when an African makes an allusion to the possession of knowledge in the traditional context, the response is that reference is made to how such assertion about the possession of certain beliefs sits within a view of the world that goes beyond the commonplace physicalist understanding or view of the world. As such, an analysis of specific aspects of African culture, including language and social conventions, reveals the distinct view of knowledge that has come to be described as African epistemology. What is implied here is that aspects of language include the meanings of philosophically important words, sentence structures, and linguistic habits like proverbs and adages, while aspects of social convention include traditional ways of settling conflicts, educating the young, and finding out about the world, using that knowledge. It is so described for the reason that it derives from the African view of the world, which is the view that emphasizes a relation between knowledge and being in ways that have not been characteristically conceived in the broader discourse of knowledge in other non-African contexts. To begin with clarifying the senses of past, present, and future as used in relation to African epistemology, “past” is deployed in relation to African epistemology to capture what has been identified as the beginnings of the approach to the discourse of knowledge in postcolonial Africa. So, the past of African epistemology does not as much as designate a content that is pervasive as it indicates the originating influence of African epistemology, as well as explains its extant nature and character. For

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emphasis, the beginnings of the modern approach to the discourse of African epistemology are connected to its provoked task of defending the capacity of the African for rational thought. As noted earlier, this was variedly actualized in the works of such as Senghor (1964), Onyewuenyi (1978), and Anyanwu (1983). As such, my conception of the past of African epistemology, in the chapter, is connected to Africa’s colonial experience, particularly its epistemic colonial experience. To be sure, Africa’s epistemic colonial experience may be expediently described by reference to the coloniality of knowledge. A quote from Veli MItova (2020) is apt to portray this reality about Africa’s epistemic experience. She says: We live in an epistemically colonial world; . . . . Although the Global North physically left as colonial ‘master’ long ago, it still gets to tell the Global South what counts as genuine knowledge, rational thought, and real science. After all, as this epistemic master has vouched, his ideas about knowledge and other epistemically good things are objective and universal. They are not tainted by the contingencies of place or time. This is what puts them in a unique position to reflect the world as it really is. This is what legitimates their continued sovereignty over the South’s thoughts and epistemic practices. This, we are promised, is how we would all think if we would just think clearly for a moment, instead of letting ourselves be saddled by our cultural quirks, historical wounds, and other vagaries of our social identities. When it comes to such things, knowledge is apparently even blinder than love (Mitova, 2020: 191).

From the above, the “coloniality of knowledge” is the view that knowledge is presented from a single (West’s) perspective to the domination and exclusion of all others, in the guise that the single perspective is the universal and objective/correct view of knowledge that all should espouse irrespective of the contingencies that mark the distinctiveness of their place and time. As regards reference to the “present” in African epistemology, the concern is to show what African epistemology is. That is, if the discourse of epistemology is broadly conceived to be the investigation of the nature of knowledge, its limits, source(s), and justification, the “present” in relation to African epistemology is to portray how the foregoing concerns of epistemology have been conceived within African epistemology. In the same vein, given the originating influence of African epistemology, reflections about topics such as conceptual/epistemic decolonization (Wiredu, 2002; Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2018; Mitova, 2020), epistemic injustice (Masaka, 2017), and the de-superiorization of knowledge (Freter 2023) have become mainstays in African epistemology. In the extant literature, however, the dominant discussion focuses on the nature of African epistemology with the apparent consensus being that African epistemology is the discourse of knowledge in terms of how it relates to being (what is) (Ikhane, 2018; Jimoh & Thomas, 2015). Other less emphasized discussions include justification and epistemic certitude (Ogungbure, 2014; Jimoh & Thomas 2015) and the question of method in Africa epistemology (Ikhane 2017; Irikefe, 2021). These are less emphasized subject matter of African epistemology as there are sparse publications examining them. For instance, one can find only a handful of published works on epistemic justification in African epistemology (see Ogungbure, 2014; Jimoh & Thomas 2015). Aside the more conceptual-

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focused discussion, there are discussions that have engaged a number of subject matters in epistemology from the purview of cultural contexts. One such subject matter so examined is the concept of truth (see Ukpokolo, 2023). There is, however, an aspect of the development of African epistemology that, for want of a better expression, would be described as epistemic interface. This is the notion that what is presented in this work in relation to the past and present of African epistemology intersect. This intersection has to do with the debate on the existence of African epistemology. Though in what is taken to be “the present” of African epistemology, there are still questions about the legitimacy of expressions such as “African epistemology” and “African way(s) of knowing,” the question of the existence of African epistemology is considered to present an “epistemic interface” of the past and present of African epistemology, because it continues to string concerns in the past of African epistemology with those of the present. This, for instance, is evident in the present discourse of the de-superiorization of knowledge where a core concern is to challenge the cogency of describing Western forms of epistemic discourse as superior to other non-Western discourse of knowledge on the basis that non-Western philosophical traditions barely had what could pass as epistemology. A response to this has seen the call for the de-superiorize of such postures to knowledge. Having noted the foregoing, the “Future” context of African epistemology concerns aspects that (i) require further elucidations and (ii) hold prospects for the further development of the discipline. In the former instance, it is pertinent to note that discussions regarding the dominant description of African epistemology as the discourse of knowledge in relation to being is not conclusive but still in need of critical reflections and further explication. For instance, what account of knowledge emerges from such a conception of the nature of epistemology? And, by extension, what theory (or theories) of epistemic justification provide(s) for grounding such an account of knowledge? There is also the concern to examine the broad concern of the place of African epistemology within the global discourse of epistemology, dominated by the assumptions and views in mainstream (Western) epistemology. In addition to this, there is the specific challenge of successfully making African epistemology – expounded on the assumptions of the African ontological worldview that takes seriously the connection of the material and immaterial – accessible to noninitiates of such ontological worldview. Another interesting subject matter that may engage the time of scholars interested in African epistemology is the discourse on method. This is on the basis that it speaks to the originating influence of African epistemology, as seen in the works of Senghor. The point here is that given the assumption that knowledge in African epistemology is conceived in terms of its relation to what is believed about the nature of ‘what is’, the task of method in African epistemology concerns how to conceptualise such an account of knowledge This is still much of a matter for future engagements. For the much that has been said about the assumptions that drive the analysis in the chapter, it is supposed that the reader is able to engage with what follows in the remaining parts of the chapter. In lieu of this, the rest of the chapter will examine

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some concrete attempts to address what has been alluded to as inclusive of the various historical aspects of African epistemology.

African Epistemology: Past Discourse The idea of “past” here refers essentially to the beginnings of African epistemology, and not because the content of the discourse of the past of African epistemology is obsolete or no longer has connections with what the present focus is. The past is characterized by the defense of the capacity of Africans for rational thought. This was variedly actualized in the works of such as Senghor, Anyanwu, and Onyewuenyi. And so, the past discourse of African epistemology is connected to Africa’s colonial past. To be sure, the varied analyses of these champions of the African’s possession of the capacity for rationality speak to conditions of the origin of the discourse of African epistemology. Put simply, this condition is that of the subjugation of the life form and worldviews of Africans through colonization and the coloniality of knowledge. And so, in the discourse of African epistemology, aside the concern with such traditional issues as the nature of knowledge, justification, truth, rationality, and so on, such other concerns as epistemic decolonization, epistemic injustice, and epistemic de-superiorization are encountered. Viewing the history of the past of African epistemology beyond the way I have earlier conceived it, there are written texts and oral traditions that have taken to provide early sources for African epistemology (see Nkulu-N’Sengha, 2005). With respect to the early texts, the Instructions of Ptahhotep, which is thought to have been created around the twenty-fifth century B.C.E., and that of Nebmare-Nakt, in the Papyrus Lansing, believed to have been produced around the twelfth century B.C.E., are among the earliest written documents that offer some insights into the concerns of African epistemology (Nkulu-N’Sengha, 2005: 40). The Instructions of Ptahhotep, for instance, maybe so considered because, among others, it contains instructions of how the young were to live flourishing lives according to Maat. Though Maat represents the moral principle all Egyptian citizens were enjoined to adhere to, it also indicated the conceptual understanding of such as truth. In the same vein, that these texts were written with the insights of elders is another telling character of African epistemology that emphasizes the insights of elders as a source of knowledge on the basis of epistemic testimony. Aside from these early texts, subsequent works like Zera Yacob’s Hatata, the Bwino epistemology of Bantu philosophy, and the Ofamfa-Matemasie epistemology of the Akan, among others, describe the essential African path to knowing. Aside from these early texts, oral tradition is also taken to provide insight into the nature of knowledge in Africa as well as the African way of knowing (NkuluN’Sengha, 2005: 40). According to Nkulu-N’Sengha, this tradition includes a variety of “creation myths, folktales, and proverbs; the way of seeking truth in social, political, and religious institutions; the work of healers; the avenues for finding guilty parties in traditional justice systems; and the ways of solving family disputes and other social conflicts” (Nkulu-N’Sengha, 2005: 40).

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Beyond these early and latter texts, it is insightful to recall by restating that Senghor’s tests in response to the inexact description of the African as devoid of the capacity to reason is seen to provide the defined outline of African epistemology. Interesting to note is that Senghor’s characterization of African epistemology developed alongside the negritude project, which was primarily an African political emancipatory ideology intended to rebuff the racial denigration and oppression that Africans had been subjected to. This is because Senghor and his associates saw negritude as an ideology that upheld the integrity of African identity and all of the cultural ideals shared by Africans south of the Sahara. As Senghor puts it, “Negritude is simply the recognition of being Negro and the acceptance of the fact of our destiny as Negroes, of our history and our culture” (Senghor, 1971: 6). Senghor views negritude as epistemology in addition to a politically emancipatory philosophy. As an epistemology, it embodies the African viewpoint on knowledge, which is based on the awareness that knowledge is susceptible to moral assessment and that humans share existence (what is) with other existents. The ontological and ethical perspective that holds that all things in the cosmos are unified in a network of existence serves as the foundation for this understanding of negritude as an epistemology. Humans are involved in a web of relationships with other organisms, including animals, plants, inanimate objects, and even the environment, in this one, unitary perspective of “what is.” As such, there is no subject/object dichotomy in the knowing process in the epistemology that derives from negritude. This is because the knower knows by participating and communing with the known. This makes the negritude approach to knowing one of “participation and communion” (Senghor, 1961: 98). In his approach, Senghor leans toward emotion since as he supposes that this largely describes how Africans perceive the world. In contrast to widely held criticism against Senghor’s analysis regarding the role of emotion in the African’s perception of things, he can be read to go beyond an exclusive leaning on emotion in expounding on the African way of knowing by alluding to an interacting of emotion and reason in the African’s perception of the world. In this vein, Senghor contends that while the epistemological heritage of the West shows a clear preference for reason, the African perspective augments reason with passion (Senghor, 1961: 98). As such, Senghor’s analysis of the African way of knowing, which emphasizes emotion, does not exclude the use of reason in the African’s view of reality. Rather, what is evident is that Senghor wants to underscore how reason is mediated by empathy and other humane emotions. Senghor’s negritude as an epistemology can therefore be characterized as inclusive since it springs from an understanding of how reason and emotion interact when it comes to how Africans understand the world. It can, as such, be seen from the foregoing that Senghor’s proposal seeks to show the cultural and methodological distinction between the African and (Western) European systems or modes of perceptual understanding. In order to bolster Senghor’s analysis of knowledge and knowing in Africa, Innocent Onyewuenyi refers to a component of the understanding of knowledge in African epistemology. In the African context of the belief in the immaterial, this

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component addresses the undetectable/imperceptible aspect of knowledge. In this vein, Onyewuenyi asserts that a person’s level of perceived proximity to divine wisdom determines how much they are considered to know or possess knowledge. For him, one approaches deific wisdom “when one’s body becomes less fleshy, that is, the older a person becomes, the more wisdom he possesses” (Onyewuenyi, 1976: 525). Importantly, for him, deific wisdom is not to be confused with common sense. Furthermore, Onyewuenyi distinguishes between two types of human intelligence: habitual and practical intelligence. Practical intelligence, on the one hand, refers to cleverness and artfulness in engaging with the contingent and physical facets of reality, while habitual intelligence, on the other hand, is active knowledge of the nature of forces and their relationship, which includes how man, the being with intelligence, makes use of things and activates the forces asleep in such things (Onyewuenyi, 1976: 525). In support of the foregoing perspectives of knowledge, with particular reference to Senghor’s analysis of the African conception of knowledge, Anyanwu developed what has been referred to as epistemological relativity. He argues that just as people’s experiences are different, so are their conceptions and understandings of reality; evidence of this is seen in the differences between cultures. He notes that culture is a “human response to experience as well as the beliefs and ideas which enable human beings to live meaningful lives” (Anyanwu, 1984: 82). As such, for Anyanwu, it is difficult to look for the one undeniable conception about the meaning of life, truth, and knowledge in any one culture, as a result of the plurality of cultures and diverse analyses of human experience. Rather, the history of culture shows that human experience can be understood in different ways in terms of different principles or standards of interpretation (Anyanwu, 1983: 104). For Anyanwu, then, everything that stems from culture is relative. In this sense, philosophy, which is developed from culture, is relative just like culture. The theories of knowledge and about knowing would differ as a result, since ways of knowing, for instance, are the by-products of culture, and culture differs from place to place and from epoch to epoch. In fact, Anyanwu’s assertion raised, among others, the notion that every civilization has its own philosophy as well as that cultures with similar characteristics tend to have similar philosophies. As a result, since African culture is distinct from other cultures, so too is African epistemology distinct from the epistemology from other cultural traditions. One justification for this is that the presumptions upon which the various epistemological traditions are founded exhibit major conceptual, logical, and methodological differences. Furthermore, and similar to Senghor, Anyanwu argues that there are differences between African and Western conceptions of knowledge that should allow us speak about various modes of knowing. According to him, the African heritage favours a combination of experience and intuition in attaining knowledge, whereas the Western perspective, particularly the Anglo-Saxon tradition, favours the analytic approach. He takes it that both are central to the bias for intuitive knowledge in traditional Africa. One reason that may be offered for why Anyanwu supposes that

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the African perspective favours intuitive knowledge is that it (intuitive method) offers immediacy and has a natural predisposition toward concreteness, both of which the analytical approach lacks (Anyanwu, 1983: 103). The intuitive (or native) method affords the knower a direct connection and the genuine sensation of the known because the knower shares in the being of the known. This, for Anyanwu, improves the African’s grasp of the outside world and of life in general. Additionally, it directs the knower and keeps her from interfering negatively with the rest of nature. Having mentioned some of the first insights into the nature and concerns of African epistemology, attention would be turned to examining the focus of African epistemology in the present. Before doing this, however, some space would be spared for what was earlier described as the discourse of African epistemology at the interface of the past and present in relation to African epistemology. An issue to be examined in this vein is the question about the existence of a unique mode of knowing, considered to be superior to that of the West and available to only Africans. By definition, the question is whether there is an exclusively African method of knowing. In response, there is a disagreement between those who assert that there is an exclusively African mode of knowing, which is superior to that of the West and available only to Africans, and detractors of this claim, who contend that this mode of knowing does not exist because what is claimed to be the distinctively African mode of knowing is merely a copying of what is taken to be the case in Western philosophy. Early proponents of the existence of a distinct African mode of knowing (including Senghor, 1964; Onyewuenyi, 1978; Anyanwu, 1983) essentially argue that an African mode of knowing exists that can be identified by the monism of interaction between the subject and the object of knowledge in African belief systems as opposed to the dualism of both in Western epistemology. For clarity, the detractors who rebut the claim of a unique African mode of knowing are in two categories: an initial response championed by Kolawole Olu-Owolabi (1993) and a more recent response led by Felix A. Airoboman and Anthony A. Asekhauno (2012). In brief, whereas Olu-Owolabi (1993)) refers to early assertions of an exclusive African mode of knowing made by Leopold S. Senghor (1964) and upheld by Onyewuenyi (1978) and Anyanwu (1983) as a myth, Airoboman and Asekhauno (2012) challenged the existence of African epistemology as conceived in the works of both early and later proponents, including Andrew Uduigwomen (1995). In both criticisms, the core of the charges is that current African epistemological descriptions and conceptions of knowledge are copies of Western epistemology. It is pertinent to state here that the debate over the existence of a unique African mode of knowing is considered to present an epistemic interfaceof the past and present because the question sorts of echoes the concerns in the past and present of African epistemology as they have been conceived. As regards the past, the responses to the claim of the existence of a unique African mode of knowing that describes it as a myth and a reproduction of Western conception of the process of acquiring knowledge echoes colonial denials of the capacity for rationality by the African. In the same vein, claims to the existence of a unique African mode of knowing, which emerges in response to incorrect colonial assertions about the

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capacity for rationality by the African, are attempts to construe instances of what African epistemology is. And this indicates the concern of African epistemology in the present. Having said a bit about the interface of the past and present in relation to African epistemology, let us now turn to examine some contents of the “present” of African epistemology.

African Epistemology: Present Focus The “present” of African epistemology is characterized by the attempt to examine constituent aspects of African epistemology. In effect, it includes reflections on how the discipline is conceived in terms of its nature, knowledge, justification, and sources of knowledge. It also includes debates about these topics. To be sure, these topics have been examined from the empirical/contextual perspective and the theoretical/abstract approach. In terms of its nature, African epistemology as a discourse of knowledge is taken to proceed from an emphasis on the relation of knowledge to being (what is) (Ikhane, 2018; Jimoh, 2017; Kaphagawani & Malherbe, 1998; Mawere, 2011). In a rather disparaging conception of its nature, Kwasi Wiredu describes African epistemology as epistemically authoritarian. When it comes to demonstrating how authoritarianism played a significant role in African traditions, Kwasi Wiredu and Kwame Anthony Appiah have been at the forefront. They hope to demonstrate how many of Africa’s traditional beliefs – which serve as the foundation for knowledge claims, practices, and ways of life – are not held on the basis of sufficient evidence but on the authority of elders, who are revered as source-authorities of knowledge. For instance, in describing the African way of knowing as authoritarian in his classic, Philosophy and an African Culture, Wiredu, while noting that no orderly society is possible without some sort of constituted authority which can override a refractory individual will, adds that authoritarianism refers to “the unjustified overriding of an individual’s will . . . [to the extent that] 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, 1980: 2). In the light of this, Wiredu’s analysis suggests that epistemic authoritarianism refers to the imposition of a position on knowledge about what is real, the truth, and so forth that society persuades or induces its members to hold without question to the point where it unjustifiably supersedes the individual’s preferences to do otherwise. The point here is that the groveling deference that is shown to tradition and elders may, in some cases, suggest a dogmatic, unthinking acceptance of their authorities, as well as their rules and ideologies. Didier Kaphagawani holds a comparable opinion. He argues that while this kind of authoritarianism may be necessary for African communalism, it is epistemically harmful (Kaphagawani, 1988). He contends that in African cultures, elders were revered as the ultimate arbiters of all traditional ideas and knowledge. Elders were given a great deal of power and authority, and they held a position where their dictates and will are accepted as representing both the community’s and the supernatural deities’ wills (Kaphagawani, 1988: 9–10).

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Polycarp Ikuenobe (2006) has, however, objected to these readings of African (traditional) epistemic attitude as being authoritarian. Although African traditions supported authoritarianism, he argues that this authoritarianism is objectively justifiable. He makes a distinction between irrational and rational authoritarianism and claims that critics like Wiredu, Appiah, and Kaphagawani erred by failing to recognize the rational version of authoritarianism. He asserts that the concept of epistemic defense and the social, contextual, and pragmatic aspects of knowledge and justification constitute the foundation of the rational form of authoritarianism. As such, epistemic or logical authoritarianism is neither harmful nor pernicious in African civilizations. Ikuenobe continues by saying that the main reason why the ideals, principles, and practices of traditions were not questioned in traditional Africa was that, apparently, Africans did not feel the need to question their beliefs, particularly the fundamental beliefs that accorded their traditions and elders the status of epistemic authority. Additionally, they did not query these ideals and beliefs because of the community’s epistemic norms, procedures, and supporting data, which funds the notion that their justification and inquiry were communal, social, intersubjective, and contextual in nature (Ikuenobe, 2006: 209). In a similar spirit, Helen Lauer (2003) argues that the authoritarian mindset purported to be associated with African epistemology is not unique to African traditional societies or traditional civilizations in general. Rather, it is characteristic of individuals’ daily lives, even in modern society. According to Lauer, it is widely acknowledged that certain aspects of traditional upbringing prevent people and groups from developing their own values and achieving their own set objectives. For instance, it is well known that in many traditional societies, individuals and groups often had their capacity to freely express themselves restricted; this was also the case with independent thought and curiosity (Lauer, 2003: 18–19). In all, it is expedient to say that the charge of epistemic authoritarianism on African epistemology sort of misses the point of how knowledge is arrived at, particularly through the testimony of others. In effect, then, it can be taken that elderhood and tradition pass for evidential testimony as the ground on which the counsel elders give and the dictates of tradition rests, respectively. As regards sources of knowledge, Nkulu-N’Sengha states that African epistemology includes four fundamental modes of knowing that may be divided into three groups: the supernatural, the natural, and the extrasensory. For him, the supernatural path to knowledge refers to how humans can acquire knowledge with the aid of paranormal abilities. This cognitive pathway also incorporates revelation and divination. These are distinguished by the involvement of supernatural beings, such as ghosts, ancestors, deceased family members, gods, and goddesses, who either directly share knowledge with humans through dreams and/or visions or indirectly do so through mediums, diviners, animals, unusual life events, or natural phenomena that call for a particular kind of interpretation. The natural cognitive mode is another route to knowledge. According to him, persons acquire knowledge by making use of their innate qualities or skills. A natural inquiry of reality using the human capacity for logical thought processes is what characterizes intuition, which combines the activity of the human heart (i.e., feeling and insight), and reason, as a natural skill or

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ability. In forming beliefs, however, there are assumptions that inform what things are usually accepted as rational. In this vein, the term “African rationality” is understood to imply particular characteristic assumptions that are not part of non-African understandings of what makes a thing rational. It is on the basis of such assumptions that a thing (event, practice, and belief) is taken to be worthy of rational acceptation. Yet another mode of acquiring knowledge in Africa is through extrasensory perception (ESP), which includes modalities such as clairvoyance and telepathy and stands between the two poles of the natural and supernatural ways of knowing in African epistemology (see Nkulu-N’Sengha, 2005: 40–41). In terms of the discourse of epistemic justification in African epistemology, two major theories can be distinguished, according to Adebayo O. Ogungbure (2014). These are the externalist and internalist theories of justification (see Ogungbure, 2014). While Aigbodioh (1997), Jimoh (1999), Njoku (2000), and Udefi (2009), among others, have advanced the externalist idea of justification, internalists on justification in relation to African epistemology include Ogungbure (2014). Externalists contend that an epistemic agent does not always need to have access to the basis for her knowledge claims in order for such claims to be justified, whereas internalists generally hold that an epistemic agent does need to have access to the basis for her knowledge claims in order for them to be justified. In his critique of the externalist view of epistemic justification in African epistemology, Adebayo Ogungbure claims that they take the metaphysical approach to knowledge in African philosophy for granted. This is on the basis that they suppose that human cognition may either be explained from the contextualist or neo-positivist viewpoints (Ogungbure, 2014: 42). While the contextualist viewpoint of externalist justification maintains that knowledge claims are situated within social contexts and that knowledge, truth, and rational certainty should not be thought of in non-concrete terms, the neo-positivist perspective claims that knowledge is fundamentally dependent on empirical facts. The difficulty with the externalist orientation of justification in African epistemology, in Ogungbure’s opinion, is that it, among other things, fails to take into account aspects of the African worldview expressed in oral traditions and existential relationships and, as a result, does not provide a complete picture of how Africans generally perceive reality (Ogungbure, 2014: 43). For Ogungbure, who advocates the internalist approach, all that is required to support a knowledge claim is proof that the subject who asserts to know has cognitive access to this belief and that the factors supporting this belief are situated within the subject’s cognition (Ogungbure, 2014: 43). Using the Yoruba belief system to support his claims regarding internalism in African epistemology, he points out that although the Yorubas do not adhere to any positivist criteria for justification, they strongly hold the beliefs in the afterlife and that one’s success or failure in life has a lot to do with one’s destiny, both of which are drawn from Olodumare. Because these ideas are tied to their cultural roots, people rarely question their exactitude, even though the motivations behind them frequently have a religious bent. For Ogungbure, the basis for considering such beliefs as constituting knowledge is consistent with the internalist justification standard, which states that an epistemic agent must have some justifiable

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grounds for considering his or her beliefs to be true and thereby constitute knowledge and that such knowledge (acquired through intuition or reflection) must be cognitively accessible to the knower. He contends that because the Yoruba lack the status of first-hand empirical verification, it would be useless to try to persuade them to embrace the neo-positivist position that such beliefs are not knowledge. Thus, for him, knowledge, for the Yoruba (and other similar African cultures), cannot be limited to the physical world; it transcends the physical world to include the comprehension of nonphysical reality. He corroborates this view by drawing on Washington’s claim that “in traditional African worldview one’s vision is not necessarily limited to the range of one’s physical eyesight. Human beings can be endowed with spiritual vision. What the Yoruba refer to as ori-inu (inner eyes) and what others call the third eye is the source of spiritual vision” (Washington 2010: 6).

African Epistemology: Future Concerns The future concern of African epistemology refers to fundamental aspects of the discipline that require further and extensive philosophical reflections. This is because such fundamental aspects concern key issues that are germane to (an) epistemology. Among such issues include concerns about how knowledge is conceptualized, the limit and scope of knowledge, how knowledge is justified (or a theory of epistemic justification in relation to how knowledge is conceptualized in African epistemology), the question of method, and the sources of knowledge. Though nearly all of these aspects have received substantial attention in the discourse of African epistemology as can be seen from earlier parts of this chapter, there are others that require further reflections as a result of the place they hold in terms of expounding the discipline of African epistemology. One such area is an account of knowledge; another is the question of method. To be sure, the task of theorizing an account of knowledge and addressing the question of method in African epistemology are linked. Put differently, in the bid to address the question of method, which concerns the task of what approach to employ in investigating the nature of knowledge, some assumption(s) regarding what construal of knowledge typically depicts how African epistemology is conceived is implied. This is further grounded on the assumption that African epistemology, by character, is a variant of culture philosophy, where the specifics of a culture are drawn upon to conceptualize a philosophy, thus giving grounds for talking about how such distinct philosophies should be conceptualized. As such, though the question of what method to capture the lived reality of how knowledge has been examined, it is expedient to further explore the pertinent issues that question of method raises. Taken as such, it is pertinent to both examine the question of method for doing African epistemology and the nature of knowledge with the intent to advance an account of knowledge that, perhaps, builds on the understanding that African epistemology is a variant of culture philosophy. With the foregoing noted, let us, however, briefly highlight some of what has been so far said about the question of method in relation to African epistemology.

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To begin, the discussion over the issue of method in African epistemology has begun to elicit new critical insights in recent writings. Though it was initially examined by K. C. Anyanwu, it has begun to receive attention from more recent writers such as Peter Ikhane (2018) and Paul Irikefe (2021). For Anyanwu, an appropriate method for African epistemology requires us to think and write in ways that do not reproduce the subjugation of African cultural worldviews to the assumptions, concepts, theories, and worldview suggested by Western culture and developed by Western thinkers (Anyanwu, 1984: 77). This subjugation, to be sure, involves employing Western conceptual scheme in presenting African epistemology. The key idea here is that Western epistemic categories and conceptions are somehow imposed on Africa when they are employed to describe and interpret African reality. Additionally, an epistemology produced in this manner is alien to the perspective of African culture. Anyanwu believes that in order to arrive at knowledge from an African perspective, African epistemology should be the explanation and interpretation of reality using concepts, conceptual frameworks, and epistemic categories developed within and from the African experience. In his stead, Irikheife contends that the method of wide reflective equilibrium holds more promise than the two currently dominant approaches, namely the method of ethno-epistemology and the method of particularistic studies. What appears to drive Irikheife’s analysis is his allusion to what he refers to as contemporary African epistemology. In this vein, Irikheife argues that the method of wide reflective equilibrium articulates a healthy balance between philosophy and culture, a balance that is missing in the other existing methods of ethno-epistemology and pluralistic studies. He favors the wide reflective equilibrium technique because it provides a theory of knowing with a variety of normative sources. This is in contrast to Ikhane, who advocates for a method that is essentially retrieval when discussing the question of method for doing African epistemology. For him, the retrieval method (which is based on similar premises as that of the method of ethno-epistemology) entails the presentation of indigenous Africans’ belief systems and cultural practices through critical dialogue and conversation. This is on the basis that Ikhane assumes that the retrieval method is to elucidate the patterns of epistemic reasoning and logic that underlie African belief systems and practices. In this sense, he asserts that underpinning native African cultural practices and belief systems are presumptions and assertions about knowing and what it is to know, which pass for philosophy when viewed as a critical and reflective discipline. Aside from the issues of the question of method and an account of knowledge in African epistemology, another issue of future interest is the question of how African epistemology fits in the larger/global discourse of a normative understanding of knowledge. Emmanuel Ani (2013) has provided some insights as to how this may be reflected upon. He notes that despite the limits of traditional scientific epistemology, indigenous knowledge systems continue to have a tremendous impact on the lives of local people. He asserts that African knowledge systems continue to have a significant impact on the lives, behaviours, and thought processes of people of African heritage. He goes on to say that the results of the investigation of African indigenous systems merit consideration in the current educational system and epistemological

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discourses. As a result, Ani believes that any attempt to see knowledge solely through the prism of Western-oriented epistemology is a “procrustean reductionism” (see Ani, 2013). He, however, worries that though various indigenous knowledge systems have assisted people and cultural groups in making sense of their daily lives, these have mostly not featured as part of the discourse of mainstream epistemology. In response, one reason that may, perhaps, be adduced for this is that much of what is presented as African epistemology is descriptive rather than prescriptive. Though Ani’s response seems to be his call for the decolonization of the continent through the transformation of Africans’ mindsets in light of the global context of the discourse of knowledge in epistemology, his call may serve to only halt the tactics of deploying Western concepts, notions, and models to theorize Africa, a practice which has continued to prevent the developmental of concepts, notions, and frameworks that reflect the African experience. If this is the case, an all-important future task is to go beyond decolonizing (African) epistemology to positing African epistemology as a normative discourse.

Concluding Remarks In making these concluding remarks, it may be appropriate to reiterate that African epistemology is a systematic articulation of the African cultural worldview that relates to the subject matter of knowledge. It is the explanation of how Africans cognitively apprehend reality and interpret their lived experiences in ways that are consistent with the broad characterization of epistemology as the discourse of the nature of human knowledge, its sources, limits, and the problems that emanate from the process of knowing. In a similar vein, it is important to recall that two fundamental assumptions regarding “Africa” are central to what was presented as African epistemology: (i) that “Africa” as conceived in “African epistemology” represents what was/is autochthonous (indigenous) to Africa and (ii) that beyond the different and varied perceptions and worldviews of Africans, it is valid to talk of “an African” in the context of African epistemology. In beginning this chapter by examining the debate over the existence of African epistemology, to reviewing questions pose about the nature and character of African epistemology, to examining concerns that have to do with how knowledge is acquired and how it is justified, it can be stated that the extant discourse in African epistemology may be seen to come under two broad headings: (i) discourse about the legitimacy of African epistemology and (ii) discourse regarding aspects of African epistemology as consistent with the broader characterization of the discipline of epistemology. While the former has been the dominant focus in African epistemology, it was noted that the latter has also found some space in the writings of African scholars. What becomes evident as the overarching questions that have guided past discourses on African epistemology include whether African epistemology exists, and if it exists, what is its nature and character. In brief, this could be stated as the question of the rationale for African epistemology. In highlighting what constitutes the present concern of the discourse of African epistemology, the chapter identified

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the growing literature around topics such as the nature, sources, and justification, of knowledge in relation to African epistemology. It also emphasized the discourse of method in relation to African epistemology. With respect to these, it was noted that there are writings that are context-focused, while others are concept-focused. In turning to the future of African epistemology, a central issue raised concerned the need for scholars on African epistemology to begin to engage the question of the place of African epistemology in the global discourse of knowledge in epistemology. A key challenge noted in this regard is that the discourse is still quite context-focused, as the explication of cultural beliefs and practices in the bid to denote the nature and character of African epistemology remains the dominant approach. This, to a significant extent, makes the discourse more descriptive than prescriptive. The challenge here is that epistemology, for the most part, is a normative discipline as it reflects on, say, how knowledge ought to be conceived rather than on how knowledge is conceived. But most works in African epistemology have presented it in the light of the latter. This, as it appears, represents a challenge that scholars of the discipline need to engage with so as to situate the discipline in the global context of epistemology. To be sure, this goes beyond analyses of the decolonial turn in philosophy with particular reference to calls to decolonize the curriculum by, perhaps, expanding it to include the discourse of knowledge from other non-Western traditions. In some regard, it requires presenting African epistemology as capable of elucidating some of the challenges, questions and debates that the mainstream conception of epistemology has grappled with.

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Knowledge and Testimony in African Communitarian Epistemology Anselm Kole Jimoh

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Idea of an African Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Idea of a Communitarian Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Meaning and Nature of African Communitarian Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Knowledge in African Communitarian Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Testimony, Oral Tradition, and Knowledge Acquisition in ACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter is a critical analysis of knowledge and testimony in African communitarian epistemology (ACE). The aim is to explicate the meaning and nature of knowledge and argue that the testimony of elders is a genuine source of knowledge and justification in ACE. The African knowledge system is grounded on African ontology. ACE is the study of the indigenous ways of knowing representative of the sub-Sahara African. It studies the specific ways and means by which Africans arrive at, and justify their understanding of reality. Essentially, it is a social and communitarian epistemological system in which the community is the primary bearer and justifier of knowledge. To this end, it emphasizes the socio-cultural factors in knowledge practice, which makes it different from the traditional western individualistic epistemological system. In its context as a communitarian epistemic system, testimony as indicative say-so is considered a basic source of knowledge and justification. This chapter begins by establishing the legitimacy of African epistemology as a genuine indigenous field of epistemic inquiry. Thereafter, it addresses pertinent issues like, what constitutes knowledge A. K. Jimoh (*) Department of Philosophy, SS. Peter and Paul Major Seminary, Ibadan, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_15

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for the African and how the African distinguishes between knowledge and belief. Also, it discusses emerging themes, like the nature of knowledge, the sources and transmission of knowledge. Keywords

African · African communitarian epistemology · Knowledge · Indigenous · Testimony

Introduction The idea of a communitarian epistemology that is specifically African is predicated on the ontological communalism that is characteristic of sub-Sahara Africa. It explores indigenous ways of knowing that are particular to the traditional African of the sub-Sahara, whose primary thrust is the specific ways and means by which Africans arrive at, and justify their understanding of reality. This chapter explicates knowledge in African Communitarian Epistemology (ACE), and argues that testimony is a generative source of knowledge and justification in ACE. As a source of knowledge, testimony is the intentional exchange of information between the testifier and the receiver that generates knowledge for the latter. It is a form of communication wherein beliefs are acquired, justified, retained, and transmitted. The chapter emphasizes the idea of a communitarian epistemology that is not exclusive to African indigenous ways of knowing, some works in Western social epistemology have also posited the idea. What this chapter is about to do, however, is to explain what is peculiar in the way communitarianism applies to African epistemology. That is, what makes ACE different from how Western social epistemology conceives epistemic communitarianism. To this end, the chapter employs the phenomenological, hermeneutic, and dialectical methods to discuss: (i) issues about the suitability of the phrase, African epistemology, to describe inquiries on African epistemic practices. (ii) It presents a critical analysis of ACE, investigates what constitutes knowledge for the African, and how the African distinguishes between knowledge and mere collective belief. And (iii) it discusses emerging themes in African epistemology, like the nature of knowledge, the sources and transmission of knowledge.

The Idea of an African Epistemology Until recently, much of the theorization in African epistemology has been on how to legitimize it as a genuine and credible field of inquiry (Chemhuru, 2019: 2). The crucial question has been whether we can rightly talk about an indigenous African knowledge system, which implies a distinctive African epistemic identity. Some scholars situate the problem within the context of Africa’s colonial legacy, which

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confronts African philosophy with the task of establishing a unique order of knowledge that is both African and philosophical (Higgs, 2010: 2414). Thus, researchers in the field focus on how to establish specific ways of knowing as distinctively African, and which differ from the Western system of knowledge which presents itself as universal. The question about the appropriateness of the term ‘African epistemology’ to designate African epistemic practices is associated with one of the earliest debates in African philosophy, namely, whether there is African philosophy or not? Even though the question whether there is African philosophy can still be raised, it is not much worry to many African philosophers today because it seems to have lost plausible justification. Instead, African philosophers have developed, and are still developing the literature on African philosophy, addressing various issues of importance in the African space. One of such issues is the question about the distinctive character of African philosophy that makes it different from other philosophical traditions. In other words, what constitutes the Africanness or ‘African’ in African philosophy? Jack Aigbodioh rhetorically reformulates this question when he asked, “but how would one expect an African philosophy to be patterned on western model and still retain its distinctive character of being African?” (2004: 76). What he implies is that if we are to understand the Africanness of African philosophy, we need to first understand what it means to be African. Philip Higgs’ “Towards an Indigenous African Epistemology of Community in Education Research” (2010) delineates the debate on the notion of Africanness as swinging between the geographical criterion and the cultural criterion. The likes of Valentin-Yves Mudimbe and Paulin Hountondji adopt the geographical criterion to define the African in African Philosophy as the intellectual product, produced or promoted, by Africans (see Higgs, 2010: 2415). Such an understanding is superficial and lacking in ontological depth because it limits Africanness to the person, and not the content of the work in question. To accept this criterion means that a non-African cannot do African philosophy, simply by the very fact that the non-African is not a native or indigenous African. Aware that the notion of indigenous is contentious, its use in this essay is clarified below. If this is applied to Western philosophy, it means too that Africans cannot do Western philosophy because they are not Europeans or Americans. The cultural criterion, on the other hand, is the view that the ‘African’ in African philosophy refers to philosophical postulations that are theoretically and culturally predicated on an African ontological worldview. This view is premised on the claims of scholars like Kwame Gyekye who argues that “philosophy is a cultural phenomenon in that philosophical thought is grounded in cultural experience” (1987: 72). For Ikechuchwu Kanu, every culture contributes to the universal themes of philosophy from its own experience. “Each culture traces the unity of these [universal] themes, synthesizes and organizes them into a totality, based on each culture’s concept of life, namely, the relationships between objects and persons and between persons and person themselves” (2012: 53). Kanu’s claim implies that the contributions of cultures to the process of philosophizing provide the particularization element in philosophy, which allows a philosophy to be described as European,

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Indian, Chinese, or African. Consequently, he argues that the Africanity of African philosophy consists of what provides the ingredients that define it as African, namely the culture within which it is done. Suppose that the cultural criterion resolves the limitation of the geographical criterion, does it, by itself alone define Africanness? According to Maurice Makumba, the cultural criterion alone does not suffice in the definition of the Africanness or Africanity of African philosophy (2007: 35). In addition to this criterion, the person doing philosophy is also very important. While the African culture speaks to the problems and situations that African philosophy must address, the person doing the philosophy must either be African by birth – living within Africa or in the diaspora, or a non-African who is living in Africa and/or involved in the life and culture of Africans. Therefore, the Africanness of African philosophy is to be defined by geography, culture, history, and sociological factors (Makumba, 2007: 34–35). Higgs supports this view with the argument that the cultural criterion alone does not define Africanness, he thinks that it is not an either/or between the geographical and cultural criterion, but that a combination of both criteria provides the fundamentals of being African (2010: 2415). Based on the foregoing analysis, Aigbodioh’s claim that African philosophy belongs to, and is possessed or owned by Africans because it pertains to Africans and the African continent (2004: 77) is plausible. So, we can argue that African philosophy is different from other philosophies, like Western or Eastern philosophy, insofar as it is not modeled after the philosophical traditions of the West or the East. The criticism against the existence of African philosophy may be summarized thusly: (i) Traditional African cultures are predominantly oral traditions that lack written documentation and therefore cannot be philosophical. (ii) Traditional African philosophical thought is associated with folk wisdom/ sagacity and therefore lacks the criticality and rigor of inquiry associated with philosophy. (iii) Philosophical concerns are universal and cannot be specific or particularized to a culture or location (Brown, 2004: v). (iv) This triumvirate of criticism implies that African philosophy lacks the scientific appeal of authentic academic inquiry to qualify it as philosophy. The plausibility of this view has been refuted by African philosophers. Lee Brown, for instance, argues that just as other philosophical traditions are tied to locations and populations, African philosophy is also a reflection of the philosophical concerns exhibited in African conceptual languages. According to him, “African cultures were concerned with epistemological and metaphysical issues before the infusion of Judaic, Islamic, and Christian religious perspectives and before being influenced by Greek and Western ideologies in wider ways” (2004: vi). Chukwudum Okolo who argues in the same vein as Brown asserts that the African philosopher is a critic who is practically engaged with the problems of

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everyday experience of being-in-the-African-world. He describes the activity of the African philosopher as a critical and evaluative inquiry about the information and beliefs of common experience, everyday views, myths, stories, folklores, etc. about the African world. In this way, African philosophy develops a “general, systematic, coherent and consistent picture of all that the African knows, hopes, or thinks about his world, his role and prospects in it” (2004: 93). In a response to Hountondji (1967) that ethno-philosophy cannot be called philosophy because it is not written, Kanu argues that Hountondji’s criticism is not sustainable because first of all, “[p]hilosophy is not philosophy because it has been written down; it is philosophy because it is first an idea. [Secondly] [w]riting is not the only way of transmitting information, oral tradition is one” (2014: 67). Kanu sustains his argument further by leveraging on J. Jahn’s position that, the African did not need an alphabet to convey information; instead they developed the drum language, which is superior to writing for that purpose. It is quicker than any mounted messenger and it can convey its message to a greater number of people at one time than telegraph or telephone (1958: 187).

In addition, Kanu claims that writing is primarily to communicate, and when it comes to communicating ideas, the spoken “word is more powerful, permanent and mightier in Africa than any writing that can be lost” (2014: 67). This should not be interpreted to imply that oral tradition is better than written documentation, rather, the thrust here is on the fact that “African philosophy expressed in oral culture is philosophy” (Kanu, 2014: 67). According to Kanu, the era of oral tradition is a stage of development in the history of African philosophy, which in modern times has given way to the written tradition which might provide better opportunities in the transmission and preservation of philosophical ideas, but does not impact the quality of philosophical ideas per se. If Aigbodioh, Brown, Okolo, and Kanu are correct, we can justifiedly infer that although philosophy and philosophizing are universal, the methodology and perspectives of approach are contextualized. Therefore, we can talk about Western philosophy, Eastern, Asian or Oriental philosophy, and African philosophy. It is reasonable then to opine that the debate on whether there is or there should be African philosophy, and the initial question about its proper definition can be put to rest. What this implies is that the appropriateness of African epistemology to describe inquiries on indigenous ways of knowing in Africa, which is a branch of African philosophy, is no longer contentious. The fact that knowledge, truth, and rationality are universal concepts means that they are not the prerogative of any culture. The meaningfulness of these concepts is premised on the linguistic-cultural schemes and the ontology of the individual. Hence, Brown argues that, Philosophy begins with experience, and at some point, our experiences and emergent concepts become influenced by our dispositions and by our beliefs about what is real, what is necessary, what is possible, and what is true. Our conceptual language provides

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the format that structures how and what we come to understand as real, as necessary, as possible, and as true (2004: 5).

This view had earlier been expressed by Kwasi Wiredu who argued that each culture has a right to conceive the world within the framework of its own categories (1980: 60). Kwame Gyekye agrees with Wiredu by arguing that human rationality is essentially a cultural reflection of people’s experiences and background (1987: 25). Gyekye does not mean that knowledge or truth means different things in different cultures, but that the way each culture derives knowledge and the truths of reality may, and does differ. Every culture can develop its own intellectual framework within which it understands and grasps the meaning and truths of reality. If Wiredu, Gyekye, and Brown are correct, as it is assumed in this essay, we are justified to talk about African epistemology as a distinctive African epistemic system in which the African uses her African categories and concepts, provided by her African cultural experience, to understand and interpret knowledge, truth, and rationality. Therefore, there is nothing inappropriate with using the title, African epistemology, to describe the inquiry into the epistemic practices among indigenous Africans. African epistemology is an indigenous way of knowing that is social and communitarian in character. Even though the notion of ‘indigenous’ is slightly slippery, and more so in reference to Africa because it is a continent that consists of several indigenous people, with varied cultures, and without a common ancestry, it is nonetheless, hardly contestable that ‘indigenous’ denotes natural belongingness. Anwar Osman aptly describes it as referring to “a specific group of people occupying a certain geographical area for many generations” (2009: 1.1). These people are distinguished from others by the same factors that constitute their epistemic practice, namely their linguistic schemes, belief systems and means of livelihood. Thus, we can understand that African epistemology as an indigenous way of knowing refers to “the totality of that which is meaningful, which provides the rational basis that undergirds the life of the natives of a particular place” (Jimoh, 2018: 8). In an earlier essay, Amaechi Udefi described African epistemology as the idea that knowledge and its related concepts can be interpreted using African categories and concepts, outside conceptual frameworks foreign to the African worldview (2014: 108). This makes African epistemology an abstraction of the collective worldview of Africans as embedded in African myths, folklores, proverbs, folk wisdom, etc. Udefi’s description of African epistemology is a cautious attempt to be faithful to the historical trajectory in the development of inquiry into African epistemic practice. He divides the discourse into two phases: (i) the early beginnings and (ii) later attempts. According to him, the early beginnings were dominated by theologians and poets. These include scholars like, Placide Tempels (1959), Bolaji Idowu William Abraham, J. B. Danquah, John Mbiti, and others, who argue that African epistemology is an upshot of African ontology. They tried to refute the dominant ideology of the colonial master that “ascribe[s] a pre-logical mental frame to the Africans and other non-Western peoples during the hay day of colonialism” (Udefi, 2014: 108). In

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trying to establish that prior to the advent of Europeans in the continent, Africans had an idea of God, they invariably insinuate that Africans have the mental capacity to understand and interpret reality in a logical fashion, and thus, tried to establish that. The latter, on the other hand, is characterized by two dominant approaches. The first approach consists of scholars like Robin Horton, Anthony Appiah, Kwasi Wiredu, J. T. Bedo-Addo, Barry Hallen and J. O. Sodipo, and others. They interpreted the African experience using Western concepts and categories, they sorted and grafted African equivalents of Western concepts into the African experience. Based on this, they argue that Africans are capable of vigorous, critical, and rational thought. In other words, they adopted the African culture, concepts, and categories to delineate the African epistemic system. This second approach is further bifurcated into the traditionalist and universalist perspectives. The traditionalists argue that there is an African mindset, which is uniquely different from the Western mindset, and therefore, that there is a way of knowing that is uniquely African. On the other hand, the universalists passively deny African epistemology with the argument that philosophy as a rational and critical inquiry cannot be particularized to a cultural environment (Udefi, 2014: 110). After trying to present a specimen of Igbo epistemology using the methodology of the traditionalist, Udefi claims that African epistemology is not unique but universal “since there is no radical difference between knowledge apprehension and epistemological canons across-cultures [sic!]” (2014: 116). Udefi’s claim that African epistemology is not unique contradicts his use of the traditionalist approach, which advocates a unique African epistemic system, to present a specimen of Igbo epistemology. Even though we may consider Udefi’s effort, a lucid articulation of the historical trajectory in the development of the discourse on African epistemology, his conclusion that African epistemology is not a unique epistemic system is unacceptable. The idea of ‘unique’ here should not be misconstrued for ‘superior’ or ‘the valid’ standard for epistemic appraisal. To do so would be to essentialize African epistemology, which would be the same as falling into the error of universalizing Western epistemic system. On the contrary, the idea of a unique African epistemological system would “liberate African indigenous epistemology from the subsuming methodologies of foreign systems of knowledge that tend to monopolize and dictate models of inquiry. Specifically, it is orientating African minds to understand and appreciate their indigenous knowledge practice by decolonising them from Western objectifications and universalisation” (Jimoh, 2018: 20). African epistemology, understood in this way, is indigenous, social, and communitarian. It theorizes a cultural and situated notion of knowledge, firmly grounded on the African ontological notion of a continuum (Jimoh, 2018: 14). It is important to note that the idea of a communitarian epistemology is not entirely particular to African knowledge system. Developments in contemporary social Western epistemology indicate that some Western scholars advocate the notion of communitarianism in epistemology, although in a sense different from ACE. For instance, the project of Martin Kusch on Knowledge by Agreement: The Program of Communitarian Epistemology (2002).

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The Idea of a Communitarian Epistemology Kusch employed the idea of a communitarian epistemology as a way of understanding epistemic practices from a particular perspective, he did not intend as a system of knowledge. For him, it designates any epistemology that is committed to two claims: (i) That knowledge and its cognates like, ‘know’ and ‘knower’ mark a social status granted by communities. This implies that knowledge depends on the existing community that grants it. For a community to grant knowledge means that the knower knows because the community says so. (ii) That the social status of knowledge is typically granted to, or attributed to groups of people and not individuals. The emphasis on ‘typically’ is to indicate that it is not ‘always so’ but applies only to representative and central cases of knowledge (Kusch, 2002: 1–3). In this sense, communitarian epistemology as a socialized orientation of knowledge is in contrast to the Western individualistic conception of knowledge, where the individual is the primary possessor of knowledge. Kusch’s idea of communitarian epistemology differs from the mainstream notion of social epistemology. According to him, social epistemology refers to two different programs: (i) science policy program, and (ii) complementary program. While (i) is a change agenda that seeks to make “science more democratic and accountable to the public,” (ii) is an attempt “to remedy the shortcomings of traditional individualistic epistemology,” like the distinction between the individual and social aspects of knowledge (Kusch, 2002: 2). Although communitarian epistemology shares the science policy program idea that epistemology and politics are closely connected, like mainstream social epistemology, it is aimed at understanding and not changing epistemic communities. Hence, an understanding of the epistemic community is a prerequisite to understanding knowledge in communitarian epistemology. Contrary to the complementary program, communitarian epistemology is a more radical view that traditional epistemology neglects the social aspects of knowledge, and that there is no individual isolated knower (Kusch, 2002: 2–3). The primary motive of Kusch’s project is “to show that individualistic (and otherwise ‘anticommunitarian’) views are incoherent and fail by their own standards; that they have unwanted consequences; that they contradict our everyday experience; or that they cannot be made out to cohere with other well-entrenched views” (Kusch, 2002: 4). The emphasis of Kusch is that it is mistaken for traditional and contemporary individualistic epistemology to assume that “a stylized picture of certain epistemic contexts” can pass for a general epistemological account (Henderson, 2003). This mistake does not enable us to understand alternative epistemic contexts. Epistemic context is the framework in which an information is considered to be true or factual, where ‘factual’ implies that a belief is supported with some degree of certainty, for example, concrete shreds of evidence that justify the belief in the understanding of the knower. Therefore, an epistemic context is an alternative to another when the conditions by which it grants knowledge status to a belief are different from the conditions by which the other grants knowledge status to a belief. Since the context within which an empirical belief is granted the status of knowledge is that it is shared with others, empirical beliefs presuppose social institutions (see Kusch, 2002).

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To the extent that Kusch’s notion of communitarian epistemology considers knowledge as a collective enterprise in which the community, rather than the individual is the bearer of knowledge (Kusch, 2002: 335), it is similar to ACE. The difference between both lies in the analysis of how the community is the bearer of knowledge. That means the context in which they confer the status of knowledge to beliefs differs. For Kusch, an empirical belief is knowledge when it is shared by the epistemic community. In ACE, a belief qualifies as knowledge, not just because it is shared by the epistemic community, but because the epistemic community plays an essential role in the formation of the belief. Thus, a true belief qualifies as knowledge in ACE when it is a collective understanding inferred from the synthesis of individual contributions, through the rationalization of the community. It is within this context that we understand the meaning and nature of ACE.

The Meaning and Nature of African Communitarian Epistemology Whereas knowledge understood as how we comprehend states of affairs is universal, the way we acquire knowledge differs among societies because of the different socio-cultural contexts in different societies. Epistemic beliefs and claims are formulated and articulated within these socio-cultural contexts. Therefore, the idea of communitarianism in epistemology is germane. An epistemology is communitarian if it conceives knowledge acquisition within social and cultural contexts just as African epistemology does. Traditional African thought pattern unifies togetherness and social responsibility (Ovens & Prinsloo, 2010: 21). Hence, Willem De Liefde argues that in African thought, nature and culture belong together in a mutually supportive interrelationship where they also preserve each other (2003: 52). If this is the case, contrary to the individualistic approach of Western epistemology, epistemic practice is approached from the collective standpoint in ACE. Such a collective standpoint consists of individual contributions that are premised on the thinking that ‘because we are, I am’ (Nasseem, 2002: 261). To be communitarian epistemologically is to centralize the role of society in epistemic practice. This emphasizes the connection between the individual and the community and how the community shapes the individual’s understanding and influences her formulation of beliefs. This is the case because African epistemology is premised on ontological concerns and commitment. According to Lee Brown, ontological concerns are the furniture of the universe that enables us to distinguish what is real from what is not real or imaginary (2004: 18). And ontological commitment is the disposition and willingness that enables us to accept and use specific conceptual idioms or characterizations of reality to describe the truth of the world we live in. The nature of ACE is predicated on the African understanding of the human person, which permeates African thought. The human person is not defined in terms of physical or psychological characteristics, rather, it is closely linked with the environing community because the community is the cornerstone in African thought (Menkiti, 1984: 174). For the African, the human person is a communal being,

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hence, the African perceives, interprets, and makes meaning out of interactions among being and reality (Jimoh, 2017: 41). The African conceives reality as a unitive whole where the experiential, rational, religious, intuitive, symbolic, mythical, and emotional, interconnect to provide an inclusive understanding of phenomena. Therefore, ACE has an understanding of reality beyond experiences that may not be empirically verifiable but are warranted nonetheless. According to Brown, traditional African culture acknowledges that reality goes beyond the realm of experience and therefore, appeals to experiences whose characterizations are not empirically confirmable. The warrantability of non-empirically confirmable experiences is premised on two deep-rooted African ontological beliefs: (i) The felt sense that there are spiritual components to nature that influence experiences and perceptions. (ii) The belief that those phenomena are not readily explainable through empirical means can best be explained by appealing to the causal efficacy of the spiritual components of nature. These are incorporeal elements that have consciousness (just as humans have) by virtue of their awareness of nature, and they possess the capacity to respond to this awareness (Brown, 2004: 159–175). Within this context, we understand why the Yoruba of Western Nigeria argue that there is a connection between the cry of the witch last night and the death of the child this morning, even when there is no verifiable causal link between the cry of the witch and the death of the child. Knowledge acquisition varies according to ontological worldviews. Human beings have a natural inclination toward understanding and interpreting phenomena according to how their perceptive faculties have been shaped by their backgrounds. In this regard, Ndubuisi Ani explains that “people have a predilection to consider or interpret things in different ways according to their cultural, religious, emotional, educational and epochal background” (2013: 301). The implication here is that it is possible for people of different backgrounds to infer different conclusions when confronted with similar issues. This sounds correct, given that the complexity of the universe makes it practically impossible to explain reality from an absolute and universal paradigm. If cultural, religious, emotional, educational, and historical influences constitute backgrounds, then it is plausible to say that rationality is invariably cultural because rationality reflects the cultural experiences and background of a people. In which case, Kwame Gyekye is correct to say that we cannot separate epistemic practices from the current ideas among the people within a given era (1987: 25). Therefore, it is also correct to argue that human reasoning, understanding, and comprehension is conditioned by socio-cultural milieu. This claim is buttressed by Chemhuru who argues that “the community plays a very central epistemological and moral role in inculcating what responsibility is, and how it ought to be understood and evaluated in community” (2019: 2). According to him, the community is responsible for the knowledge of what individuals do because the community makes what the individual is. The underlying communality of African cultures, in which the self (cognitive agent) and the material (cognized object) are interwoven in a human correlativity by custom and tradition, undergirds the mechanism of cognition in ACE. The cognitive

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agent comprehends reality in connection with her culture and environment, therefore, the knower thinks and knows in and through society (Jimoh, 2018: 15). Bert Hamminga expresses this fact when he describes ACE as a we (collective) enterprise because it is a synthesis of individual understanding and contributions, which makes it necessarily social (2005: 57–58). This does not mean that individual rationality is subjugated, instead, it emphasizes the socio-cultural dimensions of knowledge. According to Itibari Zulu, ACE is the production of collective understanding, grounded on the rationalization of the community, through the synthesis of individual contributions (2006: 32–49). The conception of African philosophy as a communal idea is often misconceived as lacking the criticality that defines philosophy, compared to individualistic philosophizing. Contrary to this, Gyekye (1997) argues that African collective philosophy is a product of individual wise men, particular ideas generated by individual minds crystallize into collective thought when they gain general acceptance and become paradigmatic. It is therefore mistaken to assume that African philosophy is a collective thought because it is the intellectual product of a whole collectivity, there is no such thing as collective thought in this sense. A collective thought is actually individual ideas that form the pool of communal thought in which the differences among the ideas are obliterated. ACE places emphasis on the dialectics, cooperation, and togetherness, involved in knowledge practice. Knowledge here is a chain relationship wherein the cognition of any aspect of reality is interwoven with knowledge of the other aspects of reality (Jimoh, 2018: 16). Therefore, it differs from Western epistemology, in the sense that, whereas ACE understands reality as an integrative whole and takes a holistic approach toward the understanding of reality, Western epistemology dichotomizes reality between the material and immaterial, and so, fragments knowledge into the empirical, rational, and mystical. The holistic approach to knowledge by ACE provides the knower with an integrative grasp of reality, the entire universe is understood as a single whole where all aspects of reality are interdependent (Ani, 2013: 305).

Knowledge in African Communitarian Epistemology Knowing is a human activity by which the mind gains awareness and understanding of the truths of reality. It exists as the property of the knower because it is the knower who acquires an understanding of reality through the process of knowing. In the explication of this process of knowing, ACE emphasizes how socio-cultural factors determine the formulation and justification of true beliefs. In the intercourse between the agent and the object of cognition, the agent gets to understand, believe, and justify the object of cognition. If we take philosophical realism as a standpoint toward a particular subject matter, traditionally, Africans are realists who approach the world as a mind-independent reality. They believe in the independent existence of a contingent world, which they come to know through the mind’s association with the objects in the world. The latter impose themselves,

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through the windows of the human senses, upon the human mind. The mind assimilates, frames, conceptualizes, and interprets these objects in accordance with its own categories. These categories are informed by the subjective factors of culture, environment, experience, etc. Although this cognitive process seems similar to Kant’s (1998) notion of transcendental idealism, there is a fundamental difference between both. The difference lies in the nature of the categories that constitute the basis of understanding and interpretation of the objects that impose themselves upon the mind. Whereas, Kant grounds human understanding and interpretation on transcendental (a priori) categories like quality, quantity, relation, and modality, ACE grounds human understanding and interpretation on empirical (a posteriori) categories like culture, environment, and experience. Thus, while Kant’s epistemology is a form of idealism, ACE is a realist theory. Given the framework of understanding, the African interprets and makes meaning of phenomena in relation to her being-in-harmony with reality. The notion of a ‘being-in-harmony with reality’ describes the principal African communitarian view of reality, which according to Molefi Asante (2000) is often difficult to understand by those educated and influenced by the linearity in the Western notion of reality. The latter is caught in a fixed and rigorous distinction between the rational and empirical. Contrary to the mind/body and self/others distinctions in Western thought, the human person in African thought is a concrete consubstantiation of body and spirit. Hence, Asante further claims that “the ego is real and materiality is concrete but managed under the influence of custom and tradition based upon human mutuality” (2000: 1). Accordingly, he explains that this ontological conception expresses the “commonality in the ways humans have approached the universe, environment, society, and the divine” (2000: 1) despite the multiculturalism of the African continent. It also provides the basis for the communitarian epistemic notion of reality. When an African makes an epistemic claim, she affirms that she understands, believes, and accepts as justified the claim to be the case. Understanding is an essential element of knowing that begins with the awareness of what is known. Awareness is a responsive consciousness that involves a symbiotic imposition of: (i) the object of awareness upon consciousness and (ii) consciousness upon the object of awareness. In this way, there is a mutual interaction between the knower and what is known, wherein the knower acquires a holistic knowledge of the known. The claim that understanding begins with awareness should not be mistaken to imply that understanding and awareness are co-referential. Awareness does not imply understanding, and understanding involves much more than mere awareness. Awareness is a path toward understanding, as we cannot understand what we are not aware of. To be aware of a phenomenon implies either (or both) an empirical or (and) rational perception that the phenomenon is real or not real. The understanding of what we are aware of enables us to situate what we are aware of within the scheme of reality. This is where the African ontological communality plays an important role. The understanding of a phenomenon requires that it is placed in its proper place within the comity of being, of which the cognitive agent herself is a part. Even though knowledge and understanding are often used as if they are co-referential, it is

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important to state here that they do not mean exactly the same thing. Whereas knowledge is inclusive of the information and awareness about a given subject matter, understanding refers to a realization of the intended meaning or cause of a given phenomenon. Even though both concepts are closely related, and it is almost practically impossible to separate them, knowledge is, however, greater than understanding. Nonetheless, both knowledge and understanding are incomplete without the other. It is impossible to separate the human person from nature in African ontology. To attempt such a separation is to close the doors against human knowledge of reality because knowledge arises from the connection between the interaction and cohesion of things in the African understanding of reality (Ani, 2013: 306, see also, Tempels, 1959: 48, and Ochieng’-Odhiambo, 2010). Inclusive and beyond the visible, empirically verifiable, and rational retrospection, the traditional African mind is able to acquire and justify the knowledge of reality. This is possible because the African mind is imbued with the practicality of wholism, prevalence of polyconsciousness, inclusiveness, unity of worlds, and personal relationships (Asante, 2000: 2). Consequently, knowledge is a holistic and integrative understanding of the phenomena in which the agent’s true beliefs enforce within her the justification of her claims. The holistic and integrative nature of knowledge entails the intuitive, religious, and mythological (Ani, 2013: 309). It is intuitive because as E. A. Ruch and K. C. Anyanwu argue, it is an immediate, unmediated contact with reality that involves the entirety of the human faculties without “follow[ing] the fragmenting activity of abstractive knowledge” (1984: 46). In other words, all human faculties; intellect, senses, and emotions cooperate to provide the agent an embracive grasp of the object of cognition. It is religious because among Africans, religion consists in the belief in an invisible world, that is though distinct from, but not separated from the visible world. Hence, the epistemic experience of the agent accommodates the idea of a transcendental being who sheds light on material existence and human experiences. In this way, Africans make sense of existence via religious prism (Ellis & ter Haar, 2007: 387). The African strives to understand phenomena from both the physical and non-physical (spiritual) aspects of reality because she believes in the intrinsic relationship between the material and the spiritual. As Ani puts it, she believes that “divine beings are actively engaged in the epistemic experience of humans as they directly or indirectly reveal things to human beings in their experiences (dreams and life experiences)” (2013: 309). Knowledge entails the mythological for the African because she tries deal with life questions such as the origin and destiny of the human person, evil, providence, life, and death, by way of mythical consciousness (see Ruch & Anyanwu, 1984: 35). Myths are tools by which we can express profound issues that are beyond the comprehension of the human mind (Gyekye, 1987: 15). They are verbal and gestural signs that individuals employ to explain fundamental problems (Ruch & Anyanwu, 1984: 27). Citing Gyekye (1987), Ani states that “[m]yths symbolically express deep issues that lie beyond the comprehension of human minds” (2013: 311). To that extent, myths constitute a part of African knowledge practices as tools by which the agent acquires knowledge of reality.

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Regardless of the knowledge culture under consideration, one important aspect of knowledge inquiry that would always require clarification is the relationship between knowledge and belief. It is a contentious issue in Western epistemology because both concepts are inextricably linked. The traditional Western definition of knowledge as justified true belief makes belief a necessary conjunct of knowledge. In other words, belief is a logical feature of knowledge, and “a monolithic state capable of comprising a multitude of propositions as objects” (Jimoh, 2004: 73, Moser et al., 1998: 41). Consequently, belief is differentiated from knowledge, and restricted to a level lower than knowledge. The interconnectedness between knowledge and belief that makes them presuppositions of each other is easily noticeable (Jimoh, 2004: 75). That they presuppose each other should not be misinterpreted that they are co-referential, as some authors have done (Airoboman & Asekhauno, 2012: 15). For something X to presuppose another Y, it means we need X for us to have Y. This does not mean that X and Y are the same thing, and therefore, one can be used to refer to the other or interchangeably. To say that X and Y are interconnected means they are closely and perhaps inseparably related. Therefore, to say that X and Y are interconnected and presuppose each other means that we cannot know and believe Y we must first know and believe X. In ACE, the cognitive agent is not distracted by the semantic distinction between knowledge and belief. According to Godwin Sogolo, the problem associated with “knowing and believing the same thing at the same time” (1998: 224) is not an apparent one for the African knower because for her, what is imperative is the truth of what is known and believed. If what is known is true, she knows what she believes, and believes what she knows. The theorization about truth in African philosophy is an interesting one. As an attribute of beliefs, opinions, statements, doctrines, and theories, ACE does not debate truth in grandiose abstract theories that make it enigmatic, as it is in Western epistemology. Rather, it considers truth as “the property of human experience” (Orangun, 2001: 71) that establishes the link between the thought of a cognitive agent and the reality of the state of affairs the agent describes as true. Most African linguistic schemes allude to a common and similar understanding of truth as that which agrees with the state of affairs to which it is predicated. For example, truth is ezi-okwu (Igbo), otito (Yoruba), and gaskiya (Hausa), in the three dominate cultures in Nigeria. These words, imply “it is so” or “it is the case” simpliciter. To interpret this to mean that truth is mere consensus or communal agreement would mean to commit an error of reductionism, and a cognitive aberration. Although truth as that which “is the case” includes some form of consensus, it is more inclusive than that. It implies the experiential since we cannot know that a phenomenon “is so” or “it is the case” when we have not experienced it to be the case or learnt from a reliable agent, who has experienced it to be the case, that it is the case. If truth is that which “is the case” and it is an essential property of knowledge, the question that arises is: how does ACE establish that which is the case? That is: how do we determine what is true?

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Truth does not qualify itself, it is always in reference to something other than itself. Just as knowledge is the property of the knower, truth is always in relation to states of affairs. If a belief or claim is true, it is true in relation to the state of affairs – the truth-maker, to which it is predicated. States of affairs do not exist independently, they exist within given contexts, which determine the truth of the claim predicated on them. Does this suggest that truth is relative? If to be relative means that all beliefs or belief systems are equally true because there are no standards of evaluation, it would be erroneous to say, in this sense, that truth is relative. To say that the context determines the truth of a claim is not the same as saying that there are no standards of evaluation for what is true and what is not true. Instead, it means that standards of evaluation vary from one context to another and that a truth-claim within one context cannot be justifiedly evaluated with the standards of another context where the claim has not been made (Annis, 1978; DeRose, 1995; Aigbodioh, 1997). Truth in ACE implies consistency and correspondence with states of affairs. In other words, a proposition is true if and only if it agrees with a set of beliefs and/or accepted facts. To agree here means to be consistent with, and to correspond to a set of beliefs and/or accepted facts. Two possible ways to determine whether a claim agrees with a set of beliefs and/or accepted facts are: (i) by demonstration and (ii) through the confirmatory testimony of elders. To demonstrate that a claim is true, and therefore, it is knowledge involves providing evidential proof(s) of agreement between a proposition and what it purports. Demonstration does not define knowledge, it is about resolving the question of whether S knows that p. If this question is affirmatively resolved, we can, ipso facto, infer what it means to know by analyzing how S knows that p. Therefore, demonstration validates the truth or falsity of a claim, and thereby, affirm or negate that the agent knows or does not know. The foregoing indicates that demonstration serves two purposes: (i) it proves the truth of a claim, and (ii) by the fact of (i), it confirms that the agent who makes the claim knows. It is in this sense that we can claim that knowledge is demonstrative. The demonstrativeness of knowledge implies that it is teleological. To say a claim is teleological means that it is directed toward a given purpose, namely, to affirm or to negate that a state of affairs is the case or it is not the case. The suggestion here is that we can understand and explain knowledge in relation to its purpose – from the perspective of its telos. In other words, a proposition is knowledge to the extent: (i) its content can be demonstrated to agree with its lexical semantics and (ii) the claim fulfills its purpose. About (i), if an Onisegun (the Yoruba term for someone who uses herbs from plants to cure sick persons) claims that a particular agbo (mixture of herbs and roots) cures a particular sickness like malaria, to demonstrate that the agbo malaria would require that it is used for someone with malaria. If the person is cured of the ailment, then we can claim, based on the demonstration, that it is true that the agbo cures malaria. For (ii), if the aim of using the agbo for the person with malaria it is claimed to cure is to cure the malaria, and the use of the agbo cures the person’s malaria, then it means the use of the agbo achieves the aim for which it is used. Therefore, based on the latter, we can justifiedly claim that the agbo cures malaria.

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The teleological notion of knowledge as presented here is hewed out of the notion that epistemic claims are directed toward particular ends (purposes). This purpose is in two forms: (i) The general purpose of knowledge, which is to be informed about the subject matter of the knowledge claim. And (ii) the specific purpose of knowledge, which is connected with what one does with the information provided by the knowledge claim, in relation to what the claim purports. For instance, an Onisegun claims or testifies, and tells Bankole that a particular agbo cures malaria. Based on the Onisegun’s testimony, Bankole purports to have knowledge of the agbo that cures malaria and he prescribes the agbo for Adebisi who has malaria. If barring all other circumstances that would make the agbo ineffective, Adebisi takes the agbo and he is not cured of his malaria, it means that the agbo does not cure malaria as claimed by the Onisegun. It also means that Bankole’s purported knowledge based on the testimony of the Onisegun is mistaken, and that neither the Onisegun nor Bankole knows that the agbo cures malaria. And that the Onisegun’s testimony is false. Kwasi Wiredu claims that knowledge is necessary for action, and action is necessary for survival (2000: 181), which means that knowledge provides the requisite information we need to act appropriately in order to survive by properly navigating the complexities of our world. Any claim or information purported to be knowledge that turns out not to be true based on the demonstration of the claim cannot be said to be knowledge. The basis for this judgment is the teleological failure of the claim. Teleological failure here describes the lack of success of the purported claim to agree the facts that it purports. Suppose, we argue that the aim of the testifier is to mislead the receiver of the claim, therefore, if the receiver did not get the expected result, the aim of the testifier is achieved nonetheless. This argument is irrelevant to the conclusion that the claim is false and not knowledge because the aim referred to in the argument is that of the testifier and not the telos of the claim in question. Also, the argument fails, in this case of deliberate deception, on the grounds that when, in the first instance, the Onisegun claims that the particular agbo in question cures malaria, he knows that the agbo does not cure malaria. Therefore, it is not true, and not knowledge that the agbo cures malaria as demonstrated in its failure to cure Adebisi of his malaria. Even though the argument that the deceptive intent of a testifier who deliberately transmits a false claim to a receiver fails the justificational paradigm of the teleological notion of knowledge, it raises an important question about the status of testimony. Namely, whether testimony should be accorded the status of a reliable and generative source of knowledge in ACE. This explains the need to elucidate the role of testimony in ACE.

Testimony, Oral Tradition, and Knowledge Acquisition in ACE We cannot discuss testimony without mentioning the issue of oral tradition in ACE. For this reason, this section discusses both notions alongside each other. Testimony, as employed here, is a communication between persons that involves exchange

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of information between the testifier and the receiver. It is considered as a medium of knowledge transfer wherein the testifier transmits knowledge, through some form of communication (mostly verbal, linguistic, and propositional), to the receiver. The latter acquires knowledge about the state of affairs described in the testimony of the former. In ACE, the testimony of elders is regarded as a source of knowledge and justification. Contrary to Peter Bodunrin’s logical positivist approach to African epistemology, Andrew Uduigwomen claims that “[i]n African traditional setting, experimentation is not resorted to if a disagreement arises between two parties regarding what one claims to observe. Rather, the testimony of a third party is sought to settle the difference” (1995: 37). The third-party testimony here refers to reliable elders who are co-custodians and “repositories of knowledge, values, and traditions,” with the community head/leader (Ikuenobe, 2018: 32). Polycarp Ikuenobe presents an impressive analysis to argue that the testimony of reliable elders constitutes an epistemic source as well as justificational grounds for knowledge. This paper agrees with him and copiously represents his view here. With reference to Ebiegberi Alagoa (1966: 408), Ikuenobe argues: It is usually by a body of knowledge that the core identity and cultural legacy of a group or community are perpetuated and passed down from generation to generation partly by reliance on elders. Elders in a community play multiple roles in the informal process of archiving and transmitting knowledge. On the one hand, elders are the custodians, sources, and repositories of the knowledge, history, beliefs, and values in African cultures by overseeing the transmission of the traditions. [. . .] On the other hand, elders have the communal responsibilities of providing justifications for, upholding, and ensuring the maintenance and adherence to cultural beliefs and traditions for communal well-being and harmony, as well as helping to impart relevant values and knowledge on children, to help them attain moral personhood (2018: 28–29).

Eldership is not just a matter of old age. “An elder is a ‘grown-up’ who has proven himself in the community based on his actions, and he is socially recognized as a responsible person of moral repute and demonstrated wisdom and knowledge of the culture and traditions” (Ikuenobe, 2018: 29). To be ‘grown-up’ is different from ‘growing-old.’ Whereas the latter indicates chronological age, the former implies that one has acquired a sound epistemic and moral status portrayed in one’s deeds, words, and ability to justify beliefs, values, and practices. To be an elder requires a wealth of knowledge, experience, good judgment, and robust moral sensibility. Hence, Ikuenobe avers that “moral and epistemological authority resides in the combination of age, experience, good judgement, character, and practical wisdom” (2018: 30). He further claims that elders should be responsible teachers and repositories of knowledge whose epistemic testimonies accredit and justify the individual cognitive abilities of members of the epistemic community (2018: 33). Ikuenobe’s analysis of testimonial knowledge and justification in the African space, and the communal reliance on elders for epistemic authority is based on the principle of epistemic dependence. According to this principle, A can depend on the authority of B, if B has evidence to justify a belief, which means that A can use

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the authority of B as well as B’s evidence to justify his own belief despite the fact that A himself, lacks the evidence. Consequently, Ikuenobe claims that, The reliance on elders involves the epistemic principle that individuals could justify their beliefs based on the authority of, or place their trust on, the wisdom of elders as repositories of knowledge. Such reliance involves the reasonableness of the principles of epistemic dependence, epistemic trust or reliabilism, and epistemic deference (2018: 34).

The implication here is that reliable elders are reliable sources of knowledge, and their testimonies are reliable methods of transmitting knowledge. An epistemic source or process is reliable if it is truth-conducive and adequate to justify beliefs. According to Ikuenobe, elders are “paternalistic custodians and conveyors of knowledge” (Ikuenobe, 2018: 34). This, along with the “trust and extended family and neighborhood connections that engendered communal fellowship and the informal communal methods of upbringing and the processes of acquiring and justifying beliefs in traditional African cultures” (Ikuenobe, 2018: 34), make it plausible for us to depend on their authority as epistemic sources. The reasonability of epistemic dependence is grounded on our natural human cognitive limitations. There are requisite relevant infinite amounts of information for an adequate act of justification which our individual cognitive abilities cannot independently process and understand. Therefore, an individual cannot, on his own, entirely understand and evaluate adequately these requisite relevant infinite amounts of information. Given the infinite number of beliefs that constitute the complexity of justifications for our putatively simple beliefs, individuals cannot independently comprehend and ascertain the justificatory status of these beliefs. So, there is the need for epistemic dependence on experts who can do this in the justificatory process of epistemic claims (Ikuenobe, 2018: 35–36). Ikuenobe calls this epistemic communalism, which he describes as “the idea of communal inquiry – where there is an epistemic division of labor, sharing of evidence, and reliance on the inter-subjective agreement as a basis for the adequacy of a justification” (2018: 36). The aim of epistemic communalism and epistemic dependence is to attain communal agreement through the sharing of cognitive and epistemic responsibilities. Communal agreement is not a merely reductive notion of similarity among opinions, it is “the idea that various individuals’ beliefs about facts are in agreement among themselves, and that the agreement also corresponds to or are supported by the facts or experiences” (Ikuenobe, 2018: 37). It implies a notion of knowledge that is holistic and integrative, bringing within its purview, different knowledge backgrounds, multiple perspectives, and the expertise of experience. Therefore, contrary to the views of the analytic tradition in African philosophy, to rely on the testimony of elders is not tantamount to the subjugation of the phenomenal character expressed in individual knowing. In other words, to claim that epistemic dependence and communalism imply that individuals lack cognitive autonomy and creative imagination is to misunderstand and misrepresent epistemic communalism and dependence. Epistemic communalism and dependence emphasize the dialectics, cooperation, and togetherness, in knowledge acquisition, making knowledge

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derivation a chain relationship that brings about the holistic and more integrative nature of knowledge in ACE.

Conclusion As part of its aim to present a lucid explication of the meaning and nature of knowledge in ACE, this chapter clarifies how and why testimony is a basic source and justification of knowledge in ACE. The chapter emphasized the legitimacy of African epistemology on the basis that even though knowledge is a universal phenomenon, the way individuals acquire, justify, retain, and transmit knowledge, is premised, among others, on their cultural and environmental experiences. Against the Western paradigm of communitarian epistemology where knowledge is a product of the shared belief of an epistemic community, the chapter also argued that African epistemology is communitarian because its very foundation presupposes being, therefore, it is based on African ontology. This implies that knowledge is not just a matter of shared belief, but that the very formation of belief itself is the product of community rationalization and the synthesis of individual contributions. It provides the basis upon which we understand knowledge as the product of the intercourse between reality and the epistemic agent. Thus, making knowledge a holistic and integrative understanding of the object of cognition attained and justified through the testimony of reliable elders who are custodians and repositories of knowledge in traditional African cultures.

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Exploring Ignorance and Injustice in African Epistemology Kenneth Uyi Abudu

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Enlightenment Period, Eurocentrism, and Epistemological Tyranny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Epistemic Injustice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Testimonial Injustice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hermeneutical Injustice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Epistemic Injustice and the Prejudicial Marginalization of the African Knower . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Epistemology of Ignorance and the Altering of African Epistemic Traditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Overcoming Epistemic Injustice and Epistemology of Ignorance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter will explore two major themes in the African epistemology: the question of epistemic injustice and the question of the epistemology of ignorance. By epistemic injustice in an African context, I mean the moral wrong or injustice that has been done to the African knower by denying him of, or downplaying on his or her capacity to know. And by epistemology of ignorance in the African thought, I am referring to the role deliberate and non-deliberate ignorance has played and continues to play in the African knowledge experience and production process. Concerning the former, this chapter shows that a great injustice has been done to the African indigenous knowledge production and processing systems, one that needs to be remedied. Concerning the latter, I argue as well that ignorance is often ignored in the discourse of epistemology, and it has continued to play important roles in the altering of African epistemic traditions and structures. Thus, there is need to remedy this situation. This chapter concludes by

K. U. Abudu (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Edo State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_14

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holding that the African epistemology has important functions to play in liberating the African knowledge systems from attempts to undermine it. Keywords

Epistemic injustice · Epistemology of ignorance · Age of enlightenment · Epistemological tyranny · Epistemic resistance

Introduction One of the basic features of the traditional tasks of epistemology within and across spaces is its normativity, that is, the sole task of establishing foundations upon which knowledge acquisition can thrive. Ever since the inception of philosophy as evident during the ancient period, philosophers have made several attempts to propound theories upon which our knowledge claims can be justified, and some of these theories are still relevant till date. These theories are regarded as universal, even when it is obvious that epistemic relativism cannot be overemphasized in epistemological discourse. To put this in the right perspective, knowledge acquisition is universal; the mode of acquiring it is what differs from society to society. In the historical development of epistemology, reference is often made to the Western models in the attempt to situate the knowledge production, making other forms of knowledge that are non-Western illegitimate fields of inquiry. This was the case during the modern period of philosophy when thinkers such as Francis Bacon, Rene Descartes, Isaac Newton, John Locke, Immanuel Kant, and so on, argued that knowledge production, acquisition, and justification ought to conform to some universal, objective and foundational standards. For instance, Descartes’ epistemology sought to establish immutable foundations upon which human knowledge will grounded and free from error and also challenge the philosophical problem of skepticism; “Locke’s epistemology was an attempt to understand the operations of human understanding; Kant’s epistemology was an attempt to understand the conditions of the possibility of human understanding, and Russell’s epistemology was an attempt to how modern science could be justified by appeal to sensory experience” (Steup & Neta, 2005). The dominance of Western-oriented theories of knowledge continued till the twentieth century with the psychological and social approaches to knowledge acquisition as championed by W.V.O. Quine and Alvin Goldman, respectively. With these obvious Western-oriented models in epistemology, there began an erroneous idea that knowledge acquisition must conform to these theories or rather be suppressed or inferiorized. This is the case with the African epistemology, which has been described as inferior on the basis that Africans do not reckon with only reductionist approach to knowledge production, but different approaches. The attempt to universalize the conditions which determine how knowledge is to be acquired, and by implication, to inferiorize the African epistemology cannot be understood in isolation of the Age of Enlightenment which sees knowledge

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acquisition as a scientific and an objective enterprise. This led to the perpetuation of Eurocentrism which places Western ideals and values as superior and the closest to objective truth. By this, Enlightenment thinkers upheld that Africans cannot be granted rationality and humanity. Munyadrazi Mawere asserts that: “there is monumental literature by philosophers like David Hume, George W.F. Hegel, Immanuel Kant, Lucien Levy-Bruhl, and Diedrich Westermann that describe Africans as ‘tabula rasa’, a people with no reason/rationality; hence without a history and worse still philosophy” (2011: 1). The assertion made by Mawere can be contextualized epistemologically in the sense that these radical Eurocentric philosophers and anthropologists saw their supremacist tendencies incorporated in their theories of knowledge. Thus, the epistemological implications white supremacy has for the African epistemology are numerous. My goal in this chapter is not to propound any theory of knowledge or justification, but to examine two of the implications the white supremacist idea has for the African epistemology: epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance. The former is an epistemic concept which suggests a type of harm or wrong that is done to an individual on the basis of his ability to make meaningful contributions or benefit from a body of knowledge. Epistemic injustice manifests in three ways. In the opinion of Anita Ho, the manifestations of epistemic injustice are as follows: 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 inter-method hierarchy, that is, certain methods of inquiry or research are uncritically dismissed while other methods are categorically presumed to be superior. (2014: 1038)

Epistemic injustice reflects in the radical Eurocentric philosophers’ arguments that Africans are not capable of rationality. Thus, anything that comes from Africa, be it a body of knowledge or any other intellectual tradition, is vehemently suppressed. The twin implication of the Eurocentric supremacist idea is epistemology of ignorance which plays out in the intersection of racism and knowledge acquisition. In other words, epistemology of ignorance “represents an examination of the complex phenomena of ignorance by identifying different and varied forms of ignorance, examining how they are produced and sustained, and determining what role they play in knowledge practices” (Sullivan & Tuana, 2007: 1). We cannot overemphasize ignorance has an instrumental value in not only perpetuating white supremacy, but also the racial oppression of people that are non-Europeans. In other words, while ignorance may connote something negative, it has practical application to discourses such as race, white privilege, and racism. With the brief exposition as background, I begin this chapter by examining the roles of the Age of Enlightenment and Eurocentrism in perpetuating white

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supremacist ideals, especially in their attempts to universalize the rudiments of knowledge production and acquisition. This is important as Eurocentrism is often construed as one of the legacies of Enlightenment thinkers. In furtherance to this, I shall argue here that the attempts by Enlightenment thinkers to universalize knowledge production gave room to epistemological tyranny and coloniality of knowledge. Consequently, I shall examine the contents of epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance. All this is followed by an examination of the instrumental value epistemic resistance has for African epistemologists in the attempt to showcase African epistemology as an authentic field of inquiry and also to free African epistemology from the radical Eurocentric philosophers’ attempts to undermine it.

Enlightenment Period, Eurocentrism, and Epistemological Tyranny Perhaps, it is worthwhile to begin this section with an excerpt from Björn Freter’s article, “White Supremacy in Eurocentric Epistemology: On the West Responsibility for its Philosophical Heritage.” In this article, Freter points out one of the damaging effects of the Age of Enlightenment especially as it relates to the radical argument that the white race is superior than the other races in the world, and the subsequent philosophical edifices built on this radical idea. Freter poignantly states that: By reading some of the important so-called enlightened and enlightening philosophers, such as the exemplars Voltaire, David Hume and Immanuel Kant, one can find blatant white supremacist racism. Consequently, it is very likely that their racism affected the construction of their philosophical edifices. However, it seems Western scholarship has demonstrated little interest to address this problem. (2018: 238)

The Age of Enlightenment, no doubt, is regarded as one of the most significant epochs in the history of philosophy. The reason for this is because there was a deliberate and radical shift from the dogmatism and authoritarianism that characterized the medieval period of philosophy to a more enlightened way, which saw the individual subject as the determinant of philosophical disquisitions, and also the enthronement of reason. Enlightenment here is used to mean the period in philosophy where individuals were admonished to think for themselves without appealing to religious authorities. Immanuel Kant defines Enlightenment as: Enlightenment is mankind’s exit from its self-incurred immaturity. Immaturity is the inability to make use of one’s own understanding without the guidance of another. Self-incurred is this inability if its cause lies not in the lack of understanding but rather in the lack of the resolution and the courage to use it without the guidance of another. Sapere aude! Have the courage to use your own understanding! is thus the motto of enlightenment. (1996: 58)

Thus, Enlightenment can be conceived from two perspectives. On the one hand, it was an attempt to jettison the philosophical disquisitions inherited by Enlightenment

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philosophers, and on the other hand, it was an attempt to establish universal, immutable, and fundamental grounds which would be used as justification when discourses arise in language, science, morality, truth, knowledge, and so on. Regarding knowledge, for instance, thinkers such as Rene Descartes, John Locke, and Baruch Spinoza attempted to universalize the conditions of knowledge. This made rationalism and empiricism prominent during this period. During the Age of Enlightenment, Eurocentrism also held sway. In the words of Tung Yi, Eurocentrism prevails when the supposed virtues of “Western civilization” (which in the conceit of the Eurocentric popular consciousness . . . is often thought synonymous with “civilization”) are not examined, but instead merely assumed worthy of their designation as the ultimate fate of all humanity (Tung-Yi 2009: 127). Evidently, one will not be surprised as to why radical Eurocentric thinkers such as Voltaire, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, G.W.F. Hegel raised the bar of racism and white superiority by asserting at various times that the Europeans are superior to other races. The implication of this is that there were disparaging assertions on other races as they were described as irrational. During this period, Africa had their fair share. In particular, Kant states that: “Humanity is in its greatest perfection in the race of whites. The yellow Indians are already of lower talent; the Negroes are much lower and at the lowest there are parts of the American people” (Kant as cited in Freter, 2018: 241). The Age of Enlightenment did not only witness the argument that the European race is superior to other races; it also, from an epistemological standpoint, witnessed the enthronement of Western models in knowledge acquisition above other models. This is why Angela Roothan captures the project of Age of Enlightenment with regard to knowledge production as follows: “their method soon became the paradigm for trustworthy knowledge” (2019: 44). The implication of this is that attempts were made to supplant the African epistemology with their scientific methods of acquiring knowledge and to show that the African indigenous knowledge should not be considered as a worthy field of inquiry. This leads to epistemological tyranny. My use of epistemological tyranny in this chapter suggests the dominance of Eurocentric traditions in knowledge production without recourse to indigenous knowledge systems. According to Semali and Kincheloe: Western epistemological tyranny decrees that reality constructed by Cartesian-Newtonian ways of seeing the only reality worth discussing in academic settings. Knowledge in this context becomes centralized and the power to produce knowledge is concentrated in the hands of a limited power bloc. . . The knowledge Western science produced became the benchmark by which the production of non-Western civilizations was measured. (1999: 31)

Epistemological tyranny is further buttressed by coloniality of knowledge which means “a complex process of deployment of global imperial technologies of subjectivation taking the form of translating and re-writing other cultures, other knowledge and other ways of being, and presuming commensurability through Western rationality” (Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2003: 33). The reason why some radical Eurocentric philosophers thought it was “necessary” to supplant the African epistemology with

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the Western model is not farfetched as it was part of the Enlightenment legacies that knowledge production must conform to universal and objective standards. According to them, the African mind is a “tabula rasa” which needed the Europeans to leave imprints in it. Thus, since Africans are not considered as humans, any discourse on their indigenous epistemologies should be rejected. Situating coloniality of knowledge within the context of African epistemological discourse, there grew a disturbing epistemic injustice in terms of how Africans acquire knowledge. This was made possible by the Eurocentric hegemony that any condition which must be met in respect to knowledge acquisition must conform to Western models of reductionism and objectivity. Consequently, thinkers such as Sabelo Ndlovu-Gatsheni, Walter Mignolo, Linda Martin Alcoff, and Charles Mills argued that the universal condition put forward by radical Eurocentric philosophers is an attempt to jettison indigenous epistemologies, especially that of Africans. As Alcoff puts it: Modern European philosophy emerged from a context of epistemic injustice toward non-European societies, and this injustice is perpetuated by legitimating ideas about intellectual superiority of European – American philosophy (Alcoff, 2017: 400). Ndlovu-Gatsheni corroborates Alcoff as he opines that: Since the time of the European Renaissance and Enlightenment, agents of Euro-American modernity and hegemony such as classical philosophers, adventures, missionaries, colonialists, traders and anthropologists worked tirelessly to make their knowledge the only truthful and universal knowledge, ceaselessly spreading it through Christianity and other means across the world, in the process appropriating and displacing existing African knowledges. Western knowledge and imperial power worked together to inscribe coloniality across the African continent and other parts of the non-Western world. This way, Western domination and Eurocentrism assumed universality. (2003: 33)

With the obvious trajectories as expounded by Ndlovu-Gatsheni and MartinAlcoff, it is important to state, by way of retrospect, that the Age of Enlightenment gave rise to coloniality of knowledge, and by implication, the African epistemology was relegated to the background. This makes tenable the argument that epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance are some of the key themes in African epistemology. Thus, our next point of discourse will be to attempt an exposition of epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance in the African epistemological context. This becomes necessary as there is ample evidence that the Eurocentric misconception of African epistemology is a form of injustice, not in a political sense, but in an epistemological sense. Also, epistemology of ignorance will set the tune in examining the roles of ignorance in the injustice that is being meted out on Africans from an epistemological perspective.

Epistemic Injustice Epistemic injustice is a term which combines three branches of philosophy: epistemology, ethics, and political philosophy, and “to consider how epistemic practices and institutions may be deployed and structured in ways that are simultaneously

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infelicitous toward certain epistemic values (such as truth, aptness, and understanding) and unjust with regard to particular knowers” (Gaile Pohlhaus, 2017: 13). In other words, since justice is an important concept in political philosophy, the concept of epistemic injustice suggests a distributive unfairness in terms of epistemic goods such as truth, knowledge, information, and education.

Testimonial Injustice In Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing, Miranda Fricker states that epistemic injustice is a kind of injustice that is done to an individual or individuals as regard their “capacity as knowers.” The testimonial type of injustice has to do with the bias against a speaker’s credibility on the basis of his gender, race, or identity. Here, the credibility of the individual as the knower is often examined from a prejudicial point of view. Fricker describes testimonial injustice by stating that: testimonial injustice occurs when prejudice causes a hearer to give a deflated level of credibility to a speaker’s word” (2007: 1). Before delving proper into what testimonial injustice entails, it is important to ask this question: how is an injustice said to be epistemic? The answer to this question can be examined from three perspectives. First, an injustice becomes epistemic when a wrong is done to an individual on the basis of his capacity as a knower. This can happen by suppressing the knower’s testimony. Second, they impede responsible and effective inquiry, stultify critical thought/reasoning, and, as a result, distort shared meanings/understandings, all of which are integral to the appropriate and inclusively attuned recognition and stress-testing of knowledge claims at the heart of knowledge acquisition, production, and sharing” (Gerry, 2020: 697). In the third perspective, the harm that is done to the individual or individuals is often perpetuated through some damaging epistemic practices which manifest in both institutional and structural level. Evident, for instance, in fields such as history, philosophy, education, there are evidences that a particular intellectual tradition is ignored or discredited. It is important to note that epistemic injustice may sometime be subtle and take time to manifest even within homogenous groups. As stated earlier, testimonial injustice occurs when an individual’s credibility is suppressed as a potential knower. While this is the case, it is important to note that discrediting the individual’s capacity to know is not directly proportionate to his testimony. In other words, the bias against the individual’s capacity to know may be simply based on the individual’s point of clarification, opinion, question, critique, and relevant responsibility. This leads to an epistemic vice which is based on a prejudgment of an individual on the basis of his race, gender, ethnicity, and other manifestations of difference; according to Fricker, this prejudgment “displays some (typically, epistemically culpable) resistance to counter-evidence, owing to some affective investment on the part of the subject” (Fricker, 2007: 35). This implies that the stereotyped conception of the speaker by the hearer is a type of close-mindedness which occurs in the speaker’s inability to grant credibility to the hearer.

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In Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing, Fricker gives an example of how testimonial injustice manifests in racial prejudice. Fricker cites a case of rape in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird. Fricker’s example points to a black man named Tom Robinson who has been accused of raping a white girl Mayella Ewell, “whose family’s rundown house he passes every day on his way to work, situated as it is on the outskirts of town in the borderlands that divide where whites and blacks live” (Fricker, 2007: 23). According to Fricker, Tom Robinson is innocent of the crime, as all evidence alludes to this fact. However, by virtue of Tom Robinson being a black man, the jury which consists of all whites, stuck to their prejudicial conception of . . . blacks as people who are incapable of making meaningful inputs in epistemic issues. Consequent upon this, Tom Robinson’s credibility is at stake here. It turns out to be that the utterances of Tom Robinson were discarded and he was found guilty. According to Fricker: When they do deliver the guilty verdict, this attests to their failure in their duty to make the proper testimonial judgement, in the light of the evidence. They fail, as Atticus Finch feared, precisely in their duty to believe Tom Robinson. Given the evidence put before them, their immovably prejudiced social perception of Robinson as a speaker leads at once to a gross epistemic failure and an appalling ethical failure of grave practical consequence. (2007: 26)

Testimonial injustice, according to Fricker, can also be systemic, and an example of a systemic testimonial injustice is the case of Tom Robinson. Systemic testimonial injustice manifests not by “prejudice simpliciter,” but by those biases that relay the subject’s social activities which can come in form of his racial, economical, political, professional, and religious background. According to Fricker, the central case of testimonial injustice is identity-prejudicial credibility deficit, and this comes to play if and only if there is a credibility deficit owing to the identity construct of the hearer. Put differently, the central case of testimonial injustice manifests on the basis of the hearer’s prejudicial conception of the speaker. By this prejudicial conception of the speaker, “different injustices” abound. However, Fricker points out that in credibility deficit, what is of importance is the suppression of individual’s capacity as a knower. In the words of Fricker: In cases of credibility deficit, the injustice we are aiming to track down is not to be characterized as non-receipt of one’s fair share of a good (credibility), as this would fail to capture the distinctive respect in which the speaker is wronged. The idea is to explore testimonial injustice as a distinctively epistemic injustice, as a kind of injustice in which someone is wronged specifically in her capacity as a knower. (2007: 20)

When an individual becomes a victim of testimonial injustice, either from a racial, sexual, professional, or religious perspective, “they are degraded qua knower, and symbolically degraded qua human” (2007: 44). A modern-day example of this was Sojourner Truth, an abolitionist and human rights activist, whom while speaking in 1851, employed a forceful condemnation of the subjugation of Black women, both as women of color and as knowers, a view, based in part at the time, on mistaken assumptions concerning their purported inferior cognitive ability and authority. In a

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similar vein, Anna Julia Cooper, writing slightly later in 1892, highlighted the suppression of Black women’s ideas through epistemic violence and interpretive silencing (May, 2014: 97–98). At this juncture, it is important to bring to fore, the harms that epistemic injustice portends. While some harms of epistemic injustice manifest immediately, some manifest on the long run. There are also all-encompassing harms that spread via the acceptance of experiences that are left unchallenged; for instance, racial and gender discrimination experiences. Humans are, using Thomas Aquinas words, by nature social animals, and by virtue of this fact, our knowledge claims are inextricably linked to others. While this is the case, epistemologists have argued that the harms of epistemic injustice are as follows: When you are harmed in your capacity as a knower, you are not treated as fully human. Not being taken seriously, at its core a form of dehumanization, damages you, not only in your standing as a knower but also as a human being. Not being listened to or believed eats away at a person. It marginalizes them; it strips them of their agency; it forces them to incessantly doubt themselves; to question their self-worth, to distrust the significance and evidential weight of their lived experience; to doubt the worthiness of their own beliefs or claims to knowledge. This can lead to the suppression of one’s voice, interpretative capacities, and correspondingly, one’s standing within collective meaning-making and meaning-sharing social practices. Testimonial injustice obstructs the optimal circulation and flow of knowledge. It blocks the open-minded, curiosity-driven giving and asking for reasons at the center of any worthwhile rational inquiry. Equally, it impedes the flow of evidence, doubts, fresh ideas, the epistemic friction of discordant reasons, and any other epistemic inputs conducive to knowledge. (Gerry, 2020)

Differently construed, “where the speaker knows that p and the prejudice operative in the hearer’s credibility judgment prevents her learning that p from the speaker, other things equal, she thereby stays ignorant of p” (Fricker, 2016: 162). It is also important to consider two key points here. First is that the harms associated with testimonial injustice are based on a social cognition of what it takes to be a knower. The implication of this is that for one to be recognized as the source of knowledge is important as much as one’s justified true belief. Second, testimonial injustice is a deliberate act. Though, it is sometimes regarded as an “essentially contested concept,” it is difficult not to point to any victim in the process of committing the injustice. In other words, it is not a victimless crime. Third, the moral blameworthiness of epistemic injustice should be determined not only by the wrong cases at hand, nor the epistemic arrogance of the hearer, but also the suppressing, unethical disposition to others on the basis of their capacities as knowers.

Hermeneutical Injustice According to Jose Medina, “Miranda Fricker gave explicit formulation to a phenomenon that oppressed subjects had been experiencing and calling attention to for a long time: the expressive and interpretative side of their oppression, that is,

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hermeneutical injustice” (2017: 42). Hermeneutical injustice occurs when individual or group of individuals find it difficult to express their feelings, or find it difficult to put their experience(s) into words as situated knowers due to a gap in the conceptual linguistic framework at that particular point in time. To Fricker, hermeneutical injustice occurs “when a gap in collective interpretive resources puts someone at an unfair advantage when it comes to making sense of their social experience” (2007: 1). The word “hermeneutical” is derived from the Greek word hermes which is translated as “interpreter” which is applicable as “interpretation.” It is important to consider a concrete example of hermeneutical injustice. From a historical understanding, the use of the word “racism” is seen as recent, but it became widespread during the 1930s when it denotes in Western world, an ideology of the Nazis which sees race as an innate political constituent. Now, let us imagine the year before the 1930s before the term was introduced. Consider a black individual who had experienced discrimination on the basis of his race. It may be difficult for him to put his experiences into words. By this act, he is ontologically excluded from full participation in the molding of English language. The difference between testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice is that while testimonial injustice places emphasis on subjugating the speaker’s credibility by the hearer, hermeneutical injustice has to do with injustice that is collectively oriented. The problem of hermeneutical injustice can be corrected by a persistent and empirically informed conceptual endeavor. The #BlackLivesMatter movement comes to mind here. On the level of an individual, hermeneutical injustice manifests when the social experiences of the individual are unclear. In hermeneutical injustice, one cannot overemphasize the importance of social power. It has been argued that the social power a group of individuals possess can bring about epistemic marginalization. In furtherance to this, social power has an epistemological implication, and this is poignantly pointed out by Fricker as follows: One way of taking the epistemological suggestion that social power has an unfair impact on collective forms of social understanding is to think of our shared understandings as reflecting the perspectives of different social groups, and to entertain the idea that relations of unequal power can skew shared hermeneutical resources so that the powerful tend to have appropriate understandings of their experiences ready to draw on as they make sense of their social experiences, whereas the powerless are more likely to find themselves having some social experiences through a glass darkly, with at best ill-fitting meanings to draw on in the effort to render them intelligible. (2007: 148)

Evidently, if we take a cursory look at Black movements, especially in America, we will find out that the manner in which consciousness is being raised is a byproduct of the Black experience being unclear, or sometimes unspeakable. On the contrary, however, if the Black experience has the requisite resources of social meaning, no doubt that there will be clarity, communicative facility and cognitive confidence when it comes to expressing Black experience. This implies that no matter a group of individuals try, their experiences cannot be understood. Consequent upon this, Fricker asserts that: “hermeneutical lacunas are like holes in the

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ozone layer – it’s the people who live under them that get burned” (2007: 161). Consequently, hermeneutical injustice is not just mere discrimination, but a structural one at that. Hermeneutical injustice has a diagnostic process and it can be seen in an instance “when we recognize that a phenomenon or experience is not talked about or is poorly understood in a culture, and we think that a group of people is unfairly disadvantaged as a result, and we label it a hermeneutical injustice” (Medina, 2017: 43). This diagnostic process can be further understood by asking some pertinent questions: “exactly by whom and in what way is the phenomenon or experience poorly expressed/understood?, in what contexts and for what purpose?, what are the dynamics that contribute to halt any expressive and interpretive progress in this area?” (Medina, 2017: 43). These questions as posed are capable of gauging the seemingly intractable issues that reflect in shared and collective responsibilities as they relate to hermeneutical injustice. According to Fricker, the primary harm of hermeneutical injustice is “situated hermeneutical inequality.” This manifests in a situation whereby a “subject is rendered unable to make communicatively intelligible something which it is particularly in his or her interests to be able to render intelligible” (2007: 162). This also explains the inextricability of testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice. While testimonial injustice means the exclusion of the speaker’s credibility and capacity to know by the hearer, hermeneutical injustice suggests the prejudicial and social exclusion from the pool of knowledge in respect to the collective hermeneutical resources. However, “the wrongs involved in the two sorts of epistemic injustice, then, have a common epistemic significance running through them – prejudicial exclusion from participation in the spread of knowledge” (Fricker, 2007: 162). It is important to state here that hermeneutical injustice could be damaging to the extent that it might lead to “hermeneutical death.” Hermeneutical death occurs when individuals are prevented from lending a voice, that is, they are stopped from partaking in meaning-making activities. Thus, hermeneutical injustice is not only destructive on a social level, but it can also lead to an annihilation of the self. This is why it has been argued that hermeneutical injustice has an element of willful hermeneutical ignorance, and this can be seen in how the whites perpetuate racism against non-whites. This racial profiling is geared towards making the conceptual resources that ought to be used in describing their experiences of non-white individuals unavailable. Medina gives a befitting example of willful hermeneutical ignorance by stating that: “think, for example, of white subjects living under conditions of poverty and being seduced by white ignorance to understand their situation as resulting from illegal immigration or from non-whites abusing a welfare system” (2017: 44). Hermeneutical injustice has two perspectives to understanding it: the semantic perspective and performative perspective. The former has to do with cases in which harm is done to an individual on the basis that “a lacuna where the name of a distinctive social experience should be” (2007: 150–151). The example Fricker examines is the hindrance that Women’s Movement encountered in the attempt to address the issues of sexual intimidation. According to Fricker, women activists found themselves in situations where they had to organize “speak out” rallies to protest

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sexual harassment. Thus, semantically induced hermeneutical injustice occurs when words and concepts are not permitted to be used in expressing certain things. The latter (performative hermeneutical injustice) occurs when harm is done to an individual on the basis of certain identity traits exhibited. For instance, the individual’s accent and communicative style; this trait may be perceived to be having defective intelligibility as the speaker’s utterances may be adjudged not to make sense in certain areas of experience. This why Fricker states that: “a hermeneutical gap might equally concern not (or not only) the content but rather the form of what can be said” (2007: 160). The debate regarding testimonial and hermeneutical injustice will go on for years to come, especially as it relates to understand, diagnose, and analyze the concept. While this will be the case, it is important to point out that how to combat, prevent, and repair the damages incurred by hermeneutical injustices will be more important than the attempt to analyze and understand it.

Epistemic Injustice and the Prejudicial Marginalization of the African Knower My attempt here is to examine the implications of testimonial and hermeneutical injustice for the African knower. Put differently, what is the moral and epistemic wrong that has been done to an African on the basis of his capacity to know or as a conveyor of knowledge? From my analysis of Fricker’s testimonial and hermeneutical injustice, it is obvious that epistemic injustice has implications for the African knower. At the individual’s (testimonial) level, an African is considered irrational and an individual who does not have the capacity to know. At the social (hermeneutical) level, epistemic injustice reflects in how the African experience, especially the racial and Eurocentric description of Africa lack hermeneutical resources. Thus, epistemic injustice does not only produce Africans as “sub-knowers,” there is always a potential prejudice and epistemic dysfunction towards Africans. Thus, to Fricker, the central idea is rather that bias of any form will surreptitiously likely inflate or deflate the credibility afforded the speaker, and sometimes this will be sufficient to cross the threshold for belief or acceptance so that the hearer’s prejudice causes him to miss out on a piece of knowledge (2007: 17). Fricker’s submission is important in understanding the damage that has been done to the African knower, such that there is a meditate effort by some radical Eurocentric thinkers to produce and sustain the knowledge system that excludes Africans from the credibility of knowledge production. In other words, the capacity of an African knower is discarded, and he is placed in a position that is unfair and unadvantageous. This makes it difficult for him to supply consistent instruction about his experiences. Epistemic injustice suggests an epistemological framework that has implication for the African knower within the context of knowledge production and acquisition. Knowledge is often regarded to as an “epistemic good,” and by this, it is important that the principle of justice should be one of the guiding principles which influence the distribution of knowledge just as it is being done with other goods. Reverse has been the case with how knowledge is to be distributed, especially as with the advent of epistemic injustice. Here, the radical

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Eurocentric thinkers during the Age of Enlightenment have claimed that “what counts as knowledge and who is recognized as a knower” (Wylie, 2011: 233) is determined by their respective theories of knowledge and justification. Epistemic injustice is further perpetuated against not only the African knower, but also his body of knowledge known as African epistemology. The implication of epistemic injustice for African epistemology is captured by James O. Ogone: Epistemic injustice is often associated with cultural forms of oppression such as imperialism which breeds disparities, leading to unfair power-relations in societies. Within the postcolonial power-structure, for instance, African of knowledge usually finds itself in a subaltern position due to the silencing power of global culture. Since the very essence of knowledge is “based on acknowledgement”, failure to recognize African epistemologies in mainstream scholarship amounts to denying the people the opportunity to “know and be known.” (2017: 18)

In the same vein, Fricker asserts that epistemic injustice portrays a kind of denial of humanity to individuals. This comes to play in how the radical Eurocentric thinkers have conceived Africans as those who are not capable of rationality. In fact, Africans have been stereotyped prejudicially to the extent that their social identity is often judged as lacking credibility. With epistemic injustice, Africans are by implication seen as people who are low in reasoning. This explains the reason why Lucien LevyBruhl describes Africans as pre-logical people who ascribe causality to supernatural causes. Fricker poignantly states that the undermining of someone as a knower is, conceptually and historically, closely related to their being undermined as a practical reasoner. The two sorts of insult to their humanity are importantly distinct, however, relating as they do to two different functions of rationality, and it seems to me that moral philosophy should concern itself with both (Fricker, 2007: 137). In the aspect of hermeneutical injustice, one will not be surprised that African voices have been suppressed. This leads to epistemic oppression which excludes and hinders one’s contribution to knowledge production (Dotson, 2014). At the highest level, it can further lead to “epistemic death,” which can annihilate the African self, and by implication, humanity is not granted to Africans. Fricker argues that: The capacity to give knowledge to others is one side of the many-sided capacity so significant in human beings: namely, the capacity for reason . . . No wonder . . . that in contexts of oppression the powerful will be sure to undermine the powerless in just that capacity, for it provides a direct route to undermining them in their very humanity (2007: 44). In all, both testimonial and hermeneutical injustice puts the African knower in a position that makes it impossible for him to make meaningful contributions to knowledge production. Here, it is assumed that an African cannot know and cannot be known.

Epistemology of Ignorance and the Altering of African Epistemic Traditions Traditionally, epistemology concerns itself with how we acquire, justify, and validate our knowledge claims. With this, one would expect that one of the traditional tasks of epistemology is to eliminate ignorance totally from humans’ attempts to acquire

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knowledge. This is because ignorance is often construed as a concept which connotes something negative. However, some thinkers have argued that ignorance is “not necessarily evil.” In the words of Robert N. Proctor: Ignorance in this sense of a primitive or native state is something to be fought or overcome; we hope and plan for it to disappear over time, as knowledge triumphs over foolish superstition. Ignorance is not necessarily evil – it can be innocent (as knowledge can be sin). But it seems to be something we are all supposed to want to grow out of, to put behind us, in the process of generating (or acquiring) knowledge. (2008: 11)

According to Shannon Sullivan and Nancy Tuana: “given that epistemology is the study of how one knows and ignorance is a condition of not knowing, epistemology would seem to have nothing to do with ignorance” (2007: 1). While Sullivan and Tuana’s assertion is a point to note, it is important to state that the concept of ignorance in epistemology has received attention from various thinkers, and by this, it is often considered as an “epistemic oversight.” Granted that ignorance is seen as an “epistemic oversight,” what then is epistemology of ignorance? This question is worth conceptualizing as both epistemology and ignorance are diametrically opposed to each other. Epistemology of ignorance is defined as the attempt to examine the roles ignorance plays in knowledge practices. In the discourse of epistemology of ignorance, two works are regarded as the most influential, and they are Shannon Sullivan and Nancy Tuana’s Race and Epistemologies of Ignorance (2007), and Robert N. Proctor and Londa Schiebinger’s Agnotology: The Making and the Unmaking of Ignorance (2008). However, it is important to mention Charles Mills’ The Racial Contract, as it is regarded as the groundbreaking work on epistemology of ignorance. Linda Martin Alcoff in Epistemologies of Ignorance: Three Types further explains the epistemology of ignorance by stating that the idea of an epistemology of ignorance attempts to explain and account for the fact that such substantive practices of ignorance – willful 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). To understand our interest in this paper, especially how epistemology of ignorance is one of the key themes in African epistemology, it is important to outline the types of epistemologies of ignorance given by Alcoff. According to Alcoff: 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.

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The third type of epistemology of ignorance as enunciated by Alcoff forms the bulk of our discourse in this heading. Since the third type of epistemology of ignorance has to do with a systemic type, and or willful ignorance in the context of power relations between Africans and Westerners, it therefore provides us with a kind of structural and systemic ignorance which helps in perpetuating a stereotypic representation of individuals in a particular system. This buttresses our earlier argument that ignorance may not connote something negative in the epistemic sense, depending on what an individual decides to use it for. This is what Charles Mills in The Racial Contract does by explaining the willful ignorance behind the racial conception of blacks by the Europeans which was fashionable among thinkers such as Voltaire, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, G.W.F. Hegel, and so on. This is fashionable till date as radical Europeans still view Africans and people of other races with uttermost disdain. Charles Mills expresses this position as he states that: Thus, 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 dysfunctions (which are psychologically and socially /functional), producing the ironic outcome that whites will in general be unable to understand the world they themselves have made. . . [Europeans] 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. (1997: 18–20)

Evidently, the excerpt by Mills does not only suggest the role of willful ignorance in the radical Europeans’ proclaiming their race as superior, and other races inferior, but also by implication, the epistemologies of these non-Europeans are also considered as substandard compared to what is obtainable in the Western world. From the brief conceptual analysis of epistemology of ignorance, it is important to examine the implications it has for the African epistemic traditions. It is important to ask: what role does deliberate, willful, and systematic ignorance plays in the altering of African epistemic traditions? Shannon Sullivan and Nancy Tuana, while commenting on ignorance being used as a tool by an oppressor, say thus: But ignorance is not only a tool of oppression wielded by the powerful. It also can be a strategy for the survival of the victimized and oppressed, as in the case of black slaves’ feigned ignorance of many details of their white masters’ lives. This survival strategy also can take the form of the oppressed combating their oppression by unlearning the oppressor’s knowledge, which has been both passively absorbed and actively forced upon them. . . . (Sullivan & Tuana, 2007: 2)

In the discourse of epistemology as we have today, credence is often given to epistemology or theories of knowledge that are Western oriented, without recourse to African or other indigenous epistemologies. One of the reasons for this idea of raising the bars of Western epistemology as it reflects in the Cartesian-Lockean-

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Kantian traditions is no doubt, willful and systematic ignorance. Knowledge as known is a universal enterprise, but its production and application are relative. This means that knowledge acquisition is based primarily on what a particular culture allows. However, with further recourse to willful and systematic ignorance, the African epistemic traditions are being undermined. Willful and systemic ignorance tend to promote a kind of epistemic totalitarianism which sees the Eurocentric theories of knowledge as above African epistemic traditions. Walter Mignolo captures this position as he states unequivocally that the question of the totality of knowledge therefore shows the double face of modernity/coloniality: (a) consolidation of Eurocentrism as a system of interconnected knowledges (e.g., the epistemic domains of CMP: theology, philosophy, science, politics, economics, culture); (b) the dismissal and disavowal of principles of knowing and created knowledge in non-European languages and non-European system of belief (2018: 194). With modernity and Eurocentrism, there is an epistemic authoritarianism which is perpetuated via willful ignorance in the attempt to radically subjugate non-European (African) epistemic practices. No doubt that one of the profound theories of knowledge during the modern period was Descartes foundationalism, a theory of knowledge which attempted to challenge the problem of skepticism in traditional epistemology. Cartesian epistemology became the court by which other forms of knowledge were judged, making it a universal theory which cuts across time and space. This goes for other classical theories of knowledge as fashionable during the modern period of philosophy. One concept that comes to play in epistemology of ignorance is the idea of power; it is power that promotes the ethnocentricity in white ignorance which has made the radical Eurocentric thinkers argued at various point in time that Western epistemology which thrive on science and objectivity is superior to African epistemic traditions. Ignorance, therefore, is a tool in describing African epistemic traditions as inferior. Michel Foucault captures a knowledge that is subjugated as follows: . . . “A whole set of knowledges that have been disqualified as inadequate to their task or insufficiently elaborated: naive knowledges located low down on the hierarchy, beneath the required level of cognition or scientificity” (1972: 81–82). It is instructive to note that there is, in furtherance to Foucault’s idea of subjugated knowledge, an epistemic violence against the African epistemic traditions which is being perpetuated by deliberate, willful, and systemic ignorance. Epistemic violence, in the words of Khatun, has to do with “how power and desire appropriate and condition the production of knowledge” (Khatun, 1999: 4). Therefore, we cannot rule out deliberate and systemic ignorance in the efforts made by radical Eurocentric thinkers to represent African epistemic tradition when compared to that of the West. In epistemology today, there are varying descriptions of African epistemic tradition as that which has already been altered and this is being maintained overtime. The implication of this is that epistemology, especially the traditional one, has been structured in a way which excludes African epistemic traditions beyond restitution. This explains why Alcoff argues that “ignorance is a problem relating not just to justificatory practices, but also to ontologies of truth” (2007: 40). In this sense, the primary role ignorance plays in the altering of African epistemic traditions is to

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showcase the erroneous idea that some people (the whites) are at a vantage point to know, and their epistemologies are considered authentic; while some people (Africans) are either marginalized to know or their epistemic traditions are considered inauthentic and inferior.

Overcoming Epistemic Injustice and Epistemology of Ignorance How can epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance be overcome in African context? No doubt, both epistemic practices portend a negative signal for knowledge production and acquisition, especially as they promote an epistemic exclusivism which sees the African knower and African epistemic traditions as illegitimate. My aim here is to argue that epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance are not only vices in epistemology that can be overcome, but that both can also be overcome by what Jose Medina calls “epistemology of resistance.” According to Medina “the epistemology of resistance I will develop has both an analytic and a normative side: it tries to elucidate the epistemic aspects of oppression, but it also tries to offer a way out of the epistemic injustices that accompany oppression” (2013: 3). Thus, Epistemology of resistance seeks correct the anomalies of epistemic injustice as meted on the African knower and the bad epistemic practices that are being perpetuated by willful, deliberate, and systemic ignorance against African epistemic traditions. Broadly speaking, most Africans are oblivious of the epistemic exclusivism inherent in epistemology as a branch of philosophy. Evident, for instance, is the monolithic idea which is obvious in teaching the course, where an African student in higher institution is often taught, at the introductory level, Eurocentric theories of knowledge and justification without recourse to what knowledge acquisition and justification entail in an African context. This is where the epistemology of resistance comes handy; it will be used in denouncing all forms of epistemic oppression. Thus, by epistemology of resistance, Medina means “the use of our epistemic resources and abilities to undermine and change oppressive normative structures and the complacent cognitive-affective functioning that sustains those structures” (Medina 2013: 3). Since epistemology of resistance requires us to use our epistemic resources in combating all forms of tyranny and exclusion from epistemological framework, it is important to state the ways in which an African knower can restore not only his dignity and heritage, but also his epistemic traditions which has been bastardized by the Western ethnocentric view that African epistemology is an illegitimate filed of inquiry. Epistemology of resistance will bring to fore, a kind of deconstruction which will aid African epistemologists in first, exposing the tyranny that characterizes the Eurocentric tradition in knowledge production, and then contend that knowledge acquisition cannot be discussed in isolation of social practice. The implication of this is that there are some factors that are to be considered in the attempt to acquire knowledge; for instance, language, human nature, custom and tradition, and social habits. This argument is buttressed by Pompa as follows: knowledge begins with the ability to justify and since language is public and inter-subjective, all “given”

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elements which purportedly ground knowledge are simply parts of our over-all social practice (Pompa, 1981: 364). In the words of D.N. Kaphagawani and J.G. Melherbe, “the way in which epistemic rationality and its related concepts are instantiated, ‘filled out’ as it were, the concrete content that they are given in terms of linguistic descriptions and social customs, varies a great deal from one cultural context to another” (1998: 207). Since knowledge production as explained by Pompa, Kaphagawani, and Melherbe cannot be understood in isolation of social contexts, it therefore means that African epistemologists must strive at all time to resist the enthronement of Western models of knowledge over that of the Africans. Epistemology of resistance here can therefore be instrumental in the attempt to jettison the epistemic injustice and epistemic inferiority being meted on an African as a potential knower and his epistemic traditions. In this sense, there will be what Foucault calls “the insurrection of knowledge” (2003: 9) which will encourage Africans to challenge the normalized and totalized features that surround knowledge production. This does not mean that the scientific, individualistic, and objective enterprises that are peculiar to Eurocentric models should be totally rejected outrightly, but that it is important to always resist any knowledge production that does not take into cognizance, African factors. Foucault states further that the method of genealogy can be used to further entrench epistemic resistance. This method, says Foucault, will “attempt to desubjugate historical knowledges, to set them free, or in other words to enable them to oppose and struggle against the coercion of a unitary, formal, and scientific theoretical discourse” (2003: 10). Medina agreed with Foucault on the instrumental value in combating epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance. According to Medina: “the critical goal of genealogy is to energize a vibrant and feisty epistemic pluralism so that insurrectionary struggles among competing power/knowledge frameworks are always underway and contestation always alive” (2011: 12). The implication of Medina’s assertion is that there will be an epistemological orientation which will stand in contrast to the Eurocentric models. This is because we cannot overstate the argument that emphasis on the superiority of Western models above non-Western models in knowledge production often leads to epistemic injustice that is being perpetuated by ignorance. In furtherance to this, with epistemology of resistance, credence will be given to postcolonial and indigenous perspectives in knowledge production, with reference to the African epistemic traditions. Thus, the overall aim of epistemic resistance is to critique and contest the oppressive ways in which the Western hegemonic knowledge subjugates people that have been racialized and oppressed in a way that their epistemic traditions are considered inferior.

Conclusion The thrust of this chapter has been to attempt an exposition of two key themes in African epistemology: the theme of epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance. The chapter was emphatic on the argument that epistemic injustice and epistemology of ignorance are epiphenomenal of the attempt by the Enlightenment

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thinkers to streamline the methods of knowledge acquisition with emphasis on some universal, fundamental, and objective conditions which will cut across cultures of the world. Aside Eurocentrism that became popular during the Age of Enlightenment, there grew an epistemological tyranny which sees the Western models as superior to African models. The implication of this is the injustice that is done to the African knower on the basis of his capacity to know, and also, the instrumental value of ignorance in altering the epistemic traditions of Africans. While this anomaly continues, the chapter was able to domesticate that epistemic resistance as seen in the works of Jose Medina and Michel Foucault, has prospects in resisting Western hegemony in knowledge production, and by implication, is capable of validating the African epistemic views. This is the direct consequence of African epistemology as fashionable in academic discourse today. Regarding how Africans come to know, for instance, Ruch and Anyanwu write that knowledge, therefore, comes from the co-operation of all human faculties and experiences. “[The African] sees, feels, imagines, reasons, or thinks and intuits all at the same time. Only through this method does he claim to have the knowledge of the other. So, the method through which the African arrives at trustworthy knowledge of reality . . . is intuitive and personal experience” (1984: 94). With the position of Ruch and Anyanwu, it behooves on African philosophers, especially those within the epistemological traditions, to as a matter of importance, keep on ensuring that the African knower is not considered as sub-knower and the African epistemic traditions should avoid being altered. This means that the authenticity of African epistemology has roles to play in the attempt to undermine it.

References Alcoff, L. M. (2007). Epistemologies of ignorance: Three types. In S. Sullivan & T. Nancy (Eds.), Race and epistemologies of ignorance. State University of New York Press. Alcoff, L. M. (2017). Philosophy and philosophical practice: Eurocentrism as an epistemology of ignorance. In I. J. Kidd, J. Medina, & G. Pohlhaus Jr. (Eds.), The Routledge handbook of epistemic injustice. Routledge. Dotson, K. (2014). Conceptualizing epistemic oppression. Social Epistemology, 28(2), 115–138. Foucault, M. (1972). Power/knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings, C. Gordon (Ed.), C. Gordon, et al. (Trans.). Pantheon Books. Foucault, M. (2003). Society must be defended: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1975–1976 (D. Macey, Trans.). Picador Press. Freter, B. (2018). White supremacy in Eurocentric epistemology: On the west responsibility for its philosophical heritage. Synthesis Philosophica, 65(1), 237–249. Fricker, M. (2007). Epistemic injustice: Power and the ethics of knowing. Oxford University Press. Fricker, M. (2016). Epistemic injustice and the preservation of ignorance. In R. Peels & M. Blaauw (Eds.), The epistemic dimensions of ignorance (pp. 160–177). Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/9780511820076.010 Gerry, D. (2020). Epistemic injustice in education. In M. A. Peters (Ed.), Encyclopaedia of educational philosophy and theory (pp. 1–7). Singapore: Springer Nature. Ho, A. (2014). Epistemic injustice. In B. Jennings (Ed.), Encyclopedia of bioethics (4th ed.). Wadsworth Publishing.

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Kant, I. (1996). An answer to the question: What is enlightenment? In J. Schmidt (Ed.), What is enlightenment? Eighteenth-century answers and twentieth-century questions. University of California Press. Kaphagawani, D. N., & Malherbe, J. G. (1998). African epistemology. In P. H. Coetzee & A. P. J. Roux (Eds.), The African philosophy reader (p. 1998). Routledge. Khatun, S. (1999). A site of subaltern articulation: The ecstatic female body in the contemporary Bangladeshi novels of Taslima Nasrin. Genders, 30. Retrieved from http://www.genders.org/ g30/g30_khatun.html Mawere, M. (2011). Epistemological and moral implications of characterization in African literature: A Critique of Patrick Chakaipa’s ‘Rudo Ibofu’ (Love is Blind). Journal of English and Literature, 2(1), 1–9. May, V. M. (2014). “Speaking into the void?”: Intersectionality critiques and epistemic backlash. Hypatia, 29, 94–112. Medina, J. (2011). Toward a Foucaultian epistemology of resistance: Counter-memory, epistemic friction, and guerrilla pluralism. Foucault Studies, 12(October), 9–35. Medina, J. (2013). The epistemology of resistance: Gender and racial oppression, epistemic injustice, and resistant imaginations. London: Oxford University Press. Medina, J. (2017). Varieties of hermeneutical injustice. In I. J. Kidd, J. Medina, & G. Pohlhaus Jr. (Eds.), The Routledge handbook of epistemic injustice. Routledge. Mignolo, W. (2018). Eurocentrism and coloniality: The question of totality of knowledge. In W. Mignolo & C. E. Walsh (Eds.), Decoloniality: Concepts, analytics and praxis. Duke University Press. Mills, C. (1997). The racial contract. Cornell University Press. Ndlovu-Gatsheni, S. J. (2003). Empire, global coloniality, and African subjectivity. Berghahn. Ogone, J. O. (2017). Epistemic injustice: African knowledge and scholarship in global context. In A. Barteis et al. (Eds.), Postcolonial justice. Leiden. Pohlhaus, G., Jr. (2017). Varieties of epistemic injustice. In I. J. Kidd, J. Medina, & G. Pohlhaus Jr. (Eds.), The Routledge handbook of epistemic injustice. Routledge. Pompa, L. (1981). Philosophy without epistemology. Inquiry, 24(3), 359–373. Proctor, R. N. (2008). Agnotology: A missing term to describe the cultural production of ignorance (and its study). In R. N. Proctor & L. Schiebinger (Eds.), Agnotology: The making and unmaking of ignorance. Stanford University Press. Roothan, A. (2019). Indigenous, modern and postcolonial relations to nature: Negotiating the environment. Routledge. Ruch, E. A., & Anyanwu, K. C. (1984). African philosophy: An introduction to the main philosophical trends in contemporary Africa. Catholic Book Agency – Offi ciumLibri Catholicum. Semali, L. M., & Kincheloe, J. L. (1999). What is indigenous knowledge and why do we study it? In L. M. Semali & J. L. Kincheloe (Eds.), What is indigenous knowledge? Voices from the academy. Routledge. Steup, M., & Neta, R. (2005). Epistemology. In E.N. Zalta (Ed.), The Stanford encyclopedia of philosophy. http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2020/entries/epistemology/. Accessed 1 Jul 2020. Sullivan, S., & Tuana, N. (2007). Race and the epistemologies of ignorance. State University of New York Press, Albany. Tung-Yi, K. (2009). Eurocentridm, modernity and postcolonial predicament in East Asia. In R. K. Kanth (Ed.), The challenge of Eurocentrism: Global perspectives policy and prospects (pp. 121–146). London: Palgrave-Macmillan. Wylie, A. (2011). Epistemic injustice, ignorance, and procedural objectivity – Editor’s introduction. Hypatia, 26, 2.

Trivalent Logic, African Logic, and African Metaphysics Edwin Etieyibo

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bivalent and Trivalent Logics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Trivalence in Aymará, Janus, and Pierce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aymará Logical System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Janus Logic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Charles Sanders Peirce’s Trivalent Logic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Trivalence in African Logic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Logic and African Metaphysics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The claim that is examined in this chapter is that, as is bivalent logic, trivalent logic occupies a place in the field of logic. A trivalent logic is a three-value logical system, and a bivalent logic is a two-value logical system. As part of advancing this claim, the chapter uses the examples of trivalent logic in Charles Sanders Peirce’s thought, the trivalent logic of Janus, the Aymará trivalent logical system, and African trivalent logic. Using the example of ancestorhood, where characteristically an ancestor, as a living dead, is both a spiritual and physical entity or is considered neither a spiritual nor physical being, the overarching view or thesis that is defended and advanced is that African trivalent logic mirrors a trivalent African metaphysics or ontology.

E. Etieyibo (*) Department of Philosophy, School of Social Sciences, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_19

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Keywords

African · Ancestor · Aymará · Bivalent · Charles Sanders Peirce · Janus · Logic · Trivalent

Introduction African logic is an established and important branch of the African philosophical canon. In the last decades or so, a number of significant works have been produced in this burgeoning area of African philosophy. A snapshot of these works includes: Sogolo (1993 and 2004), Eboh (1999), Momoh (2000), Ijiomah (2006), Fayemi (2010), Etieyibo (2016, 2022a), Ogbonnaya (2018), Chimakonam (2019, 2020), and Mabalane and Etieyibo (2020). Several of these works on African logic deal with issues around the foundation of an African logical system in the area of truth values (Ocaya, 2004; Chimakonam, 2019, 2020; and Etieyibo, 2022a). Discussions of African logic vis-à-vis truth values or truth values and the foundation of an African logical system are essential for the development of African philosophical logic. This is because discussions of the nature of African philosophical logic implicate the language of multiple or plurality of values or valence (many values, trivalence, etc.), which is a running theme or thread that a number of the aforementioned authors take up. Of importance in these discussions is the notion of an African trivalent logical system in contradistinction to a bivalent logical system. So, for example, in the context of the Acholi language, Victor Ocaya has argued that with regard to the law of excluded middle, the language vis-à-vis Acholi logic is one of three values. There is similar train of thought in Jonathan Chimakonam’s Ezumezu system of logic, which takes the logic as not only dynamic or flexible but also trivalent. The discussions of the nature and difference between a trivalent logic and a bivalent logical system and associating African logic with the former effectively ground African philosophy on a logical methodology that is, on the one hand, distinct from “traditional” Western logical system or classical logic and, on the other hand, similar to the trivalent logics of a number of some other thoughts, or traditions, or cultural worldviews. It must be pointed out that although the task of establishing the nature and substance of a trivalent logic is one that must not be taken for granted, its feasibility is at least enhanced by the presence or possibility of many values logic or fuzzy logic. To get a sense of some aspects of these sorts of logics in relation to three-value logics and many-valued logical systems, see Mundici (1989), Miller and Thornton (2008), Bergmann (2008), and Malinowski (2009). This chapter will be exploring the nature of trivalent logic as found in a number of logical thoughts and traditions, but with a focus on African logic. A trivalent logic is a three-value logical system, and a bivalent logic is a two-value logical system. The aim and motivation of this exploration is threefold. First, to show the nature of trivalent logic, for which there are only two values and understands a proposition to have only one truth value. Second, to examine how trivalent logic is expressed in a

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number of logical thoughts and traditions. Third, to highlight the sense in which African (trivalent) logic relate to African (trivalent) metaphysics. Using the examples of the state of sleeping and that of ancestorhood, where characteristically an ancestor is both a spiritual and physical entity or is considered neither a spiritual nor physical being, this chapter defends the view that African trivalent logic mirrors a trivalent African metaphysics or ontology. This discussion elucidates the idea of an in-between (or third) value, which in the context of the presence or possibility of different trivalent logical systems ought not to be difficult to understand and embrace. This is how the chapter will proceed. It begins by looking at trivalent logic in the logical thought of Charles Sander Pierce, in Janus logic, and in Aymará and African logical systems. Following this, the discussion moves to engaging with some reason for thinking of African logic as trivalent and in the last section discusses the relationship between an African trivalent logic and an African trivalent metaphysics or particularly, the sense in which an African trivalent logical system piggybacks or mirrors a trivalent African metaphysics.

Bivalent and Trivalent Logics A bivalent logic is a binary logic. It is a logical system that takes a proposition or a statement or a declarative sentence expressing a proposition to be true or false. That is, a bivalent logic holds that a proposition only has exactly one truth value, which is either true or false. In this sense, a bivalent logic is a two-valued logic. If such a logic is constructed in terms of the traditional truth table, every cell or box will either be T or F. By contrast, a trivalent logic is not a binary logic; rather, it is a trinary logic (also called ternary or trilean logic). It is a logical system in which there are three truth values. In trivalent logic, a proposition is not taken to have exactly one truth value, which is either true or false; rather, a proposition is said to indicate true, false, and some other third value (which could be indeterminate or something else). If such a logic is constructed using something like a truth table, we will have T or F or X representing every cell or box (where X represents a third truth value). Classical sentential or Boolean logic (named after the logician George Boole) are paradigmatic examples of bivalent logics because they provide only for true and false values. We find a good example of how this sort of logic is stated in the three classical principles or laws of thought: the law of identity, the law of noncontradiction, and the law of excluded middle. The laws of thought although are understood to have originated or associated with Aristotle (or his systematic formulation of them) have, as the history of philosophy and logic has shown, undergone different formulations and clarification. In the main, the principles are said to be the basic axiomatic rules upon which some form of rational discourse is grounded. These laws will now be briefly discussed. The law of identity states that each thing or something (if it is a thing) is identical with itself or that A is A. Metaphysically or ontologically, what this principle says is

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that everything that exists has a specific nature or simply that every entity that exists does exists as something in particular or that it has certain characteristics that are part of what it is or make it that thing. In terms of truth values, the idea is that if a proposition has been determined or proved to be true, then it is, ipso facto, true. Or simply stated, this principle holds that what is true is true. The law or principle of noncontradiction holds that no proposition can be both true and false or simply that A cannot be both A and not A at the same time. Thus, if a proposition has been determined or and replace with established to be true, then it cannot be false at the same time. The idea here for this law is that contradictory propositions are mutually exclusive in the sense that they cannot both be true in the same sense at the same time. The point is that if a statement excludes the possibility of another, then both cannot be claimed to be true simultaneously since they are both contradictory. So, for example, the two propositions “p is true or the case” and “p is false or not the case” are contradictory and mutually exclusive, and accordingly, cannot be said of p at the same time. The law of excluded middle declares that every proposition is either true or false or that a proposition is true, or its negation is true or that every truth value is either true or false. The thought here is that if a proposition is a negation of another proposition, then either the first or second (negation) is true or the first proposition is true, and the negation is false or the negation is true and the first is false. Thus, if p is true, then ~p (not p) is false, and if
p (not p) is true, then p is false. A cursory look will probably help us see how the classical laws of thought exemplify bivalence or bivalent logic. Take the example of the law of identity. As we have seen, the law holds that if an entity has a particular identity, it has that identity and not less or more than that identity. Or simply that if something exists, then it has a set of characteristics that are consistent with its identity and these set of characteristics makes A (say, water) A (water), and not B (say, air). Thus, if something is water, it has to be water, and if something is air, it has to be air; simply (and in terms of a proposition), what is said of A is that it can only possibly have one truth value. As for the law of noncontradiction, a proposition can only have one truth value given that the principle holds that contradictory propositions are mutually exclusive, namely, no proposition can be both true and false or given that A cannot both be A and not A (or B) at the same time. It is also the same with the law of excluded middle; for if every truth value is either true or false, it follows both that A can only possibly have one truth value and that there are only two possible expressions of the proposition, namely true and false.

Trivalence in Aymara´, Janus, and Pierce This section will briefly look at three-value logic in some logical thoughts, systems, or traditions. The focus of this discussion of trivalent logic will be in three areas. The first is trivalent logic in the Aymará (natural) language, the second, three-value logic in Janus (artificial) language, and lastly, trivalent logic in the thought of Charles Sanders Pierce.

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Aymara´ Logical System Aymará is a language that percolates among the Indians in parts of Bolivia and Peru. As a language that is related to Quechua, it is mostly spoken on the Altiplano of Bolivia. The language has been described as having certain particular characteristics that makes it different from many other languages (see Aymará and Aymará.org, and Arpasi (2003)). These characteristics include it being a language of extraordinary flexibility, very adaptable and adequate for the use of abstractions, and as having the incredible ability to create neologisms. About the Aymará language, the Italian linguist Umberto Eco notes: In 1603, the Jesuit Ludovico Bertonio (Arte de la lengua Aymara) described the Aymara language (still partially spoken by Indians living between Bolivia and Peru) as endowed with an immense flexibility and capability of accommodating neologisms, particularly adapted to the expression of abstract concepts, so much so as to raise a suspicion that it was an artificial invention. (Eco, 1995: 344)

Additionally, Eco has indicated that Aymará logic is a trivalent logic and that because the language is based on a three-value logical system rather than a Western two-value logical system, it has the capability of expressing modal subtleties. Eco writes: Recent studies have established Aymara is not based on an Aristotelian two-valued logic (either True or False), but on a three-valued logic it is, therefore, capable of expressing modal subtleties which other languages can only capture through complex circumlocutions. Thus there have been proposals to use Aymara to resolve all problems of computer translation. (Eco, 1996: 351)

Ivan Guzman de Rojas has also observed that Aymará is a trivalent logical system. Much like other languages, Aymará employs inflections that indicate the statuses of proportions. In the English language, for example, logical operators like “not” are taken as a negation operator, which transforms a true proposition to a false proposition (see also Aymará and Aymará.org, Aymará (n.d.), and Arpasi (2003)). So, for instance, if I say that “all humans are mortal,” it is true if all humans are mortal, and the negation of this (or by adding not) transforms this proposition to a false one, such as “all humans are not mortal.” According to de Rojas, in Aymará, the inflections of the degree of certitude of its respective assertions play the same role as “not” in the English language. Now unlike the English language, Aymará does not just have true assertions (as truth) and its negation (as false). Rather, it uses an inflection that allows for the possibility of a true proposition being “neither-true-norfalse.” This, as de Rojas notes, indicates that Aymará is trivalent and employs a third (truth) value, i.e., neither-true-nor-false, which is used for uncertainty (de Rojas, 1984). Besides his discussion of inflections and assertions in Aymará, de Rojas also opines that the language and the type of logical system that it supports allow the Aymará people to derive logical conclusions that are not available to speakers of languages that employ a binary logical system (de Rojas, 1984).

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Janus Logic Janus is an artificial language. In this sense, it is different from Aymará, which, as we have seen, is a natural language. Like the Aymará logical system, Janus logical system is trivalent. Having said this, it must be pointed out that there are some skeptical positions regarding whether or not Aymará is trivalent logical system and whether natural languages use a particular logic. For some of the discussions around this issue, see Aymará (nd), “Language and Philosophy.” And on the point about artificial language and natural language in relation to Janus and Aymará, it should be kept in mind that whereas Janus logic is said to be completely trivalent, Aymará is said to be a trivalent modal logic (see Musa or Musa Academy, “Janus Logic”). The three truth values in Janus logic are: true, false, and wrong. Clearly, we see that there is a difference between Janus logic and classical logic, which is bivalent since it has a third value: wrong. As in classical logic, true in Janus logic means the same, where true denote that which is asserted. However, false in Janus logic is different from classical logic. In the former, false or A is false means not true, or A is not the case, but in the latter, A is false means the negation of A is true (see Musa Academy, “Janus Logic”). As for the third truth value in Janus logic, i.e., wrong, this means that neither a statement nor the negation of that statement is true. To understand and appreciate the subtle difference in these truth values, consider the discussion by the Musa Academy. Suppose someone says: “The King of France is Japanese.” One might say that the proposition is not true, in which case it will be false in classical logic. Now consider its negation: “The King of France is not Japanese.” In classical logic, it is also not true, given that there is no King of France (not since 1848). It should be noted that the last King of France was Louis Philippe (October 6, 1773 – August 26, 1850), who ruled from 1830 to 1848. In Janus logical system, both propositions (“The King of France is Japanese” and “The King of France is not Japanese”) are wrong, namely, that neither the original proposition nor its negation is true. Now, for a bit of clarification, it has to be said that to say that a proposition is wrong it does not mean that it is not meaningful or that it is meaningless. So let us go back to the first proposition: “The King of France is Japanese.” We have said that this proposition, in Janus logic, is wrong. But this does not mean that it is meaningless like say an utterance such as “Johnny John Joney jumps to a jumpy jumpily jump jumping.” We do clearly understand what the proposition, “The King of France is Japanese” asserts, which is that there is someone who is a “King” or precisely, who can be called the “King of France” and who happens to be “Japanese.” The problem with the proposition is not that it is not meaningful; rather it is that it is missing a referent, namely, there just happens not to be a King of France at the moment. What does this all leave us? Ultimately, there seem to be some difference when it comes to issues about meaningless, propositions and referents between what we are presented in Janus logic and what we typically find in classical logic. Among some classical logicians, the utterance “The King of France is Japanese” is not a proposition because it does not have any referent. However, as the Musa Academy has noted, and which I find

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persuasive, “not all Wrong propositions lack referents” (Musa Academy, “Janus Logic”). A good example to use is the one discussed by the Academy and here it is. “Shakespeare left Alaska by airplane” isn’t missing any referents: both Shakespeare and Alaska existed, and so do airplanes. But Shakespeare never went to Alaska, so he could never have left that geographical space by airplane or any other way. You could say the proposition is false, but it’s a funny kind of false, since its negation, ‘Shakespeare didn’t leave Alaska by airplane,’ is also false. That’s called presupposition failure” (Musa Academy, “Janus Logic”). To underlie the importance of wrong as a truth value in Janus logic and the idea that wrong propositions lie in the middle between true and false, Musa gives three examples. The first is the statement, “it’s not really raining, but it’s drizzling.” Here, it seems wrong to say, “It’s not raining.” The second is the proposition, “zero is a natural number,” or “i  -i (where i represents √-1)” (Musa Academy, “Janus Logic”). These propositions are neither true nor untrue. The third is the question: “Did the stock market go up after the Great Crash of 1929?” Musa notes that this question does not admit of a yes or no since neither seem to be truthful. This is because although the stock market went up, it first fell and then remained below its previous levels for many years afterwards. This, one can say, is an example where one can use wrong in response to the query and it does not matter how a wrong statement is untrue, as long as its negation is also untrue (Musa Academy, “Janus Logic”).

Charles Sanders Peirce’s Trivalent Logic Charles Sanders Peirce straddles many disciplines, and he did leave his mark in them. From science to philosophy and mathematics to logic, he accomplished quite a lot. Focusing on logic, which is the primary concern in this section, his contributions is immense. Francesco Bellucci and Ahti-Veikko Pietarinen puts his contributions this way: [His] development of modern logic at the turn of the 20th century were colossal, original and influential. Formal, or deductive, logic was just one of the branches in which he exercized his logical and analytical talent. His work developed upon Boole’s algebra of logic and De Morgan’s logic of relations. He worked on the algebra of relatives (1870–1885), the theory of quantification (1883–1885), graphical or diagrammatic logic (1896–1911), trivalent logic (1909), higher-order and modal logics. He also contributed significantly to the theory and methodology of induction, and discovered a third kind of reasoning, different from both deduction and induction, which he called abduction or retroduction, and which he identified with the logic of scientific discovery. (Bellucci & Pietarinen, n.d.)

The part of Peirce’s contribution to logic that is of concern to this chapter is his work on a semantics for three-valued logic, which he undertook as part of his study of the conditions for the truth of propositions. Eric Hammer (2010) points out that it was around 1910 that Peirce, in three unnumbered pages of notes, defined a manyvalued logic system, which he never published. Irving H. Anellis seems to suggest

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that trivalent logic as presented by Peirce first appeared in his January 1902 manuscript, entitled “The Simplest Mathematics.” This makes Peirce the first (in the Western logical tradition) to develop trivalent logic, well before (10 years at least) Emil Post’s dissertation, which is typically cited as the origin of Western development of three-valued logic. Peirce’s notes show that he experimented with three symbols representing truth values: “V, L, and F.” Whereas he associates V with “1” and “T,” which designate truth, and F with “0” and “F,” signifying falsehood, he associates L with “1/2” and “N,” indicating what might be called an intermediate or unknown value (Hammer, 2013). In Pierce’s three-valued logic, it is not the case that all propositions must be either true or false; he allows for the possibility of boundary-propositions, which he says is “at the limit between P and not” (Hammer, 2010). Furthermore, Peirce defines a large number of unary and binary operators on V, L, and F truth values and indicates their semantics by truth values, which allows him to show that the bar operator yields falsehood when applied to truth, yields unknown when applied to unknown, and yields truth when applied to falsehood (Hammer, 2013).

Trivalence in African Logic As has been indicated in the introduction, one area of African logic that some African logicians have focused on relate to truth values in African logical system, in particular the possibility of an African trivalent logic. The following discussion of a three-value logic in African logical system will focus on two examples: first, logic in the Acholi language and, second, Ezumezu logic. Ocaya has indicated that the law of excluded middle is challenged in the Acholi language (2004: 289). By this, he means that in this language, it is not the case that every proposition is either true or false or that something either exists or does not exist. Using the example of a substance (say, water or some other liquid in the Acholi language), he clarifies what he means. He says that one can say the following about water: 1. “It is hot” or p, which in Acholi is expressed as Piny Iyet. 2. “It is not hot” or ~ p, which is Piny pe Iyet in Acholi. 3. “It is hot and not hot” or p & ~ p, which is expressed in Acholi as Piny Iyet-Iyet. Ocaya notes that the first two are available to most languages such as the English language but not the third. The English language tries to capture the third with expressions such as “It is rather hot,” but this Ocaya says does not do the job given that Piny Iyet-Iyet is a distinct category of beingness, or a state of being of a substance, or some thing or stuff that lies somewhere between the two other categories of Piny Iyet and Piny pe Iyet. And to say that the third category of Piny Iyet-Iyet is a distinct category of beingness and not captured by the English language expression “It is rather hot” also suggests that Piny Iyet-Iyet is different from the idea of being lukewarm, which is more or less used to signify something that could or should be hot but is only moderately warm, or being tepid, or being indifferent.

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One might perhaps add here that the expressions “lukewarm” and “It is rather hot” are the sorts of subtleties that Eco says Western languages and bivalent logic can only express by resorting to unwieldy periphrases. In summation then, the Acholi language presents us an example of logical thinking going against the classical law of excluded middle but also a positive case of a three-valued logic from an African place or worldview. I think Ezumezu logic, as advanced by Chimakonam, supports the possibility of Piny Iyet-Iyet, as a distinct and third category of beingness. Chimakonam defends Ezumezu both in a draft manuscript, “Ezumezu as a Methodological Reconstruction in African Philosophy: Toward Anarchistic (Conversational) Orderliness” and in a monograph published in 2019, Ezumezu: A System of Logic for African Philosophy and Studies. Chimakonam’s motivation is to defend Ezumezu as an alternative logic or logical system. Ezumezu logic, he says, is a dynamic or flexible and three-valued logical system. The first two values of Ezumezu logic are similar to what we find in the Acholi language, namely, both a proposition being true and false. Regarding the third truth value, let us take one context where Ezumezu logic can be understood much more clearly, the context of the classical laws of thought, particularly the law of excluded middle. According to Chimakonam, the third value can be expressed as the law or principle of “Onona-etiti, which simply states: (T) A ^ (T) ~ A or (T) A ^ (F) A.” The rendition simply takes A to be both true and false (see Chimakonam (draft manuscript: 16) and for his discussion of this principle and other principles in the context of a broad African logic, see Chaps. 5, 6, and 7 of Chimakonam (2019)). To recap then the nature of what Ezumezu logic is. We have three distinct categories of beingness corresponding to three truth values. These are truth, false, and unity (where unity can be taken to be a complement of truth and false or true and false. Stated differently, the principle of Onona-etiti law in Ezumezu logic “accounts for the intermediary values (not altogether true and not altogether false) and includes what was excluded by the classical law of excluded middle” (Chimakonam, draft manuscript: 16).

African Logic and African Metaphysics This section will look at the relationship between African logic and African metaphysics by focusing on how African logic mirrors African metaphysics. In particular, it examines the claim that the trivalence of an African logic is a reflection of a trivalent African metaphysics or ontology. As part of the discussion, we will be using the African belief in ancestorhood to illustrate this relationship between logic and metaphysics. African metaphysics broadly captures the nature of metaphysical thinking in Africa, and this includes ontology, where metaphysics is concerned with questions that are after the physical, or simply about the nature of reality and what is ultimately real, and ontology refers to the study of what there is and concerned with existence, reality, being, and becoming. Simply put, African metaphysics is concerned with first principles and questions about the nature of reality, what is ultimately real. Furthermore, it tries or attempts to give answers to fundamental questions of the universe, life, existence, essence, cause or causality, effect, etc., within an African experience,

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lifeworld for Africans (Etieyibo, 2022b, c). Crucial to this definition of African metaphysics is that it implicates religious beliefs relating to the African conception of God, sprits, the universe, space and time, etc., and their interrelations. On the nature of African metaphysics, it can be said to be holistic or as Lesiba J. Teffo and A. P. J Roux have indicated, it is a “closed system [such] that everything hangs together and is affected by any change in the system” (Teffo & Roux, 1998: 222). What Teffo and Roux have said about a holistic nature of African metaphysics has been extended to African ontology, which according to a number of African scholars, is holistic and communitarian or communalistic. This ontology can be taken to be non-reductionist and to reject simple binaries (see Bujo, 1998; Sindima, 1990; Tangwa, 2004; Opoku, 1993; Etieyibo, 2014, 2017, 2022a; Onyewuenyi, 1991; Murove, 2004; Ijiomah, 2006; Teffo & Roux, 1998). Let us focus on the part of African ontology being holistic and what it means to say that it eschews binaries. What it means to say that African ontology is holistic and not binary is that it does not take reality to be simply a contestation between two beings or substances or entities, say, for example, an entity is either material (physical) or immaterial (spiritual). For a non-reductionist and nonbinary discussion of African ontology, see Etieyibo (2022a). As well, Etieyibo has discussed how to understand the communitarian or communalistic and holistic African ontology. He notes that: [I]f we accept that the African communalistic ontology takes the visible and invisible worlds as not disparate, then humans can be said to belong to both worlds. Humans belong to both worlds or between two worlds (the invisible world of invisible beings and the visible world of visible beings). As beings or members of the visible and invisible worlds, humans relate freely with the beings in the two worlds. They relate to the visible world in their commute with other beings (humans) of this world. And they relate to the invisible world in their commute with spirits (ancestors, living dead and nameless dead). It is this way of describing existence or beingness that warrants the claim that African worldview is communitarian or communalistic and holistic. (Etieyibo, 2022a: 76–77)

One of the points mentioned at the beginning of this section is that a trivalent African logic relates to or mirrors a trivalent African metaphysics. This is so just in case African logic reflects a communalistic and holistic African ontology which is also holistic. What this means is “that the ontology and logic neither takes values to be disparate and bivalent but trivalent [or even many values] where all the values are united in some complementary sense.” (Etieyibo, 2022a: 77). Saying that African logic mirrors or reflects African ontology should not be surprising given that there has been growing suggestion that there is a close relationship between African ontology and other areas of African philosophy and that African ontology which captures African reality colors or shapes or influences the other aspects of African philosophy and worldviews (see Ogbonnaya, 2018 and Etieyibo, 2017). So, what has been done so far by establishing that the nature of African metaphysics/ontology is communalistic and holistic is to set the stage for the claim that a trivalent African logic is communalistic and holistic insofar as it follows from or mirrors African ontology. This has now put us in a position to now demonstrate the sense in which African ontology is trivalent by using the example of ancestorhood.

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In African ontology, ancestors are beings or forces that are part of the hierarchy of beings. In the hierarchical ladders or hierarchy of beings they come after God and spirts, and before humans, animals, and nonliving matter or entities. The notion of ancestors as forces and as occupying some hierarchy is drawn broadly from the African hierarchy of being and force thesis, which has been articulated by the Belgian Theologian, Placide Tempels in his presentation of Bantu Philosophy and the theories of beings and forces (1959). According to Tempels, being is said to be force and force is being and where a being’s status is determined by the amount of force that such a being has. Stated differently, the amount of force coming together determines the nature of a particular being. Ancestors are forces that have the same source of force as other beings. Ancestors are persons that have effectively contributed to the community while they were alive. After death, they continue to contribute to the well-being of the community by interacting with humans through various activities including rituals, offerings, and sacrifices. Ancestors can be said to be both alive and dead or neither alive nor dead. This characterization of ancestors is consistent with what Teffo and Roux have remarked about there being no distinct difference “between the material and the spiritual” in African philosophy or metaphysical worldview (Teffo & Roux, 1998: 200). On this understanding, ancestors are neither spiritual nor physical entities. At the same time, they are living spiritual beings and physical living beings. The notion that ancestors are living spiritual beings and physical living beings helps one to appreciate why ancestors are called the “living dead.” In speaking of the relationship between ancestors, as living dead and humans regarding the former’s performance of duty among amaNdebele Africans, Pathisa Nyathi notes that “there are times when the living dead are communicated with in order to chastise them when they have abandoned their protective role” (Nyathi, 2001: 8). It is perhaps for this reason that Jomo Kenyatta, with reference to discussions as to whether the relationship with ancestors in Africa can be said to be that of “ancestor worship” or “ancestor reverence,” notes that among the Gikuyu, the relationship is one of “communion with ancestors” and not “ancestor worship” (Kenyatta, 1965: 223). The summary of this is that ancestral existence or the life of an ancestor is a life that can be described as straddling between physical existence or life and spiritual existence or life. Consequently, if we are to characterize the trivalence of ancestorhood or ancestral existence and life in terms of three values in an African ontology, we would have the following: (1) An ancestor is a physical or material being ¼ A is Pb. (2) An ancestor is a spiritual or immaterial being ¼ A is Sb. (3i) An ancestor is neither a physical nor spiritual being ¼ A is ~Pb and ~ Sb. Or (3ii) An ancestor is both a physical and spiritual being ¼ A is Pb and Sb. A in the formulation above stands for an ancestor, Pb for physical or material being, and Sb for a spiritual or immaterial being. The characterization of ancestors as

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illustration of African ontology is one that is comfortably accommodated by a trivalent African logic or even a polyvalent African logic but one that cannot be accommodated by a bivalent logic. One might even stretch the thinking and characterization of ancestors into the territory of more than three values, that is, the idea of multiple values can be taken to be one of polyvalence and not bivalence. The point here is that (1) – (3ii) could be said to suggest not three truth values but at least four truth values, hence a polyvalent logical system or logic rather than a trivalent logic. This idea is reasonable and such interpretation is possible if one think of the values at play as follows: an ancestor as (1) a physical being, (2) a spiritual being, (3) both a physical and spiritual being, and (4) neither a physical nor spiritual being. Whether we settle for bivalence or polyvalence the point is that the reality of ancestorhood is one that a bivalent system of logic would find difficult to make sense of and will consider it illogical and irrational but not so for a trivalent or polyvalent logic.

Conclusion What has been done in this chapter is to provide some overview of what a bivalent and trivalent logic looks like using the examples of Peirce’s trivalence, Janus trivalence, the ternary logic of Aymará, and African trivalent logic. In the discussion of trivalence in African logical system, the chapter looked at how one can think of African trivalent logic as mirroring a trivalent African metaphysics or ontology. As a way of illustrating a trivalent African metaphysics, the example of ancestorhood was used, where characteristically an ancestor is both a spiritual and physical entity or/and is neither a spiritual nor physical being. In the main, the discussion shows that the idea of an in-between (or third) value, which in the context of some trivalent logical systems (e.g., as in Peirce’s trivalence) may be said to be indeterminate or undetermined or unknown, and in some trivalent logical systems/traditions determinate, as in a distinct third value (such as in Aymará and African logics or the value of wrong of Janus trivalence). The idea of three or more than two values (as in classical logic) should not be difficult to embrace. Quantum mechanics have shown us that the law of excluded middle or the idea of a bivalent logic is one that is discountable, and trivalent logic is one that can be embraced. For discussions on quantum mechanics and quantum mechanics and trivalent logic, see Reichenbach (1975, 1944), Hooker (1975), Bigaj (2001), and Morin (2010). Let us illustrate this thought of reality and more than two values with the example of the state of sleeping. Generally, the state of sleeping is contrasted with the state of being awake. In this comparison, binary expressions or language are traded on and the two values at play are: Sleeping (a sleeping state) ¼ Sg and being Awake (or not sleeping) ¼ Aw. But consider this. There are times when one may be said to be in a sleeping state and not in a sleeping state at the same time. Suppose that you (X) call a friend (Y) pass midnight and Y picks up the phone. You can tell from Y’s voice that she is sleepy having just “woken” up by your phone call. You then ask her “Are you still sleeping

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or now awake” and she answers, “I don’t know, I am trying to wake up.” Both of you then proceed to have a brief conversation. The next day you go back to the conversation that you had with X, but for some reason X was only able to remember parts (or half) of what you discussed the previous night when you called. One conclusion that can be reached from this example is that, lurking here in the background, there is a third state beside Sg and Aw and that third state is in-between Sg (sleeping) and Aw (being awake). This state one might call a state of sleeping and not sleeping or a state of being awake and not being awake. To avoid all of the above cumbersome periphrases or complex circumlocutions let us simply call the third state a state of Sleepwake ¼ Se. Sleepwake or Se is perhaps identical with what in English language is called “sleepy.” At the moment, one is not completely sure if “sleepy” does capture Se. But this worry can be set aside for now. How are we to justify this? The justification may proceed along two ways. First, the very fact that you asked X during your conversation if she is still sleeping or now awake and the fact that X answered you as follows: “I don’t know, I am trying to wake up” suggest the appropriateness of calling this a third state and using Se to denote that state. Two quick comments to be made then. First, this example opens up the possibility of a recognition of the fact that X was neither awake nor sleeping during your conversation. Second, given that X only remembers parts or half of what both of you discussed, it suggests that X was not fully awake and fully asleep, for if (a) X was fully awake, ceteris paribus, she would have remembered all that you discussed, and if (b) X was fully asleep, she would not have remembered half of what you discussed. Finally, the feasibility of the third state of Se is made more apparent given that falling asleep and waking are not immediate events, which can be measured in seconds or nanoseconds but processes and states that extend in time, and which can lead either to Sg or Aw, that is with one being asleep or going back to sleep or being fully awake.

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Part V Political Philosophy

African Political Philosophy Joseph Balatedi Radinkudikae Gaie

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Defining African Political Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Political Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Political Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Botho/Ubuntu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Political Ethics Through Botho/Ubuntu (Botho Politics) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Consultation/Therisanyo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Respect for Individuality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Importance of People . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Democracy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Shared Knowledge Is Important for Harmonious Living . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Communal Participation and Mutuality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The chapter will define African Political philosophy in general and Political Ethics as its branch. It will propound the view that Botho is an ethical perspective that can be applied to political discourse. Debates in African Political philosophy have been on the nature of African traditional political systems; whether they conformed to western type of democracy. The modern political African system has been subjected to scrutiny from the perspective of the west. Questions on conformity to western standards of democracy and the ability or lack thereof, to

J. B. R. Gaie (*) Department of Theology and Religious Studies, Faculty of Humanities, University of Botswana, Gaborone, Botswana e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_38

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transfer power from one regime to another have been raised. African political ethics is likely to consist of how political players have been failing to conform to western style democratic principles and practices. In this area, the tools of analysis are western type of ethical judgment. This chapter will demonstrate how Botho ethics, an indigenous ethical theory, is comparable to western type of ethical theorizing in political discourse. It will identify political issues that warrant ethical discussion and demonstrate why they are deemed to be ethical matters from a Botho point of view. The question, ‘what is political ethics?’ will be answered through anchoring debates on the theory of Botho that is founded on the idea of ‘a person being a person because of, with and through other people.’ This is the foundation of African Ethics from a Setswana (Botswana) perspective. When extended to politics, it is expressible in the idea that ‘kgosi ke kgosi ka batho’ (A king is a king with, because of and through the people). This exposition will stimulate debate on African Political Ethics. It will extend the debate on African philosophy to the areas of politics and ethics. This is a bold move that a few scholars have attempted to make. Metz has taken the position that there is an African ethical theory that can take its place at the altar of philosophizing alongside western philosophy. This chapter will contribute another angle to that view. Keywords

African Philosophy · Political ethics · Botho ethics · Ubuntu ethics

Introduction The definition of philosophy is important in understanding African Philosophy. There is consensus about the difficulty of defining philosophy. Once we have defined philosophy we should be able to define African Philosophy because it is its branch. At some point there was a debate as to whether there is African philosophy but that has since been settled because if philosophy is a critical reflection on reality then Africans can reflect on reality or ask the same questions that have been asked in the west. Once we have defined African Philosophy we can look at political philosophy which is a branch of philosophy with specific reference to politics. This leads to the definition of African political philosophy the foundation of which is botho/ubuntu philosophy. Botho/ubuntu philosophy is founded on the saying that a person is a person because of, with and through other people. This is also the foundation of African political philosophy as expressed through saying a king is a king because of, with and through the people. This is the same as African Political ethics. Democracy, consultation, cooperation, and importance of people are elements of political ethics that can guide action in our present-day politics. They are the elements that have provided guidance for political life in African societies.

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Defining African Political Philosophy In order to properly (relatively) perform the task of defining African Political Philosophy it is expedient to start with a definition of philosophy. The subject of philosophy can be classified as having the following branches: Aesthetics, Epistemology (Ejike, 2020: 21) (Kaphagawani & Malherbe, 2000: 205), Ethics (Wiredu, 2000b: 306), Logic (Sogolo, 2000: 217), and Metaphysics/Ontology (Ibuot, 2011: 214). The subject of philosophy itself can be defined as among other things, an analytical, consistent, coherent, comprehensive, critical, questioning, logical, synthetical, honest, rational, intuitive, objective, subjective, impartial, pragmatic, existential,, and practical study of reality. The above list is meant to represent the core of wisdom since the word itself is composed of two Greek words: philos (friend), phileo (I love) and Sophos (a wise person), Sophia (Chemhuru, 2016: 420) (wisdom) meaning ‘the friend of wisdom’ (Ejike, 2020: 24) or ‘the lover of the wise.’ As an academic discipline then it becomes the study of wisdom (Chaffee, 2009: 6). Philosophy is also a way of life (Ogunnaike, 2017: 204) or an attitude. As such it is a general subject embracing certain theories. Apart from the etymological origins of the subject it is not easy to come up with a definition that all will accept. Philosophers of the analytic tradition will not necessarily agree with those of the pragmatic tradition, or the rationalistic, empiricist or post-modernist and existentialist, just to mention a few. Different scholars have made this point: “the question, what philosophy really is, is important for everyone. Unfortunately, this is one of the most difficult philosophical questions. I know of only a few words which have so many meanings as the word philosophy (Bocheński, 1963: 20).” In short “the question of what is to count as philosophy is itself a philosophical question (Nsamenang, 2011: 60).” “In the Islamic world of learning, the concept of philosophy cannot be precisely defined (Rypka, 1968: 425).” “The mere mention of the word philosophy elicits some measures of anxiety as well as curiosity among people especially non-philosophers. Even among intellectuals, the subject matter of philosophy is a subject of controversy (Okaneme, 2013: 161).” “Indeed, even in ancient Greece “philosophy” never had a univocal definition (Davis, 2019: 599).” Having said the above, philosophy can still be summarily stated as: the birthbed of all knowledge. It is the mother of all sciences. It is the beginning of all searching and theorisation. This is premised on the idea that philosophy pursues questions in every dimension of human life and its techniques apply to problems in any field of study or endeavour. Basing on this understanding, it is generally accepted that no single definition expresses in fullness the richness and diversity of philosophy. This implies that philosophy may be described in many ways. (Mawere & Mubaya, 2016: 1)

Since we have come up with at least a working definition of philosophy, and the supposition is that African Philosophy is a variety, type, or branch more like German, Caribbean, European, and Asian Philosophy, Chinese Philosophy (Groves,

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2014), African Philosophy of education (Msila, 2009: 311), just to mention a few, we can now turn to defining the branch of philosophy that we call African Philosophy.

African Philosophy From what we said about the definition of philosophy in general above, it is clear that no single and simple definition of African philosophy will be available. Defining African Philosophy has also been illusive partly “because the question of the nature of African philosophy has itself been a major preoccupation of modern African philosophy,9 it is almost impossible to say anything general about African philosophy without saying something highly controversial” (Hull, 2019: 2). “There were many in the Western world, who believed that Africans have no philosophy -David Hume, Georg Hegel, Karl Jaspers (Ibuot, 2011: 212).” See also (Oyeshile, 2018: 4) who includes Max Muller and Karl Marx in the list. Instead of defining African Philosophy Agada asked if African Philosophy was progressing. He went on to answer his question in the negative – very little progress has been made: Any attempt at writing the history of African philosophy is doomed to be frustrated by the glaring absence of originality, individuality, and creativity in the body of works that come under the heading of African philosophy. In the first place, most of what is called African philosophy is in fact ethno-philosophy, consisting chiefly of researches into the traditional worldviews of various African tribes in the light of Western philosophy. (Agada, 2013: 239) It is beyond dispute that the Europeans have European philosophy while the Americans have American philosophy. The Indians have Indian philosophy and the Chinese have Chinese philosophy. Yet any reference to African philosophy brings an expression of amazement to the faces of non-Africans while Africans look away from their fellow Africans in guilt. This guilt of the Africans arises from the knowledge that there is very little creativity and originality in the minds of African philosophical thinkers. We have produced professors instead of thinkers. (Agada, 2013: 240)

In other words, African philosophy started at some point and got trapped there without much progress more like being stuck in the primitive stages of development probably equivalent to pre-Socratic tradition in the west when everybody else has moved beyond post-colonial and multicultural philosophies or the current technologically and scientifically inspired philosophies of the twenty-first century. Philosophy in Africa has for more than a decade now been dominated by the discussion of one compound question, namely, is there an African philosophy, and if there is, what is it? The first part of the question has generally been unhesitatingly answered in the affirmative. Dispute has been primarily over the second part of the question as various specimens of African philosophy presented do not seem to pass muster. Those of us who refuse to accept certain specimens as philosophy have generally been rather illogically said also to deny an affirmative answer to the first part of the question. (Bodunrin, 1981: 161)

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Bodunrin appears to be saying that they acknowledge the existence of African philosophy but there has been confusion leading their detractors to think that when they refuse to accept certain phenomena presented as philosophy, they are denying the existence of African Philosophy. This supposes that it is one thing to think that something exists and another to say what that thing is – a confusing situation indeed. If I say that X exists and Y is not X, it would make sense to show what X is such that it would be distinguished from Y; to show that what I acknowledge to exist is not the same thing as that which I dismiss does not seem to make much sense to me. Without a clear definition of Philosophy, it would remain doubtful as to whether I really believe in the existence of X (African Philosophy). Other views are that “African philosophy” also exists in Africa’s political philosophers, for example, Kwame Nkrumah, Leopold S. Senghor, Julius Nyerere, and Nelson Mandela (Nsamenang, 2011: 59). The problem is that Africa has knowledge and thinkers but they are more and more alienated from the African continent because of the undue influence exerted by the West. What philosophy one does emanates from an understanding of what philosophy is. A hallmark of philosophy is to take a position, then justify and defend it with rational arguments. In so doing, one must realize that a consensus may never emerge in debates about an African philosophy of education because consensus hardly ever occurs in philosophical debates. (Nsamenang, 2011: 60)

From the above one can surmise that major questions that have pre-occupied philosophers in the west have been and can still be asked by Africans. Thus, they have and can philosophize in the same way as their western counterparts. This includes the way they do Philosophy: All philosophy is self-conscious about method. The particular focus of African philosophy’s self-consciousness is, though, a distinguishing trait. Time and again, African philosophers return to the question of the right relationship between theory construction by contemporary practitioners and the folk philosophies of African cultures; as they do to the concomitant question of precisely where in that relationship ‘African philosophy’ is to be located. (Hull, 2019: 4)

Others agree that: African philosophy is an attempt by philosophers to make the folklores, myth, sooth sayings, religion, education, socio political organizations and other aspects of the African culture relevant to African needs not through any dogmatic attachment to standards used in evaluating the African culture or African culture itself, but through creative critical examination and logical methodologies which are not peculiar to the Western culture. (Oyeshile, 2008: 63) We can talk of African philosophy as a philosophy that belongs to Africa. The same understanding alludes to the question on the content/nature of philosophy in Africa, by which we mean the study, writing, teaching, and practice of philosophy in Africa. (Mawere & Mubaya, 2016: 47)

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The equalization scheme in African philosophy is my coinage. Informed by the idea that Europeans do not think that Africans have any philosophy, this scheme sets out to demonstrate that Africans have a philosophy (ies) that can be said to stand on a par with the submissions of Western philosophers. (Ibuot, 2011: 220)

“African Philosophy” means a philosophical discourse from African perspectives. This means the philosopher does not need to be an African.1 Some philosophers think otherwise (Atieyibo, 2016). African philosophy as I will understand it here, remains an attempt and the contributions by philosophers (both African and non-African) who would like to assess the contribution that African ideas about epistemology, ontology, ethics, aesthetics and logic could contribute to their well-being. (Chemhuru, 2016: 421)

“African philosophy is not a singular thing, but a multiple, a response to different sets of questions and different activated concepts at once. One’s focal length matters to one’s place (Janz, 2017: 158).” Defining anything in philosophy is fraught with difficulties (as we have seen above). Even the definition of who an African is, often taken for granted, is at least open to debate. This matter has been raised thus: “Defining the ‘African’ half of ‘African philosophy’ is more tricky – largely because ‘African’ is largely an arbitrary, imaginary, and originally exogenous demarcation of a landmass (Ogunnaike, 2017: 203).” In summary, we can say that African Philosophy is a branch of philosophy. Even though the latter is difficult to define a probable definition will include the analytical, consistent, coherent, comprehensive, critical, questioning, logical, synthetical, systematic, honest, rational, intuitive, objective, subjective, impartial, pragmatic, existential, and practical study of reality. This will be done from an African perspective. In other words, African perspectives are used to raise aesthetical, ethical, epistemological, logical, and metaphysical/ontological questions. This exercise can be done by anybody competent enough to converse philosophically like an African will. This leads us to look at political philosophy, which is another variety of philosophy. Leo Strauss holds that political philosophy is about the pursuit of good life and the good society. Good society means the political good. He explains that “if men make it their explicit goal to acquire knowledge of the good life and the good society, political philosophy emerges. By calling the pursuit political philosophy, we imply that it forms part of a bigger whole: of philosophy (Strauss, 1957: 343).” The core questions related to political philosophy are the nature of the state – what is it? Who should do what in the state? What is the justification for that? What is the relationship between individuals and the state? What can the state do and what it cannot or should not do? What is the best way of attaining the good life in the state?

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One of non-African philosophers who believes in African Philosophy, writes, critiques and leaves it has pointed out that he has the duty to teach students the truth about African philosophy, critique it, appraise it and relate it to western philosophical traditions (Jones & Metz, 2015: 540).

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Political philosophy can then be said to be the study of politics from a philosophical point of view. It is raising philosophical questions about politics. These philosophical questions can be along the branches mentioned above. Thus, we can ask aesthetical, epistemological, ethical, logical, and metaphysical/ontological questions in relation to politics. Political philosophy can also be divided into many segments or branches that would include African political philosophy to which we now turn.

African Political Philosophy The question whether African philosophy exists has been discussed and debated for several decades in various forums by different scholars. The general trend of thought has been that there is indeed such a thing as African Philosophy. And since African philosophy encompasses all forms and types of philosophising, it therefore follows that it does make sense to talk of an African epistemology, just as it is sensible to talk of African ethics, aesthetics, and metaphysics, for instance. (Kaphagawani & Malherbe, 2000: 205)

The above list of African philosophizing includes African political philosophy whereby the general exercise of engaging in discourses regarding the good life in society, how and when it is attainable, governance, what it is and how it ought to be pursued, and so on, involves African experiences, values, cosmologies, and assumptions. “African political philosophy is a less explored field of study in comparison to research areas such a metaphysics, anthropology, theology, sociology and economics (Kasanda, 2015: 30).” Kasanda explains that some people identify African political philosophy with philosophers or political leaders like J. Nyerere. Others simply: reduce this philosophy to both the vicissitudes and hazards of African politics in considering it as a chronicle of ups and downs of African nations. These two approaches deform the nature of this philosophy and they skip over the effort of African people to frame rationally their social and political organization. (Kasanda, 2015: 30)

African political philosophy he believes is concerned with people’s everyday lives and their communal experiences. It derives from political philosophy in general, which is concerned about three things: the good of the people, power, and the perceived manner of organizing society. In this context African political philosophy is about “the well-being of African citizens, the power, and the suited paradigm for social and political organization (Kasanda, 2015: 30).” These questions naturally follow: what is political power and how can it be justified? Who should rule and by what means? This leads some people to conclude that African political philosophy is about the choice between capitalism and socialism and the latter becomes attractive based on the supposed communal nature of African society. Capitalism does come with liberalism, individualism, and competition for power through elections couched in the language of democracy. This is what the west enforces on Africa by pointing out the poverty of traditional thought systems that people are using in the present-day situations (Lajul, 2020: 179).

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African political philosophy gave birth to African socialism, a combination of ideas from traditional philosophies and newer communalistic ones such as Marxism. This was a response to the aftermath of slavery, colonialism, and postindependence social challenges including identity of the African, economic underdevelopment and crises related to class struggles and differentiation (Oyeshile, 2018: 7). Political philosophy was necessary to deal with these, including the neo-colonialism manifesting in some African leaders as well as leadership crises resulting from individualism, tribalism, and capitalist yearnings of the ruling elite. In this sense, political philosophy was an attempt to correct the situation. This suggests the ethical basis of political philosophy. At some point, Africa had to deal with military coups and political dictatorships that led to the impoverishment of the African masses. This inevitably raises the question, what is the task of African Political philosophy? The following answers have been proffered: The most common political theory and good ideological approaches being practiced on the African soil today are borrowed from outside Africa. Without home grown political theories, the effort to unite African peoples, politically and economically is an illusion. This is where the main role of political philosophy in Africa lies. The political thinkers have a task to identify such a political theory by which political practitioners should live. (Lajul, 2020: 183) Governance in most Africa nations is replete with ‘democratic’ monarchs, tyrants and despots, who are also grossly characterized by ethnicism, tribalism, nepotism, and persecution of rational opponents and intellectuals. This gives credence to the fact that mineral deposits without philosophic managers cannot translate to real wealth. However, this situation of poor management is exacerbated by support from western imperial powers, who take advantage of African leadership mediocrity to enrich their countries. (Emeka & Chinweuba, n.d.: 96) The challenge of African philosophy is on the political emancipation of the African continent mainly from the black leaders and their political collaborators outside Africa. [. . .] The question then is how philosophy and indeed African philosophy has contributed to understanding this problematic and how, using some philosophical parameters, we can proffer solution to this predicament of state, power and leadership in Africa. [. . .] the role of African philosophy in the socio-political development of Africa, particularly how African philosophy, through the theories of African philosophers, have come to terms with political crisis in Africa, especially the postcolonial crisis that resulted from political independence and the inability of African states to manage political independence for sustainable development in Africa. The main import of this paper is to see how African philosophers can help to resolve political crisis in Africa. (Oyeshile, 2018: 2) The Africa we know is the Africa of corruption, poverty, conflict, environmental pollution, religious bigotry, overpopulation, power adventurism, retrogression, and failure. Therefore, the task of African philosophy is to address the “concrete existential problems” within the social and cultural circumstances of the modern African so as to reconstruct the Africa we know towards shaping a progressive Africa of the future (Edet, 2015). Conceptual Mandelanization is premised on this idea, based on “methodological preconditions for the development and evolution of a viable indigenous development oriented social ideology” to address the African condition. (Ibanga, 2018: 129)

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The common thread seems to boil down to the concept of philosopher kings who will make things better for the African. These philosopher kings, or king educators, must dig deep into African traditional thought systems and come up with “principled interpretations of sub-Saharan moral thought” robust enough to genuinely rival “dominant Western theories such as utilitarianism (Mill, 1879), Kantianism, and contractualism (Metz, 2012: 61).” In other words, African Political philosophy should lead to ethics; African Political ethics to which we now turn.

African Political Ethics African Political Ethics is a branch of African Philosophy just like “African environmental ethics is still a developing area of African philosophy” (Ibanga, 2018: 124)” and Swahili philosophy (Rettová, 2020: 34) just to mention a few. African political ethics can simply be defined as the philosophical study of right and wrong in the context of African Political Philosophy. We have already spent considerable space on the definition of the latter, so we simply need to expand on the former which I propose to do below. In order to deal with African political ethics there is need to start at the core of African ethics. At this stage there is no point in belabouring the answer to the question as to whether there is African ethics, which has been adequately dealt with (Metz, 2007; Ramose, 1999; Jimoh, 2017; Deng, 2004; Taringa, 2020; Teffo, 2004; Prinsloo, 1991; Gaie, 2007) just to mention a few. We must look at what that core is.

Botho/Ubuntu It is not claiming too much to state that the core of not only African philosophy, but African aesthetics, ethics, epistemology, logic, metaphysics/ontology, education, management and politics (and many other branches) is Botho in Setswana/Sesotho, also commonly known as Ubuntu, Hunhu (Shona) and in Venda, Swahili, Tsonga, Shangaan, and Ugandan languages (Van Norren, 2014: 256). That is partly why “like most fundamental concepts, Ubuntu defies a single definition or characterization. In most cases it is not clear what Ubuntu means (Taringa, 2020: 393).” “There is no agreement on what ‘ubuntu’ itself means (Gade, 2012: 487).” “It was not until the second half of the 1900s that ubuntu began to be defined as a philosophy, an ethic, African humanism, and as a worldview in written sources (Gade, 2012: 492).” Different scholars have expressed this as summarized by Taole: Ubuntu is multifaceted, dynamic and is perceived differently in different contexts. Ubuntu is difficult to define and a plethora of definitions exists, each emphasizing different elements of the concept (Mavobula 2011:39). Lephalala (2012) argues that Ubuntu is complex, elusive and multifaceted, as it mirrors the multiple and shifting nature of the African society and

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human relationships. Mokgoro (1998:2) asserts that the concept, like many African concepts is not easily definable. She adds that defining an African notion in a foreign language can be elusive. Metz (2007: 323) concurs that it is difficult to translate Ubuntu into English because it has many different connotations associated with it. (Taole, 2016: 68)

This is well captured by the view that “to understand reality in African system of thought is to have a holistic view of a society structured by harmonious co-existence between all beings (Ejike, 2020: 27).” Botho/“ubuntu is not just an abstract concept. It permeates every aspect of African life. It is expressed in collective singing, pain, dancing, expressions of grief, celebrations, sharing and compassion (Msengana, 2006: 84).” It is that and much more. It is fullness, immensity or wholeness. And “this wholeness in constant flux is called, in Bantu, ubuntu. Ubuntu is a hard-to-translate encompassing word for principle of harmonious, ever-changing, all-encompassing, and adequately-fitting substance (Fikentscher, 2006: 317).” Ubuntu, which has formed the basis of a number of recent engagements with the possibility of a distinctively African ethics, is both an ethical and a politico-ideological project: this is because as a moral principle it aims to consider and enhance human well-being, and as a politico-ideological principle, it guides social and political relationships in healthy, harmonious, directions. (Bamford, 2019: 51) Ubuntu is as such a traditional African philosophical tenet that expresses and implies understanding humanity in relation to the rest of the world. This philosophy recognizes the relationship and link between human beings from which humanity discovers the essence of human interactions. (Ganyi & Owan, 2016: 36)

After attempting the articulation of botho/ubuntu, a complex reality expressed in a very short word (botho/ubuntu , etc.), we can continue the endeavour by presenting another version of the complex reality in the form of African political ethics or botho politics.

African Political Ethics Through Botho/Ubuntu (Botho Politics) Ubuntu as expressed in various African cultures is the ability to be compassionate, reciprocate, dignified, harmonious, kind, patient, and so on in order to build, enforce, reinforce, and maintain the community. Africa is not harmonious, faces political turmoil and confusion; lacks imagination, economic development, ethical uprightness, and technological knowledge because it has abandoned botho/ubuntu and embraced alien ideologies and cultures. One must add that the adoption of such cultures is not done in any systematic or prudent manner, often resulting in a hybrid of confused and confusing sub-cultures. Ganyi and Owan think that ubuntu is the answer, hence the need to have Ubuntugogy in place so that it can be the thread that binds the multicultural communities found in Africa together including those of other lands. Simply put, Ubuntugogy is teaching botho and in botho.

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The starting point of ubuntu ethics is the expression: “Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu, which literally means “A person is a person through other persons” (Okyere-Manu, 2018: 207; Mboti, 2015: 125; Van Norren, 2014: 256). In Setswana it is “motho ke motho ka batho” (Gaie, 2007: 37). This is more than “no man is an island.” It means “a person is a person because of, with and through other people.” Now let us look closely at these expressions. To make this statement is to express an empirical phenomenon. It is to claim some truth. Firstly, a person is a person because (causal) of other people in the sense that they owe their existence to others. In Setswana it is expressed as “ke se ke leng sone ka lona.” He is what he is because of you – you create, actualize, bring him about. This is what we can refer to as a causal relationship between people. Every person is a result of other people, literally. They create the person – consider biology, genetics, socialization, and importantly, ethics. Other people cause somebody to be either morally good or bad in the sense that it is because of his reaction to them or any situation that he becomes good or bad. He cannot be bad or good in the moral sense unless there is his environment, including other people. In that sense they make/ cause him. Consider a clear example, there is no Nelson Mandela without apartheid; there is no St. Mother Theresa without the adject poverty in India. These phenomena are necessary for Mandela and Theresa to be what we have come to know them to be. The next aspect is that of conjugality (with). There is a partnership between phenomena, people, and the environment. In other words, once he becomes something – whatever he is, he needs the continued co-operation of others to continue being what he is; be it wife, friend, leader, father, or resident. When others cease to be what they are to him he ceases to be what he is (at least in relation to them). The last aspect is that of instrumentality (through). This simply means other people (including things) are instruments of his becoming. He becomes what he is by using others. For him to be at the top, to be “one who is up there” he needs instruments, means, and ways of climbing and these are other people and things. To be educated he needs to learn from his teachers (both formal and informal), use things that he gets from others such as books, schools, teachers, fellow students, etc. He cannot learn ‘on his own.’ He needs the environment. The above statement is not controversial at all. It is simple and straightforward. The controversy might come in the next stage. If one is what they are because of, with and through other people, how is that related to ethics and his moral behaviour? How does that guide his behaviour? Put differently, how does that become ethics? Can it help the subject to determine morally wrong or right behaviour? To say that some action is wrong is to mean that the person who is said to be doing wrong is behaving as if they are NOT what they are because of, with and through other people. Every encounter is a moment of mutual definition – one makes the other what they are and the former makes the latter what they are. Moral behaviour is an acknowledgment of this reality. When one acknowledges the other to be contributing to be what they are, the latter will behave in a certain way. When one behaves in a way that fails to acknowledge their mutual definition, they are claiming that they are not what they are because of, with and through the other. But their very denial is confirmation of this reality. Now when one denies what they confirm through that

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denial they are involved in a contradiction. They are saying that they are not what they are, which is a falsehood. Their self-awareness and consciousness derive from their rational nature. As such they need to pursue truth. This calls for doing the things that are associated with botho, namely being among other things, compassionate, reciprocative, dignified, harmonious, kind, courageous, patient, and so on in order to build, enforce, reinforce, and maintain the community and commodious living. Let us take an example showing unethical behavior. A thief (T) is behaving immorally when they steal because in addition to showing lack of concern for others, creating disharmony and lacking sympathy they are claiming something they should not – namely that they are not what they are because of, with and through others (the owner – O in this instance). The presence of the property owner (O) potentially defines T as either thief or a good person. Failure to understand or acknowledge this by T makes it appear like O has no relevance to T; which is not true. So, T is denying the fact that O is important in making him what he is, (either thief or non-thief). T is further implying that O’s well-being has no relevance to him. But O’s well-being and ownership of the property are what they are because of, with and through T just as T’s well-being and becoming is because of, with and through O. To demonstrate this, O continues to have the property and to be alive because of, through and with T. T can kill him for example (even if he can get arrested later) so he exists at the pleasure of T. When he steals O’s property, the latter ceases to be owner. O becomes one without property or victim of theft through T’s activity. Failure to acknowledge this mutual definition is falsehood and people should not cling to falsehoods. Now we can see that what has been suggested here hinges on truth-telling or acknowledgment. The weakness of this argument is that it derives morality from truth – ethics from epistemology. This is a problem in Western philosophy. This weakness is acceptable based on the argument that it is an example of the difference between western philosophy and botho philosophy. The logic of botho philosophy values truth to the extent that it is a foundational ethical value. This is well expressed in the statement “truth-telling is thus a moral principle that consistently helps sustain the harmony and solidarity of the community and is thereby also a moral principle that helps sustain persons as persons (Tschaepe, 2013: 55).” After an exposition of botho ethics generally let us see botho ethics applied to politics, which we have called botho politics, which is not different from Setswana and African political ethics. Again, like botho ethics, political ethics is founded on “probably the most common saying in an African context about good leadership is, ‘A king is a king through his people (Metz, 2018: 42)’.” Kgosi ke kgosi ka batho (A chief is a chief through the people). It follows from this maxim that one cannot be a chief without the people. You become a king by consent of the people and you remain one as long as the consent is not withdrawn. (Teffo, 2004: 446)

Teffo calls this “communocracy,” governance of the people (community) by the community. Note here the two aspects found in botho ethics, namely causality and conjugality. This is literally true. No king can install himself. He needs his uncles (to begin with) and the community (the nation). After deciding and agreeing that he

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becomes their king the community installs him (usually, even though it can be her). He then continues being king at their pleasure. From his point of view, he can only become king by using other people who are the instruments of his becoming. In this sense, he can use the wisdom of his uncles and society; the culture of his people to be a good king. On the other hand, he can use the selfishness of those close to him, their nepotistic yearnings and despotic tendencies, as well as the murderous and undemocratic postures of the powerful in his community to oppress his people. The question then becomes, what is the political ethics of botho that is based on kgosi ke kgosi ka batho (king is king because of, with and through the people)? It must be clear from what has been said above that a good king is one who does not only understand that he is king because of, with and through the people but also behaves in a way that reflects this. This raises the question, what kind of political ethics are we dealing with here? Before dealing with the kind of political ethics that botho politics is, let us briefly browse through the current perspective on African political philosophy and by extension African political ethics. We are dealing with a situation where thinking about African political ethics is nothing but condemnation exemplified by statements like “after about six decades of political independence, more than seventy-five percent (75%) of African countries are still wallowing in abject poverty and crisis of development of various forms (Oyeshile, 2018: 1–2).” Such a situation partly results from usurpation of traditional thought systems to maintain advantage of the powerful in society. This is the case in Iswatini where the king wants to marry even younger virgin girls below the age of consent and suppresses democracy desired by the youth and progressive members of the nation, at the expense of national economic development; when elections are rigged in Zimbabwe and elsewhere (Blank, 2020) in Africa to concoct a majoritarian institution that uses numerical parliamentary strength to pass repressive laws favouring the ruling elite (Mbaku, 2020); when capitalist schemes are used to ‘legally’ arrogate the right to the continent’s riches to the elite, we have tyranny (Doan, 2010: 635) and cruel economic hardship. In Nigeria for example, there are economic, political, and religious problems (Jimoh, 2017: 44–45). The above is also captured in the statement: Wangari Maathai, once said, ‘there is a lot of poverty in Africa, but Africa is not a poor continent.’ Indeed, that is the case. Africa is a rich continent; rich in terms of not only natural resources but also human resources. [. . .] Yet, despite an abundance of natural resources and human resources, the most recent news out of most of Africa remains the same; poverty; starvation; violent conflict, and social, economic and political underdevelopment. (de Arimateia da Cruz, 2011: 305)

It is clear that “after almost three centuries of employing Western educational approaches, many African societies are still characterized by low literacy rates (based on Western standards), civil conflicts, and underdevelopment (Bandura, 2017: 90).” In other words, poverty, political instability, conflict (Ani, 2013: 314), mental colonization, dependency on the west both materially and mentally, intellectual and cultural alienation, “injustice, oppression, exploitation, marginalization, and suppression of

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critical and dissenting voices (Ejike, 2020: 36)” are present in Africa. As a result the hope of redressing this though education is extinguished as it creates disintegrated “many African schizophrenics” (Ani, 2013: 315) who are grappling with the task of reconciling their political and economic experiences, education and their traditional cultures. One of the most important questions is that of the relationship between politics and chieftainship in the modern society. The argument could be that political leaders are democratically elected representatives of the people whereas kings are not elected. The latter would or should therefore not be part of the modern-day political state. Put another way, how can traditional political authorities (kings and chiefs) be incorporated into the present governance system, which is (supposedly) democratic when chieftainship is not? or should they? Why/why not? One answer is that African political and cultural traditions such as chieftainship should not be part of the modern-day society. This is aptly put in the following example where chieftaincy is seen as: Significantly, it also contradicts the powerful urban nouveau bourgeoisie that constitute the core of the ANC now that it is in power. For them, chiefship is an anomaly, an embarrassment, obsolete and an obstacle to their plans for centralized state control of modernization. (Thornton, 2003: 131)

So, the institution cannot be incorporated into the modern state let alone being twigged to adapt to prevailing conditions. Any suggestion to accommodate chieftaincy and other African traditional ideas in the modern state and economy is impracticable, or bluntly put, utopian. African political ethics in this context then is the attempt to deal with these issues. It is asking questions about how African politics can become good. It is dealing with questions such as why is Africa so poor politically and in other areas. What is needed for the good of African societies? What should be done to ensure democracy in Africa? Was traditional African politics democratic? Can we use traditional African ideas to improve people of the continent and the rest of the world today? For those who believe these things, African traditional thought systems have a lot to contribute to the world today. A few concepts are enough to demonstrate possible contribution of botho politics in our modern-day community.

Consultation/Therisanyo In Setswana a king is king because of, with and through the people. In recognition of this reality, a king has to behave in certain ways. One of the most important concepts is that of consultation. In being king because of, with and through his or her people, the king must consult. The king used to have a system whereby men of all social statuses would gather to discuss matters of the state and be consulted by the king. The central place for such gathering was and is still called the kgotla. This is where everybody has the right and duty to say what they believe. Thus, the saying mafoko a

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kgotla a mantle otlhe (the words of the kgotla, meaning those said at the kgotla, are all good). This means everybody is allowed to speak at the kgotla. Nobody can be prevented from speaking for whatever reason. You cannot say that somebody is not saying anything important and therefore should not speak. When people speak at the kgotla they cannot be punished for their views either. Talking about the abuse of the Setswana traditional kgotla, Mahmood Mamdani is quoted as having said that ‘this public assembly was turned into a forum where decisions were announced but not debated’ (Makgala & Mogalakwe, 2021: 3). Consultation in Setswana is “therisanyo.” Traditional Batswana want this rather than go bolelelwa (to be told – an announcement). The kgotla was not that kind of thing as observed by the following: Ørnulf Gulbrandsen says the Tswana lived their lives in courts and argues that this strengthened the ‘counter-hegemonic forces of the Tswana kgotla in a colonial context’.30 ‘All Bechuana [Tswana]’, wrote High Commissioner Lord Harlech in 1941, ‘are blessed and safe guarded by the kgotla system of quasi democratic control [. . .]. [Dikgosi] like Tshekedi and Bathoen by personal pre-eminence may appear to have great power, but in Bechuanaland not even Tshekedi can decide or commit his people without long and patient persuasion in kgotla’. (Makgala & Mogalakwe, 2021: 7)

Makgala and Mogalakwe give another example of the need to consult in Setswana traditions. In 1937 the Bangwato overruled their king Tshekedi when he supported the colonial governors in their attempt to introduce the tribunal system in place of the kgotla. In 1938 the tribe prevented the colonial powers from introducing a bicycle tax. To buttress this point Makgala and Mogalakwe explain that “whenever the colonial administration in Botswana chose not to consult the people, as in preparing post-Second World War development plans, such tasks invariably faltered (Makgala & Mogalakwe, 2021: 8).” Batswana also hold that mmua lebe o bua la gagwe gore mona le ntle a le tswe (one who speaks a bad word speaks his own so that one who has a better one can speak it). Here we can clearly see the argument advanced by the British utilitarian philosopher John Stuart Mill (1859: 136) when he argued that everybody should be allowed to speak for the sake of truth – so that when their idea is not good, or not true, people can have the opportunity to learn from it, and when it is true they can benefit from the truth. This belief in freedom of speech is important in doing away with epistemic injustice, which is the suppression of truth and knowledge resulting in the subjugation and stigmatization of a thinker so that they appear like they have no epistemic value or they have no contribution to make (Wareham, 2017: 8). This epistemic injustice is not different from tyranny that: refers to the exercise of power which is cruelly or harshly administered; it usually involves some form of oppression by those wielding power over the less powerful. John Stuart Mill (1869) warned about the tyranny of the majority since the sheer weight of numbers can never be sufficient to make an unjust act any more just. History gets written by those who claim victory, and the winners wield the economic power and social influence that enable them to establish the standards for acceptable political and social behaviors. When these histories and standards routinely exclude minority groups, tyranny flourishes. (Doan, 2010: 635)

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This is well expressed by Bandura who advocates that botho/ubuntu has consensus and reconciliation as its basic tenets: African traditional culture has an almost infinite capacity for the pursuit of consensus and reconciliation. African style democracy operates in the form of (sometimes extremely lengthy) discussions. Although there may be a hierarchy of importance among the speakers, every person gets an equal chance to speak up until some kind of an agreement, consensus, or group cohesion is reached. This important aim is expressed by words like simunye (“we are one”: i.e. “unity is strength”) and slogans like “an injury to one is an injury to all.” (Bandura, 2017: 94)

The pursuit of justice, truth and consensus is a tool that enables the king to be in touch with his people and the people with him. It is the glue that holds the society together. That is why it is true that: the chief is a chief by virtue of his place in a field of influence that is constituted by consensus, and breach of that consensus can undermine and ultimately destroy his ability to act as chief. In a very real sense, the role of chief is defined and given power by the very nature of the ambiguity and unspoken-ness of the verbal consensus that constitutes it. This same ambiguity and unspoken-ness – that is, the diffusion of influence and the power of ambiguity on which it rests – is also its weakness with respect to Western systems of law that attempt to make the ambiguities explicit, and which attempt to routinize influence through bureaucratization of the office. (Thornton, 2003: 141)

Thaddeus Metz talks of “consensual democracy” whereby: a leader will aim to ensure that all genuinely share a way of life, which includes sharing the power to create it together. Sharing a way of life, as explained above, is not merely people living the same way, which way of life could be imposed from above. Instead, it essentially includes cooperative participation, prescribing unanimitarian democracy when feasible, not merely when it comes to (representative) political legislation, but also other major public spheres of life. (Metz, 2018: 46)

What is being said here is that the African traditional political system is encored on botho, one of the most important elements of which is consultation. This consultation is not just expected of intra/inter-family relationships but also the wider society and especially the king. The next issue that is worthy of consideration in the enterprise of ruling from a traditional African point of view (botho) is the importance of individuality and their role in the community. This is usually a source of confusion because people think that communal societies emphasize the community at the expense of the individual. Let us turn to the matter below.

Respect for Individuality If a person is a person because of, with and through other people, and a king is a king because of, with and through the people, there is no way a king nor society can fail to recognize the importance of an individual, for she is one in and through whom

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society is manifest – when you see an individual you are not just seeing them individually, you are at the same time seeing their family, tribe and society. Even the king is manifest in the individual. That is why in Setswana, mmala wa kgaka o bonwa dikgakaneng. The guineafowl’s plumage is noticeable in its young. Somebody’s success is judged by the appearance of their children – your young’s appearance reflects not just you but also your society. Scholars are right when they say the following: Hunhu-Ubuntu is respectful of particularity and individuality and as such it does not promote oppressive conformity and loyalty to the group. Evidence that Hunhu-Ubuntu is respectful of individual autonomy is shown by its demand for consensus and its dialogical nature. (Chidzonga, 2016: 74)

In the case of Igbo communities, and indeed most Africans, individuality is realizable in, with and through community. Igbo villages hold power, which maintains the social balance through a system of check(s) and balances. Even though there is a strong community consciousness, the rights of individuals and their existence as an entity are not neglected. The system guarantees free speech, free movement and free action. (Jimoh, 2017: 42)

Botho safeguards the minority and individuals so that their voices can be heard – authentic respect for individual rights and honest appreciation of differences based on the realization, appreciation, and knowledge that every human encounter as well as a non-human one, is a moment of mutual definition. So: the ubuntu respect for the particularities of the beliefs and practices of others are especially emphasized by the following striking translation of umuntu ngumentu ngabantu: “A human being through (the otherness of) other human beings.” Ubuntu dictates that, if we were to be human, we need to recognize the genuine otherness of our fellow humans. In other words, we need to acknowledge the diversity of languages, histories, values and customs, all of which make up a society. (Bandura, 2017: 96)

Bandura goes on to explain that botho notes “ongoing-ness” of the other and expresses “mutual exposure” when individuals interact. The mutual exposure records a “historicality” of both agents whereby their mutual “flexibility,” indefiniteness, open-endedness, and irreducibility are evident. “This underscores the concept of ubuntu which denotes both a state of being and one of becoming. As a process of self-realization through others, it simultaneously enriches the selfrealization of others (Bandura, 2017: 97).” The above is consistent with the Setswana saying: motho ga a itsewe e se naga (unlike land, forest or country, a person is unknowable). This is meant to express not only the fact that a person is free to make a decision as well as change their mind, but also that they are in the process of becoming so much so that such a becoming is open to further indefiniteness depending on the becoming of others and the environment.

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Neither kings nor societies have veto power when it comes to relating to individuals. “There is a danger of equating Unhu with submissive coalescence. Yet, munhu is a rational being (Magosvongwe, 2016: 166)” who constantly assesses, is assessed and determines courses of action depending on situations. This leads to the next significant issue, namely the importance of people vis-à-vis other things.

Importance of People Batswana and indeed Africans value people irrespective of who they are, their social status, and so on. People are valued for no other reason than being human. In Setswana ga le fete kgomo (lerumo) le tlhaba motho (it (bullet or spear) does not pass a cow and pierce a person) meaning if a choice must be made between saving a person and preserving wealth, the former always prevails. Thus: ‘if faced with a choice between wealth and the preservation of life of another human being, one should choose the life of the other’ (sharing goes above wealth) and ‘no single human being can be thoroughly and completely useless’ (e.g. the criminal, ill or handicapped are part of humanity) (Van Norren, 2014: 256)

The above can be expressed in the following way. When one asks what a human being is, the answer would be that it is not wealth, power, or social status. If an elephant would have wealth, power and social status it would never be a person/human being. The same is true of a person who has these things but lacks good behaviour, they would not be a person. “That which makes a creature merit the name of human is the quality of his/her behaviour towards others: the readiness to help, not to oppress others, especially those who are lower than him/herself in social rank (Rettová, 2020: 39).” The Yoruba worldview, just like many other worldview, is replete with injunctions that stress the need for ethical considerations of others. For instance the concepts of ajobi (consanguinity) and ajogbe (co-residentship) emphasize what we share together both as blood relations and non-blood relations. The bottom line is that in Yoruba communal universe, the need for interdependence and co-existence guide social and political behavior. (Oyeshile, 2018: 34)

“The quality of Ubuntu is manifested in every human act which has community building as its objective orientation. Any act that destroys the community, any antisocial behaviour cannot, in any way be described as Ubuntu (Msengana, 2006: 88–89).” This is what has been described as the “we-ness” which is different from sameness, it is “nested relatedness” (Taringa, 2020: 393). This “we-ness” and nested relatedness “solidarity is ultimately empowering as in the Ubuntu mind you cannot exist without the other (Van Norren, 2014: 259).” One may wonder how the above is relevant to botho politics. “One should become a real leader, which one can do insofar as one relates communally and enables others to commune (Metz, 2018: 42).” This is what Metz calls servant

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leadership. It is the kind of leadership whereby one presides over a community that has botho and likewise the community expects the leader to have botho. For example, it would be uncharacteristic for an individual who is sufficiently immersed in ubuntu/botho to contemplate rape or murder because anyone who rapes or murders becomes, as it were, depersonalized. Elsewhere I have argued that it would be illogical for anyone with ubuntu/botho to demonstrate concern for others and at the same time have the inclination to rape, because rape is an affront to, and is inconsistent with ubuntu/botho moral norms and values. (Letseka, 2013: 340)

Likewise, a leader who has botho wants to preside over the society that has botho and would behave according to what Letseka has described above. In addition, they would want a democratic society and democracy is what we now turn to below.

Democracy “A concept that is closely associated with human rights is that of democracy, which advocates popular participation in the political, economic, social, and cultural processes of governance (Deng, 2004: 502).” It is without doubt that African traditional politics is democratic. The foundation of African traditional political ethics is botho/ubuntu as averred above. The connection between democracy, human rights and botho is therefore clear. Justice Mokgoro, a South African judge has suggested that botho/ubuntu is the grandmother of all rights (Van Norren, 2014: 261) thereby expressing its foundational nature not only to African Philosophy but to political ethics. In relation to democracy the judge is said to hold that, “Ubuntu is in line with the founding values of democracy established by the new constitution and the bill of rights (Van Norren, 2014: 260). Democracy is important in African traditional society. The king or “Ssabataka (Kabaka) was primus inter pares, an equal among equals, an arrangement which (as we shortly show) crucially influenced the political ethos of the times (Wamala, 2004: 436).” That is why the personal word of the chief was not law. His official word, on the other hand, is the consensus of his council and it is only in this capacity that it may be law; which is why the Akans have the saying that there are no bad kings, only bad councillors. (Wiredu, 2000a: 376)

But that is not all. The above might give the impression that the king was a representative of the people in the sense of the modern-day political set-up where he could make decisions on behalf of the people without them: the councillors have to act, and consult the king, or chief, in the best interest of the people. The councillors’ own interests are not without weight, but have to be downgraded in case of conflict with the people’s interests.

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Nor is a mandate of individualised nationals, citizens, or tribesmen to be given to the king; or chief; but the kings and chiefs must act in the interests of the people, together with the councillors. An example is the protection of collective intellectual property and its value. The king or chief is not only an executive organ of a peoples’ or councillors’ parliament. Rather, kings, chiefs, and councillors share in meeting the duty to seek the good life of the whole, be it tribe or nation. The powers of kings, chief, and councillors form an outer frame that defines what they can do. Within this frame, there are duties towards the people that define in detail what kings, chiefs, and councillors should do. This is the classic picture of trust. (Fikentscher, 2006: 320)

The doctrine/principle of subsidiarity was very evident in the Baganda kingdom. The king should not interfere with affairs of the lower ranks, including the family unit. His work was to plead with the spiritual world on behalf of his people as the chief priest. Local issues were left for the ordinary members of the society to deal with. In representing the state in the spiritual realm was never a license for the king to be arrogant or to misrule his people. This is well represented by the saying “ekinene tekyetwala: Kabaka ayingira owa Kibale (Nobody can be completely above the law; the king is in the power of Kibale – the official in charge of settling royal disputes) (Wamala, 2004: 437).” There was a way in which the country could discipline the king. He had to rule by consensus. His lieutenants had to be happy otherwise they would gang against him. Each region could always secede if they felt hard done by the king. The king was dependent on the community for his leadership. In Setswana a king is given advice upon his installation. In line with this is a saying that mo laya kgosi o a e itaela (one who gives a king the law legislates for themselves). This means one who advises the king to rule in a certain way is setting themselves up to be ruled that way. If they advise the king to rule kindly, they will eventually be ruled kindly. If they advise the king to be ruthless, they will be ruled ruthlessly themselves. This shows how the people participate in the kingship of the leader. It is consistent with the view that: the crucial fact about leadership in any culture is that it is a complement to subordinateship. Whatever a naïve literature on leadership may give people to understand, leaders cannot choose their styles at will; what is feasible depends to a large extent on the cultural conditioning of a leader’s subordinates. A chief is chosen; he does not choose himself. He is therefore defined by the view and expectations of his subordinates. (Msengana, 2006: 111–112)

In addition to the above certain things are important for harmonious living as well as for enabling the king to rule properly with his people. One such matter is knowledge to which we now turn.

Shared Knowledge Is Important for Harmonious Living The saying that “magezi muliro, bwegukuggwako, ogunona wa munno (Knowledge is like firewood in the hearth, if you have none you fetch it from your neighbor) (Wamala, 2004: 437)” reflects both interdependence and the importance of

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knowledge. In the traditional setup fire, water and food were so important that it was unethical for somebody to be stingy with them. This is borne by the fact that whenever somebody needed fire they could readily get if from their neighbour without cost or question. Knowledge is like that as well. We must learn from each other. This explains why everybody is important – they can teach others. “Ndi mugezi nga muburile (I am wise, only if others have informed you) (Wamala, 2004: 437).” Again, this saying explains the importance of mutual dependence. My wisdom depends on you being wise after you have been accorded the wisdom by others. Thus, we depend on each other for what we are in a way that does not dispense with the importance of others in our lives. “Magezi gomu, galesa Magambo ku kubo (Belief in his intellectual selfsufficiency resulted in Magambo’s failure to reach home. Magambo, a blind man, failed to reach home because of his arrogance and unwillingness to consult others) (Wamala, 2004: 438).” This is clearly showing how important knowledge is, and how others play a role in giving us knowledge. Ignorance kills and when coupled with arrogance or lack of capacity to learn from others it is even more dangerous. Phala e senang phalana lesilo in Setswana means an impala that does not have its young one is (a fool) foolish. A variant of the same saying is botlhale jwa phala bo tswa phalaneng meaning the impala’s intelligence comes from its young one. Somebody is advised by their young relatives. People get advised by their young ones. People may be young, but that does not mean they have nothing to offer by way of intelligence, wisdom, and knowledge. It is wise to learn from the young. One may wonder how the above are relevant to political ethics. Firstly, the sayings reflect the importance of mutual respect and dependability. When people appreciate each other’s value, they are more likely to be harmonious in their relationship. Secondly, the society is a context within which political events take place be it involving the queen or her people. When the queen and her people understand the importance of everybody regarding knowledge, they are more likely to act accordingly. Let us look at another aspect of life that enriches political ethics – social participation.

Communal Participation and Mutuality The Setswana saying nama re tima mmesi, mong wa thipa re a mo fa (between the cook and the one whose knife we used to slaughter and cut meat preference is given to the knife owner) does not only show the importance of owning useful things. It shows the importance of participation and sharing of resources. Because the knife owner is so kind to participate in the slaughter and slicing of meat, they are accorded the benefit of sharing in the feast. This is the value of participation. All people have to participate in social activity “Ekyalo ddiba lya mbogo: terizingibwa bwomu (A village is like a buffalo skin; one man cannot roll it up by himself) (Wamala, 2004: 438).” The concept of Ibuanyidanda can be applied to address the African crises of economic, social, religious and political turmoil. This concept is equated to

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botho/ubuntu in its claims to mutuality, communality, interdependence, unity, wholeness, totality, “the actualization of our being is in the mutual complementarity of our potentialities, in this complementarity our individual personal identity is defined (Jimoh, 2017: 44–45).” This Igbo concept is derived from: ibu, anyi, danda. Ibu load or task, anyi not insurmountable for, danda a species of ants. Ibuanyidanda exemplifies unity of purpose, mutuality, dependence and interdependence. A task or load is not insurmountable to the danda (ants). Lack of understanding Ibuanyidanda leads to tension, agitations, and violent conflicts including lack of concern for each other. Necessity of social relationships, people’s natural tendency to commune, individual’s inability to leave apart from others, people as cultural beings and the necessity of community are expressed by the saying. On the other hand, the philosophy of igwebuike, which comes from an Igbo word meaning “number is strength” or “number is power” is important. There are similar sayings in Setswana: bo ntsi bo bolaya noga (numbers kill a snake — when people are many they can easily and safely kill a snake). Kgetsi ya tsie e kgonwa ke go tshwaganelwa (a bag of locusts is lighter when people carry it together). Lenala le le lengwe ga le rune nta means exactly the same as the proverb kidole kimoja hakivunji chawa (“one finger does not squish a louse”) (Rettová, 2020: 49). Finally, ditau tse di seng seboka di palelwa ke nare e tlhotsa (lions that are not a pride cannot bring down/kill a limping/lame buffalo). Mutual solidarity, communality, harmony, togetherness, complementarity are foundational to community life. “It is in beingwith the community, in communion with others, that an African attains full humanity, self (a) realization. [. . .] Igwebuike philosophy has wide applicability and usefulness in this contemporary Africa characterized by injustice, oppression, exploitation, marginalization, and suppression of critical and dissenting voices (Ejike, 2020: 36).”

Conclusion This chapter began with the problematic of defining philosophy and going on to show that a working definition of philosophy will enlighten that of African philosophy, African Political Philosophy and African political Ethics. After agreeing that the existence of African philosophy is no longer debatable, we went on to say that African philosophy is based on the theory of botho/Ubuntu. The latter informs African political ethics, which is based on the concept of kgosi ke kgosi ka batho which in turn is based on motho ke motho ka batho. This concept is applicable to political ethics. When we ask how a king ought to rule, we for example answer that based on botho ethics, he must be democratic, he must respect people, consider their importance, and not only rule people with botho but also understand his own position as not just a representative of the people but also one who lives and rules with them as he shares in their humanity. This theory can be used to deal with current ethical and political problems of Africa.

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Doing Contemporary African Social and Political Philosophy from Below Yeelen Badona Monteiro

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Discipline of African Social and Political Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African People Can and Already Do Social and Political Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Manifesto for Contemporary African Social and Political Philosophers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Democracy in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anocracy: Another Trajectory of Democracy in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . How to Develop African Social and Political Philosophy from Below . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Why Civil Disobedience, and Why Sudan? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Philosophizing from Below While Democratizing from Below . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Recent research into contemporary African social and political philosophy has emphasized African folk and indigenous heritage, as well as the legacies of eminent African leaders and precolonial African societies. Such research has also attended to theoretical debates and discussions and clarifications of concepts employed in the political and social spheres. The core themes and issues driving this subject area relate to African people’s daily lives, the search for better modes of political and social organization, and the challenges that African people must face. In accordance with this contemporary definition, African social and political philosophy draws on African people themselves and considers them to be actively engaged in philosophical theorization work while tackling the challenges that reality poses to their lives. Democracy is one of the main challenges for Africa. In particular, on the continent, democracy is increasingly following an alternative trajectory toward anocratic forms of government. Anocracy is examined to Y. Badona Monteiro (*) Vita-Salute San Raffaele University, Milan, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_43

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describe the path to democratization that various African countries are following. The analysis of acts of civil disobedience carried out in an anocratic regime, such as that of Sudan, provides additional evidence of the role that African people are playing in dealing with injustices and democratizing their countries from below. Through these processes, African people are philosophizing from below, and it is on this process that African social and political philosophy should concentrate to further develop as a field of study. Keywords

African social and political philosophy · Democracy · Anocracy · Civil disobedience · Sudan

Introduction This chapter concentrates on contemporary African social and political philosophy and is divided into three sections. Section “The Discipline of African Social and Political Philosophy” provides an overview of this field of study, which remains among the less explored areas of African philosophy. One of the chapter’s aims is to reflect on how this philosophical field could develop. More specifically, section “The Discipline of African Social and Political Philosophy” seeks to answer the following questions: What is contemporary African social and political philosophy? How is research in this discipline conducted? Which sources does research relating to this discipline use? What is the role of contemporary African social and political philosophers? What future directions could such philosophers take? Few studies have been published on this specific philosophy as a discipline. The definition of contemporary African social and political philosophy endorsed here is the one that Albert Kasanda (2018) propounded. In his analysis, Kasanda claimed that this philosophy deals with African people’s daily lives and challenges, including diseases, poverty, and social and political organization. Furthermore, according to his research, this philosophy analyzes how African people creatively tackle these challenges (Kasanda, 2018). With this preliminary definition, some of the central questions driving the field of contemporary African social and political philosophy are identified. Following a brief overview of further topics and issues discussed, which relate to contemporary African social and political philosophy, section “Democracy in Africa” of this chapter concerns one of the field’s main themes: democracy in Africa. However, a thorough discussion of the African theories of democracy is beyond the scope of this contribution. Section “Democracy in Africa” calls into question the appropriateness of the category of democracy regarding contemporary African states. Subsequently, the section reexamines the generally deployed categorization and presents a different classification of regime: anocracy. Once this new classification is considered, along with the present experiences of democracy and the ongoing path to democratization on the African continent, the section analyzes a connected

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topic: civil disobedience as a form of protest undertaken in anocratic contexts, whose aim is to bring about full-fledged democratic regimes (i.e., a means of transformation for democratization from below). Section “How to Develop African Social and Political Philosophy from Below” examines an emblematic example: the civil disobedience campaigns that Sudanese citizens have recently undertaken with the aim of restoring a sound democratic system in their country. The study of Sudanese civil disobedience corroborates the description of the nature and scope of contemporary African social and political philosophy, as outlined earlier in the introduction. Ultimately, the aim of this chapter is to demonstrate that this discipline has focused, and increasingly has to focus, on African people’s daily lives and challenges and, consequently, on how African people reflect on, discuss, and develop concepts and ideas. African citizens and African protesters are exemplary subjects in this regard and should be central to an investigation into African social and political philosophy. By undertaking civil disobedience campaigns, the Sudanese people, and African citizens in general, actively participate in the practicing of contemporary African social and political philosophy. By democratizing from below, African citizens philosophize from below. It is by recognizing African people’s engagement in the process of philosophical theorizing that a contemporary African social and political philosopher can identify a way to advance their philosophy.

The Discipline of African Social and Political Philosophy Contemporary African social and political philosophy is a relatively new subject area in African philosophy and is still among the less explored areas. Commonly, this philosophy is considered to be the study of the theories that prominent African leaders and professional philosophers have elaborated (Kasanda, 2018), as well as the study of African citizens’ more general reflections on the past and ongoing experiences of their people and the responses to other political ideologies and philosophies (Osei, 2017). Moreover, many African scholars have described this philosophy as a nationalist ideology. The philosophy has been defined in terms of ideological and national thought (Kasanda, 2018). Consequently, for such scholars, the sources of African social and political philosophy are mainly considered to be the speeches of African leaders and statesmen and the productions of African intellectuals. In addition to these widespread and narrow conceptions, Kasanda outlined an interesting and more comprehensive approach. He identified African social and political philosophy “as aiming at the clarification of concepts in use in the African social and political sphere.” It “is a rational search for better modes of social and political organization and governance on behalf of African people and their leaders and intellectuals. This search not only includes theoretical debates and the clarification of concepts, but also deals with African people’s daily challenges for a better life and creating a humanized community ( faire société). [. . .] African social and political philosophy is not merely a subcategory of a general philosophy, nor is it exclusively concerned with metaphysical issues. On the contrary, this philosophy

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also deals with matters related to people’s daily lives, such as diseases, poverty, and social and political organization” (Kasanda, 2018: 29–30; emphasis in original). In response to the Africanists and African scholars who have tended to confer an ideological status on this philosophy and consider it a prerogative of African leaders and professional philosophers, this alternative definition first better describes what African social and political philosophy is. The purpose of outlining African social and political philosophy as a subject field is clear in Kasanda’s definition, which aims to demonstrate “that African social and political philosophy is not merely a subcategory of a general philosophy” (2018: 30). Second, this definition broadens the approach to the sources of this philosophy. Assuming that the theories that African leaders and professional philosophers have elaborated do not exclusively constitute African social and political philosophy, the study of this subject area considers not only the leaders’ speeches but also African precolonial and indigenous legacy, literature, music, art, and religion. When discussing professional philosophers, Kasanda referred to the institutionalization of philosophy and, more specifically, English and Kalumba’s (1996) concept according to which African scholars are identified as such owing to their credentials as doctors of philosophy, which involve “reflection, criticism, argument, and written peer review” (English & Kalumba, 1996: 7). To broaden the reservoir of the sources of this discipline, Kasanda (2018) justifiably argued in favor of the inclusion of literature – thus of creative writing – and of the artistic production more generally in the sources to be investigated in the study of African social and political philosophy. This stance arose in response to a perspective that, in his opinion, a number of African thinkers had assimilated. On the heels of the Platonic view, according to which only the philosopher has access to the world of ideas, various African thinkers disregarded the philosophical significance and role of fields such as literature, art, and music. Creative writers and artists themselves, as well as their productions, actively participate in social and political life and, thus, in this philosophy. The necessity for and the fruitfulness of this broadening of the approach to the sources and the subjects involved in contributing to contemporary African social and political philosophy become clear in section “How to Develop African Social and Political Philosophy from Below” of the chapter. Before examining some of the main themes and questions driving this philosophical field, the chapter first clarifies why African people themselves not only can but already do actively contribute to African social and political philosophy. With this in mind, the chapter attempts to outline what it means to be a contemporary African social and political philosopher and what the role of such a philosopher is in the development of this philosophy.

African People Can and Already Do Social and Political Philosophy It seems unnecessary to continue discussing whether African people can truly philosophize. There is, however, a concerning past that must be addressed when dealing with this issue. Historically, African people have been depicted as cursed and have consequently been enslaved and colonized by the Europeans. Some of the

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justifications provided to explain colonization appear to stem from an incorrect reading of the Bible. As Gerald J. Wanjohi (2017) explained, Ham, one of the three sons of Noah, as well as the ancestor of African people, is generally considered to be responsible for not clothing his father when he discovers him drunk and lying naked (King James Bible 1994, Genesis 9: 18–27). Accordingly, Noah condemns Ham to be a slave to his two brothers, Shem and Japheth. In fact, Canaan, Ham’s son, is the one cursed by Noah. In addition to this incorrect reading of the Bible, some European philosophers (e.g., Hume, Kant, and Hegel) have considered African people to be inferior and incapable of philosophizing because of a lack of intelligence and reason. According to a number of philosophers, African people have thus not been considered rational beings. Discussing such beliefs, Björn Freter (2018) provided an interesting contribution about and investigation into structural racism in the philosophical edifices of some of the major philosophers of the Enlightenment (notably Voltaire, Hume, and Kant) and the prodromes of White supremacy in their philosophies. These distorted views about African people have challenged African people’s involvement in the philosophical debates (Wanjohi, 2017). A way to respond to all of the critics wondering whether African people can philosophize and how African people can participate in the study and discussion of political philosophy is by highlighting two fundamental and intertwined points: (i) African people can undeniably appreciate and participate in the discussion of political issues and in social and political philosophy because (ii) they already actively participate in social and political philosophy (i.e., they engage in this philosophy). As this chapter aims to demonstrate, African people participate in political discourses and practice social and political philosophy while taking to the streets to protest, calling for democracy, peace, and justice. It is necessary to consider the historical and recent vicissitudes of the Sudanese people and their civil disobedience campaigns, which are further explored subsequently. Through civil disobedience, which is the term that they used to refer to their actions, the Sudanese people mobilized themselves and expressed their dissent to restore a sound democracy in their country. This phenomenon applies not only to the case analyzed in this chapter, namely that of the Sudanese people’s civil disobedience, but, as Osei (2017) suggested, also to the South African people who protested and marched against the apartheid regime. It was an “unrelenting intellectual and physical struggle by the poor and unarmed Black South Africans” (Osei, 2017: 291). Osei also encouraged consideration of how South African people “stood for endless hours in endless lines just to have a chance to cast a ballot for the first Black African president in a peaceful, democratic and racially inclusive election” (2017: 292). Thus, the South African example is another one that demonstrates that African people are primary actors in such a philosophy. Basically, Osei argued that “in so far as the man or woman in the street thinks critically about his or her own political views or those of others, or ponders on their justification, or compares them with rival ideas, to that extent he or she is a political philosopher” (2017: 293). This premise sustains the idea that social and political philosophy is – also and above all – done by African people themselves.

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In the abovementioned cases, citizens have explicitly engaged in acts of civil disobedience. What does the term mean for such citizens? Why engage in such acts specifically? What is the aim of engaging in nonviolent acts of civil disobedience? These, among others, should be the questions driving contemporary philosophical debates. Contemporary African practices challenge the conceptual categories, such as civil disobedience, discussed thus far in the field of social and political philosophy. Hence, social and political philosophers should observe how such concepts are deployed and their designated meanings. Such philosophers should perform the tasks of studying and analyzing these social and political phenomena, the relative conceptual terminology, and the pursued goals. What warrants investigating for a social and political philosopher should be the meaning of such categories, which are typically studied from an eminently Western perspective, in Africa. These categories are also debated beyond the Western horizon. Thus, the engagement in contemporary African social and political philosophy requires that the perspective be broadened. Being contemporary social and political philosophers and being committed to an in-depth study of the philosophical concepts signify making efforts to move beyond the canonical and influential philosophical debates – crossing boundaries – to investigate how the philosophical conceptual categories, which one pretends to sufficiently, or sometimes even definitely, understand, develop, and possibly transform in different debates. This means that debates should not only be had among Western philosophers or African philosophers, but also among activists, citizens, and artists too. Philosophers deal with concepts that are constantly discussed, reappraised, and challenged by reality. It is time for philosophers to dismiss boundaries. In other words, through a borrowing of Juliet Hooker’s (2016) suggestion about the approach to civil disobedience, it is time to think more expansively, which means thinking more comparatively and considering how concepts are defined in neglected contexts in particular. As pointed out in this chapter’s introduction, the acts of civil disobedience on the African continent and the reflections on this form of protest and on the related philosophical concept can be fruitful starting points to discuss what it means to practice contemporary African social and political philosophy, as well as what the trajectories for this subject area could be in the future.

A Manifesto for Contemporary African Social and Political Philosophers Some questions must be addressed more thoroughly, including how contemporary African philosophers can practice social and political philosophy, what such philosophers’ roles could be, and how they should relate social and political philosophy to traditional African heritage and legacy and other philosophies. An interesting starting point in this regard is Wiredu’s (1997a) reflection on how present-day African philosophers should philosophize. In a contribution entitled How Not to Compare African Traditional Thought with Western Thought, which was first published in 1984, Wiredu distinctly described the state of the art of engagement in philosophy; what it means to philosophize as an African philosopher; and what, in

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his view, are the stumbling blocks on this path. Through a critical reading of this contribution, it is possible to understand more precisely how a contemporary African philosopher can fruitfully philosophize, especially as regards African social and political philosophy, and what the role of the African philosopher consequently is. Two of Wiredu’s related statements can now be considered. Wiredu first claimed that “unfortunately, African philosophers writing today have no tradition of written philosophy in their continent to draw upon” (Wiredu, 1997a: 325). Subsequently, he added that, because the ancestors of African philosophers “left them no heritage of philosophical writings,” they “have no choice but to conduct their philosophical inquiries in relation to the philosophical writings of other peoples” (Wiredu, 1997a: 326). In Udoidem’s (1987) commentary, the problematic and disputable points of Wiredu’s reflection were well raised and formulated. First and foremost, it is necessary to clarify, as Wiredu only did in a footnote, that, by stating that there is no tradition of written philosophy, no consideration is given to the Ethiopian and the Arab written heritages (particularly that of Egypt, as Udoidem rightly underlined with reference to some of the works on this topic by Lancinay Keita [1984], Henry Olela [1984], and Edward P. Philip [1974]), which are fundamental parts of the African intellectual heritage. Second, the lack of an African written heritage is no longer a problem in the way that Wiredu outlined. Contemporary African philosophers can now access a number of written contributions by more or less prominent African philosophers, which is true even though, on the one hand, there remains considerable work to do with regard to oral traditions. On the other hand, as Martin (2012) pointed out, when dealing with African political thought as a specific subject area, one encounters a relatively new discipline. When considering the subject area examined here, the problem is not the lack of written sources but rather that, as previously underlined, the subject area draws on different types of materials and sources that are scattered among the speeches of famous African leaders, African traditional thought, books, literature, art, music, and religion (Kasanda, 2018). Regarding African philosophical heritage, archival work and, more importantly, a subsequent critical analysis of the deriving material represent something to which a contemporary African philosopher should be committed, as suggested by Udoidem (1987), who also clarified that “this does not mean that some African philosophers should not be specialists in Western thought, but a problem arises when all African philosophers are specialists in Western thought and no African philosopher knows anything about African heritage. The move should not be to stop Africans from contemplating their traditional and folk thoughts but to encourage them to adopt a critical and analytical attitude towards these indigenous thoughts. It is the only way that African philosophy can be personal and intensive, critical and logical, analytic and synthetic, and above all competitive in a pluralistic world of competing ideas and world views. It is also the only way that the African philosophers can have a basis or foundation for their philosophy” (Udoidem, 1987: 103).

Thus, there certainly is a heritage to begin with and relate to, which is represented by African folk and traditional thought. There is material for African philosophers and future specialists in African thought, as well as material that could be of interest to and inform Western philosophers, and, as both Wiredu and Udoidem argued,

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adopting an analytical attitude, and especially a critical approach, could be a productive posture for contemporary African philosophers. Critical reflection is also required with regard to Wiredu’s second statement about the inevitability that an African philosopher conducts research in relation to other people’s philosophical writings, owing to the lack of a written heritage. In this claim, reference is made to an African tendency to be “apish” (Udoidem, 1987: 102) in the search for knowledge, which means imitating and uncritically referring to other people’s writings. According to Udoidem (1987), this tendency is one that Wiredu also subscribed to, when formulating the second statement that is under discussion here. It is necessary that this point be clarified: It is not a matter of imitating Western philosophy or thought. The study of philosophy also involves engaging with influences, exchanges, dialogs, and conversations that go beyond the boundaries of the Western and the African world. Given this premise, it is necessary to make a due distinction. It is one thing to reflect on the implications of colonization for the expression and the elaboration of African philosophy and discuss how not to continue confining African thought and philosophy to a subordinated level or the status of an inferior complement of other more important philosophies. This is part of the work to desuperiorize Western philosophy. As Björn Freter (2018) argued, this work of desuperiorization is indispensable, especially for Western scholars, given that African thought is still considered inferior to Western thought and even a form of primitive thinking that has nothing serious to offer. African thought is considered to have something serious to offer when it adjusts itself to Western thinking. For Freter, Western thinkers must urgently engage with African thought without colonial contempt, overcoming the implicit racism, to initiate a meaningful discourse. Therefore, Western thinkers must desuperiorize themselves, their philosophies, and their thinking. Hence, “desuperiorisation, the practical decolonisation from the standpoint of the violator, must be the project that flanks the African work on decolonisation” (Freter, 2018: 246). On the heels of colonialism, it is another thing to describe African thought as “apish” and thus limited to the development of inquiries that continue to depend on other people’s philosophical writings. The fact of considering, studying, analyzing, and being influenced by other people’s philosophical writings is not aping and is not a problem per se. Moreover, it is not driven by the lack of a philosophical written heritage; rather, it is also a part of the discipline. More importantly, African philosophers have been, and remain, involved in processes of exchange that Erin Pineda effectively identified as “imaginative transit” (2021: 19). The term “imaginative transit” can be summarized as a “process of thinking and traveling across boundaries and disparate contexts” (Pineda, 2021: 19). Pineda introduced the expression to describe the processes through which activists around the world developed the idea of nonviolent direct action as a means of protest in the “transnational struggle against white supremacy and global capitalism” (2021: 12). The idea of nonviolent resistance has been in imaginative transit in different contexts, from India to South Africa to the United States. Pineda (2021) highlighted the influence that Gandhi’s ideas had on the reflections of Martin Luther King, Jr., as well as King’s journey to Ghana to listen to Kwame Nkrumah’s independence-day speech. Nonviolent direct action was the product of intellectual labor and of

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conceptual innovation (hence the term “imaginative”), and it resulted from a boundary-crossing movement (hence the term “transit”) of ideas and also of bodies, meaning that activists actually moved across continents and created “circuits of transit” (Pineda, 2021: 57). This is a practical demonstration of what has previously been highlighted as essential features of a discipline such as African social and political philosophy, and philosophy in general. Practicing philosophy also involves exchanges, comparisons, influences, conversations, and imaginative transits. African people were not apish in respect of Western philosophy. Philosophizing meant, and still means today, also engaging with other people’s philosophical written heritage and critically analyzing it. The goal of practicing African philosophy should neither be the purity of the discipline, nor to philosophize in an uncontaminated way in the name of the ultimately gained dignity of African philosophy. Purity is impossible because African philosophy, similarly to other subjects, nourishes also of contamination and will not benefit from the drawing of sharp distinctions and the building of geographical walls. A primary commitment and an endeavor to contemplating, preserving, and critically analyzing the indigenous thought are unquestionably legitimate. The work on decolonization is also important. However, a dialog, conversation, or a meaningful discourse – to borrow Freter’s (2018) term – between different philosophical worlds is similarly essential. As Udoidem (1987) stated, there could be African philosophers who are specialists in Western thought, and there could be African philosophers who are specialists in African thought. There is no need to dictate what an African philosopher must do, and there is an even lesser need to state that African philosophers must not limit themselves to engaging only with the philosophical productions of their former colonizers. Wiredu’s idea should be endorsed instead, and African philosophers should study the written philosophies of other peoples and lands, avoiding isolation from other contexts of thought. As Wiredu claimed, African philosophers should ideally “acquaint themselves with the philosophies of all the peoples of the world: compare, contrast, assess them critically and make use of whatever of value they may find in them” (Wiredu, 1997a: 326). Specifically, this is what a contemporary African social and political philosopher should do. At this point, a manifesto for contemporary African social and political philosophers could be drafted based on several points: First, contemporary African social and political philosophers should look back, as there is a heritage upon which they can rely and should focus. Wiredu (1997a) was right when he claimed that an African philosopher cannot cultivate a cultural pride rooted in the philosophical achievements of Kant, Hume, Aristotle, Hegel, or Marx in the way that a Western philosopher or student of philosophy can. It can be affirmed that there is material for an African philosopher to develop cultural pride. Second, African social and political philosophers should look back critically. A fruitful approach to the heritage of African folk and traditional thought is a critical one. Rather than looking back to the past nostalgically to find answers, adopting such an approach is a way of keeping ideas and the philosophical debate alive. Being critical means not observing the solutions to present social, cultural, and political challenges exclusively and unquestionably in precolonial African societies and their legacies. The risk is that one refers

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too much to the past and ends up being anachronistic and shortsighted, not considering the changes that Africa is undergoing as a result of globalization and other dynamics that are in play around the world (Kasanda, 2018). Third, a contemporary African philosopher should be in imaginative transit and should not fear being involved in circuits of transits of philosophical ideas and concepts. Wiredu summarized this when arguing that African philosophers should become acquainted with the philosophies of all of the people of the world and compare, contrast, critically analyze, and allow such philosophies to inform their reflections and ideas. Fourth, African philosophers should be receptive to different types of sources. As underlined, the materials of African social and political philosophy are hidden and scattered in various fields. Exploring this philosophy means not only considering the speeches that African leaders wrote and the sermons that they delivered, i.e., not only analyzing these leaders’ elaborated theories or the written texts of professional philosophers (Kasanda, 2018), but also being receptive and open to other means of expression, since this philosophy is developed in different ways, including through music, art, and literature, as outlined above. Fifth, African philosophers should understand that, in their daily lives and challenges, African people philosophize. Philosophy begins in African people’s daily lives. African people actively contribute to social and political theorization, insofar as they think critically about their political views or those of others, compare such views with opposing ideas, discuss political issues, express their consent or dissent, and reflect on how to pursue the democratization and the development of their countries.

Democracy in Africa Thus far, this chapter has focused on defining contemporary African social and political philosophy, identifying the sources of this philosophy, and developing a suitable method to conduct the research in this field. This section first provides a broader overview of some of the themes and issues discussed in social and political philosophy while focusing on one topic in particular: democracy in Africa. After reflecting on the discussions centered around this topic, the section problematizes the category of democracy and the classification of political regimes with reference to the African context. The section presents a different categorization and introduces the concept of anocracy as more appropriate to some African regimes and, in particular, to Sudan. Once again, Kasanda’s (2018) book on contemporary African social and political philosophy helps to identify the main topics and issues driving this field of study. As previously explained, for some thinkers, African social and political philosophy corresponds to a national ideological philosophy, which is the case for Lajul (2013) and Serequeberhan (1991), for instance. Alongside the discussion of reducing African social and political philosophy to ideology, Kasanda (2018) examined the distinction between this philosophy and ontology by defending the thesis that there is no similitude between the two because they have different purposes: African people’s daily reality in the first case, and the quintessence of being in the case of

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ontology. For Kasanda, African social and political philosophy should not be limited to the boundaries of the search for the essence of being. When discussing identity and identity-related issues, the debates on the paradigms of ethnophilosophy and negritude must be recalled. Another core theme of this philosophy is Pan-Africanism and the connected role of the African diaspora. To conclude this brief overview, which is by no means exhaustive, it is necessary to mention one last set of themes that is central to the discussions characterizing African social and political philosophy. Given that it is both a matter of African traditions and people’s daily life, other topics are equity (i.e., the search for excellence and the well-being of citizens) and the challenges mentioned in section “The Discipline of African Social and Political Philosophy”, namely poverty and development. Discussions on issues concerning human rights and gender are also part of this philosophical research field. Another central matter for African social and political philosophy is power. In particular, some of the questions that relate to this matter include the following: How is power exerted? Who governs, and by which principles and for how long? In addition, as Kasanda (2018) investigated, the concept of civil society and the idea of African civil society, which is regarded as a fundamental part of African social and political life, constitute further themes. Lastly, one of the main and most debated concepts in this research field is democracy. What follows is an introduction to the topic of democracy in Africa and a problematization of this conceptual category.

Anocracy: Another Trajectory of Democracy in Africa Before proceeding to problematize the concept of democracy in Africa, a premise is needed. It would be useful to examine Africa’s democratic experiences to approach the topic of democracy. By critically analyzing Kasanda’s (2018) contribution about the forms that democracy has assumed on the continent, this subsection clarifies why it could be useful to open reflection to a new categorization to describe the current status of and deficits in African democracy. Kasanda’s (2018) contribution basically outlined three main phases of democracy in Africa: (i) the introduction of democracy as a means of governance following countries’ independence with a strong anticolonial nationalistic imprint; (ii) changes in the type of democracy, from Western representative democracy to single-party rule governance, diarchism and no-polity systems; and (iii) the (re)discovery of multiparty systems. A complete discussion of the mentioned forms, their strengths and weaknesses, and the trajectories of these forms of government in Africa is beyond the scope of this chapter. Here, before discussing an additional phase of democracy in Africa, this subsection briefly summarizes the abovementioned forms of government. Representative democracy in Africa refers to a form of government based on the Western model and implemented in the aftermath of the independencies. The emancipation of African countries was initiated through the organization of elections and the constitution of parliaments, governments, and modern states institutions. Thus, this first idea refers to liberal democracy and a multiparty system. Other forms

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of government soon replaced representative democracy. The first mode was the one-party system. According to this alternative idea, a single political party, with its ideology and principles, should rule a country. As Kasanda (2018) explained, if one considers some of the major African leaders and founding fathers (Nkrumah, Nyerere, Ben Bella, Sekou Touré, and Mobutu to name a few), one can observe that they are representative of this one-party system, which acts as an instrument to pursue unity, stabilization, modernization, and development. Diarchic rule, as evident in the Graeco-Latin etymology of the term (the Latin term “duo” means “two” and the Greek term “arkhein” means “to rule”), refers to a form of government where two actors exert the state’s power simultaneously. This form of government could constitute a way of striking a compromise between different actors contending power. This form of government seemingly represents an apt system to pursue political stability, yet, as Kasanda (2018) appropriately observed, it does not prevent military putsches, which are one of the major causes of instability across the entire African continent. The last form of government, the no-party political system, represents a sort of return to the past and hinges on the idea of consensus. The no-party political system is considered to be a better solution than the multiparty system, since it is not based on competition and antagonism but rather on consensus and inclusion. The most illustrious advocate of this system is Kwasi Wiredu. His contribution entitled Democracy and Consensus in African Traditional Politics: A Plea for a Non-Party Polity (1997b), which provided an analysis of the traditional Ashanti political system, is a remarkable and interesting source to mention. There has been little debate on another experience – or, put differently, another trajectory – of democracy, which is a deviated one. It is not a paradigm or an ideal form of government to pursue or to discuss in terms of its potential strengths and weaknesses. This deviated trajectory results in another form of government: anocracy. The term “anocracy,” according to the Polity 5 Project of the Center for Systemic Peace (2018), refers to a middling form of government that mixes democratic and autocratic traits. More specifically, anocracies, unlike fully institutionalized democracies and autocracies, are “societies whose governments are neither fully democratic nor fully autocratic but, rather, combine an often incoherent mix of democratic and autocratic traits and practices” (Marshall & Elzinga-Marshall, 2017: 30). Anocracy also includes countries that a transitional government administers. The Center for Systemic Peace’s Polity 5 Project consists of a data series comprising “annually coded information on the qualities of institutionalized regime authority for all independent countries” (Marshall & Elzinga-Marshall, 2017: 29). The project rates “the levels of both democracy and autocracy for each country and year using coded information on the general, practical qualities of political institutions and processes, including executive recruitment, constraints on executive action, and political competition” (Marshall & Elzinga-Marshall, 2017: 29; emphasis in original). The scores of the series range from
10 to +10. Countries with scores varying from
10 to
6 are grouped under the autocracy category. Anocracies are the regimes with scores between
5 and +5, while countries with scores between +6 and +10 are considered democracies. In the general classification of the countries, a subcategory represents failed or occupied states.

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Returning to anocracies, these political regimes can also be subcategorized as either “open anocracies” or “closed anocracies,” depending on a more or less open competition for power. In the latter type of anocracy, this competition takes place among the elite of the country, whereas in the open anocracies, other actors also participate in the competition. An additional element of anocracies must be underlined: Some anocratic regimes can be found in countries that “have succeeded in establishing democracy following a staged transition from autocracy through anocracy” (Marshall & Elzinga-Marshall, 2017: 30). In this regard, the case of the African continent is symbolic and worthy of consideration. Anocracy is a widespread regime on the African continent (Marshall & Elzinga-Marshall, 2017: 30–32). Anocracy appears to be a way of portraying the present status of various African countries. In the global landscape, some countries have established democratic regimes by transitioning from an autocracy to an anocracy. Since their independence, various African countries have followed a different path: Democratic forms of government have been established, but subsequently replaced by anocratic regimes owing to a progressive integration of autocratic features into the democratic edifice. Sudan has followed a similar political trajectory, as the next section explains. The reason for discussing anocracy is twofold: Anocracy is an interesting and accurate concept that complements the canonical categorization of political regimes while making it possible to better describe the real political form of several governments on the African continent and their paths to democratization. Furthermore, anocracy raises crucial questions about the concept of democracy itself in Africa, how to transition from anocracy to democracy, and which forms of democracy could replace anocratic regimes. Anocracy begs the question: What should Africa’s form of democracy be in the future? The following section provides an analysis of the Sudanese acts of civil disobedience to support this more comprehensive and inclusive approach from below as a fruitful way to potentially develop African social and political philosophy in the future.

How to Develop African Social and Political Philosophy from Below The idea that contemporary African social and political philosophy concerns a rational search for better means of social and political organization and governance and that it deals with matters and challenges associated with African people’s daily lives becomes clear when analyzing forms of protest, such as acts of civil disobedience, and the act of staging such protests in African countries. The acts of civil disobedience that Sudanese people carried out to restore a full-fledged democracy in their country are considered as an emblematic example of how African social and political philosophy is defined and how it should develop. First, this section clarifies the reasons for focusing on acts of civil disobedience and, more specifically, such acts in Sudan. Second, the section examines an approach to the study of contemporary African social and political philosophy, starting from civil disobedience.

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Why Civil Disobedience, and Why Sudan? It was in December 2018 (Elsheikh, 2019) that the Sudanese people began to organize what would, in the following months, become a mass campaign of civil disobedience that, on April 11, 2019, would culminate in President Omar al-Bashir’s forced removal from power following a 30-year rule. What began as a demonstration against the rising cost of living and bread spiraled into a large protest against Bashir’s presidency (Badona Monteiro, 2020). It was not the first time that the Sudanese people succeeded in bringing down a military regime peacefully. During two popular uprisings, one of which took place in October 1964 and famously became known as the October Revolution, with the other one taking place in April 1985, dictators were deposed, ushering in civilian, democratic rules (Elsheikh, 2019). For a detailed analysis of these historical peaceful uprisings in Sudan, two contributions must be mentioned: Anakwa Dwamena’s (2019) The Historical Precedents of the Current Uprising in Sudan and Adam Branch and Zachariah Mampilly’s (2015) book entitled Africa Uprising: Popular Protest and Political Change. The 2018 and 2019 protests in Sudan are part of a broader picture of popular uprisings across the African continent on the heels of the Arab Spring. The protests are part of what political scientists have defined as the “third wave of African protests” (Mueller, 2018: 19), with the first wave leading to decolonization in the 1960s and the second wave ushering in democratic transitions during the 1990s (Mueller, 2018). Since the Arab Spring, sub-Saharan Africa has experienced an increasing number of protests (Mueller, 2018). The reason for these protests is not exclusively linked to the influence of what happened in North Africa. Where popular uprisings begin must be investigated more thoroughly. In sub-Saharan Africa, people would demonstrate because of poverty, inequality, and hunger but “not because they oppose dictatorship on ideological grounds” (Mueller, 2018: 24). This is why “protests in sub-Saharan Africa are materially motivated revolts of the poor – bread riots, essentially” (Mueller, 2018: 27). On the one hand, this interpretation identifies one of the reasons for the increasing number of protests (i.e., a growing discontent fueled by poverty and inequalities). On the other hand, as the case of the acts of civil disobedience in Sudan illustrates, it is not only a question of materialist concerns but also and above all an opposition to a dictatorship that obstructs the path to democracy, equality, freedom, and justice. Sudan is a representative case demonstrating that such uprisings are not merely bread riots. Sudan is an anocracy and is so according to the Polity 5 Project scores. The country was indeed assigned a score of
4 that, based on the division of the abovementioned different score ranges, indicates a closed anocracy (Center for Systemic Peace, 2018). Essentially, Sudan has been an anocracy since Omar al-Bashir seized power in 1989 with a coup d’état, overthrowing the civilian coalition government. When the protests began in 2018, the Republic of Sudan was formally a democratic system where elections were even held, but it was virtually no longer a fully democratic system (Badona Monteiro, 2020). Autocratic traits and practices progressively permeated the originally democratic structure,

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which explains why, at some point, the demonstrations against the rising cost of living transformed into mass acts of peaceful civil disobedience against Bashir’s presidency, calling for the restoration of a democratic regime. The case of Sudan is representative of instances in which citizens take to the streets to peacefully express their dissent with the aim of achieving full-fledged democratization in their country. Here, three questions arise: Why are acts of civil disobedience carried out specifically? What does it mean for the Sudanese people to disobey? What is civil disobedience from an African perspective? These questions are all of interest for a study of African social and political philosophy that deals with African people’s challenges and how African people creatively and tirelessly tackle them. The last subsection of the chapter aims to explain why the way of practicing contemporary African social and political philosophy from below derives from the study of civil disobedience and Sudan.

Philosophizing from Below While Democratizing from Below Within the Western philosophical debate, civil disobedience is predominantly conceived as an act that is contrary to law, which is to be carried out publicly, in response to unjust laws or policies that a government enacts. The aim of such action is to bring about a change in such laws or policies (Rawls, 1971; Habermas, 1985; Bedau, 1991). From this perspective, civil disobedience is considered appropriate only in liberal democratic political systems. Little research (Roberts & Garton Ash, 2009; Chen, 2016) has focused on civil disobedience and, more generally, peaceful resistance in authoritarian contexts. The role of this political practice in peculiar regimes, such as the anocracies, remains underinvestigated. When approaching civil disobedience, a philosopher usually encounters the famous figures of Henry David Thoreau, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr., and then commonly runs into the influential Western liberal corpus of literature that ranges from Rawls to Habermas to Arendt to name just a few. In short, the state of the art is that civil disobedience has been investigated almost exclusively from a Western liberal perspective and as something that pertains to a democratic system and is limited to bringing about small changes in law or policy. Civil disobedience cannot entirely change a political system (Badona Monteiro, 2020). The limit and narrowness of the liberal paradigm exclude the practice of civil disobedience in anocracies. Conceiving civil disobedience in abovementioned way also means downplaying its radical and transformative potential. Erin Pineda (2021) provided an explanation of the reason behind this narrow conceptualization. The focus of Pineda’s analysis was the civil disobedience of the United States’ civil rights movement in the 1960s and 1970s. This period in the history of the United States was one of widespread disorder, riots, and violence. In particular, 1968 was a tumultuous year with student protests; violent oppositions to the Vietnam War; and the assassinations of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., the leader of the civil rights movement (Gillon, 2019; Zelizer, 2020). In this context, since it constitutes an act that is contrary to law and aims to oppose unjust policies or rules,

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civil disobedience was soon considered a direct threat to democratic stability and order. In response to this turmoil, Western liberal philosophers conceptualized civil disobedience merely as a reformist gesture or a corrective to injustices in an overall just system (a democracy), thereby downplaying racial injustice and inequality as limited and exceptional. Erin Pineda argued that liberal theorists conceptualized civil disobedience in this way because they saw civil disobedience “like a state” and, specifically, “like a white state” (2021: 40). Liberal philosophers, such as John Rawls, saw civil disobedience from the perspective of a White state, which is why Pineda revisited protest campaigns and investigated how activists saw civil disobedience while attending “to the ways civil rights activists constructed the problem of white supremacy; devised strategies for effective action; and challenged the meaning of democracy, equality, freedom, and citizenship” (Pineda, 2021: 15). Pineda suggested an alternative starting point for political theorizing, i.e., seeing civil disobedience in the way that an activist does. By seeing civil disobedience in the way that an activist does, it becomes possible to observe that civil rights activists, through the previously mentioned imaginative transits in concert with anticolonial movements across the world (from India to South Africa to Ghana), engaged in civil disobedience as a decolonizing praxis. In doing so, they emancipated themselves and others from White supremacy and a global structure of domination (Pineda, 2021). It is thus possible to see civil disobedience, through its radical and transformative role within a not entirely democratic political system. The United States’ Jim Crow laws were not representative of an overall just system with the “exception” of racial inequality. Racial injustice was a systemic issue. Thus, the Jim Crow laws were representative of a political system that was not far from that of the previously described anocracies. Another important point emerges from Pineda’s analysis, namely approaching activists as political theorists or “reading activists themselves as engaged in the work of political theory” (2021: 18), since “civil rights activists were engaged in a vibrant, contentious debate about how to understand the problem posed by the mid-century American racial order; how to construct the meaning of the sacrifices and risks of collective action; and how to devise strategies that would best confront, combat, and reconstitute the polity as a multiracial democracy” (Pineda, 2021: 51). Similarly, Sudanese protesters and activists were, and continue to be, engaged in debates on how to oppose an unjust system and on how to restore democracy in their country. This is where the issue of democracy comes in. Not only did Sudanese civilians explicitly call for complete nonviolent civil disobedience to the bitter end (Badona Monteiro, 2020), but they also made efforts to dismantle the regime that was in place, to transform it into a system based on a constitution and the rule of law, and create the conditions for the people of Sudan to elect their representative freely. This can be read in the Sudanese Professionals Association’s (2019) drafted Declaration of Freedom and Change. Elsadig Elsheikh (2019) stated that Sudan’s grassroots social movements can embrace people’s aspirations for freedom, and racial, ethnic, and social justice. Such movements have both the capacity and imagination to lead a revolution – through peaceful means – in the name of structural change. According

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to Elsheikh, this path for social movements is possible when such movements succeed in valuing “the collective systems of knowledge forged by Sudanese civil society, drawing on the participation of the masses and intellectuals, and on collective cultural, literary, and creative experiences” (2019: 467). Cultural and artistic experiences were deployed during the Sudanese campaigns to reach different corners of society. The focus on civil disobedience, and on Sudan in particular, has highlighted a gap in the philosophical debate (i.e., a discussion of civil disobedience as a democratizing practice from below, which could help to understand the role of this practice). In short, such a discussion would be one that, first, embraces the perspective of the actors involved in the democratizing process (i.e., the perspective of the activists and protesters).

Conclusion Contemporary African social and political philosophy was defined as a field of study that concerns the intellectual legacies of distinguished African leaders and statesmen and precolonial African societies. It is a philosophy that comprises theoretical debates and clarifications of concepts deployed in African social and political spheres. Moreover, this philosophy addresses and discusses matters relating to African people’s daily lives. Since this philosophy is not an ideology and is not limited to the African leaders’ speeches and pamphlets, the present analysis emphasized that this philosophy’s sources are diverse and often scattered or hidden in oral tradition, literature, music, art, and religion. In addition to outlining African social and political philosophy, this chapter demonstrated that not only are African people’s realities at the heart of this philosophy but that African people themselves primarily contribute to the philosophical reflections. Contrary to the racist views that various philosophers of the Enlightenment advocated, not only can African people participate in discussions on political issues and, thus, in social and political philosophy, but they are also central agents in the development of this philosophy. The best response to all of those thinkers who believed that African people were incapable of philosophizing lies in African philosophy and, particularly, in the nature and constitution of the philosophical subject field under investigation here. A manifesto of this philosophy was drafted in this chapter to describe (i) the relationship of an African social and political philosopher with African philosophical heritage; (ii) the role that such a philosopher could play in this field of study, including decolonizing knowledge and desuperiorizing Western philosophy; and (iii) ways to further develop this discipline. Subsequently, this chapter concentrated on one of the main themes driving this philosophy: democracy in Africa. The chapter provided an overview of the experiences and paradigms of democracy debated with reference to the African context and highlighted another trajectory – or experience: In Africa, democracy is following a deviated trajectory toward the political regime of the anocracy. In the discussion, anocracy was introduced not as a paradigm or an ideal to pursue but as an interesting

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analytical category to describe a trajectory that is currently widespread in African countries, as well as better reflect on which type of democracy should be targeted for the future development of African states. This alternative way of analyzing the issue of democracy in Africa today, through the category of anocracy, served as an introduction to a discussion on civil disobedience in anocratic regimes, such as that of Sudan. Anocracy was discussed to comprehend the reasons for engaging in peaceful form of protest (e.g., civil disobedience) as a means to democratize the country from below. The last section of the chapter demonstrated the connection between the topic of democracy and civil disobedience in Africa, as this form of nonviolent protest in Sudan, as well as increasingly in other countries on the continent, is transforming into a means to pursue democracy. By highlighting the predominance of Western paradigms and theories of civil disobedience within philosophical debate, the last section of this chapter suggested that further research is required to account for this form of political action in Africa. In other words, it would be interesting to assess an African paradigm or an African theory of civil disobedience. What the present analysis attempted to show is that an indication of how to develop this African theorization results from an alternative starting point, which, in this case, could be summarized as an attempt to begin seeing civil disobedience in the way that a Sudanese activist does before seeing it in the way that an African activist does, which would mean including those who participate in acts of civil disobedience in the philosophical theorization work of contemporary African social and political philosophy. This approach, which can be described as a way of philosophizing from below, could be a fruitful approach to the topic of civil disobedience and the issue of democracy in Africa. By analyzing the case of Sudan, the chapter provided additional evidence in this regard because it is the Sudanese activists, and African activists in general, who are discussing how to explain the problems that their countries are facing, debating the strategies to tackle everyday challenges, debating what democracy means, and imagining which democracy should be established in the future of their countries. Ultimately, Sudanese activists, and African activists in general, are philosophizing and contributing to contemporary African social and political philosophy.

References Badona Monteiro, Y. (2020). Civil disobedience outside of the liberal democratic framework: The case of Sudan. South African Journal of Philosophy, 39(4), 376–386. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 02580136.2020.1839834 Bedau, H. A. (1991). Civil disobedience in focus. Routledge. Branch, A., & Mampilly, Z. (2015). Africa uprising: Popular protest and political change. Zed Books. Center for Systemic Peace. (2018). Polity5 Project, Political Regime Characteristics and Transitions, 1800–2018. https://www.systemicpeace.org/inscrdata.html. Accessed 20 Jan 2022. Chen, C. (2016). Civil disobedience as a transformative power under a non-democratic regime: Does the Umbrella Movement undermine the rule of law? Asia Pacific Law Review, 24(2), 87–107. https://doi.org/10.1080/10192557.2016.1242917

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The Philosophy of Human Rights: The Akan Model Joseph Osei

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Critiquing Arguments Against Liberal Democracy in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Human Rights and Justice Principles in Traditional Akan Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Place of Human Rights in Akan Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Human Rights in Akan Ethic of Social Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Human Rights and Justice in Akan Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Human Rights and Justice in Akan Economic Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Human Rights and Justice in the Religious Life of Akans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Human Rights and Justice in Akan Traditional Legal System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter is a response to the decades of Western skepticism and cynicism regarding the sustainability of democracy in Africa toward the end of the last century as most African countries experienced what political scientists term the third wave of democratization. Focusing on the human rights tradition in Africa, which is given as the main reason for the skepticism, this chapter argues to the contrary that not only is there a vibrant tradition of human rights in Africa with particular reference to the Akan model, but that its existence offers one of the best explanations for the relative success of democracy in Africa from the last century

The is a posthumous publication of this chapter as the author, the Ghanaian philosopher, Professor Joseph Osei died on November 30, 2022, before the completion of this book but after submitting the full draft. Thus, Elvis Imafidon has only revised the chapter in response to reviewer’s comments and worked with the production team in copyediting and finalizing the chapter for publication. J. Osei (*) Fayetteville State University, Fayetteville, NC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_10

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to the recent. The chapter shows further that an objective analysis into the Akan culture will reveal that the Akan conception of human rights which compliments negative rights with positive rights in principle and practice is more relevant and heuristic within African contexts than dominant conceptions of human rights from the Global North. This is seen in its demonstrated potential for facilitating and sustaining African democracies to maturity, despite the pressures from the pandemic and global economic crises. Keywords

Akan · Human rights · Democracy · Justice · Ethics

Introduction Western skepticism and cynicism regarding the sustainability of democracy in Africa that dominated the discourse on the prospects of democratization or re-democratization in postcolonial Africa toward the end of the twentieth century have not disappeared completely but have significantly diminished. The reason is not because they are tired, but because they are experiencing a cognitive dissonance. For, contrary to their predictions, democracy in Africa has not failed or collapsed, but has survived three or four decades and continues to evolve despite civil wars, terrorist attacks, and external pressures from the unrelenting pandemic and global economic hardships. Freedom House reports that in 1989, two-thirds of African states were “not free,” as measured by Freedom House. By 2009, two-thirds were considered “free” or “partly free.” What could be the best explanation for the modest political success in these African countries? (Repucci & Slipowitz, 2021). Focusing on the human rights tradition in Africa, once presumed to be lacking and construed as the main reason democracy could not survive in Africa, this paper argues to the contrary that the existence of a vibrant human rights tradition in Africa offers one of the best explanations for the relative success of democracy in Africa since the last decades of the last century termed the third wave of democratization by political scientists. Further, it will be argued that far from lacking a tradition of human rights, an objective analysis into the Akan culture will reveal that the Akan conception of human rights which compliments negative rights with positive rights in principle and practice is morally superior to the dominant conceptions of human rights in either the Global East or the Global West. It is therefore the kind of moral structure with the best potential to facilitate and sustain to maturity the ongoing democratization and (holistic) development throughout the continent. The chapter will employ conceptual analyses of the relevant concepts, definitions, theories, and principles of human rights reflected in the anthropological, sociological, and historical data from the region. The Akan human rights tradition, as conceived and practiced in Ghana and cognate West African countries, will be

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used as the case study for the paper’s main argument. Democracy in Ghana and many other African countries has not only survived, and proved sustainable, but have evolved to what political scientists recognize as “mature” status. The Akan traditional culture will be chosen as the paradigm case in Africa in arguing against the skeptics and in explaining the relative success of the democracies in Africa. The choice of the Akan culture as a paradigm case for Africa is neither arbitrary nor just for convenience being the most familiar to this author. Rather, it is chosen for many relevant reasons, including the fact that the Akan human rights tradition has existed in thought and practice to some degree continuously for at least 500 years and has been studied objectively by worldrenown anthropologists and sociologists since the ten-year groundbreaking landmark research by R.S. Rattray in the first decade of the nineteenth century. His initial research resulted in three classic volumes on Ashanti from 1923–1929, followed by nine other related publications. The publications include Ashanti (1923), Religion and Art in Ashanti (1927), Ashanti law and Constitution (1929), and The Tribes of Ashanti Hinterland (1932). He also published 12 volumes of ethnography and folklore. A major publication on his research published by Oxford University Press is Anthropology and Power: R.S. Rattray Among the Ashanti (1976).

Critiquing Arguments Against Liberal Democracy in Africa The arguments of these skeptics and cynics are well represented in the following two quotations. The first is from Robert Packenham, professor of political science at Stanford University and the author of Liberal America and the Third World. The chances for liberal democracy in most Third World countries in the foreseeable future, are not very great; the attempt to promote liberal constitutionalism is often both unrealistic from the point of view of feasibility and ethnocentric from the point of view of desirability. (Packenham, 1973)

Packenham does not only show his skepticism of the chance for sustained democracy in the Third World. He goes further to argue that authoritarian regimes are better at advancing the economic and justice interests in their respective countries. The second quote attributed to Irvin Kristol, a well-known conservative US political commentator, is similar in political orientation toward Africa and other regions of the Third World. Kristol claims he is not one of those thrilled by the success of democracy in Argentina, in the Philippines, or Korea and that as a betting man, he will lay odds that democracy will not survive in those countries. His reasons: The preconditions for democracy are complex; certain strong cultural traditions, certain strong attitudes (are required). [But] so far as I can see, those countries do not have these [requirements] and therefore, a democracy in any of them would shortly be discredited and be replaced by some sort of authoritarian regime of either the left or the right. (Kristol as quoted by Muravchik, 1992)

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A precondition represents a logically necessary condition for something to happen. Logically speaking, X is a requirement or a necessary condition for Y if and only if Y cannot be realized without X, or if the absence of X makes Y impossible. While most African and other Third World countries embraced democratization toward the end of the last century, skepticism about their sustainability continued unabated among Western skeptics and critics such as they argued that since a human rights tradition is a necessary condition for the sustainability of democracy and such traditions are lacking in Third World countries, it follows that democracy in Third World countries are certainly unsustainable. Writing the US Foreign Affairs Newsletter, Campbell and Quinn write “foreign as well as domestic expectations for liberal democracy in Africa have often been unrealistic.” After commenting on a few examples of setbacks based on charges of corruption and the pandemic, they conclude, “Africa’s setbacks are not surprising.” With the explanation that “For much of the continent, the foundations of a political culture necessary to sustain liberal democracy have been weak for most of the postcolonial era (roughly six decades for most African states).” Other explanations they offer in the paper include the persistence of religious and ethnic rivalries which they claim “have been underestimated” by African democrats and their friends abroad (Campbell & Quinn, May, 2021). Explaining why he chose Ghana to be his gateway to Africa when he visited Africa as the first Black president of the USA, Barack Obama cited the success of Ghana’s democracy. By his own admission, the president was motivated by the desire to recognize Ghana’s achievement of what political scientists describe as “mature democracy” status and to project it as a model worth emulating by other African countries (Osei, 2009). Ghana is, however, not the only country with a mature or stable democracy. Significant progress has been recognized in Nigeria, South Africa, Algeria, Tunisia, Senegal, Benin, Botswana, Namibia, Mauritius, and Malawi. Some of the reports do not appear to be fair or objective. For example, the BBC report of democratic countries doing well excludes Nigeria because of corruption as if there is not corruption in Britain or the USA (BBC, 2019). Will anyone pull the USA off the list of democracies because of the financial and political corruption related to former President Trump and his misleading and false claims about electoral fraud that culminated in the political violence or attempted coup of Jan 6, 2021? Despite its pessimism about the success of democratization in Africa, the US Councill on Foreign Affairs’ Newsletter, International Affairs, acknowledges that the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) has devoted serious energy and resources to defending democracy. It explains that ECOWAS has played a major role in rolling back military dictatorships in West Africa and opposing military coups (Campbell & Quinn, May 26, 2021). Malawi’s democracy, as acknowledged by Freedom House, has not only survived the economic crises and the pandemic, but has even evolved significantly. According to Freedom House, Malawi is the only country globally whose democracy strengthened during COVID-19 lockdowns. That’s because it became the first African country to overturn a fraudulent election through legal means and to conduct a

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free and fair follow-up election without resorting to political violence. For this outstanding achievement in democratization, The Economist has happily declared Namibia the country of the year (Campbell & Quinn, May 2021). The success of Malawi’s democracy in overcoming these formidable obstacles should be considered another refutation of the hasty conclusions drawn by the skeptics and cynics of democratization in Africa and as a good sign that most African democracies can and will withstand similar challenges on their way to maturity and permanence.

Human Rights and Justice Principles in Traditional Akan Ethics A universally acceptable theory or definition theory of rights remains an illusion within both Western philosophy and jurisprudence. What the inquirer may find are multiple competing theories or definitions, each of which addresses an aspect of what could be a fully adequate conception of rights. To show that traditional Akan ethics includes the principles of human rights and justice, this section will discuss briefly some of the established or plausible conceptions of rights within the Western tradition and to identify their equivalents within Akan philosophical thought. What would be identified below as equivalents – it should be stressed – are not translations of the Western concepts, but indigenous conceptions of rights that have essentially the same meanings or implications, and function to the same or similar effect in thought and practice. The eighteenth-century English political philosopher, Thomas Hobbes, was among the first philosophers to articulate a definition or theory of right. He writes, By liberty is understood, according to the proper signification of the word, the absence of external impediments: which impediments, may oft take away part of a man’s power to do what he would, but cannot hinder him from using the power left him according as his judgement and reason shall dictate to him. (Hobbes, 1651: 79–80)

Hobbes in this quote maintains that a right is a liberty. The implication is that if someone S has a right to do X, then S is at liberty or free to do X or not. Being at liberty thus means there is no obligation on S’s part to refrain from doing X, as long as the action does not threaten harm to others. Secondly, it also means that all others, including the state, have the corresponding obligation to refrain from interfering with S’s exercise of his/her right and to stop others from also interfering with it (Hobbes, 1651). Consequently, X has a right to free speech means X is at liberty to speak freely (though not irresponsibly) and no one should stop X (without just cause). Stopping X or interfering with X’s free action that threatens no harm to others will be a violation of his/her right and therefore unjust or morally wrong. This theory of right is therefore among those rightly classified in modern terms as negative rights, given the noninterference clause. In Akan’s thought, this conception of right is quite well known and is popularly expressed in terms of X having okwan or permission. Thus, I have the right to free

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speech or I have a right to speak on this issue is equivalent to saying “Me wo ho kwan se meka bi.” When pressed for the justification for this right, X is likely to argue, “Me nso me ye nipa, tekyrema da manum, enti momma menka bi,” i.e., I am also a human being, Therefore, I have a (human) tongue in my mouth, so allow me also to talk. The emphasis is on X’s ontological status as a human being, and consequently indicates that it is not just a legal right or a civil right, given by any human authority, but a natural or a fundamental God-given right. The human tongue in my mouth metaphor has been widely used in traditional music and folksongs even among folks who have little or no exposure to Western culture or formal education. Another interesting conception of right has been attributed to Thomas Holland, a nineteenth-century English jurist. A right for him means “a power for influencing the acts of another by the force of society.” For example, X has a right to private property such as a piece of land, in this sense would mean, X has the authority – backed by social pressure or legal sanctions – to stop an intruder or a thief from interfering with his/her piece of land (Holland, 1924). The indigenous Akan expresses this conception of “right” saying, “Me wo tumi wo asase no so” to assert his/her authority over a piece of land. Likewise, to assert his/her authority over a coconut tree he/she would say, “Me wo tumi wo kube no so.” Provided one acquired the piece of property through a just means of acquisition or transfer, no one, including the state or the traditional authorities, can deprive the private owner of the property (without just cause). Hence, the Akan says, “Nea adee wo no na odie, na nnye dee ekom de no,” i.e., private property is (or should be) enjoyed by its owner, and not necessarily the needy (unless the owner sells or voluntarily gives it to the needy). Anyone violating this right, including the chief, could be summonsed to appear before a traditional court to face justice. Right is also conceived as a claim upheld by law. In this sense, a person can claim his/her right to compensation for work done, an injury to his/her body, or damage to his/her property. In general, X has an ethical claim against some second party Y means that Y should perform some action A if Y has a duty to compensate X by doing A. This represents an example of right in the positive sense, in contrast to negative right in modern usage. Akans likewise have a positive conception of right beside the negative conception of noninterference, and it is not only well understood but also generally respected in Akan thought and practice. The equivalent expression is, however, the same as for liberty. Therefore, I have an ethical claim against you to compensate me for damaging my house may be rendered as “Me wo ho kwan se me ma wo siesie me dan a wasee no yi.” The offender has the duty to repair the house if the offended insists, but it is X’s prerogative or right to insist on X being done by Y or to forgive the offender. Under normal circumstances, not even the chief or any ruler will impose his/her will on the owner who refuses to forgive the offender. According to Carl Wellman, the well-known American moral philosopher and philosopher of law, one is immune from the loss through any act of another or immune from any ethical claim against second parties if warnings or caution that they refrain from doing some action are ignored (Wellman, 1999). For example, if X warns Y from striking him, and Y fails to heed to the words of caution, and strikes him, X should not, in the name of fairness, be held morally responsible for the

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consequence of that act. By the same immunity principle, X should not be held morally responsible for the macho men’s actions in defense of X. Wellman justification for such punishment would be that it is permissible in case because the wrongdoer has forfeited his/her right against punishment by culpably violating (or at least attempting to violate) the rights of others (Wellman, 1985). Similarly, if contrary to X’s advice, Y makes payments due X to a third party, and the person fails to hand it to X, X has a right to demand payment from Y and a right not to be blamed for the loss. These kinds of rights are termed rights of immunity because they make it morally impossible to blame their holders or to hold them responsible for the consequences in question, just as holders of diplomatic passports are generally immune from arrest. Among indigenous Akans, this conception of right is expressed variously as “Ennye masodie,” meaning, “It’s not X’s responsibility or my duty to do a, b, or c.” “Me pe a, mema watua,” X can say it is my prerogative to make Y pay, or to forgive Y. An example from the traditional Akan thought and practice is this: Suppose X possesses some magical powers to make a part of Y’s body shrink instantaneously upon striking him and Y hits him, despite the warning, Y then should blame himself/herself, and not X if X forewarned Y of the potential negative consequence (s). X might also have some extremely strong bodyguards or “macho men,” as they are popularly known in Ghana, to teach Y some lesson on his behalf, the X should not be held responsible for the beating or punishment from them given the prior notification or warning. As the foregoing analyses have shown, where Western philosophers of law or jurisprudence use four key expressions to articulate their conceptions of human rights, the Akan uses three. The more important point to note, however, is that the Akan expressions are not simply translations of the English/Western expressions. Rather, they are indigenous expressions descriptive of the traditional or authentic ethical values and principles in Akanland. Akans do not consider these as rights peculiar to them but as rights for every child of God regardless of ethnicity or race, gender, or geographical region. They understand them to be part of those ethical rights that every human being must possess just by virtue of being a person (onipa) as it is not attached to any position in life, royalty, education, or wealth. However, based on age, gender, royalty, etc. some people may be given certain privileges, special rights, or entitlements, but those are beyond the basic human rights in this discussion. It must also be evident from the analyses that Akans take these rights seriously, and their meanings and values are comparable to their Western counterparts. In other words, the conception of human rights in Akan thought and practice is essentially no different from the Western conception which takes human rights simply as “The rights any individual possesses as a human being” (Wasserstrom, 1964).

The Place of Human Rights in Akan Ethics This section examines some important aspects of Akan ethics in support of the thesis that traditional Akan Ethics takes human rights seriously not only in thought but also in practice. It will also demonstrate how fundamental and integrated

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these conceptions are to the culture and thus underscore the point that these Akan conceptions of right are not translations of Western conceptions, but indigenous conceptions. The aspects examined here in relation to human rights are Akan ethic of social life, economic life, political life, religious life, and legal life.

Human Rights in Akan Ethic of Social Life The basic unit of society, expert anthropologists tell us, is not the political party, or school, but the family. For the Akan and for most Africans, this means the extended family within a communalistic system where each member of the family tries to be each other’s keeper. Moral training for young ones in the family is the responsibility of each adult member and it is by both precept and example. The youth are taught to respect everyone’s right to private property, when the youth is told not to steal. This teaching further implies that although our societies are communalistic, individual rights to private property are not denied, but protected. The youth is also taught to respect each person’s right, to respect and treat others fairly. If the youth fails to obey the moral teachings and instruction or counsel of their parents, the parents may claim the right to immunity from the consequences of the youth’s behavior. For example, such a parent could say, “Nsemone nti na yekye din.” This Akan proverb means names are given to individuals to ensure individual responsibility for moral evils. The implication is that it is the offending youth, but not the parent, who should be held morally responsible for the offense in question if the youth refused to comply with the instructions of their parents. When it comes to disbursing or sharing some common property such as meat, salt, or corn, there is a moral principle to ensure distributive justice for all concerned. The principle states, “Kyadee ntu bi.” It is an Akan proverb or maxim that implies that the one who disburses or shares goods intended for a group cannot choose a portion (ahead of others). It is a morally binding rule of thumb to ensure that he/she does not get undue advantage over others by intentionally and selfishly making one portion bigger than the rest in the hope that he will choose that special portion. The maxim logically implies that the sly or clever distributer takes whatever is left after others have chosen their portions. Whatever is left, irrespective of the size or quality, necessarily becomes his/her portion. And that explains why the maxim means the distributer does not make a choice. The assumption behind the Akan maxim is that all humans are, if not always, most of the time motivated by selfish interests indicating Akan’s endorsement of either psychological egoism or more accurately predominant egoism. Since Akans do not deny but acknowledge and appreciate altruism. Most of the moral teachings featuring Mr. Ananse (the spider) in Akan children’s literature and songs are intended to caution the youth against selfishness and to reduce the likelihood that they will cheat out of selfish interest, if they believe they will not be caught or punished. It is therefore necessary – in Rawlsian terms – to place the sharer or distributer “behind the veil of ignorance” so that he does not know in advance which portion (say, of meat) would be left for him or her. Knowing that whatever is left over is what

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belongs to him/her is enough to motivate this person (presumed to be a rational agent) to share the meat as equally as possible to maximize fairness to all concerned, self-included. The principle is thus consistent with disaster-avoidance rationality and the maximizing utility principle, in moral or rational choice theory and is aimed at protecting the (human) right of each person concerned to fair treatment and distributive justice (Rawls, 1971). In general, it is the duty of the parent or adult members of the family to protect the human rights of the youth until they are cognitively mature enough to fend for themselves. Correlatively, the youth have a right to be protected from their predators or abusers by the family and society at large. However, when the youth becomes old enough to fight for their own rights to fair treatment, and the youth is unable to do so, they would be queried with such rhetorical questions as, “Wodee wonnye nipa?” “Woye aboa?” The questions being asked are: Are you not a human being? Are you a beast? The point is not to irritate the youth on to a fist fight, but to impress it upon their minds that as human beings each of them has the right not to be abused or cheated by others, within or without the family. This clearly shows that the rights in question are none other than human rights to which everyone is entitled just for being a human being, young or old. Besides these negative rights and their corresponding duties, Akens also recognize positive rights in social life. This means, inter alia, that members of the (extended) family including uncles and aunties have a moral obligation to provide for the material needs of their young, disabled, or sick members. These would include food, clothing, shelter, health, and, to some extent, basic education until they become self-supporting. On their part, when the youth become adults and their parents or elders become aged – and are no longer able to be self-dependent – they (the youth) have the reciprocal moral responsibility to care for them. Correlatively, the parents now have the right to be cared for by their children or wards. The right to be taken care of by one’s children is a social right, or to use the more contemporary philosophical jargon, an example of positive rights, which are not as well known or recognized within the Western ethos as negative rights. The UN Charter of human rights, however, includes and promotes both negative and positive rights (UN Charter, 1948). This complex network of reciprocal rights and duties are epitomized in the Akan maxim. “Se obi hwe wo ma wose fifi a, wo nso wo hwe no ma ne dee tutu.” That is: If a person takes care of you while you are developing your teeth, you ought, in turn, to take care of the person while the person is losing his/her teeth. Despite the authoritarian tendencies of our elders and parents, the right to free speech is dully recognized in the (extended) family and the larger society. Hence, an individual who finds his right under threat would usually complain and insist on his/her right to free speech by arguing, “Tekyerema da manum na momma me nkabi.” This maxim, as discussed earlier, is meant to argue: All human beings have the right to free speech, and since I have a human tongue in my mouth, I am also a human being. Therefore, I should be allowed or not hindered from expressing my views without just cause.

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In case the authorities or the audience in question remain adamant, and refuse to recognize the person’s right to speak, he/she may further ask rhetorically, “Mennye nipa anaa?” Am I not a human being? In other words, the person is demanding this right not as a favor or grace from any human being or institution, but by virtue of being a human qua human being. While it is true that in communalistic societies extended family members love to live together for a long time and share things in common, it would be, as Professor Gyekye would like to say, “a conceptual blunder” to interpret such a practice to mean that communalistic societies are communist societies where individual rights to property are not recognized (Gyekye, 1975). It is therefore worth stressing that communalism is not co-terminus with communism. The difference is centered on the negative rights of the individual, especially the right to free speech and private property (Osei, 2019a). Akans like other communalistic societies therefore recognize the right of each matured member of the family to marry outside the family, to raise their own children, and acquire their own private property. In times of any debilitating sickness such as tuberculosis, cancer, diabetes, stroke, or a disabling car accident, every member of the (extended) family has a right (in the sense of a claim) to be taken care of by the family, and the family concerned has, and (usually) recognizes, the correlative duty of taking care of this member until the member is well enough to become self-dependent again. The family that fails to honor its moral obligations toward the sick member is liable to sanctions after due arbitration in a traditional court. Not even the death of the offended party is enough grounds to terminate the pursuit of justice in this case. If found guilty the family elders and those concerned could be asked to sacrifice a sheep, fowl, or dozens of eggs to pacify the soul of the deceased family member who died as a result of culpable negligence. This practice also goes to show that for the Akan, such rights are integral to one’s essential being, which is the soul, and not just the body which is temporal. Such rights are based on our status as human beings, and are therefore ontological rights. Similarly, death is not allowed to abrogate the right of persons to their private property. For, if prior to their death normal adult members of the family make a will (without any coercion) directing how their personal wealth or property (excluding anything inherited from the family) should be disbursed, their right (in the sense of power) to have the will executed as directed is upheld by the family and the larger society. This done as a sign of respect for them and their human rights as human beings absent in this (physical) world but present in the metaphysical or ancestral world. It is also significant to note that since Akans attribute superior (spiritual) powers to the ancestors over the living, one should not be surprised to notice that the rights of the dead are often taken more seriously than the rights of the living. It is not only on the grounds of respect for their new ontological status, but also for fear of ancestral retribution. Consequently, certain calamities such as sudden deaths, inexplicable but serious accidents, and epidemics within a family or a community are often given personal causal explanations in terms of ancestral revenge or retributive justice for the refusal of certain families to uphold the rights of their deceased relatives.

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From these examples, it must be clear that human rights are not only conceptually understood and articulated among traditional Akans, but that they are also enforced for the benefit of the living as well as the dead or ancestors. Whether one takes right to mean, entitlement, permission, power, or immunity, individual rights to property, negative and positive rights, are both duly recognized, promoted, and protected among Akans, living or dead.

Human Rights and Justice in Akan Politics From the works of R. S. Rattray, the British anthropologist of nineteenth century, Dr. J. B. Danquah, Professor K. Busia, Professor Akwasi Wiredu, Dr. Kwame Gyekye, Rev. Dr. Robert Aboakye-Mensah, and other contemporary writers on Akan traditional politics or political philosophy, it is abundantly clear: While the Akan chief combines in his office the highest executive, judicial, military, and religious powers of the traditional state under his jurisdiction, the Akan ruler is not an autocratic ruler. In thought and practice, he is forbidden by traditional laws – including taboos – and practices from becoming autocratic. For, he cannot abuse or even ignore the human rights of his people with impunity (Aboagye-Mensah, 1994). The people do not only have the right to elect by representation the traditional chief or ruler they want, they also have the right in terms of power to remove the person. The queen (sometimes called queen mother) has the constitutional prerogative to nominate a qualified member of the royal family, but neither she nor the entire royal house can impose a ruler on the people. For as a popular Akan political maxim goes, “Odehyee nsi hene,” which means, a royal or a member of the royal family cannot elect or appoint a chief or ruler. Whoever is nominated from the royal family does not automatically become a chief or a king or queen until the nominee has taken the oath of allegiance by which the nominee promises by oath to respect the individual and communal rights of the people inter alia. Before taking the solemn oath, the people through the Okyeame or their spokesperson declare their human rights or “Bill of Rights” and other values which they would want their new king to take seriously and not violate: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

All the elders agree that I should give you the stool. Do not go after our women. Do not become a drunkard. When we give you advice, listen to it. Do not grumble. We do not want you to disclose the origin of your subjects. We do not want you to regard us as fools. We do not want autocratic ways. We do not want bullying. We do not like beating.

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It is only after listing these expectations that the spokesperson symbolically presents the stool saying: Take the stool. We bless the stool and give it to you. The elders say they give the stool to you. (Aboagye-Mensah, 1994)

The king-elect on his part responds to these moral imperatives by swearing the great oath of the nation. Holding a ceremonial sword, he solemnly pledges to respect their human and civil rights as well as the traditions of the elders saying: Today you have elected me. If I do not govern you as well as my ancestors did, if I do not listen to the advice of my elders, if I make war upon them, if I run away from battle, then I have violated the oath. (ibid.)

To show their loyalty and solidarity with the king-elect, all the subordinate or divisional chiefs under him also take solemn oaths to submit to his authority in reciprocity. Then follows the powerful congratulatory messages from the giant “talking drums,” amidst joyful songs of praise and thanksgiving from the praise teams to God the Otwieduampon or Supreme Being, and the ancestors for helping them choose a new king. With that, the first part of the enstoolment ceremony gradually wanes down to a victorious end. Commenting on these traditional political policies and practices, Rattray, with the keen insight of an anthropologist, states: “Democracy is again triumphant though ready to allow autocracy to boast the semblance” (Rattray, 1923). In other words, the Akan political system may appear autocratic but in reality it is essentially democratic or democratic at its core.

Human Rights and Justice in Akan Economic Life Prominent among the many ethical do’s and don’ts that one is taught as an Akan youth is the injunction not to steal. Parents, grandparents, and other adults in the community repeatedly warn, “Se, wo hunu obi adee a, fa wani hwe mfa wo nsa nka.” That is, “When you see someone’s property (you may) look at it, but you don’t touch it.” [Emphasis mine] The implication is that although communalistic, the Akan society (unlike communist societies) upholds the right to private property, as pointed out earlier. Consequently, one cannot just walk into an Akan neighbor’s relative’s store/shop and start packing home whatever items one wants on the grounds of communalistic values. Such a behavior will be promptly met with a barrage of proverbs and maxims in defense of private property. For example, the opportunist would be told inter alia: (a) “Mfasoo nti na yedi dwa,” i.e., the rationale for (private) trading or business is profit. (b) “Obi nhuhu mma obi nkeka,” i.e., (in business), one does not suffer for another to enjoy. (c) “Dee ode nadee na odie, nnye dee ekom de no,” i.e., property is (or should be)

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enjoyed by the owner, not the needy. Central to all these responses is the right of the individual to private property as well as the right to profit-making through legitimate business. These rights and corresponding duties are therefore duly affirmed in Akan thought and practice. (Rattray, 1916)

Another Akan economic right is evident in the following maxim intended to ensure fairness in business transactions and competition. “Se wamma wo yonko antwa nkron a, wo nso wontwa du.” That is, “Unless you allow your neighbour to have nine, you cannot have ten.” This maxim attempts to discourage the “winnertakes-all mentality” that unfortunately continues to dominate many Western minds and financial institutions. The Akan cannot accept this economic dogma from the West, since for the Akan, the right to fair treatment, including fair wages, or fair competition, is as important as the fundamental human right to private property. Economic right in Akan traditional thought, however, does not trump the right to life in Akan ethics. For, even if a business partner or customer owes you heavily, you do not have the right to confiscate the person’s private property and deprive the person of the means to livelihood. The principle involved is Kafoo didi, meaning a debtor reserves the right to eat. In other words, the right to demand a debt is not superior to the right to life. This principle Kafoo didi was once famously deployed by General Ignatius K Acheampong (who led the military coup to overthrow Professor K A Busia, prime minister of the Second Republic). Responding to a hostile demand for loan payments by the World Bank, the prime minister said, “Kafoo didi,” by which he meant, “The debtor has the right to eat.” In other words, no amount of financial indebtedness should deprive a person of the right to exist since the right to life is a fundamental human right. Deployed at the right time, and in the right way, it serves as the power to prevent yourself or others from unjustifiable economic harassment. Rattray also noted that among the Akans, not even the criminal behavior of a person however horrible could be a sufficient condition for depriving the person of the right to own or use a private piece of land for farming, or housing. We have seen that [it] is protected from forfeiture, even when a clansman had committed some capital offence and that the king did not dare to seize the offender’s land because he would have opposition from the whole clan. (Rattray, 1923)

Without doubt, land is the most critical asset to production. The right to land (private ownership) is consequently highly desirable as an economic right. Fortunately, Akan masses do not have to overthrow any landowners, middle class, or governments for access to the land. Regarding this, the skeptics and cynics of Africa’s democratization may be shocked to learn that despite the communalistic values in Akanland, individuals have this stringent right to demand access to plots of land for subsistence or commercial farming or renting. The chiefs, assisted by their sub-chiefs and recognized family heads, “abusua mpanimfoo,” are stewards of the land, and therefore only hold the lands in trust for, and on behalf of, the people or the state. Therefore,

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provided such lands are available, no family head or chief has the authority to deprive a family member of access to them. The economic right to a piece of land is therefore recognized as a human right guarded by the ancestors or the Supreme Being, who, as Dr. Danquah points out, is regarded in family lineage terms as “Nana Nyankopon” or the Great Ancestor.

Human Rights and Justice in the Religious Life of Akans Although one does not find or hear the king explicitly pledging to respect the religious freedom of his people, it is implicit in the injunction not to be autocratic and in the pledge to rule them as well as his predecessors did. Akans do not take their religious freedom lightly and will use all the constitutional means available to them to depose an autocratic ruler who threatens their freedom of religion. A classic case supporting this position is evident in Akan political history from the eighteenth century. The Asantehene Nana Osei Kwame was de-stooled at the end of the eighteenth century after ruling for 23 years. The best explanation for his political demise was an allegation about threatening the religious freedom of his people. Long before Christianity penetrated Islam was well-established in Ashanti, and Ashanti Kings could consult Moslem leaders for prayers and charms in anticipation or during wars and other natural or supernatural life-threatening events. Nana Osei Kwame, however, became too attached to the Moslem community in Kumasi, his capital, and showed signs of inclination to impose Qur’anic law as the civil code for the Ashanti Empire. Seeing their religious freedom threatened by this King, the subordinate chiefs in coalition with the elders de-stooled him, after he ignored their warnings. Although this happened in the eighteenth century, it set a precedent that has been effectively used as deterrence against all subsequent Asante Kings and their subordinates up to the present. Despite the close association between African traditional religions and chieftaincy, the right of individual chiefs as well as individuals to affiliate or not to affiliate with any religion or religious denomination has never been denied. So while they are not allowed to impose their religious preferences on their people, they are free to pursue their own preferences for themselves (AboagyeMensah, 1994: 34).

Human Rights and Justice in Akan Traditional Legal System Centuries before the European exploration and penetration into Africa, Akans had relatively well-organized (though not perfect) traditional moral and legal systems which provided law and order as well as protection of the human rights of the people. The traditional courts did not only uphold the right of each individual to a fair trial, but also their right to seek redress through the due process of the law against even an omanhene or paramount chief. The paradigm case of the Asantehene (King of Asante Empire) Nana Osei Kwadwom who was de-stooled for threatening the

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religious freedom of his people, implied that no one, including subsequent Asantehenes, and their subordinates, could be presumed to be above the law. Consequently, just as the Asantehene Osei Kwadwo was de-stooled for misuse of power, any Akan Omanhene could be de-stooled when found guilty of any capital offence, including murder, stealing, impersonation, or even adultery with the wife of his subjects. Ordinary citizens could file charges not only against other ordinary citizens, but even against their omanhene or paramount. The citizen also has the right to appeal to a higher court all the way to the court of the Asantehene, the equivalent of the Supreme Court, when not satisfied with the judgment of the lower courts. Although admittedly imperfect, the traditional legal system, in as much as it tried people and punished guilty ones for theft, rape, assault, and murder, can be said to have given due recognition to the (human) rights of the people to private property, the pursuit of their individual legitimate social, economic, and political interests, and especially the right to their own life and property.

Conclusion The skeptic might be wondering, if Akans and similar African societies know and respect human rights, how could one explain the long history of ritual murders, slavery, ethnic wars, and the ongoing genocide in Sudan as well as the civil wars in the Congo, East Africa, and, until recently, in West Africa? While the question seems appropriate, it should be pointed out that it relies on the false presupposition that if one knows the right, one will necessarily do the right. Although Plato – unlike Aristotle – identified with this elitist principle and denied the possibility of human weak will or akrasia, collective human experience over the centuries since Plato has clearly shown that most crimes are not committed out of ignorance but out of greed, lust for power, revenge, and extreme narcissism. Ritual murder was common among the Akans until the British colonial government abolished it in the Gold Coast. They were, however, not occasioned by selfish interests but by questionable metaphysical beliefs. Most Akans, at the time, believed that the ritual killings were necessary to ensure their Kings and Queens did not enter the next world without their spouses and retinue. The question about human rights abuses also wrongly assumes that the causal factors for these multiple and devastating ethnic rivalries and civil wars were caused only by internal factors within Africa. A more realistic analysis will however reveal a reductionist fallacy since the causal factors were deeply rooted in the foreign demands for oil or ivory from elephants, and such vital minerals as gold, diamonds, and other precious metals including those mined in the Congo for computer chips among others. Unless the foreign countries and multinational corporations concerned curb their appetites for these raw materials and precious minerals or restrict their commerce to legitimate governments and refrain from direct or indirect political interference, and illegal mining, and curb the role of mercenaries in Africa’s hot spots, the political instabilities will remain serious impediments not only to peace but also democracy and development in Africa.

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In sum, this chapter has shown, using the Akan model as a paradigm case for indigenous African societies, that far from being a Western ethnocentric imposition on Africa, human rights are indigenous and fundamental to the African worldview. Far from being a translation of the Western conceptions or theories of rights, this project has presented the relevant concepts in Akan as used in precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial times. It has also been shown that the concept is fundamental to their ethics as well as their socioeconomic, political, religious, and legal institutions and practices. Further, the chapter has shown that the African concept or theory of human rights is more comprehensive and more contextually relevant in African than the negative conception dominant in the Global West as well as the positive conception that is (or used to be) dominant in the Global East. The challenge for the contemporary African social and political philosopher or political scientist then is not to introduce the Western or Eastern conception of human rights to Africa. Instead, the challenge would be ensuring that indigenous conceptions are given protection from both internal and external aggression. While internal aggression from military coups will undermine or abandon the negative conception of rights and the protection it provides citizens in a democracy, external aggression even in the form of inhumane economic conditionalities such as those imposed by the IMF and the World Bank could force Africans to abandon their positive conception of rights that is so critical to social justice in a democracy. With the rate of deaths in the USA far worse than the deaths in Africa, the pandemic generated by COVID-19 has, among other things, revealed the weaknesses in upholding negative rights almost exclusively without the corresponding positive rights. By insisting on their right to be left alone, refusing COVID-19 protocols and the free and abundant vaccinations around them, the majority of the deaths recorded during the pandemic may have been avoidable. Therefore, if both the negative and positive conceptions of rights are protected and promoted internally and externally, democracy in Africa will continue to grow not only quantitatively but also qualitatively toward maturity and permanence. And as this chapter has shown using the Akan example, a significant part of the contributing factors should be attributed to the presence, rather than the absence, of a vibrant human rights tradition.

References Aboagye-Mensah, R. K. (1994). Mission and democracy in Africa: The role of the Church. Asempa Publishers for Christian Council of Ghana. BBC. (2019). https://www.bbc.com/news/world/Africa. 22 Feb 2019. Campbell, J., & Quinn, N. (2021, May). What’s happening to democracy in Africa? Council on Foreign Affairs, House of Freedom. Gyekye, K. (1975). Review of John Mbiti’s African religions and philosophy [Book Review]. Second Order, 4(1), 86–94. Fagan, A (ND). Internet encyclopedia of philosophy. Human Rights. https://iep.utm.edu/hum-rts/ Hobbes, T. (1651). Leviathan. Andrew Crooke, London

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Holland, E. K. C. (1924). The elements of jurisprudence (13th ed.). Clarendon Press. xxvi, p. 458 Dec 6, 2021. Muravchik, J. (1992). Exporting democracy: Fulfilling America’s destiny. AEI Press. Osei, J. (2009). The challenge of sustaining emergent democracies. Xlibris Academic. Osei, J. (2019a). How the selfishness ethics and ideology of Ayn rand have undermined American socio-economic stability: Analysis and prescription from African communal ethics. In Golfo Maggini Vasiliki P. Solomou-Papanikolaou Helen Karabatzaki Konstantinos D. Koskeridis (eds), Philosophy and Crisis: Responding to Challenges to Ways of Life in the Contemporary World. Washington DC: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, pp.103–121. Osei, J. (2019b). Ethical issues in third world development: A theory of social change. https:// philosophi.uoi.gr/wp-content/uploads/2019/. . . Packenham, R. (1973). Liberal America and the third world: Political development ideas in foreign aid and social science. Princeton University Press. Rattray, R. S. (1916). Ashanti Proverbs. Clarendon Press. Rattray, S. (1923). Ashanti. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Rawls, J. (1971). A theory of justice. Harvard University Press. Repucci, S., & Slipowitz, A. (2021). Freedom House Report, International Affairs. Uduagwu, C. S. (2019). How relevant is African philosophy in Africa? A conversation with Oladele Balogun. Filosofia Theoretica: Journal of African Philosophy, Culture and Religions, 8(2), 27–36. UN. (1948). https://www.un.org/en/about-us/universal-declaration-of-human-rights Von, T. H. (1976). Anthropology and power among the Ashanti by Laue. African Affairs, 75(298), 33–52. Wasserstrom, R. (1964). Rights, human rights, and racial discrimination. The Journal of Philosophy, 61(20), October American Philosophical Association Eastern Division sixty-first annual meeting 628–641. https://doi.org/10.2307/2023445 Wellman, C. (1985). A theory of rights: Persons under laws. Institutions, and morals. Totowa, N.J.: Rowman & Allanheld. Wellman, C. (1999). Liberalism, communitarianism, and group rights. Law and Philosophy, 18 (1), 13–40.

Technologies of Human Rights Protection, Sovereignty, and Freedom Uchenna Okeja

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Technologies of Human Rights Protection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sovereignty, Freedom, and Technology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reading for the Political: Beyond Digital Sovereignty and Digital Freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Whereas technology promises to advance freedom through strengthening human rights protection, the policies enacted to control access to technology infrastructure claim to protect the sovereignty of states. Could these divergent claims be reconciled? In this chapter, an account of technology governance that can accommodate the claims of freedom and sovereignty is provided. The starting point of this account is a reconstruction of the central claims of the two approaches to technology governance. It is argued that the two perspectives are severely limited, hence the need for a third way. To transcend the claims of digital sovereignty and digital freedom, it is imperative to take a standpoint that is political. Adopting an approach or a mode of reading that is political requires that the theory of technology governance answers the question: what does it mean for the experience of (un)freedom to say that human rights or sovereignty requires one to act in one way or another? Keywords

AI · Freedom · Responsibility · Governance · Sovereignty · Politics

U. Okeja (*) Faculty of Humanities, Nelson Mandela University, Gqeberha, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_47

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Introduction Technology accounts in part for the reelection of Macky Sall as president of Senegal in 2019. It has been reported that big data tools were deployed to optimize his chances in the election (Allison, 2019). Besides Senegal, there are a few other countries where technology is now a core part of the practice of democracy. In Nigeria, for instance, a major controversy about the recent elections was the failure of technology to deliver political hope. Recent political experiences show that the internet is becoming a political battleground. We see this in countries like Cameroun, Uganda, Nigeria, and the United States of America. Although the challenge of technology in politics is universal, human rights NGOs and some so-called advanced democracies frequently denounce unorthodox technology governance practices in developing countries as a form of human rights abuse. This is mostly the tenor of the responses to news reports about the restriction of access to the internet in countries of the Global South. Implicated in these responses is the imagination that attempt to control or constrain opposition voices by shutting down or limiting access to social media platforms, like Facebook and Twitter, is an infringement on human rights. Technology governance is complex. The implications of this complexity within the landscape of human rights protection in Africa could be seen in movements such as the #Endsars protests in Nigeria and the Arab Spring. Although human rights activists in many developing countries are able to mobilize effectively using internetbased platforms, governments quickly silence them through arbitrary laws and targeted intimidation. The question that emerges from these experiences are many. In this chapter, an attempt is made to answer a question that is fundamental for the understanding of the changing nature of the perception of freedom, namely, how to balance the claims of sovereignty and respect for human rights in technology governance practices. Attempts to conceptualize the relationship between technology governance and human rights have crystallized into two opposing perspectives. The one view holds that countries have the right to govern the digital public sphere. They are at liberty to do this, it is claimed, because it is an integral component of a country’s sovereignty to proactively regulate and prevent harmful use of technology. A second position is the consideration that the digital public sphere should be free from the interference of governments. Freedom, proponents of this view argue, demands that every possibility to advance human rights must be free from coercion and arbitrary restrictions. These two perspectives, it is argued, have significant shortcomings that make them untenable. For the first position, the main problem is the harmful potential of minimizing the dangers of new forms of bureaucratic dictatorship. The second perspective is ultimately unviable because it is unable to account for the modes of negotiation that are vital for the exercise of agency in contexts where institutions are weak. To move beyond the shortcomings of the two positions, it is imperative to adopt a political mode of reading. This mode of reading entails seeing the main question of the governance of technology as a challenge of the imaginative horizon that gives meaning to human action. The issue on this account is not how to merge the claims

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of state sovereignty and freedom of the individual per se, but how to conceive a perspective on freedom that will enable states, private actors, and individuals to act meaningfully. The chapter is divided into four sections. The first section is the “Introduction,” which sets out the question and my approach in answering it. In the section “Technologies of Human Rights Protection,” the idea of technologies of human rights protection is discussed. Section “Sovereignty, Freedom, and Technology” focuses on the explication of the main claims of the two perspectives on technology governance. Finally, in the section “Reading for the Political: Beyond Digital Sovereignty and Digital Freedom,” the possibility of overcoming the shortcomings of the two dominant perspectives on technology governance is considered. The section “Conclusion” consists of a summary of the claims and discussion of the problems that arise due to the integration of technology and politics. Although the chapter considers the dialectic of freedom and sovereignty in light of the integration of technology into politics, it is important to note that the argument advanced is mainly a form of normative political theorizing.

Technologies of Human Rights Protection To understand what is regarded as the technologies of human rights protection, it is perhaps most viable to proceed by discussing examples. There are basically two forms of technologies of human rights protection, namely, the hardware and software variants. The first category consists mainly of digital platforms for advancing human rights awareness and enforcing protection. The second category comprises modes of enactment of agency in politics through the deployment of technology. Whereas human rights apps exemplify the first category of technologies of human rights protection, the second category manifest through new forms of digitally based activism. One way of contextualizing the emergence of technologies of human rights protection is to view them through the lens of the deepening of digitization of societies. The process of digitalization has no doubt enabled the introduction of different mechanisms people can use to monitor and enforce respect for human rights in both advanced and emerging democracies. Mobile apps created by organizations such as Amnesty International and the United Nations Human Rights Office paved the way for the flourishing of hardware technologies of human rights. Currently, apps like Eyewitness to Atrocities, TraffikCam, HR Campaign Buyer’s Guide, Women’s Human Rights App (W’sHR), Mobile Justice, and Human Rights Watch do not merely seek to educate people about human rights. They also provide the means for reporting cases of actual or potential human rights abuses. As a result of the possibilities they create, technological platforms mitigate in real time the abuse of the human rights of vulnerable groups. It is reasonable to refer to these innovations as belonging to the hardware category of technologies of human rights protection, because they are built as platforms that are meant to subsist and offer a niche service in relation to the advancement of human rights causes. Thus, whereas one of the apps may be focused on women’s rights, another could find its niche in mitigating human trafficking. These hardware technological innovations for

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the protection of human rights are united by a common factor, namely, the provision of tangible platform dedicated to the advancement of the cause of human rights. This contrasts with what can be regarded as software technologies of human rights protection, which are essentially the ever-evolving digital innovations that advance the cause of human rights. Software technologies are fluid. They are not static because they are not constructed to advancement any specific aspect of human rights. An example in this regard is the Twitter tool called hashtag (#). The mobilization of this technological innovation transformed human rights activism in various ways. One can see the transformation in the vistas opened by such impactful hashtags like #Bringbackourgirls, #Metoo, #Endsars, #Rhodesmustfall, and many others. Although the hashtag as a form of digital innovation could be deployed to advance human rights causes, it is not exclusively dedicated to this goal. It is fluid in the sense that it could be given any content and directed towards any goal. Notwithstanding, it will be reasonable to suggest that software technologies of human rights protection are united by their mode of operationalization. This means they function on the basis of a specific logic, namely, the amplification of the voices advancing a cause, whether a human rights cause or something different. In many developing countries, journalists and ordinary citizens rely on these technological innovations to further the cause of human rights protection using a variety of strategies, such as “tagging” prominent international figures and platforms or growing an audience that is capable of developing into a critical mass. Recognizing the disruptive potentials of technological innovations, governments in various countries have put in place different mechanisms of control. Recent experiences in many African countries and other places in the world show that the two favored responses of governments is access restriction and content moderation. These responses could take the form of internet shutdowns, data taxes or content restriction and erasure, targeted exclusion of prominent voices, and outright ban of social media platforms. One can therefore assert that access to internet platforms is now the main means through which the dialectic between sovereignty and individual freedom manifests. The challenge thus is to conceive a viable response to this dialectic – how should we think about the claims of sovereignty and freedom in relation to digital technology? Are the two claims always opposed? Is reconciliation a viable approach to adopt in thinking about the way forward? These questions will be addressed in the section “Reading for the Political: Beyond Digital Sovereignty and Digital Freedom.” The necessary first step towards addressing them is to understand the claims of the two dominant approaches to technology governance.

Sovereignty, Freedom, and Technology In the growing literature on the integration of politics and technology, there are two dominant perspectives on the relationship between freedom and sovereignty. One cluster of arguments proposes that countries have a right to control emerging technologies because of their capacity to disrupt social harmony and peace, the

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economy, and many critical infrastructure. The idea is that digital sovereignty is a new frontier for enacting state sovereignty. In opposition to this view, a second approach suggests that the main promise of freedom is the realization of an unhindered digital public sphere. The imagination driving this view is the thought that, in a digital age, individuals are free to the extent they are able to assert their right to privacy and access to the means of interacting with co-citizens without hindrances, such as restriction and surveillance. Given that these opposing views have crystallized into the main ways we frame the governance of technology locally and internationally, it is pertinent to examine them in fuller details to conceive a perspective on the future. Questions about the governance of technological innovations are not new. The emergence of the internet in the early 1980s, however, heightened the need to find answers to questions about the impact of technology on privacy, access, safety of the young and vulnerable, and jurisdiction for the prosecution of cybercrimes. Confronted with the seemingly intractable power of online actors, governments around the world imagine internet governance as a matter of national security. A declaration by the United Nations in 2012, however, suggests that it is not entirely up to governments how regulation in this regard should be conceived. The United Nations’ Human Rights Council states that “human rights apply equally online and offline, digital rights are human rights” (Bussiek, 2022: 2). This implies that “all people have the right to access, use, create and publish information freely, to enjoy and exercise freedom of expression, information and communication as long as they do not violate the rights of others” (ibid.). It is often imagined that there is an opposition between the claims of digital sovereignty and the outlook that conceives the digital infrastructure as a means to protect human rights. The implications of this imagined opposition are many, given that human rights could be considered as the modern concept that expresses the idea of freedom. At all events, the thinking that informs this opposition is that “the digital transformation and the global technical infrastructure of the internet seem to challenge sovereignty [because] the principles of territoriality and state hierarchy appear opposed to diffuse, flexible, forever shifting constellation of global digital networks” (Pohle & Thiel, 2020: 2). Governments in different parts of the world often consider digital innovations like the internet to pose critical social and political challenges. In other words, there is always that suspicion that these innovations are opposed to the claims of state sovereignty due to the difficulties associated with asserting control. Examples of such moments where control is imagined as posing intractable dangers to governments include disruptive online-based activism targeting government actions or policies and so-called ethical hacking. Notwithstanding, since the expansion of digital infrastructure depends in some ways on the corporation of governments, there has been commensurate extension of mechanisms of control over digital infrastructure. A prominent way of expressing the burgeoning governance of digital infrastructure is through the operationalization of the concept of sovereignty in relation to technology. Captioned internet sovereignty (in the context of China) and digital sovereignty (in the context of the European Union), the concept of digital

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sovereignty captures the claims of states to exert control over digital infrastructure. The concept underscores that it is “the right of a state to govern its networks to serve national interests, the most important of which are security, privacy, and economic health” (Lewis, 2020: 3). In exercising digital sovereignty, therefore, “states impose national laws and regulation on networks and services to improve privacy and security, ensure opportunities for their citizens, and, in unpopular regimes, reduce political risk” (ibid.). As Milton Mueller pointed out, it is interesting that debates about digital sovereignty go back to efforts in the 1990s to assert that the digital space represents an independent context of sovereignty. He notes that “it is indicative of the changing times that the first papers to raise the issue of cyber-sovereignty were animated not by attempts to apply traditional forms of state sovereignty to cyberspace but by claims that cyberspace itself was its own sovereign space” (Mueller, 2019, 2). This is an important point to note because some attempts to explain the claims of sovereignty in relation to the digital space run into problems due to lack of clarity about the very notion of sovereignty. As we will see in the next section, addressing adequately the dichotomy between the claims of digital sovereignty and the claims of digital freedom requires us to adopt a perspective that allows for an imagination of digital governance as a question of normative political theory. Digital sovereignty is at core an imagination of the necessity of territorial control of digital infrastructure (Goldsmith 1998b). The concept refers to actions aiming to provide effective regulation of the internet and similar media of interaction in the cyberspace. The key claims are that such regulations are necessary to maintain territorial integrity and ensure protection of privacy, security, and maintain economic and cultural health. To understand the claim of digital sovereignty, therefore, it is necessary to have clarity about how it is imagined as the means to guarantee these envisaged outcomes. Asserting digital sovereignty could mean a range of things. According to a recent Briefing of the European Union, for instance, it “refers to Europe’s ability to act independently in the digital world.” The Briefing proposes that the concept “should be understood in terms of both protective mechanisms and offensive tools to foster digital innovation” (EU Parliament, 2020: 1). For the EU, asserting digital sovereignty is necessary for reasons ranging from economic competitiveness, protection of privacy and data security, and behavioral concerns. Recognizing that the main opportunities for economic growth in the future lie in “digital markets,” digital sovereignty enables the attainment of desirable economic goals, while mitigating the dangers that issue from disadvantages vis-à-vis competitors. The claim of digital sovereignty in this regard is that a condition of self-determination for the European Union, or any country that endorses the idea of digital sovereignty, is the attainment of independence from foreign technological control. To say therefore that digital sovereignty is necessary due to economic competitiveness is to suggest that it is a component of self-determination which is necessary to guarantee economic independence in a world where digitalization is a key driver of economic activities. What then is the mechanism for achieving digital sovereignty when conceived in the sense just stated? The approach to achieving this goal differs from one context to

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another. In the case of the European Union, it includes boosting investment in key areas that will increase competitive advantage for the Union, creating new areas of dominance, and controlling access to critical infrastructure and data. China, Russia, and emerging global powers take a different approach. The main point to note, however, is that, in seeking to attain digital sovereignty for economic or any other reasons, governments adopt two principal means, namely, content regulation, access regulation, and expansion of capacity (Wu, 1997). Besides the first core claim of digital sovereignty, there is a second contention, which is that it is the means to attain self-determination by guaranteeing privacy and data collection. Here, too, the approach to realizing this outcome is largely contextspecific. Whereas the EU sees the assertion of sovereignty in this sense to be necessary due to the dominance of non-EU companies in controlling personal data, China follows a different approach in framing how to realize digital sovereignty as a guarantor of privacy and data ownership. In the Chinese context, there are three major aspects of digital sovereignty, namely, a governance dimension, a national defense dimension, and an internal influence dimension (Mckune & Ahmed, 2018: 3837). This compartmentalization implies that the imagination of digital sovereignty in the Chinese conception is, on the one hand, externally focused and, on the other hand, internally oriented. Regardless of how digital sovereignty as guarantor of privacy, data ownership, and control is framed, the idea is that the concept is a shorthand for a new frontier for the realization of external as well as internal sovereignty. One cannot fail to notice the suggestion that digital sovereignty is a form of self-determination aiming to overcome the dominion of imperial powers of the West in the way the concept is defined by emerging global powers. To this end, it is plausible to assert that digital sovereignty has “become a primary arena for the contest between China, Russia, and Iran on one hand, and democracies on the other. In this context, democracies are on the offensive” (Lewis, 2020: 2). This implies that it will be a mistake to accuse “China and Russia to be “seeking to splinter the internet” because “they would prefer not to create a new separate internet, but to control the existing one, and cite a desire to protect national sovereignty and public safety as reasons for moving away from the governance regime created by the United States in the 1990s” (ibid.). Evidently, privacy and data, when mobilized as a means to frame digital sovereignty, are contested. The outcome of this contestation is that there is no clear idea regarding how to frame a robust imagination of the concept in this regard. What is clear, though, is that the various constituencies mobilizing this framing of digital sovereignty do so in accordance with their perceived needs for guaranteeing territorial dominion and external influence or resistance in changing circumstances. For this reason, it is important to ask whether the claims of digital sovereignty are indeed about territorially circumscribed right to self-determination in a changing global context or a new language that masks attempts by states to consolidate power and assert global influence. The reason for this skepticism should become apparent when one considers the counter perspective advanced by proponents of the autonomy of the cyberspace. Digital freedom which is opposed to the claims of digital sovereignty and the

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government regulation is the view that the digital sphere constitutes an independent form of sovereignty. This view should not be confused with arguments that suggest that a global technology infrastructure enhances sovereignty. In other words, digital freedom is different from postulations that claim that the internet can be harnessed to attain positive outcomes, such as strengthening international law, improving positive economic interdependence, and empowering non-state actors (Perritt Jr, 1998: 424). Digital freedom is a totally different perspective, because it does not merely seek to suggest the ways technology could produce positive outcomes. The view asserts a sovereignty for the digital sphere. As a view opposed to government regulation of digital infrastructure, digital freedom derives its cogency from two sources. On the one hand, the imagination that the failure in practice to effectively regulate global digital infrastructure in the manner promised by digital sovereignty shows that freedom in the digital age demands a different imagination of the claims of sovereignty. On the other hand, it is claimed that even if it were possible to regulate the digital space in a territorially circumscribed manner, doing so would be wrong because the digital sphere is an independent domain of sovereignty that should not be subjugated to the whims and tyranny of any territorial authority. John Perry Barlow postulated: “I declare the global social space we are building to be naturally independent of the tyrannies you [the governments] seek to impose on us. You have no moral right to rule us nor do you possess any methods of enforcement we have true reason to fear” (Barlow cited in Wu, 1997). This declaration merges the two sources of legitimation of the claims of digital freedom. Not only does Barlow suggests that it is impossible for governments to truly and effectively regulate the digital space, he also underscores that such regulation would be morally wrong. To understand the claims of digital freedom as a view that is more than a critique of digital sovereignty, it is important to consider some of the core claims it entails. Digital freedom suggests that the digital space is a sphere in which the fundamental freedom of human beings unfolds. As such, it should be protected from undue interference and regulation by state and non-state actors. Jack Goldsmith puts the point across aptly when he described opponents of state regulation of digital technology as making “both descriptive and normative claims. On the descriptive side, they claim that the application of geographically based conceptions of legal regulation and choice of law to a geographical cyberspace activity either makes no sense or leads to hopeless confusion. On the normative side, they argue that because cyberspace transactions occur ‘simultaneously and equally’ in all national jurisdictions, regulation of the flow of this information by any particular national jurisdiction illegitimately produces significant negative spillover effects in other jurisdictions” (Goldsmith, 1998a: 1200). The main issue is therefore not that the digital sphere should be disordered. It is instead the contention that the digital sphere is a selfregulating, independent sovereign sphere that must be respected as such. The claim advanced by the proponents of digital freedom is therefore that the digital space constitutes an essential dimension of human life. It is the context in which people live their lives and enact agency. Constraining the scope of the exercise

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of agency by individual persons, which is at core the outcome of the claims of digital sovereignty, is illegitimate. Digital technology, by its very nature, so proponents of digital freedom argue, must be thought about as independent of territorial control practices directed at asserting the self-determination principle of state sovereignty. Recognizing this point means to accept that it is pointless to invoke the threats and dangers that an unregulated digital space poses to justify its regulation and control. For, what is at issue is not the mitigation of an impending calamity but the imperative of changing our understanding of sovereignty in a manner that would enable us to recognize the digital sphere as a new sphere of sovereignty. That is, to see why it should not be subjugated to the impositions of territorially circumscribed norms of state sovereignty. Overall, digital freedom as a view on technology governance amounts to a suggestion that the digital sphere is a sovereign sphere constituted by freely participating netizens. Rather than seek to regulate and control it, states should recognize its sovereignty and accept its ability and effectiveness to self-regulate and autonomously achieve self-determination for netizens. Seen in this way, the idea of digital sovereignty is but an unwarranted interference by governments.

Reading for the Political: Beyond Digital Sovereignty and Digital Freedom What are the implications of the two perspectives considered in the preceding section? The claims of digital sovereignty takes as a given that territorial sovereigns can regulate digital infrastructure, such as the internet. The claim of digital freedom is that the digital sphere constitutes an independent sovereignty. Attempts to assert so-called digital sovereignty, on this view, are merely a euphemism for unwarranted interference by governments. Evidently, both claims have serious consequences. And one can understand why these implications are critical mostly in relation to two things, namely, imagination of a desirable future and advancement of the conditions of freedom. To see why the claims of digital sovereignty matter, consider such issues as the manipulation of currencies of emerging markets, new forms of espionage, the potentials to disrupt critical infrastructure that guarantee service delivery, and ransomware attacks on government institutions and private entities. These possible misuses of technological power, left unchecked, could pose grave dangers, especially the instigation of turmoil and political instability. Notwithstanding, there are reasons to worry that digital sovereignty is even more dangerous than what it claims to prevent. Widespread practices of government surveillance, curtailment of press freedom, manipulation of citizens, and even outright misuse of data about private citizens all point to grave dangers that accompany government regulation of digital infrastructure. Given this, the two positions make important claims about technology governance. Since both positions are radically opposed, there is need to consider a possible way forward. Doing this is not merely interesting philosophically but

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practically necessary due to the implications of not having a clear political imagination that enables meaningful action in a digital age. In the introduction, it was noted that there are shortcomings that make the approaches of digital sovereignty and digital freedom incapable of providing us the right orientation to adopt in dealing with the challenge of the ever-evolving digital innovations. The main shortcoming of the digital sovereignty position is that it minimizes the destructiveness of new forms of bureaucratic dictatorship. Bureaucratic dictatorship refers to forms of institutionalized control that stifle the exercise and experience of freedom. Consider practices such as selective content erasure and surveillance. The harm of these practices is not merely that it disrespects the rights of private citizens. The main harm consists in the erosion of the condition for the exercise of agency in politics. For digital sovereignty to be asserted, it must be administered in some way. This means that enormous power is transferred to government agencies without any clarity about how this power will be used – because the threats and actions to be regulated in the digital sphere by these agents are non-static, organized, and predictable, so the regulators have to adapt and make things up as the situation demands. What emerges in the end is the ceding of unquantified power to government agents acting under uncertain conditions. Why is this dangerous? The danger here lies in the potential that this undefined power ceded to government actors will not only be misused inadvertently but it will entrench an imagination among citizens that genuine political action is completely out of their reach. Once this sense of powerlessness is entrenched, the outcome is that a paralyzing inertia will become the defining feature of citizens’ engagement with social and political reality. To this end, a desirable solution to the challenge of the evolving digital sphere will not emerge from the assertion of digital sovereignty, at least not in the sense its main proponents envisage. This means there is need to find an approach that minimizes or completely avoids the diminishing of political agency. This is all the more important due to the fact that most people in the world today consider the scope of the exercise of real political agency to be global. For instance, climate activists, antihuman trafficking activists, and children’s rights activists engaging in online activism experience their political agency to be beyond the territorial boundaries of particular countries. Political action aimed at remedying child labor, for instance, must operate in an in-between world – that is, in the context of the interconnection between the place where child labor occurs (Bangladesh, for instance) and the location where the products are marketed (Europe, for instance). The point made with this example is that new forms of bureaucratic dictatorship have the potential to trivialize the complex context in which people exercise political agency in a globalizing world. And this is the case because political agency has evolved significantly beyond the restrictions of territorial boundaries. Thus, a viable approach to the challenge of digital sphere must accommodate the changed circumstance of genuine exercise of political agency. Turning to the second perspective, digital freedom, one also finds that there is an important limitation to overcome. This is the situation that this approach to the challenge of the evolution of the digital sphere cannot account for modes of

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negotiation that are vital for the exercise of agency in contexts where institutions are weak. Consider, for instance, recent experiences in such countries as Uganda, Cameroun, Zimbabwe, and Nigeria. In these countries, controversies about the regulation of the digital sphere have made the news for many wrong reasons. In Cameroun, for instance, the government forced telecommunication companies and internet service providers to restrict access to the digital sphere because of concerns about the activities of separatists groups. In the last decade, countries such as Togo, Gabon, Sudan, Zimbabwe, Sierra Leone, Chad, Nigeria, and the Democratic Republic of Congo have experienced internet shutdowns due to government attempts to truncate the exercise of political agency by citizens. The fact that these shutdowns occur, either in relation to government attempts to quell protests or minimize the dangers they claim would threaten peaceful elections, gives reason to conclude that governments impoverish the exercise of political agency by shutting down the digital sphere. This is more the case because of the strong evidence that shows the internet provides an alternative means for citizens’ self-expression in the democratic process (Moyo, 2009; Madenga, 2021). By limiting freedom of expression, especially press freedom (Selnes, 2021; McIntyre & Cohen, 2021), restrictions to the digital sphere seem to reverse the progress made in entrenching democracy in Africa and other places. What is more, using internet restrictions as a tool of political control could come at a considerable financial cost, as we see in countries such as Benin Republic, Guinea, Uganda, Zimbabwe, and Zambia, where governments have instituted taxes on Internet data (Bergere, 2019). For these reasons, it seems to make sense to argue that experiences like the one we have noted in many countries in Africa suggest that digital freedom is a necessary condition for the exercise of political agency and the protection of human rights today. The idea would be that government interference either delays or diminishes the exercise of the sort of agency needed to make democracy work in developing countries. In other words, the claim would be that respecting the sovereignty of the digital sphere is a necessary first step in the quest for greater freedom for people living under unjust social and political conditions. The merits of this perspective notwithstanding, it seems that, should one take this approach, it will be impossible to truly understand the way political agency manifests in contexts where institutions are weak. This is because a specific form of mutual dependence shapes the nature of political agency in the context of weak institutions. This mutual dependence explains, for instance, why journalists and citizens affected by internet shutdowns and digital controls imposed by governments insist that the same government should provide the means for them to participate in the digital sphere and also enforce their rights against technology giants. The claim advanced is that an abstract notion of digital freedom is not very useful as an ideal of technology governance for citizens of a very poor country who do not have access to any means of asserting their rights against technology giants. Implicated in this thought is the problem of digital colonialism. Responding to the challenge posed by the digital sphere through the prism of digital freedom would not change much for people who are powerlessness and vulnerable when confronted with the power of global technology giants. In contexts where there are weak

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institutions, digital freedom and its dream of sovereignty for the cybersphere would make no sense. And this is the case because such an approach would in the end simply reconfigure the power asymmetry between the Global South and Global North. As Renata Pinto observed, “the world’s offline populations are the disputed territory of tech empires, because whoever gets them locked into their digital feudalism, holds the key to the future. Tech giants are, without doubt, heavily influencing the way campaigns, governments, and politics operate” (Pinto, 2018: 17). This explains why the main problems of the two perspectives we have considered so far are insufficient sensitivity to context and acknowledgment of the burdens of the history that produced the present unequal world. Approaching the challenge of the digital sphere in the manner envisioned by proponents of digital sovereignty is insensitive to the context in which agency must be enacted today. As it was highlighted earlier, the shortcoming of the approach of digital freedom is that it does not account for the modes of negotiation that are vital for the exercise of agency in nonideal situations. Finding a viable alternative beyond the two perspective considered above requires us to understand first what is at stake. Why, in other words, should we care about how (not) to regulate the digital sphere? What is driving the concern in this regard is not merely the perception of dangers and opportunities as the proponents of digital sovereignty and digital freedom assume. To be sure, digital sovereignty claimants see threats (for instance, the breach of privacy and terrorism) and opportunities (for instance, the economic opportunities embedded in data control and ownership) in relation to the digital sphere. The same is true of digital freedom claimants. They imagine the digital sphere to be confronted by threats of government regulation (for example, the tyranny of surveillance) and opportunities (such as the expansion and guarantee of freedom of expression). What is missing in the assumption of both perspectives is context-sensitivity and a recognition of the lessons of history. More is implicated in the concern about the digital sphere than merely an accounting of threats and opportunities. The core issue at stake is the imagination of the power of agency in a changing context. This concern can be stated in the following way: given the disruptive nature of digital platforms, who should possess what power of agency, and why is this justified? The power of agency refers to a sense of freedom that forms the basis of genuine, meaningful human action in the different contexts of life in a society. Putting this at the center of the debates about how to deal with the challenges posed by the evolution of the digital sphere will enable us to conceptualize a viable alternative. The claims of digital sovereignty and digital freedom revolve around an exclusive imagination of the freedom that is required for genuine, meaningful human action. Whereas one perspective considers this exclusive freedom as the power to control through regulation, the other perspective sees this exclusive freedom to inhere in independence from such controls. To conceive a viable way forward, one must consider what the imagination of the sense of freedom that should form the basis of genuine and meaningful human action in the context of a digitalizing society aims to achieve. In other words, what is the core property of such a conception of freedom?

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Before specifying this core property of freedom, it is important to restate the concern with technology. The discussion so far shows that the problem of technology governance is not whether technology is good or bad. Instead, the problem is political in the sense that it concerns how to imagine the future of societies. The concern with technology governance is squarely a worry about the changes that are desirable in terms of how we live together. Seen in this way, the question of technology governance becomes what is justified in relation to the impact of technology on our sense of the world. The reason for this concern is that our sense of the world provides us an orientation to live a meaningful life. Based on this thought, the challenge of technology governance demands that one adopts a political standpoint in thinking about the viable way forward. This means to consider what it means for the experience of (un)freedom to say that responding adequately to the evolution of the digital sphere demands that we act in one way or another. In effect, the point is to conceive an imaginative horizon. Imaginative horizon refers to the condition for meaning. That is, the orientation to reality that enables one to experience the world and one’s place in it in a non-alienated manner. Such an orientation requires the stipulation of the core property of freedom that enables genuine action in an era of an unprecedented expansion of the power and possibilities of the digital sphere. It seems plausible to infer that the core property of this conception of freedom is interdependent autonomy. That is, a form of self-reflexivity that enables one to recognize the necessity of mutual dependence. Such an outlook does not focus exclusively on the digital sphere to conceive a sense of what technology governance requires. Instead, it focuses on the wider context of how the perception of what it means to be human continues to evolve in response to the stimuli that are consequences of human actions in the digital sphere and other areas of experience. Interdependent autonomy therefore inverts the logic of the challenge of technology governance by making it a concern about how, in acting on their/our world, human beings reconstitute their orientation regarding what it means to be human and the implications of this changing conception of humanity for imagining the nature of a decent and desirable society. This is a political reading of the challenge of technology governance, because it is a suggestion that what is necessary to navigate the terrain of the digital sphere for both governments and individuals is to put the power of agency at the center. By putting the power of agency at the center, it is guaranteed that human beings do not strip themselves of responsibility in relation to the challenge of the artifacts they created. In relation to the technologies of human rights protection, a political reading of the governance of technology suggests that the relevant issue is neither what sovereignty demands nor what freedom, in the sense of realizing human rights, requires. It is instead the necessity of thinking about the experience of freedom in terms of the imaginative horizon that gives it meaning. This imaginative horizon is the reconstituted sense of what it means to be the sort of human being that is the subject of the specific form of freedom we refer to as human rights. Against this background, it should become apparent that articulating what technology governance requires

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should not be hinged on the claims of digital sovereignty, digital freedom, or a hybrid of the two perspectives. What is required instead is recognition of the imaginative horizon that gives our experience of freedom meaning under current circumstances. This imaginative horizon is the mutual interdependence that has become the core of human experience of freedom, which is shaped by the consequences of our actions in the digital and other spheres. The implication of this mutual interdependence that human actions have produced requires one to put affirmation of the power of agency at the center of imagination of human-made technological artifacts. Doing this is necessary and desirable because it is how human beings take responsibility for their world without capitulating to alienation.

Conclusion It is important to highlight a crucial implication of the perspective advanced in this chapter for the theorizing of the merging of politics and technology. One of the critical issues in the integration of technology into politics is the negative effect on political agency. This problem confronts both advanced and emerging democracies, as one can observe in the disaffections about elections in countries such as the United States of America and Nigeria. In the former country, an insurrection was instigated by the belief by a large number of citizens that technology rigged the election against an incumbent president. In the latter country, there was widespread disaffection because of the inability of technology to deliver political hope. Rather than attempt to understand these experiences by focusing on whether technology should be regulated or not due to the opportunities and dangers involved, the perspective argued for in this chapter suggests a different approach. The proposal argued for is that one should attempt to understand current challenges of technology by asking what its imagination means for the experience (un)freedom. This means to uncover the imaginative horizon that gives meaning to the experience of technology in and beyond politics. Taking this approach has two advantages. The first is that it enables one to put the power of agency at the center of the discussion. The second is that enables one to adopt an orientation that recognizes the demands and opportunities of a new sense of freedom and responsibility that have come about as a result of human actions in the digital and other spheres of life.

References Allison, S. (2019). How big data Swung Senegal’s vote. Mail and Guardian. Available online at: https://mg.co.za/article/2019-09-06-00-how-big-data-swung-senegals-vote/. Accessed 04 Feb 2023. Bergere, C. (2019). “Don’t tax my megabytes”: Digital infrastructure and the regulation of Citizenship in Africa. International Journal of Communication, 13, 4309–4326. Bussiek, H. (2022). Digital rights are human rights: An introduction to the state of affairs and challenges in Africa, Friedrich Ebert Stiftung – Fesmedia Africa. Available online at: https:// library.fes.de/pdf-files/bueros/africa-media/19082-20220414.pdf. Accessed 04 Apr 2023.

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European Parliament Briefing, EPRS Ideas Paper – Towards a More Resilient EU. (2020). Digital Sovereignty for Europe. Available online at: https://www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/ BRIE/2020/651992/EPRS_BRI(2020)651992_EN.pdf. Accessed 14 Apr 2023. Goldsmith, J. L. (1998a). Against cyberanarchy. The University of Chicago Law Review, 65(4), 1199–1250. Goldsmith, J. L. (1998b). The Internet and the abiding significance of territorial sovereignty. Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies, 5(2), 475–491. Lewis, J. A. (2020). Sovereignty and the evolution of Internet ideology, Center for Strategic and International Studies Report, Oct 2020. Available online at: https://csis-website-prod.s3. amazonaws.com/s3fs-public/publication/201030_Lewis_Sovereignty_Evolution_Internet_Ide ology_1.pdf. Accessed 04 Apr 2023. Madenga, F. (2021). From transparency to opacity: Storytelling in Zimbabwe Under State Surveillance and the Internet Shutdown. Information, Communication and Society, 24(3), 400–421. McIntyre, K., & Cohen, M. S. (2021). Salary, suppression, and spies: Journalistic challenges in Uganda. Journalism Studies, 22(2), 243–261. Mckune, S., & Ahmed, S. (2018). The contestation and shaping of cyber norms through China’s Internet sovereignty agenda. International Journal of Communication, 12, 3835–3855. Moyo, D. (2009). Citizen journalism and the parallel market of information in Zimbabwe’s 2008 election. Journalism Studies, 10(4), 551–567. Perritt, H. H., Jr. (1998). The Internet as a threat to sovereignty? Thoughts on the Internet’s role in strengthening national and global governance. Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies, 5(2), 423–442. Pinto, R. A. (2018). Digital sovereignty or digital colonialism? Sur International Journal on Human Rights, 15(27), 15–28. Pohle, J., & Thiel, T. (2020). Digital sovereignty. Journal on Internet Regulation, 9(4), 1–19. Selnes, F. N. (2021). Internet restrictions in Uganda: Examining their impact on journalism. Information, Communication and Society, 24(3), 490–506. Wu, T. S. (1997). Cyberspace and sovereignty – The Internet and the international system. Harvard Journal of Law and Technology, 10(3), 647–666.

African Philosophy of Development Monday Lewis Igbafen

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Problem of Development in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theories of Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Modernization Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dependency Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Cultural Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Reconstructionist Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Toward an African Philosophy of Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Over 60 years of political development, most postcolonial African nations appear to be condemned to live perpetually in conditions of unmitigated underdevelopment. In these nations, the realization of meaningful development has remained elusive and illusory. The quest for development, understood as a search for a positive change or an improvement in the status of things, has given rise to several development theories, plans, and strategies, all designed to facilitate an improved quality of life in postcolonial African nations. Prominent among these theories are Modernization theory; Dependency theory; Cultural theory; and Reconstructionist theory of development. This chapter critically examines the quest for meaningful development in postcolonial African nations in light of these dominant theories of development and argues that they failed to bring about desired development because the theories lack a strong and clearly developed philosophical foundation that pays attention to the ontological, epistemological, and ethical

M. L. Igbafen (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_39

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systems of African peoples. The chapter, therefore, argues for a philosophy of development for Africa, which prioritizes the building of communities over industrialization, capitalization, and competitiveness among African nationstates. Keywords

Development · Underdevelopment · Africa and African Philosophy

Introduction The concept of development has been defined in various ways. The diverse ways in which development has been conceptualized make it difficult to define the extent to which a person, society, community, group, environment, or nation can be said to be developed. For instance, development has been defined by social theorists using different indices. For scholars like W. Arthur Lewis, John Fei, and Gustav Ranis, a developed human society is one in which the gross national product (GNP) or per capita income experiences sustained growth (Iyoha, 1996: 2). Development within this context focuses on economic growth and capital accumulation of it. This idea of development places priority on economic growth, placing the benefits of increased GNP per capita to wider “society” above individual human needs. Some scholars have also construed development from a humanistic perspective. For instance, Wiredu, 1995: 121) argued that development should not be perceived solely in material terms. According to him, development has two dimensions, viz., material and moral (1995: 121). From the material perspective, development involves the control and exploitation of the physical environment through the application of the results of science and technology, which of course reiterate the development of the one (human) at the detriment and underdevelopment of the other (ecological and nonhuman). On the moral plane, development consists of regulating and improving human relationships through promoting humane values such as freedom, justice, equality, and cooperation. To Wiredu, therefore, an all-encompassing idea of development is one in which material advancement and social or moral developments are mutually reinforcing (Oladipo, 2000: 121). One important position in the various conceptions of the concept of development is that they are intertwined, that is, the human, material, moral, economic, and political are all crucial to a robust understanding of development. They are all intersected, such that it will not be possible to talk about one without the other. This no doubt defines the situation of Africa as a diverse and multifaceted continent with many nation-states, value systems, priorities, cultures, and developmental strides. By extension, it is difficult to judge the whole continent on the basis of one developmental indices. In the last two decades, some countries in Africa have achieved giant strides with respect to all-round development. For instance, Rwanda is one African country where a major genocide in human history took place. While there are other countries that reference can be made to in terms of development in

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Africa, the question still remains, within the overall assessment of Africa’s development, can Africa as a continent be said to be developed especially when compared to other continents such as Europe and Asia? If yes, what defines such development? The idea of what development entails in present Africa is often understood in the dominant discourse from economic and political perspectives. While these perspectives are germane to assessing the developmental strides of a continent, it is important to note that they do not suggest finality to development in the African place. More so, these perspectives on development often ignore the immaterial cum moral aspect of development. The primary aim of this chapter is thus to explore the nature of the philosophy of development in Africa by critically examining the dominant theories of Africa’s development and theorizing the philosophical grounds on which an efficient theory of development must emerge from. The chapter begins by examining the conundrum of underdevelopment in Africa and why it can be said that Africa as a continent may not be said to be developed, especially when compared to the European and Asian continents. The chapter then proceeds to examine the dominant/normative theories that have over the years been prescribed by developmental theorists in an attempt to unravel some of the factors responsible for the underdevelopment of some continents and nation-states. The chapter later proceeds to explore a robust African philosophy of development. The importance of such philosophy cannot be overemphasized as it is crucial to fine-tuning the whole project of development in Africa, be it economic, political, human, or moral.

The Problem of Development in Africa Africa’s present social, political, and economic conditions reveal a crisis of development. There is an evident failure of development efforts in postcolonial Africa. After decades of postindependence efforts to transform for the better the material and social realities of African life, Africa is still dogged with repetitive famine, unequal exchange, vast debt burden, political, social, and cultural repression, civil wars, steady corruption and graft, political conflicts, and a general collapse in the morale of the masses. Today, Africa’s situation has deteriorated from the rather bad situation of the 1980s and 1990s to the worse since 2014. Today’s Africa appears to be enveloped in a palpable loss of hope for the future. The reason is that extreme poverty – induced by a near collapsed economy – unsustainable debt, unequal exchange devastating ethnic conflicts and wars, terrorism, religious killings, festering refugee problems, food shortages, social anarchy, political upheavals, and insecurity are in ascendance. As Robert Mugabe candidly puts it: Africa is now home to the world’s largest number of least-developed countries. The continent further boasts of the largest refugee population in the world. Furthermore, it is a theatre of endless conflicts, civil strife and gross human rights abuse. Whereas standards of living in other continents have risen over time, in Africa, present standards of living are no better than they were two decades ago. High unemployment, inflation, civil strife, poverty,

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refugee crisis, desertification, diseases, malnutrition - the list is endless - appear to be the only legacy the continent is capable of passing on from one generation to another. (Cited in Oladipo, 1996: 86)

The level of social and political turbulence in contemporary Africa is frightening because of the rising number of African countries enmeshed in political upheavals, ethnic wars, ethno-religious upheavals, religious killings, terrorism, and boundary conflicts with the result that there is little value for human life. Sudan (South and North), Liberia, Cote’d Ivoire, and Nigeria are among the numerous African countries that have had and still have their share of crises of insecurity of monumental dimension. The deadly activities of Boko Haram, a fundamentalist Islamic sect, particularly in the North East of Nigeria, the Al Shabaab in Somalia, and the Tuaregs in Mali have distorted developmental initiatives in Africa. Their negative activities have assumed an intolerable dimension such that the attention and response of world powers are being mobilized to contain the security challenge in Nigeria. On the whole, happiness, peace of mind, and communal survival which used to be the underlying ideas of indigenous African development have been discarded, and hatred, suspicion, and distrust have replaced the cherished spirit or idea of indigenous African brotherhood and solidarity. Driven by the challenge of development, postcolonial African states have had to adopt different development paradigms or theories at different stages of their historical evolution. Such paradigms or theories have been meant to mitigate the crisis of development in Africa. For example, approaches like Rostow’s stages of economic growth, Arthur Lewis’s idea of the will to economize, Merle Lipton’s or Reginald’s green work in Africa, the dependency school, the theory of structural adjustment, and lately the policy of privatization and commercialization have been variously embraced and practiced by African states with little or no success. More so, democracy has become the adopted philosophy of political development in Africa such that a politically developed African state would be a developed one. These paradigms of development are generated according to the dictates of foreign epistemological orientation imbued with Eurocentric preferences and values. But does it matter if the policies and paradigms of development being pursued or that have been implemented in African countries are products of a foreign culture? After all, some apologists of Western culture have theoretically justified the need for cultural borrowing in an increasingly globalizing world. While it is not wrong to borrow a good idea from other cultures, there is everything fundamentally wrong when people continue unrepentantly to allow other races to shape their orientation and processes, which leads to becoming slaves to other people’s ideological consciousness. African leaders are perhaps the guiltiest for the inglorious underestimation of African intellectual capacity and capability. African leaders have allowed Africans to be thought for and have tended to encourage the relationship of teacher (the West) and student (Africa), thus strengthening neocolonial tendencies. But have these foreign philosophies or foreign packaged policies for development stimulated the desired result in contemporary Africa? For example, has life changed for the better for Africans whose nation-state has been completely democratized?

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What is the state of the standard of living in African states where the structural adjustment program has been tested? Are Africans fairing better with the policy of privatization? Are Africans better placed with an IMF-driven economy? What is the place of Africans in a rapidly globalized world? K.C. Prah’s penetrating view provides illuminating answers to these questions in the economic sense. According to him, “If the pursuit of development paradigms based rigidly and essentially on the computation of indices on GNPs and GDPs has failed in three decades of African independence, and structural adjustment has proven to enhance the misery of the masses of the African people, then the solution should be found elsewhere. New concepts or old concepts with new applications should be sought” (Prah, 1993: 65). As this chapter will show shortly, indigenously developed philosophy of developed would be more effective as Africa presses forward in her quest for development. There is no dearth of literature on why Africa is underdeveloped. In other words, much has been said by scholars of different leanings on why Africa is backward. For example, Samir Amin, Cessire Aimee, Walter Rodney, and Claude Ake, among other scholars, are united in the condemnation of the present world order. For one, Amin argued that the global capitalist order is unjust because it is organized in a way that African states, whether underdeveloped or developing, are at the receiving end. To him, it is a case of a world between master and servant, with Western societies playing the role of the master, thus perpetually reaping the fruit of the situation while African states are continuously being exploited (Chuke, 1996: 35). This implies that the integration of African states into the world capitalist order is not in their interest. What this means is that African states cannot develop so long as they are dependent on Western countries. This is the underlying idea of the dependency theory of development. According to Amin and his co-ideological travelers, the solution to the problem of Africa lies in the delinking of African states from the global world order and thus from Western hegemony. There is, however, a contrary view to this. The proponents of the catch-up theory of development believe that Africa will develop if and only if it mimics the developed nations of the world. Anthony Appiah, a Ghanaian philosopher, is a leading advocate of the catch-up theory in the humanity. But the glaring reality in African states today has revealed the opposite. After many years of experimentation with the catch-up strategy of development, the outcome, however, points to the fact that the development of African states cannot come easily. Owolabi (1995) has argued that: Appiah’s assumption that Africa will develop after a conscious effort to follow the example of the developed nations is a sign of naivety or more pretension; the issue of Africa’s development is rather more complex than the simplistic approach that Appiah is advocating (121).

From the foregoing, it is clear that neither the catch-up theorists’ position nor the view of scholars who are seeking solution to Africa problem through the delinking of African states from the global world order is infallible and flawless. It is a statement of fact that interdependency and interrelationship of countries have come to stay. In

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fact, man’s social composition as underscored by Aristotle in his Politics (1981) has made the claim of interdependence and interrelationship undeniable. For instance, humans are social beings that cannot afford not to associate and interact with others. In what follows, the chapter examined some of the specific philosophies and theories of development in Africa and the challenges they have faced.

Theories of Development Theories of development are models of theoretical understanding or development philosophies that seek to answer the following interrelated questions: What are the root causes of the wealth and poverty of nations? Why have some countries advanced further than others? What account for the underdevelopment or backwardness of some countries and the presence of “sustained” development in others? What are the epistemic frameworks for development? Why are some countries developed and others underdeveloped? The question why are some nations rich and others poor? in political economy has been around since the publication of Adam Smith’s classic The Wealth of Nations (1776) and has continued to be revisited and examined afresh by scholars even in contemporary times. Traditionally, there are two competing models, namely, modernization and dependency theories, which proffer differing answers to the questions above. They are regarded as part of the voluminous literature of development in social sciences. Basically, these theories represent the cumulative ideas, views, and discourses of development in the social sciences. Indeed, from the 1950s to the early 1990s, development theory and policy “models” were driven by the social sciences’ epistemological and ontological commitment to the objectives of the natural sciences (Morvaridi, 2008: 10). Other theories that provide further explanation for African underdevelopment and discussed in this chapter are cultural theory and reconstructionist theory.

The Modernization Theory Scholars from economics, who consider or perceive development as basically economic roles, chiefly developed the idea of this theory. Proponents of the modernization theory are the early mainstream development theorists, such as W. W. Rostow, who clearly believed that industrialization or modernization were the vehicles required to lift the poor countries out of poverty and to increase the living standards. Reflecting this perspective, states were encouraged to invest in infrastructure that would facilitate faster economic growth such as dams, roads, and power generation projects (Morvaridi, 2008: 12). This resulted in according some sort of priority to economic growth, placing the benefits of increased gross national product (GNP) per capital to wider society above individual human needs. In other words, this theory is a product of development economics which emerged in an attempt to find answers to why underdeveloped countries remained poor and how this problem could be remedied (Iyoha, 1996: 2). The basic premises of

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modernization theory are that: (i) transformation in the developing countries could be achieved through the ability to generate sustained economic growth; (ii) African societies are in the process of becoming modern rational entities in which efficiency and scientific logic replace traditional values and belief systems. Thus, the theory emphasizes concepts such as GDP and industrialization as yardstick for measuring development. With this orientation, modernization theorists operate with the assumption that the process of development is one-way enterprise, that is, a process of structural change in which society moves from the stage of underdevelopment to the stage of development. This implies that the phenomenon of underdevelopment is a natural conundrum. The exponents of modernization theory in trying to justify it provided elaborate explanations, descriptions, and arguments of why some countries are rich and others are poor. For instance, they argue that underdevelopment has nothing to do with imperialism, by which they mean that there is no correlation between development or underdevelopment and the exploitation tendencies or activities of the metropolitan economies (Idjakpor, 1994). Put differently, modern bourgeois theorists believe that the underdevelopment and persistent crisis of development in third world nations are not a direct or logical consequence or outcome of European imperialism and colonialism. This is a rebuttal of the claim by dependency theorists who argued that the impoverishment of developing or underdeveloped nations is a direct consequence of neocolonialism – or imperialism. “Imperialism” here refers to the subordination of one country, and in this case, a continent to another or to subordinate one country, people, or continent to another in order to maintain a relationship of unequal exchange (Ake, 1979: 99). In this context, the world is divided into two “worlds,” namely, the center (metropolis) and the periphery. The developed world (Western nations) constitutes the center or metropolis while developing or underdeveloped countries are grouped under the rubrics of the periphery. Samir Amin gives an insight into the relationship, which exists between the two. Amin’s contention is the proposition that the center (core regions) exploits peripheral regions through various mechanisms of unequal exchange (Chuke, 1996: 33). This turn on the fact that the relationship between the center and peripheral nations is that of dominance where the metropolis dominate or lord it over the peripheries. Apart from the refutation of the view above, the solution or recipe the modernization theorists put forward is: developing or underdeveloped nations must as a matter of deliberate effort follow the steps or mimic the developmental capabilities of the developed nations of the world in order to experience development. By this, modernization theory indicates that the Western capitalist societies represent a paradigm for other societies, and that underdeveloped or developing countries could be made to grow and develop following the Western pattern or model of development. The modernization theorists insist that the third world countries are poor and underdeveloped because of certain inhibitory characteristics or factors. They locate underdevelopment within basically internally variable and point specifically to African culture as obstacles to development. For them, internal factors are to blame for Africa’s failure to develop (Martin & Mueni, 2009a: 12). Modernization

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theorists would want us to believe that Africa has remained traditional and underdeveloped because of the following features: (i) low division of labor and specialization, (ii) lack of effective and inscriptive orientation, (iii) lack of spirit of entrepreneurship, (iv) lack of capital or saving capacity, and (v) prevalence of governmental instabilities. What all this signify is that Africa’s development is a possibility if and only if the region can fundamentally transit from what is traditional to what is modern. The modern lives are typified or exemplified by the Western capitalist states. This view is clearly represented in David Micclleland’s analysis. Micclleland, an ardent exponent of modernization theory, argues that Africa and indeed third world countries are poor and backward because of certain inhibitory factors, which include superstition, traditional kinship values, high illiteracy rate, ignorance and disease, extended family system, geo-ethnic interest, and demagoguery. According to Micclleland, there are certain values including “N” achievement value (the need for achievement or development value) which ultimately determine the tempo of development in society. As he pointed out, societies inhabited by individuals with the need-forachievement are likely to be more advanced or developed than societies which lack individuals with need-for-achievement. The third world countries, he argues, are underdeveloped or backward because they are inhabited by individuals with low needs for achievement, by which he means that the presence of traditional values discourages individualism and achievement. What is explicitly discernable from Micclelland’s argument is that until these traditional values or characteristics are discarded for modern methods, African countries and other poor nations of the world will continue to remain in the doldrums of underdevelopment. Rostow who is a vociferous advocate of modernization theory argued that African countries are poor and backward because they are not producer nations but rather are consumer nations. He identified what he called unbridled consumption habits of Africans and people of other developing countries as responsible for their backwardness. Rostow’s analysis of the consumption pattern and habits of African countries reveals various stages, viz., traditional society, precondition for takeoff, and consumption period. According to Rostow, African countries and other underdeveloped nations of the world can only develop if and only if they purge themselves of high consumption habits and embrace production ethics (Idjakpor, 1994). Rostow’s recipe at best is a glorification of capitalism in that his prognosis for rapid development in Africa and other third world nations is structural adjustment program (SAP). From the foregoing, modernization theory assumes that Western capitalist societies can become the paradigm for other countries. Based on this approach, African should follow a pattern of development similar to that of the West. Thus, the effort of modernization theorists is to covertly or overtly make underdeveloped or developing countries to grow and develop in accordance with the dictates of Western countries. In contrast to the dependency theory, modernization perspective holds that the International Monetary Fund (IMF), World Bank, and multinational companies are agents of development and not underdevelopment in the periphery.

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The modernization theory has variants in political science and also in the humanities. In political science, scholars like Samuel Huntington, in his work Change to Change: Modernization Development and Politics (1971), enjoin third world nations to emulate or mimic the process of politics of the advanced world. This variant of modernization theory indicates that African politics presumably suffers from a lack of adequately educated people. To press home this argument, Martin Meredith, in a recent survey of Africa, argued that European leadership is indispensable for economic development in British East and Central Africa. According to Meredith, the degree of development achieved by various ethnic groups and nations in Africa depends on the length of contact and degree of closeness with European colonialists, as well as on the presence or absence of a sizeable white settler community viewed as the engine of development (Mueni & Martin, 2009: 12). Similarly, Kwame Anthony Appiah, a prominent Ghanaian African philosopher, portrayed or betrayed his bias for modernization theory when he said: I do not believe, despite what many appear to think that this is a reason for shame or embarrassment. But it is something to think about. If modernization is conceived of in part as the acceptance of science, we have to decide whether we think the evidence obliges us to give up the invisible ontology. (Appiah, 1992: 135)

What this quotation implies is that traditional African culture harbors mystic elements, which makes it out of tune with development in modern technology. As Appiah explicitly puts it: “the practical successes of technology. . . are largely absent in traditional culture” (1992: 35). Thus for Appiah, Africans and people of other third world countries must fundamentally alienate themselves from their culture and embrace Western culture for them to experience development. It is axiomatic from the foregoing that though exponents of modernization theory exhibit various and different perspectives, they are, however, united by the basic assumption that all nations or underdeveloped countries can attain the goal of development if they emulate the developmental capability, policies, and programs of industrialized capitalist nations of the West. On a critical note, modernization theorists have been accused of Eurocentrism, given their treatment of African societies and other underdeveloped nations of the world as though they had no history, and for assuming that African indigenous culture, traditions, and institutions were an obstacle to economic development (Martin & Mueni, 2009b: 12). A Eurocentric bias is also reflected in their belief in the rationality and reality of the Western capitalist ideology. This is particularly the case if viewed against the realization that most of the scholars who imbibed or developed modernization theory are products of Western capitalist orientation. For example, W.W. Rostow belongs to the radical group of economists that acted as the think tank of the J.F. Kennedy’s administration (Idjakpor, 1994). The Eurocentric campaign has led to Western countries, transnational corporations, and nongovernmental organizations’ total control over African countries, leaders, resources, and economies. It is fact of history that since 1960, economic, political, social, and cultural development in African countries has followed – with dire consequences – the

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modernization trajectory, in spite of the theory’s obvious shortcomings and dismal failure (Martin & Mueni, 2009b: 12). The woeful or abysmal failure and the consequent unpalatable experience of African nations with SAP tells or gives the lie to Rostow’s claim of SAP as a prognosis of Africa’s and other third world countries’ development conundrum. The woeful failure of SAP is well captured by J.S. Sorensen, who says, inter alia, that “the result of such policies in Africa was deepening poverty, widening social polarization and increasing unemployment across the continent” (Sorensen, 2010: 9). Besides, the surpassing consumption rate of Western societies contradicts Rostow’s thesis that African nations are poor because of high consumption habits. What is more! Micclelland and Appiah identify some structural causes including religion, superstition, kinship, and class values as the bane of Africa’s development. Micclelland, on his part, seems to have contradicted himself. He assumes that these factors are embedded in his conceptual scheme yet asserts in another breadth that the need for achievement is a function of personality variables – independent of any social structure. He thus erroneously believes that his theory is independent of structural determinism. According to him, it is men and in particular their concerns that shape history. The argument that third world countries are poor and underdeveloped because of the absence of individuals with “N” achievement values also misses the mark. Following the view of S.K. Ballet, there are a number of individuals in developing countries imbued with high rationality and “N” achievement value. It has been observed in the traditional structure of the Igbo society in Nigeria, for instance, that there are individuals of high entrepreneurial values of will. The activities of the famous Awka blacksmiths and Igbo scientists during the Nigerian civil war are a case in point. It is arguable that underdevelopment in Africa or third world nations cannot be completely attributed to the presence of certain traditional values. After all, the presence of such traditional values rather than hindering development process promotes development. In the practice of African religion, for instance, the health and prosperity of members of a particular community constitute a matter of great concern. It is the case that a good deal of ritual communication takes place between the living and the spirit world as an attempt to maintain or reestablish individual or group well-being. Come to think of it, it is a historical fact that Western countries cannot be completely exonerated from the debilitating poverty and crisis of development in developing or underdeveloped countries. Neocolonialists and their Western collaborators’ penchant for exploitation, expropriation, marginalization, and manipulation of Africa’s positive will to development is indicative of the contribution of the Western world to the impoverishment and underdevelopment of third world countries. The activities of multinationals like IMF and other international financial bodies like the Paris and London clubs have also impacted negatively on Africa’s search for development through their “poisoned” loans and aid. The modernization theorists, particularly those from the economic background, can also be criticized for conceiving development as a single enterprise, thus failing

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to recognize the complexities of the process of development in human society. Much of the scathing criticisms against modernization theory are from scholars from the radical school of thought. The summary of their objections has developed into an alternative theory called dependency or liberation theory of development.

Dependency Theory The dependency or liberation theory represents the ideas of many scholars who have shared a lot of common views on the problem of underdevelopment in African states and other developing countries. Grouped together, they are commonly referred to as the “neo-Marxists or world system theorists” or liberation theorists. Proponents and promoters of the dependency theory include Samir Amin, Paul Prebrich, P. Baran, A.G Frank, F. Fanon, and Cessire Aimee to mention a few. In contrast to the modernization theory, which is shorn of all historical and sociological contexts, dependency theory is founded on the historical and sociological dynamic that determines the existing structural relationships between the industrialized and the nonindustrialized nations of the world. The dependency theory thus explains development as being constrained by the unequal exchange relationships that exist between the nations that are developed and those that are viewed as developing (Idjakpor, 1994). According to dependency theorists, the crisis of development facing developing nations is a created condition and not a stage in their evolutionary process. They thus perceive or conceive neocolonialism or imperialism as the bane of development in the third world countries. The basic premise of the dependency theory is that the wealth of nations or poverty of nations is the end result of a global process of exploitation and expropriation unleashed on third world countries during the colonial era (Idjakpor, 1994). Expanding this view further, dependency theorists claim that the phenomenon of underdevelopment has continued unabated even after colonialism, through the activities of neo-imperialist institutions and agents who masquerade as leaders in developing countries. This rationalization stems from the assumption that the period and process of transfer of political power to the indigenous bourgeoisie by the Western colonialists reelected a transition from a colonial to a neocolonial political economy. The period, the argument goes, witnessed the promotion of class and power relations which ensured the continued domination of third world countries by international capitalism. According to dependency theorists, the relationship between the center and periphery is by virtue of the nature of the structural needs of the center necessarily are “exploitative,” the consequence of which turns on the fact that poor nations become poor and the rich ones become richer. This is what Frank A. Grunder refers to as the development of underdevelopment. To Grunder, capitalism is an integrated structure of metropolis and satellites that bound nations, regions, and urban rural areas into dominant-dependent relationships. Using the foregoing argument as a premise, the dependency theorists conclude that the rich nations of the world developed at the expense of third world countries. Put differently, third world countries are underdeveloped because they have been

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exploited or are still being exploited by the advanced countries of the world. This is another way of saying that the third world countries are stagnating because the resources necessary for their development have been transferred or are being transferred to develop the center or metropolis. Thus, external factors (especially the world capitalist economy) explain Africa’s predicament. This condition or situation puts the periphery (less developed countries) in a situation of permanent dependence vis-à-vis the center (European countries). A prime example of neo-Marxist analysis of underdevelopment and dependency applied to Africa is Walter Rodney’s How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (1972). In the book, Rodney gives a graphic espousal of how Europe exploited and underdeveloped Africa through the process of slave trade, trade distribution of African indigenous technology, the criminal exploitation of Africa’s raw materials by the colonial masters, and the destruction of Africa’s will power and capacity to develop by the colonial masters. According to him, the answer to these two key questions (why Africa has realized so little of its potential and why so much of its present wealth goes outside of the continent) resides in two factors that have brought about underdevelopment throughout the period of Africa’s participation in the capitalist economy, namely, wealth from African labor and restrictions on African’s economic capacity. The Western European capitalists assisted by African sellouts – or accomplices – actively extended their exploitation to cover the whole continent. It is for the foregoing reason(s) that the dependency theorists insist that the impoverishment of peripheral economies is not a function of the lack of technological growth or technological know-how. Neither is it the lack of a conducive environment for foreign investment or international trade nor the development of modern institutions. The impoverishment of peripheral economies lies in the exploitation, expropriation, and marginalization being foisted on underdeveloped nations by the international capitalist system and its special agents or compradors both at home and abroad (Idjakpor, 1994). Typical examples of capitalist agents are multinational institutions. They achieve and sustain their dual aims of exploitation and underdevelopment by entering into an unholy alliance with other capitalist compradors, thus facilitating the process of underdevelopment of the poor nations through the activities of colonial conquest and exploitation, slave trade, international trade, aid, investment, and fiscal policy formulation. The dependency theorists insist that underdeveloped countries have remained at the abyss of underdevelopment because they unrepentantly depend on the industrialized countries. To them, underdeveloped countries are not only dependent on the advanced countries for materials, but they also look up to them for ideas and models of development. Such ideas have been described as (Western) value-laden, thus prompting Claude Ake to say that “Western mainstream social scientists are agents of imperialism by the propagation of intellectualism or ideas which tend more to foist or ossify the true and logical historical process which crystallized in European underdevelopment of the third world” (Ake, 1979). Though some proponents of the dependency theory are of the opinion that possibilities for autonomous capitalist development exist in the periphery countries, others advocate a complete withdrawal (or delinking) of third world countries from

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the world capitalist system. The latter see the necessity of delinking as a prerequisite for the realization of autonomous, self-centered, independent development of the periphery countries (Martin & Mueni, 2009b: 13). Amin is counted among scholars who argued for the delinking of the third world countries from the global capitalist community, given that the global community is an unjust one because it is organized in such a way that developing societies are at the receiving end. To Amin, it is a clear case of a world between master and servant, with Western countries playing the role of the master, thus perpetually reaping the fruit of the situation, while developing or underdeveloped nations are continuously being exploited (Igbafen, 2000: 82). This implies that the integration of developing countries into the world economic order is at their disadvantage to the extent that they cannot develop so long as they remain as appendages of Western countries. In agreement with other dependency theorists, Amin in his work, Eurocentrism (1989), argued that the solution to the crisis of development lies in delinking developing or underdeveloped countries from the global order and thus from Western hegemony. In other words, the dependency theory insists that development can only occur if there is a deliberate or conscious effort by third world countries to delink from the world capitalist order. The question that looms large is: how realistic is this proposal of delinking, given the historical antecedents of third world countries and the deepening interlinking of countries by globalization forces? Appiah’s answer to this question, for instance, is negative. Ashe poignantly puts it: “To forget Europe is to suppress the conflicts that have shaped our identities; since it is too late for us to escape each other we might seek to turn our disadvantage to the mutual interdependency history has thrust upon us” (Appiah, 1992: 72). What is explicit from Appiah’s argument here is that it is unrealistic for developing underdeveloped countries to completely severe relationship or link with the West. In other words, delinking or completely severe relationship with the Western world is impossible or unrealistic because, with the general interconnections today among politics, economics, religion, literature, art, science, technology, and education, it is far from realism to think of the doctrine separatism which dependency theorists are advocating. Thus, the solution put forward by the dependency scholars falls flat before common sense and reason. The dependency theory has also been criticized for its pessimistic evaluation of Africa’s future development prospects Colin Leys identified the most problematic aspects of dependency theory to include: (i) it does not provide a clear and operational definition of “development”; (ii) it is unclear whether the masses in the underdeveloped countries suffer from exploitation or not; (iii) dependency theory is far too broad; (iv) dependency theory tends to be economist; (v) the concept of “imperialism” appears independency theory only as an “extra”; (vi) it is not clear what the central unit of analysis in dependency theory is; and (vii) it does not provide any explanation of why more capital did not get invested and accumulated in the third world in the past (Martin & Mueni, 2009b: 13). Leys further argued that it is not really an accident that it is the simplistic binary concepts that are at the core of dependency theory. This fact, in his view, explains why the concept of “underdevelopment” is empirically so weak as to be almost meaningless.

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Dependency theorists can also be taken up on their claim that developing or underdeveloped countries are stagnated and underdeveloped because of the exploitative activities of colonial and neocolonial elements. This claim can no longer be rationally defended or justified. It is arguable that the exploitative activities of some leaders and elite of third world countries surpass that of the inglorious periods of colonialism and imperialism. The point of view here is that today the fashionable or reigning discourse is not how Europe underdeveloped Africa but how Africans underdeveloped Africa. Ogbogbo (1999: 11) succinctly puts the argument thus: After over 30 years of the independence of most African countries, Africa can no longer afford to continue to point accusing fingers. How has she utilized the years since flag independence to get herself out of the quagmire in which she finds herself? Put differently, how has she faired in the management of her affairs? The answer is certainly obvious. It has been a colossal failure such that some of her political leaders had wished that it was possible to recall the former colonizers. Indeed, Ali Mazuri’s thesis of internal self colonization is merely a variation of this call.

Following these inherent pitfalls, therefore, in the modernization and dependency theories, the recent discourse of development in third world countries has provoked other options or theories of development, including the cultural theory of development.

The Cultural Theory The cultural theory of development expresses a down-to-earth critique of the two dominant theories (modernization and dependency). Among scholars who have made immense contribution to the emergence and development of the cultural theory are Hamed Miske, Verhelst G. Thierry, Wendy Tyndale, and Deborah Eade. The cultural theorists are not comfortable with the two traditional theories of development because of the emphasis they placed on external factors to the neglect of internal factor, i.e., the real people and society who are the subject of development. In particular, they are critical of modernization theory for its narrow conception of development and its Eurocentric impressions, i.e., that Western countries are the ideal models of development. The underlying idea which cuts across the various works of cultural theorists is that the problem of third world nations is nothing but the problem of cultural dependency, distortion, or dislocation. According to cultural theorists, rather than perceive Western societies as models or criticize Western nations for marginalizing or expropriating or exploiting the resources needed to develop the peripheries, a good theory of development should emphasize the nature of underdeveloped or developing country itself which is the cause of the susceptibility to external manipulation. What this implies is that a good theory of development must begin with a proper analysis of the society or cultural context which desires development. The cultural theorists have a broad idea or understanding of the concept of development. To them, development is not an economic growth alone; neither is it

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about political economy and the relationship between the process or power acquisition and processes resources management. Development, to the cultural theorists, is a concept that encompasses the entire activities of the society. It is for this reason that cultural theorists believe that development can only be attained if and only if it is conceived for what it is, that is as a cultural phenomenon. Again cultural theorists construe the idea of culture far more than the simple aesthetic appreciation of society’s heritage and legacy. Culture, to the cultural theorists, is holistic in nature and could best be appreciated in the Taylorian meaning of culture as “the sum-total of the solutions supplied to the problems set for a people by the environment and the process of social interaction” (Taylor as cited by Odetola & Ademola, 1990: 38). Thus, cultural theorists conceive development as ultimately the progress attained by the culture of a given society in its bid to realize the goals of the good life. The unifying argument of the cultural theorists is the proposition that development in third world countries is retarded not because the resources, human or material, have been taken away but fundamentally because the cultural roots necessary for the production of the totality of resources have been removed. This view of cultural theorists has been seriously defended by Verhelst Thierry in his work No Life Without Roots: Culture and Development (1990) wherein he argues that indigenous societies are presently facing an underdevelopment problem because the essential roots which are necessary for development have been removed. Thierry Verhelst (1990) argued that the root of the problem is the neglect of culture by development theorists and practitioners. He believes that without consideration of culture, which essentially has to do with people’s control over their destinies and their ability to name the world in a way which reflects their particular experience, development is simply a process of social engineering whereby the more powerful peoples control, dominate, and shape the lives of others. He insisted that when a people’s beliefs, ideas, meanings, and feelings are not taken into consideration and respected, we cannot speak of human development. Corroborating this view, Miske argued that underdeveloped nations or third world countries are incapable of attaining development despite all their efforts because the cultural root that should supply the necessary nourishment for development is absent. Beneath the analysis of cultural theorists is the assumption that imperialism is more effective and devastating because of its cultural dimension. In contrast to the dependency theorists, who persistently advocate for restitution, the cultural theorists recommend as lasting recipe for development in third world nations, a return to the “original” culture of the people. That is to say that development should be culturedependent. The reason, as Verhelst (1990) explains, is that indigenous cultures contain within them the seeds necessary to give birth to societies, which differ from the standardized and vitalized societies of the Western model. Flowing from above, cultural theorists posit that development efforts must necessarily take into consideration the restoration of the cultural foundations of third world countries. To do otherwise, according to cultural theorists, is to vote for underdevelopment in all ramifications.

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On a critical note, however, the position of cultural theorists cannot be said to be flawless. For example, their call for a return to the cultural roots of the people has attracted or elicited criticisms from many scholars who expressed serious doubt over the possibility of third world nations maintaining a unique cultural identity or purity. The reason is that Africa, for instance, has so much absorbed a lot of European values to itself that it can no more talk of cultural independence. To drive home the point explicated above, Emmanuel Abraham’s characterization of African today gives an insight into the shortcoming of the solution put forward by cultural theorists. As he illustratively puts it: Perceived as a cultural being, the African today is highly a complex being, in fact, an accumulation of a variety of culture fragments. He is endowed with a base of this traditional culture, which is by now irreversibly impregnated at various levels by elements of other cultures some of which were imposed and others sought and acquired. (Abraham, 1992: 14)

Similarly, Joseph Mensah argues against the possibility of maintaining a unique cultural identity or purity, particularly in the era of globalization. Mensah’s position is premised on the argument that culture is a nested, heterogeneous phenomenon characterized by change and instability. According to him, the notion of a pure, stable, or static culture is theoretically unsustainable. “In agreement with Mensah, Said argues that “all cultures are involved in one another; none is single and pure, all are hybrid, heterogeneous extraordinarily undifferentiated and un-monolithic” (Mensah, 2011: 40). Following the argument of Mensah and Said, Miller writes that culture is “more like an octopus, a rather badly integrated creature – what passes for a brain keeps it together, more or less, in one ungainly whole” (Mensah, 2011: 40), meaning that for the most part, culture derives from both the inside and the outside and is therefore not geographically bounded. What is commonly considered intrinsic culture used to be extrinsic and, perhaps, vice versa. It is clear from the above that any effort at recapturing the past (unique) cultural values or roots which cultural theorists so much desire for development in third world nations will be fruitless because of the dynamism of culture. This makes the continuous search for a recipe for the problem of underdevelopment in Africa inevitable.

The Reconstructionist Theory Closely related to the cultural theory of development is the reconstructionist thesis. Like the cultural analysis, reconstructionist theory starts with the observation that none of the existing theories of development adequately explained the African predicament, and none proposes a viable way out of this predicament. The central idea of this theory is that: “in order for the African state to be able to perform its basic functions and deliver development to its people, it will have to be reconstructed (or reinvented) in some shape, way or form” (Martin & Mueni, 2009b: 17). Crawford Young puts this central concern in the form of a question thus: “can a

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new state be invented that sheds the debilitating traditions of the past?” (Young as cited by Guy & Mueni, 2011: 17). Scholars whose works or writings probably best define the reconstructionist theory include Crawford Young, Basil Davidson, George Ayittey, Kelechi A. Kalu, and Daniel Osabu-Kle. While almost all, if not all, proponents of the reconstructionist theory agreed on the inevitable need for the construction of the African state, they differ on the ways in which the reconstruction should be achieved This means that there exist different versions of the reconstructionist theory of development. Having analyzed the complex factors that shaped the modern African state, the reconstructionist theorists share the view that the African state must necessarily be rescued from its colonial and postcolonial formation. This is germane because the crises facing the African state lie in a lethal combination of the colonial state heritage, the failed vision of the integral state, and the prebendal realities of political management. Davidson, on his part, argues that the problem of African states is primarily that of a crisis of institutions. Davidson pointed out that because they are built on European colonial models, African states are naturally illegitimate in the eyes of their subjects, and contrary to what prevailed in Japan, modernization meant alienation in Africa. What this means is that nation-statism necessarily leads to a negation and rejection of African traditions. According to him, in indigenous Africa, the rule of law was linked to the visible and invisible worlds, and the wholesale acceptance of nation-statism by the African political elites marked the victory of the “national” over the “social.” While advocating for some form of rational federalism, Davidson’s recipe for the development of the African state is a conscious resolve to invent a new state based on African tradition, culture, and historical experience. Extending the reconstructionist thesis further, George Ayittey heaps the blame of Africa’s predicament on African postcolonial elites whom he categorizes as “hippo generation.” In his view, African postcolonial elites and leaders are “bereft of original ideas” and cannot use their imagination to craft authentically African solutions to African problems. He faulted the present generation of Africans for making what he calls the fatal mistake of rejecting its own culture. He spoke growingly about African culture. For instance, he argues that in African countries, indigenous economic systems are the key to development because they allow free trade and movement. Ayittey observes that “the colonialists did not really introduce any institutions in Africa. What they introduced were merely more efficient forms or already existing institutions” (Ayittey as cited by Guy & Mueni, 2011: 17). He argues that Africa should build on its indigenous institutions. For him, “modernization” does not mean “westernization.” Given the dismal failure of the postcolonial statist development model, Ayittey insisted that a completely new approach or paradigm is needed to take Africa to the next level. Africa’s hope, he says, lies with the “cheetah generation.” By “cheetah generation,” he meant a new generation of young African graduates and professionals whose challenge is a complete overhaul of the African state or states. For him, African problems can only be solved by Africans themselves. In agreeing with Ayittey, Daniel Osabu-Kle explains the futility in embracing Western form of (liberal) democracy or socialism in the quest for a solution to

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Africa’s democracy and development predicament. He argues that a democracy anchored on African culture is the surest way to development. In other words, Afrocentrism should replace Eurocentrism in every aspect of African life. In particular, Osabu-Kle hinged Africa’s progress on the establishment of what he calls an African high command and youth organization to educate youth about African culture and history. Ogbogbo is also in the group of scholars who believe that Africa’s path to greatness cannot come easily while underestimating its cultural heritage. He argued that in the task of recreating a crisis-free Africa, its cultural heritage cannot be easily sidelined. He, however, sounds a note of caution: . . .it must be emphasized that it is not everything which bears the stamp of African culture that is good enough to propel the people into a crisis-free epoch. Therefore, different aspects of African culture will need to be subjected to proper philosophical scrutiny if such is to constitute part of the continuity that is to be carried forward into the 21st century. (Ogbogbo, 1999: 17)

Olusegun Oladipo also expressed reservations about Africa’s uncritical embrace of the colonial and postcolonial state structure, particularly its capitalist ethos. Examining Africa’s daunting path to progress and development, Oladipo (2008) argued that capitalism of modernization paradigm or capitalist ethos has a grave or far-reaching consequence(s) for Africa’s socioeconomic development. According to him: Capitalist ethos promotes a certain kind of individualism, which emphasizes consumption at the expense of production, material success at the expense of social responsibility. Thus, they are not only worsening the condition of alienation, which is making the task of social coordination a daunting one. They have also further weakened the capacity of the African state to tackle the problem of dependency (23).

He argues that the postcolonial African state should be reconstructed to eliminate these shortcomings of the capitalist orientation. Oladipo insists that if these shortcomings are unaddressed and the positive lessons of Africa’s sociocultural values are not learnt and made to bear on individual and social action, Africa would remain permanently in the throes of underdevelopment. Oladipo is in partial agreement with Amin that no significant step can be taken on the path of development unless Africa learns to subordinate external relations to the logic of internal development. It is important to note, however, that Oladipo did not see modernization or capitalist ethos as bad in its varied manifestations. Some of the good or positive aspects of modernization or capitalist ethos, which Oladipo claims should be cultivated in order for Africa to survival and flourish in the contemporary world, include rationality, precision, planning, involving calculation and anticipation, resourcefulness, thrift, etc. His submission seems to cast doubt on African culture as if it is without elements of rationality, precision, and calculation. This is contestable since because Oladipo’s position is neither here nor there. For example, the question of rationality is a controversial one in philosophy.

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Kelechi A. Kalu is another adherent of the reconstructionist theory. For him, the nature of the colonial state is such that conflict resolution is a herculean task if not wholly impossible, given Europeans’ assumption that Africans were stateless or preferred authoritarian rule. According to him, Africa’s integration into the world system is an important factor to consider in any transformation project. Coupled with this is the use of violence to remain in power which is inherent in the nature of African states. In all, this development and progress is hampered. To break the yoke of underdevelopment, therefore, Kalu proposes two options to African states, namely, (i) the reconstitution of contemporary states based on culture and language similarities and (ii) the erasure of existing borders, followed by the creation of 5 out of the 54 states. For him, conflict can only be resolved within reconstituted states (Kalu as cited by Guy & Mueni, 2011: 17).

Toward an African Philosophy of Development What can be gleaned particularly from the cultural and reconstructionist theories above is that the development of nation-states all over the world cannot be achieved without a contextually responsive philosophy. This means that irrespective of irreconcilable differences among the citizens of a country, there is a developmental philosophy that must be followed in the attempt to make a particular nation develop. This can be seen in the philosophy that guides the United States of America, for instance, and other Scandinavian countries. Here, there is a certain philosophy behind “putting America” first, and there is a philosophy guiding the Scandinavian countries’ attempts to make sure that they remain part of the best countries in the world in terms of economy, security, political will, infrastructural development, human well-being, and happiness. With specific reference to the African continent, can it be said that there is a philosophy that guides Africa’s quest for development? No doubt that the theories of development as espoused in the previous sections in this chapter point to the fact that some factors are responsible for the crisis of development in Africa. However, beyond the diagnoses made by the proponents of these theories of development, it is obvious that Africa as a continent lacks a distinct philosophy which ought to guide her attempt to attain development. The task before African philosophers, therefore, is to, in Godwin Sogolo’s words: “start by looking into the logical structure of certain important beliefs widely held in his culture” (Sogolo, 1990: 51). By this, it is important for African philosophers to engage the issue of development so as to ensure that there is a model that each nation-state in Africa is expected to follow. Therefore, an African philosophy of development can be defined as “an applied African philosophy that projects developmental strides from the binoculars of African philosophical enterprise within and outside continental Africa. It is an inquiry into the role of philosophy in developmental processes” (Guy & Mueni, 2011: 11). African philosophy of development is a theory of development that emerges from an African philosophical perspective of reality, understanding of knowledge, and value systems. This suggests that development here would be

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understood within the context of an African ontology in ways that also consider the African episteme and also in ways that are in tune with African ethical value systems. In summation, an African philosophy of development takes seriously African philosophy as a departure point for development. The implication of this definition is that in African philosophy of development, there are ontological, epistemological, and ethical standpoints, and by extension, these standpoints are explored towards the propagation of a philosophy of development that is distinctly African. African ontology is vehemently communitarian such that there is an interconnectedness among beings that make up African ontology. This position has been defended by many African philosophers such as Kwame Gyekye and Kwasi Wiredu. The idea of interconnectedness, however, cannot be understood in isolation of the vital force theory. According to Polycarp Ikuenobe: 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. (2006: 63–64)

The implication of the argument above for development within African contexts is that is that development within the African ontological framework recommends a harmonious, reciprocal, and dignified interaction among all beings human and nonhuman. A lack of it would lead to underdevelopment or a one-sided development, as we see in the global situation of industrialization at the expense of the environment. Related to this is the African ethical framework for development which can be understood within the context of actions and values geared towards building and sustaining community or harmonious relationships among all beings, human and nonhuman. The importance of this ethical dimension of development is explained by Crocker thus: Development ethicists assess the ends and means of local, national, regional and global development. National policy makers, project managers, grassroots communities, and international aid donors involved in development in developing countries often confront moral question in their work. Development scholars recognize that social scientific theories of “development” and “underdevelopment” have ethical as well as empirical principles relevant to social change in poor countries, and they analyze and assess the moral dimensions of development theories and seek to resolve quandaries lurking in development policies and practices. (2008: 35)

The overarching communitarian ethical framework in African communities and the specific ethical values within it are crucial for rethinking development, For instance, there are acts that are considered injurious and must be avoided at all

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costs on the basis that these acts do not promote the developmental strides of the community. Thus, African moral theory is constructed severally as: An action is right just insofar as it respects a person’s dignity; an act is wrong to the extent that it degrades humanity. U2: An action is right just insofar as it promotes the well-being of others; an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to enhance the welfare of one’s fellows U3: An action is right just insofar as it promotes the well-being of others without violating their rights; an act is wrong to the extent that it either violates rights or fails to enhance the welfare of one’s fellows without violating rights. U4: An action is right just insofar as it positively relates to others and thereby realizes oneself; an act is wrong to the extent that it does not perfect one’s valuable nature as a social being. U5: An action is right just insofar as it is in solidarity with groups whose survival is threatened; an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to support a vulnerable community. U6: An action is right just insofar as it produces harmony and reduces discord; an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to develop community. (2007: 328–334)

Thus, it is expected that ethical values within African contexts would promote the development and well-being of all and sundry. African cultures are also loaded with virtues that are imbibed into community members in order that they can contribute to the overall development of the communities in which they live. For instance, in the Yoruba thought system, emphasis is placed on iwa and Ọmọlúàbí. According to Ipadeola (2021): The moral traits of development, growth, and maturity, which developed people should exhibit, according to the Yorùbá, include ὶwàrere (good/appropriate character), ὶwàpèlẹ (gentle character), ὶwàtútù (peaceful character), ọgbón (wisdom), and sùúrù (patience). These traits are the indices of development among the Yorùbá. This means, therefore, that development is not measured by how affluent a person is. Among the Yorùbá, the notion of development is holistic. A human being, apart from being a constituent part of society, is also microcosm of society. Therefore, the qualities that characterize a developed person also characterize a developed society, community, or country. A developed person is expected to possess and display all the traits of development and not just one or two of the traits, and this also applies to the larger society. Therefore, a person who has all the traits of development is referred to as Ọmọlúàbí (110).

By extension, a typical African philosophy of development is expected to have an ethical framework which promotes the building of societies through cooperatively pursued duties and values, and that which also recognizes the importance of acting in ways that promote the community. African communitarian epistemology is also important in developing an African philosophy of development. In African epistemology, knowledge is understood as shared knowledge. In the words of Hamminga (2005): 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 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 (58).

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Development strategies and projects must take into serious consideration the importance of collectively producing knowledge and collaborative epistemologies in achieving development, one that values indigenous knowledge systems within African places. Consequently, an African philosophy of development will be one that emerges from an African epistemological outlook and one that sustains and builds community in all its ramifications.

Conclusion Developing a robust and heuristic philosophy of development is no doubt one of the crucial tasks of contemporary African philosophy, a philosophy that should bridge the gap between philosophy as purely theoretical and as applied. The African continent continues to experience a quagmire of underdevelopment challenges in postcolonial Africa. In our examination of some of the dominant theories of development that have been proposed to aid Africa to become developed, it is clearly seen that they lack a strong and clearly developed philosophical foundation. It is for this reason that this chapter has theorized the importance of a philosophy of development for Africa, which prioritizes the building of communities over industrialization, capitalization, and competitiveness among African nation-states. To achieve this, African philosophers of development must pay attention to the ontological, epistemological, and ethical systems of African peoples.

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Igbafen, M. L. (2000). Appiah and the crisis of identity in Africa, an M.A. Dissertation submitted to the Department of Philosophy, University of Ibadan, Nigeria (Unpublished). Ikuenobe, P. (2006). Philosophical perspectives on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lexington Books. Ipadeola, A. P. (2021). Ìdàgbàsókѐ: An African notion of organic development ethics. Journal of Developing Societies, 37(1), 98–115. Iyoha, F. E. (1996). The meaning and theories of development. In F. E. Lyoha & E. C. Onwuka (Eds.), Administering development in the third world: Theory, practice and constraints (pp. 1–31). Stirling-Horden Publishers. Martin, G., & Mueni, M. (2009a). A new paradigm of the African state, copyright material from www.palgraveconnect.com – licensed to National ChengChi University-Palgrave connect 201104-27. Martin G., & Mueni, M. (2009b). A new paradigm of the African state. In Martin, G & Mueni, M. (Eds.) A new paradigm of the African state. London: Palgrave Macmillan. 191–210. Mensah, J. (2011). Cultural dimensions of globalization in Africa & dialectical interpenetration of the local and the global. In Mensah, J. (Ed.), Neoliberalism and globalization in Africa copyright material from www.palgraveconnect.com – licensed to Taiwan eBook ConsortiumPalgrave connect. Metz, T. (2007). Toward an African moral theory. Journal of Political Philosophy, 15(3), 321–341. Morvaridi, B. (2008). Social justice and development. Palgrave Macmillan. Mueni, M, & Martin, G. (2009). A new paradigm of the African state. In Martin, G & Mueni, M. (Eds.) A new paradigm of the African state. London: Palgrave Macmillan. 191–210. Odetola, O. T., & Ademola, A. (1990). Sociology: An introductory African text. Macmillan Education Limited. Ogbogbo, C. B. N. (1999). Of history, culture and the African crisis. Stirling-Horden Publishers (Nig). Oladipo, O. 1996. Philosophy and the African experience: The contributions of Kwasi Wiredu. Ibadan: Hope Publications. Oladipo, O. 2000. The idea of African philosophy: A critical study of the major orientations in contemporary African philosophy (3rd ed.). Ibadan: Hope Publications. Oladipo, O. (2008). The need for a social philosophy in Africa. Convocation Lecture delivered at Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma. Owolabi, K. (1995). Cultural nationalism and western hegemony: A critique of Appiah universalism. Africa Development, 2, 121. Prah, K. (1993). African languages: The key to African development critique of ideal in development thinking. In M. Von Troil (Ed.), Changing paradigms in development South East and West: A meeting minds in Africa. Afrika Institute Uppsala. Rodney, W. (1972). How Europe underdeveloped Africa. Bogle-Louventure Publications. Sogolo, G. S. (1990). Options in African philosophy. In Philosophy, 65(251), 39–52. Sorensen, J. S. (2010). Introduction: Reinventing development for the twenty-first century? In J. S. Sorensen (Ed.), Challenging the aid paradigm: Western currents and Asia alternatives. Palgrave Macmillan. Verhelst, T. G. (1990). No life without roots: Culture and development translated by Bon Cumming. Zeb Books. Wiredu, K. (1995). Conceptual decolonisation in African philosophy: Four essays. Selected and introduced by Olusegun Oladipo. Hope Publications.

Part VI Feminist Philosophy

Gender and Afro-personhood Lindokuhle B. Gama

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Afro-Communitarian Conception of Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gap 1: Heteropatriarchy as a Regulatory Norm in Afro-Personhood Theories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gap 2: Race as a Totalizing Category . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Separating the Theory from Society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

In general, proponents of Afro-personhood theories claim that the theories capture a just and egalitarian society owing to its gender-neutral nature wherein men and women are treated equally. Moreover, the value of prizing persons in virtue of their ability to commune fosters individual difference and respect which can protect persons against heteronormativity and/or gendered expectations. As such, Afro-personhood theories offer an account of personhood that fosters welfare for all persons. However, it appears that Afro-personhood theories are gendered in pernicious ways that deny Blackwomxn moral value. That is, upon closer examination, it seems that Afro-personhood theories do not cover all persons in the theories owing to two textually subliminal gaps as heteropatriarchy and the subsumption of particularized lived experiences into broader categories such as race. These gaps continue to be an oppressive aspect of society. As such, I will critically illustrate that Afro-personhood theories do not help us to critique and/or begin to think about ways to alleviate these gaps. Rather, they conceal and bolster oppressive aspects of our society that violently affect marginalized groups, especially Blackwomxn. After all, if they are to act as normative guidelines capable of regulating people’s behavior, they ought to transcend the L. B. Gama (*) Rhodes University, Makhanda, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_34

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oppressive aspects of African societies so as to be an effective tool for social critique. Moreover, this White Supremacy in Eurocentric Epistemology is a clarion call for African Philosophy to systematically address and engage the heteropatriarchal aspects of African society, which is its world, for which it is yet to directly do so. Keywords

Afro-personhood · Blackwomxn · Moral Value · Gender-neutrality · Gender · Heteropatriarchy · Race · Normative theories

Introduction Proponents of Afro-personhood, such as Rianna Oelofsen (2018) and Motsamai Molefe (2020), claim that it captures a just and egalitarian society owing to its gender-neutral nature. They assert that such gender neutrality is evident on both the metaphysical and normative levels of Afro-personhood. On a metaphysical level, gender neutrality is evident in the requisite ontological features required to be a person (Menkiti, 1984: 171–172). In virtue of these ontological features, one is afforded recognition-respect and persons are treated equally. On a normative level, they claim that moral recognition is secured through relationality. Owing to moral recognition, one acquires a moral status which confers moral value to the individual. This requires adherence to norms of the community which are distilled through socialization and rituals of incorporation. As a result, proponents of Afropersonhood claim that can guard against gendered oppression. If one accepts this proposition, then Afro-personhood theories do endorse the moral value of all persons. Nonetheless, I argue that while Afro-personhood theories are presented as gender neutral, they are actually gendered in pernicious ways that threaten the moral value of Blackwomxn. The spelling of Blackwomxn as a single term illustrates the conceptual necessity of announcing the intersectional experience of Blackwomxn and that their Blackness is inextricable from their womxnhood (Mailula, 2019: 2). The use of a capital “B” is to evince that it is a social category and a collective identity with an attended history (Appiah, 2020). Womxn is an inclusive intersectional concept that functions as an antithesis to the daily micro-aggressions that subtly, but systematically work to undermine the value of womxn and enforce their secondary social status (Kunz, 2019: 2). Upon closer re-reading, it seems that Afro-personhood theories do not include Blackwomxn persons in the theories. I argue that it is precisely because the theory is not gender neutral owing to two textually subliminal gaps as the heteropatriarchal nature of the theory and the subsumption of Blackwomxn into categories as race. These gaps constitute a disjuncture and contradiction in Afro-personhood theories. That is, while the theories claim to embody moral ideals and values that ought to secure moral recognition for all persons, they exclude and do not defend the moral value of Blackwomxn.

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Moreover, owing to their gendered nature, it is my contention that the theories do not engender positive and equal recognition-respect for all individuals. Rather, they are loaded with asymmetrical power relations that treat Blackwomxn’s personhood, especially, as subordinate. As such, it is conceivable that Afro-personhood theories do not engender equitable social relations or equitable societies. Perhaps we should ask, what contributions, if any, can a theory of personhood make to address the secondary marginalization of Blackwomxn in society if it remains neutral on the matter? Is Afro-personhood useful where it concerns the moral devaluation of Blackwomxn or does its fake gender neutrality thwart its usefulness? In this White Supremacy in Eurocentric Epistemology, I begin by providing the relevant conception of Afro-personhood. Thereafter, I critique the gender neutrality of Afro-personhood theories to illustrate that they are gendered. My aim is to expose this gender blind spot in the Afro-personhood theories to reveal the asymmetrical power dynamics in hegemonic norms/values and social relations required to be a full person. In exposing these gaps, I want to illustrate that they constitute the nonrecognition of Blackwomxn’s personhood – a kind of non-recognition that contributes to the in-group marginalization of Blackwomxn. As a result, Afro-personhood does not account for, nor does it defend the moral worth of Blackwomxn. In so doing, I will evince how its gendered nature cannot address the particularity of the social condition of Blackwomxn. Rather, it renders them invisible in the theory. Given that the theory conceals oppressive relations that hamper the flourishing of Blackwomxn in society, it is a moral theory that only defends some persons not all persons. Thereafter, I provide a critical overview of arguments from proponents of Afro-personhood. These thinkers explicitly make the claim that Afro-personhood is gender neutral and/or promotes gender equality. As such, they assert that Afropersonhood theories have the moral resources to secure equality for all.

The Afro-Communitarian Conception of Personhood Rosalind Shaw (2000: 25) asserts that Afro-personhood theories have been used as tools of epistemic resistance to Western conceptions of personhood. Historically, Afro-personhood theories partly reflect African Philosophy’s resistance to the subjugation of Africa’s knowledge systems and its discourses by the European world (Oyowe, 2013: 209). Some Western thinkers such as Immanuel Kant, who can be aligned with the Enlightenment era, unilaterally claimed the right to speak on behalf of Africans thereby defining the meaning of experience and truth. This was informed by an idea of “common humanity” with reason at its center (Mbembe, 2001: 6–8; Ramose, 2002). Western philosophers claimed that reason organizes society, defines human nature, and governs our actions. In the European world, reason was central to classic individualist social ontology that demands equality of moral status. The equality of moral status was the overarching norm that informed equal treatment of persons and safeguarded their interests (Mills, 2008: 1381). Central to Enlightenment thought is the moral philosophy of Immanuel Kant. Kant’s moral philosophy can be extracted from the Groundwork for the Metaphysics

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for Morals (1789). He views the single most important moral feature of human beings to be their ability to pursue ends of their own subject to their own capacity for reason. As such, the capacity for reason gives the individual autonomy. Having autonomy, we regard individuals as persons morally responsible for their actions. As such, anyone who is capable of moral responsibility is self-governing. Furthermore, it is the capacity for reason that gives an individual dignity where dignity is a value that commands others to treat you with respect (G 4: 434–436). For Kant, the value of a person is their dignity owing to their capacity for reason. Dignity gives humans value, and as such, they cannot be replaced or sacrificed. In the absence of rationality, your value is that of price (G 4: 397). An entity that has the value of price can be replaced or traded away as a kind of commodity (G 4: 434). As such, to be considered a person for Kant you have to have the capacity for reason. Moreover, it is the capacity for reason that gives actions moral value. Actions are accorded moral value if they are performed from duty not self-interest or inclinations. That is, an actions rightness cannot be conditional (G 4: 397–398). Thus, for Kant what makes us persons is our universal capacity for reason which, in turn, gives us an inviolable moral status worthy of dignity and moral value. African Philosophers found this characterization of social ontology to not only be violently exclusionary but incongruent with the social ontology of African people. Many African philosophers have refuted the universalization of reason in Western philosophy. Among them are Mabogo More (1996) and Mogobe Ramose (2002). These thinkers argue that the intellectual racism evident in Western philosophers’ critical systems is informed by their reports on human nature. More argues that the Western “valorisation of reason” (1996: 109) as foundational to Western philosophy wrongly interrogates the existence of African Philosophy. Such interrogation merely serves to question the cultures, beliefs, and being of Africans. In a similar vein, though directed to the work of Aristotle, Ramose posits that the universalization of reason amounts to intellectual racism. He argues that when Western philosophers configured their ideas on the basis of reason, they excluded Africans because they were taken to be irrational. This being the case, reason was not merely a descriptive feature but a value judgment used to adjudicate persons and non-persons (2002). For these African thinkers, such value judgments are informed by the ethnocentrism in the anthropological, literary, and political texts wherein Western thinkers studied race. These texts contained ethnic stereotypes and prejudices that justified the superiority of the white European and the inferiority of Black Africans on the basis of phenotypical and cultural difference. That is, by virtue of Africans’ inferior status owing to their phenotypical and cultural difference, they are not given moral status and dignity (1996: 117; 2002: 3). In other words, while Western philosophers seem to extend dignity to all persons, upon closer examination one finds that said moral status would not be afforded to Africans because they are not taken to be persons like the European. Similarly, Emmanuel Eze (2002) finds the same problematic in Kant’s personhood theory. Eze claims that Kant’s theory of personhood excludes Black people and promotes their dehumanization in society. He asserts that evidence of this is seen through Kant’s assertions that Black people have no rationality and they are

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replaceable because they lack dignity (2002: 437–438). Eze argues that Kant excludes Black people in two ways. Firstly, Kant argues that naturally Black people lack rationality (1960: 110–111). Drawing on his racial taxonomy, Kant claims that owing to their phenotype Black people do not possess rationality. As such, they cannot be educated. In keeping with Eze’s logic, Mpho Tshivhase argues that it reasonably follows that such lack of rationality would mean that Black people cannot create knowledge. Invariably, this justified the exclusion of the Black diaspora from the world of ideas. Furthermore, this enables the erasure of African knowledge systems (2021: 114). Secondly, Kant claims that Black people do not have dignity because they are not persons (Eze, 2002: 438–439). Given that rationality is the defining requirement for personhood, it follows that the lack of rationality makes you a non-person or an object that lacks moral worth. Kant’s idea of dignity is drawn from his Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals. Herein he argues that dignity is a value that leads us to hold persons in higher esteem than animals and objects (Ak 4: 411; 4: 4: 434–435). As such, we ought to treat persons not as instruments but rather as ends in themselves (Ak 4: 428–429). Correspondingly, Charles Mills asserts that Kant’s theory does not account for the personhood of Black people. As such, Kant excludes them from the realm of moral recognition. As a result, on the Western conception of personhood they are not morally worthy of respect and can only be appreciated for their instrumental value (Mills, 2002: 29). But these are considerations extended to persons, not non-persons or, to use Mills’ category, “sub-persons” (2005: 25). Black people could not be viewed as deserving of respect and were seen to lack agency. In turn, they could be justifiably used as instruments because they are sub-persons. In light of the foregoing critics, the widely accepted and celebrated normative conception of Afro-personhood can be understood as a critique of Western notions of personhood. To be sure, Ifeanyi Menkiti asserts that the Afro-communitarian view is a rejection of Western views of personhood that isolate one characteristic of persons as the marker of humanity (Menkiti, 2004: 326). In rejecting the universalism of European theories of personhood, Afro-communitarians developed a conception of persons radically different from the European conception proffered by Kant. This was an effort to counter the ethnocentrism and individualism of European moral philosophy that is not only incongruent with the African social ontology but is violently dehumanizing. Thus, Afro-communitarians proposed an African communal system that disproves the Western ideas that aim to devalue African peoples and their knowledge system (Menkiti, 1984: 178). Herein, the main aim was to respond to a racialized view of personhood and/or the “myth” of the race neutrality of Enlightenment thought. The African person is understood to have certain ontological and normative dimensions. The ontological conception refers to the fact of being human with distinguishable characteristics from other living things (Kaphagawani, 2004; Matolino, 2008: 80). A normative conception of a person requires communal participation and the performance of certain roles and/or obligations to attain personhood (Oyowe, 2013: 2). The general view is that the African conception of a person cannot be conceived without either dimension as they are interwoven and

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essential to understanding who a person is in the African context. Put differently, those who are engaged in the normative inquiry of communitarianism do so on the basis of certain ontological features. As such, despite the distinction between the ontological and the normative, it is the normative communitarian conception which is given primacy in Afro-communitarianism as it closely resembles lived experiences evident in traditional African society (Ikuenobe, 2006: 117; Wiredu, 2009: 13; Masolo, 2010: 135). Below I outline the necessary ontological features of a person as outlined by Afro-personhood thinkers. The ontological dimension of Afropersonhood is based on a particular conception of human nature. This conception of human nature has three important facets. The first ontological facet speaks to the descriptive biological features of human beings such as having a body and particular mental capacities (Kaphagawani, 2004). Herein, morality is predicated on some distinctive characteristics of human nature. These are certain features of being a human being that are required in order to pursue personhood. Motsamai Molefe asserts that scholars of Afro-personhood such as Ifeanyi Menkiti and Kwame Gyekye tend to conceive of human nature in a positive light (2020: 19). He asserts that according to these Afro-personhood thinkers, human beings come into the world “morally neutral” (ibid). This moral neutrality is not pre-determined. Put differently, it can go either way because it is entirely dependent on the decisions and conduct of the agent in question. This African view of human nature that leads to personhood stands in contradiction to the Western view of personhood. That is, it is at odds with the idea of human nature associated with the state of nature (Menkiti, 1984; Gyekye, 1992). The second ontological facet speaks to the relational nature of human beings. Menkiti and Gyekye argue that human beings are naturally social which results in them being interdependent and communal (1984; 1992: 104). In other words, they assert that human beings are social at their core. Elsewhere Menkiti avers that in the absence of others we have “no grounds for a claim regarding the individual’s own standing as a person” (2004: 324). That is, given that our being is constituted in the presence of others, we cannot understand ourselves as atomistic entities. Bolstering this view of human nature, Munyaradzi F. Murove conceives of this ontological facet as relational rationality wherein human nature is conceived through social relationships. As such, the very project of being a human being is contingent on social relationships and one cannot imagine their humanity outside of these social relations among other human beings. Without social relationships, the very project of being a human being is at stake. It is through the reality of this interdependence that we are able to attain our full humanness (2014: 37). All in all, the high value placed on relationality in Afro-personhood is an effect of a particular philosophical anthropology. Finally, the third ontological facet speaks to the processual aspect of human nature (Menkiti, 1984: 174). Molefe asserts that Afro-personhood thinkers tend to conceive of human nature as something that can grow or diminish (2020: 19). The moral expectation to pursue and possible achieve personhood is grounded on this third facet. Here, we see that human nature is conceived in terms of its capacity for growth. To be sure, this ontological feature is consistent with the socio-moral

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processes of transformation that occur in rituals of transformation (Menkiti, 1984: 172; 2004: 325). Overall, the ontological dimension of persons as conceived in Afro-personhood theories informs the normative dimension of a person. That is, the moral expectation for individuals to achieve personhood is informed by a conception of human nature as relational, processual, and having certain mental faculties necessary to become a person. Herein, Gyekye asserts that all human beings have these ontological features required to lead morally virtuous lives albeit the reality that being person is not automatic or guaranteed in Afro-personhood theories (Gyekye, 2010). Similarly, Molefe asserts that what these ontological features reveal is that all human beings are predisposed to achieving personhood owing to the nature of humans (2020: 20). Contemporaneously, Polycarp Ikuenobe posits that these natural capacities give individuals an inherent moral status. Such value implies respect and the need to ensure the flourishing and/or well-being of persons (2018: 590). Altogether, these three ontological facets of human nature afford one moral dignity. Embedded in the idea of moral dignity is the idea of recognition or the prescription to recognize a person’s moral worth in virtue of these “natural capacities.” In summary, human beings come into the world as a moral “tabula rasa.” On this conception, we are all in a state of moral possibility owing to our nature as humans. All things being equal, the agent is responsible for achieving the status of person in a community. However, Afro-personhood thinkers argue that these ontological facts alone do not fully constitute personhood. In other words, ontological facts are a necessary condition for personhood but are not sufficient to achieve it. Therefore, the goal of morality is to turn these moral possibilities into actualized moral excellences. As such, something else is required in order for personhood to emerge. Menkiti asserts that in order for one to attain the full complement of moral excellences required to be a person, they must go through a process of social transformation (1984: 172). This brings us to the normative dimension of Afro-personhood. What Menkiti alerts us to is that the pursuit of personhood is otherwise incomplete if it is not accompanied by a socio-moral process of transformation. That is, the moral possibilities inherent in all persons manifest in moral reality through processes which decorate one’s humanity with certain moral excellences. These social processes morally actualize the capacities in our human nature to attain moral excellences (Wiredu, 2009: 15–16). The aim of these social processes is to lead the individual to ethical maturity. To achieve this ethical maturity, one must engage in processes of moral self-creation, self-improvement with the aim to contribute positively to the community (Menkiti, 1984: 172; 2004: 325). These social processes distil a system of values, relevant to a given community, that one ought to adhere to. Said system of values is intended to control the sphere of social relations among persons. These values are relational in their nature. They are other regarding values which embody duties and responsibilities (Metz, 2012: 390–393). On this model, to be a person is to relate positively with others. This positive relation to others is instantiated in virtue of these other regarding duties. Being morally excellent, by fulfilling your duties requires one to show concern for others. This concern is evident in values of

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“solidarity, compassion, reciprocity, cooperation and interdependence” (Gyekye, 2010). This attitude toward others is invoked by a consciousness of the needs of the community. Moreover, in relating with others one develops themselves and is able to achieve their individual goals and aspirations. As such, processes of selfrealization and self-creation necessarily denote promoting the well-being of others (Molefe, 2017: 10). On this normative dimension, becoming a person requires an adherence to the norms of the community by conforming to certain community expectations and participating in socializing processes (Menkiti, 1984: 170–176; Gyekye, 1997: 49, 71; Tshivhase, 2013: 120–122). In adhering to these dialogical moral norms, you are recognized as a person. This moral recognition forms the basis for enjoying the attended privileges of being recognized as a person assimilated into a society (Imafidon, 2021a: 241–246; 2021b: 46). That is, when one positively relates with others, it endows a person with certain normative privileges and rights (ibid.). Moreover, the social-moral evaluation of the proper use of one’s ontological capacities to perform certain obligations that prompt communal harmony engenders recognition and respect. This further indicates that personhood is an earned moral status. In light of the foregoing elucidations on the normative conception of Afropersonhood, one can deduce that to call someone a person is to say something about their character. Thus, a good moral character is one that exhibits particular moral virtues. These virtues are relational and positive other regarding duties. This conception of personhood reflects a particular system of values intended to regulate social relations among persons. It is a pervasive system of values in that it permeates the entire sphere of human existence in order to develop a “perfect” character. The ideal kind of character here is one that exhibits other regarding kind of moral excellences (Gyekye, 1992: 113; Menkiti, 1984: 172). Ultimately, moral perfectionism is the moral goal of persons on the Afro-personhood conception. In sum, the aim of the section was to illustrate that Afro-personhood is born out of a critical response to the dehumanization of African people evident in Western discourses. Herein, I outlined the African response to the deceptive notion that Western theories of personhood, particularly that of Kant, are race-neutral. As such, Afro-personhood theories are, in part, aimed at affirming an otherwise denigrated African humanity. Therein, I elucidated what the Afro-personhood conception of a person is by discussing its ontological and normative features. Altogether, the Afro-personhood conception, on the basis of a combination of these ontological and normative features, articulates and defends the moral worth of all persons. In the following section, I will argue that Afro-personhood theories do not defend all persons because it is not a gender-neutral theory. Herein, I will show that it is a gendered theory owing to two textually subliminal gaps. In particular, I will critically discuss how the moral value of Blackwomxn seems to be ignored and/or violated in Afro-personhood theories. My analysis delineates the hierarchical relations in the theory that asymmetrically affect Blackwomxn thereby resulting in the non-recognition of their personhood. This critical analysis will reveal two gaps in the theories. To reveal these gaps, I consult Patricia Hill Collins’ (2020) work on intersectionality and Cathy Cohen’s (1999) marginalization theory. Collins’s understanding of intersectionality reveals the nature of power dynamics where multiple axes of

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oppression intersect in ways that adversely affect marginalized groups owing to their multiple identities. Relatedly, Cohen’s marginalization theory discloses the intragroup tensions among Black people that adversely affect Blackwomxn because they occupy multiple identities. Cohen’s theory reveals the gender issues within the Black grouping; gender issues that are related to the heteropatriarchal ordering of our society. Overall, I will illustrate that these gaps constitute the non-recognition of Blackwomxn’s personhood – a kind of non-recognition that contributes to the in-group marginalization of Blackwomxn. Non-recognition jettisons Blackwomxn from the moral world of Afro-personhood thereby inadvertently concealing their maltreatment in society.

Gap 1: Heteropatriarchy as a Regulatory Norm in Afro-Personhood Theories There exists a contingent relation between the idealized Afro-personhood described in the foregoing section and socially recognized personhood among African persons. It is my contention that this contingency is rooted in a society organized by or according to heteropatriarchal relations, where heteropatriarchy continues to be an oppressive aspect of our society. Upon closer examination, one finds that the Afropersonhood norms and values upon which moral perfection is enacted are deeply heteropatriarchal. That is, on the perfectionist model, social and moral status in society is granted and denied on the basis of heteropatriarchy. Once we face this contingency without evasion, we see that one commits a grave error in assuming that the supposedly morally objective personhood outlined in Afro-personhood guarantees that all persons’ personhood is recognized. What I am suggesting is that if we take the historical and present reality of oppressive heteropatriarchal structures into cognizance, it is evident that Blackwomxn have not been granted the moral status to which their presumptive personhood entitles them. Hence, Afro-personhood does not guarantee the ideal of equal moral status. This constitutes a disjuncture between the theory and social reality. Taking all this into account, I argue that Afropersonhood ought to be properly understood not as the normative vehicle for the securing of the moral status of all persons but the normative vehicle of a privileged few in society, i.e., those whose social ontology corresponds with heteropatriarchal norms. As such, Afro-personhood serves to conceal and, at times, bolster the androsexist and heterosexist aspects of our society. Oritsegbubemi Oyowe (2013) does a good job of illustrating this gender blind spot in Afro-personhood theories. Oyowe asserts that Afro-personhood thinkers have overlooked the question of gender. That is, they overlook the fact that the social and ritualistic processes required to integrate individuals into society in order to be fully fledged persons rest on social power relations that negatively affect women. As such, he contends that African theories of personhood perpetuate an inegalitarian social order owing to their socially engendered nature. He maintains that Afro-personhood theories rest on an assumed egalitarianism of traditional African societies. However, upon closer examination Oyowe finds that traditional

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African societies rest on unequal social power relations that foster social hierarchies. One such power differential is gender. He asserts that gender, as a social category, is the basis for social domination and unequal treatment. In the case of traditional African societies, different privileges and rights are afforded to persons on the basis of gender. As a result, the social achievements of men are valued higher than those of women. This differential treatment reflects the low status of women in the social hierarchy owing to their gender. As such, it follows that women’s personhood is considered inferior to men’s personhood in African traditional societies (2013: 127). He finds evidence for this in the rituals for social incorporation that gives girls and boys different norms to guide their behavior and actions toward others in a community and to themselves. As such, he submits that the inequality of men and women’s personhood is evident in African normative theories of personhood (2013: 123–124). As a result, Oyowe argues that it remains unclear what makes persons equal in Afro-personhood theories. Correspondingly, Augustus Adeyinka and Gaolekwe Ndwapi (2002), Oyowe and Olga Yurkivska (2014), Kai Horsthemke (2018), and Manzini (2018) argue that traditional African societies rest on social norms that foster unequal relations. They contend that African traditional societies are fundamentally gendered and heteronormative. This is evident in the rituals of incorporation that assume ontological sameness in requisite features necessary to attain personhood. As such, owing to these social norms, only certain people can be fully fledged members and enjoy the attended status of personhood (Adeyinka & Ndwapi, 2002: 18, 21; Horsthemke, 2018: 70; Manzini, 2018: 42–46). Thus, if Afropersonhood is acquired by conforming to these social norms, where these social norms are gendered, then the theory fosters unequal relations (Oyowe & Yurkivska, 2014: 215). Taking my cue from these thinkers, I will argue that the exclusionary and restrictive aspects of Afro-personhood are rooted in its heteropatriarchal nature. Heteropatriarchy is the social system in which heterosexuality and patriarchy are perceived as normal and natural, and which other dispositions are seen as abhorrent and abnormal. It is based on a gender binary wherein the male is perceived as normatively superior and female normatively inferior to the male (Arvin et al., 2013: 13). Angel P. Harris assets that heteropatriarchy is based on five assumptions. First, that all persons are born and remain male or female their whole life. Second, that one’s sex at birth determines their gender and, as such, one’s biology informs their behavior in society. Third, that sex/gender causes behavioral differences among males and females on the lines of interest, character and appearance among other socially constructed distinctions. Fourth, that sex differences among men and women are complimentary. As such, sexual and romantic relationships ought to occur between men and women and not between people of the same assigned sex. These four assumptions constitute the “hetero” aspects of heteropatriarchy. The fifth assumption constitutes the patriarchal aspect. Within a patriarchal society, men and women are not equal. Sometimes their gender roles can be taken to be complimentary but they otherwise remain unequal. As such, masculinity or maleness is taken to be normatively superior to femininity (Harris, 2011: 22). Historically, heteropatriarchy becomes an overt organizing principle in African society through colonization. Maria Lugones asserts that the modern colonial system

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of power was created with the intention to permeate all spheres of human existence differentially according to race, class, and gender. Such spheres of human existence included “sex, labour, subjectivity, collective authority” and knowledge production (2007: 189). Lugones argues that the gendered aspects of colonization are too often overlooked in favor of violent race relations. To the contrary, expanding on Annibal Quijano’s conception of the coloniality of power (2000), Lugones asserts that both race and gender were fictions of the colonial imaginary. The aim of such fictions was to unevenly distribute power among the European and non-European world on a global scale. On the basis of such fictions, the European was deemed to be human and therefore had the attended privileges of such a status such as being conferred moral worth. Whereas the non-European, was deemed to be non-human using this same metric, thereby denying them their moral worth and/or the status of being a person (2007: 189–201). Such a distinction justified the dehumanization of African peoples. On the basis of racialized notions of gender as per the colonial imaginary, women were treated differently. Where the white woman was considered to be “fragile, weak in both mind and body, sexually passive [and] secluded to the private,” the colonized woman was deemed sexually aggressive, perverse, and only useful for labor (ibid: 203). These pejoratives were attached to colonized women to invoke the idea that they are “naturally” inferior to white women. As such, under the false pretence of a civilizing mission, colonized women were evaluated according to these normative gender constructions in order to justify their violent exploitation. Elsewhere, Lugones argues that this civilizing mission was a “euphemistic mask” used to justify the brutal access to colonized women’s bodies in the form of “violent sexual violations, systemic terror and the control of reproduction” (2010: 744–745). She contends that it was euphemistic precisely because such maltreatment was not intended to make colonized women civilized. I contend that embedded in Afro-personhood theories is the kind of heteropatriarchy discussed above. Afro-personhood theories are social engendered. That is, by virtue of being packaged as a theory of African traditional thought they reflect the ordering of those societies. Traditional African societies are regulated on heteropatriarchy. This being the case, the theory promotes heteropatriarchal relations among persons. The very nature of these heteropatriarchal relations is such that they celebrate heterosexuality. Evidence of this is seen in the kinds of persons that are valued in traditional African societies. Elvis Imafidon posits that in African traditional societies the cis-heterosexual man is perceived as “ontologically superior with qualities of strength, vigour and leadership” (2021a: 251) whereas women are treated as ontologically inferior. Moreover, Imafidon states that familial systems in Africa are controlled by cis-heterosexual men. Herein, men are the heads of the household and are given the responsibility of providing for the family because of their gender. Failure to fulfill this duty to the community results in a loss of respect from the community (2013: 25). Contrastingly, even if a woman works and provides for her family, at no point are they taken to be the head of the household (ibid: 26). What Imafidon’s insights illustrate is the asymmetrical power structures of traditional African communities that prize maleness over femaleness. If this is what influences Afro-personhood, then it follows that Afro-personhood will, in part, be

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a heteropatriarchal theory. Even if the theory has universal principles such as respect, interdependence, and solidarity, they are inevitably heteropatriarchally regulated. As such, Afro-personhood theories are not gender neutral. One could argue that at worst these are merely virtues set aside for heterosexual cis-gendered men. Further evidence of the heteropatriarchal nature of Afro-personhood theories is evident in the rites of passage required to acquire the moral excellences to be a fully fledged person. These rites of passage rest on the assumption of biological determinism as they assume one’s sex at birth to be static. Biological determinism refers to the idea that human behavior is innate and completely disregards the reality that human behavior is shaped by social and cultural environment. Thus, biological determinism is a tool to institute unequal gender relations and the oppression of women. All in all, biological determinism institutes the idea that our respective social positions are encoded and are determined by our sexual differences (Mikkola, 2022). These norms are attained through rites of passage that promote gender conformity, cis-heterosexuality, and gender complementarity. These norms are intended to differentially control the behavior of men and women toward communal goals. Biological determinism supports claims of difference which are otherwise fictional. The danger therein is that it justifies a value system that gives advantages to some over others based on fictional notions of superiority and inferiority (Spanier, 1995: 54). Afropersonhood theorists uncritically adopt this fiction. These imagined differences are taken to be “natural” and whose supposed complementarity serves the larger goal of solidarity and communality. The notion that the differential valuing of persons in traditional African societies is complimentary is highly suspect. As Oyowe asserted, one struggles to see how you can value persons differently while still securing equality for all. Therein, African feminist Bibi Bakare-Yusuf cautions us to remember that no form of power is atomic (2004: 5). As such, seemingly gender-neutral norms such as solidarity, interconnectedness, or seniority among others, must be understood within the purview of the intersectional nature of systems of oppression. To be sure, these norms express power over others, namely men over women, rather than enabling innocently enabling one to become a full person. Bakare Yusuf rightly asserts that if such norms are properly confronted, then we ought to see that norms operate within the context of limitative power even if we naively take them to be enabling (ibid: 5). In sum, African personhood theories are androsexist, heteropatriarchal norms, and social relationships that marginalize Blackwomxn. The danger therein is that the theory cannot help us engage nor begin to solve the gendered violence that survives colonization nor help us make sense of contemporary issues such as femicide, trafficking, sexual harassment, and increased violence against Blackwomxn. As such, Afro-personhood theories conceal these violent relations as it does not challenge the subordination and oppression of Blackwomxn in the world. The theory is in need of a reconceptualization so as to capture the specific socio-cultural lived experiences and cultural realities that Blackwomxn encounter. The inadequacies of the theory where it concerns gender underscore the need to develop alternative African value theories that expose the subtle and intricate power relations embedded in our society. In so doing, we would develop a value theory that counters heteropatriarchy, rather than conceal and/or uncritically valorize it.

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Gap 2: Race as a Totalizing Category Afro-personhood theories, in challenging the racial neutrality of Western theories of personhood and, in turn critiquing the oppression of African persons by the Western world, have tended to ignore gendered oppression. In failing to address the lack of gender neutrality in Western personhood theories, they effectively reinforce it by omission. As such, the Afro-personhood theory they proffer in turn is not an inclusive moral theory. In this section, I will argue that Afro-personhood theories lack of alertness to the gendered nature of traditional African societies is emblematic of an erroneous understanding of systems of power that sees them as distinct. That is, they fail to recognize the co-constitutive nature of systems of power. As a result of this failure, the theory renders Blackwomxn invisible. Put differently, approaching black people as a unitary category in the attempt to affirm their humanity masks and mutes the complex oppressions evident in Blackwomxn’s lived experiences. Failure to recognize the multidimensional vectors of power that structure lived identities and social reality is paradigmatic of a moral theory that is divorced from material reality. As such, Afro-personhood theories do not consider the myriad of barriers particular to Blackwomxn that would make it difficult to attain full personhood and/or have their personhood be recognized in interpersonal and institutional relations. As a result, they do not engage the moral denigration of Blackwomxn in society in their perfectionist model owing to their non-intersectional understanding of oppression. In many ways, Afro-personhood is a “malestream” (O’Brien 1981: 23) conception of oppression. That is, it reflects the lived experiences of heterosexual cis-gender men who remain the privileged constituents of our society. In critically engaging the relations of Afro-personhood theories and social power, Oyowe (2013) makes the claim that the search for a distinctive personhood theory in response to Western dehumanization is mired in a non-epistemic motivation. He argues that this non-epistemic motivation is the struggle for power in Africa. Oyowe asserts that the primary raison d’etre of Afro-personhood theories is its resistance to Western epistemology (2013: 205). Though many African thinkers would agree on the importance of this epistemic resistance, some, such as Didier Kaphagawani (2004), maintain that the African response to the exclusion of their personhood from Western epistemology is incoherent. Kaphagawani argues that the claim “I am, because we are. And, since we are, therefore I am” is incoherent because the adage proffered by Afro-personhood theories fails the logical test of validity (337–338). Essentially, Kaphagawani is pointing out that the aphorism in question fails the logical test of validity. Therefore, it amounts to an affirming the consequent fallacy. Take for instance Rene Descartes’s proposition “cogito ergo sum.” It is a valid proposition because the truth of the premises forces the truth of the conclusion. Kaphagawani’s point here is that there is not a coherent helping premise for the Afropersonhood conclusion. As such, it is invalid. Similarly, Dismas Masolo asserts that Afro-personhood theorists do not give any analytical account for their claim that African societies are communitarian in their socio-political ethic. Instead, it is “merely asserted as an abiding ethic” (2004: 490). On these two assertions, Oyowe contends that this apparent indifference to this logical issue on the part of

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Afro-personhood theories is because of their non-epistemic motivations of resistance and cultural re-affirmation. As such, the moral theory is a reflection of the struggle for power which is a socially engendered phenomenon (2013: 205–210). Taking my cue from Oyowe’s observations, I will discuss the implications of this non-epistemic motivation on intra-group relations. Very often in our analysis of power, the focus is on inter-group relations wherein a dominant group oppresses a marginalized and oppressed group. However, the intra-group relations within a marginalized group are often left “unpursued” (Cohen, 1999: 36). As such, I will move beyond the analysis at the level of the struggle of power between the West and Africa. Rather, I will draw attention to the power dynamics within the group beset by the centralization of race in the Afro-personhood reaction to the West. In so doing, Cathy Cohen asserts that this is a move toward analyzing multiple sites of power paying special attention to power relations within marginalized groups (ibid: 36). In centralizing race, Afro-personhood theories mask the differential experiences of the colonial machinery thereby denying the multiple and differing experiences of that violence. While it remains important to address and critique the exclusion of Africans from Western conceptions of personhood, a critique that renders Africans homogenous merely serves to further exclude Blackwomxn’s experiences of such denigration thereby affirming the personhood of men. That is, in engaging with Africans as an undifferentiated homogenous group, they silence the experiences of Blackwomxn on the continent. In totalizing Africans, these thinkers do not consider the imbrications of race and gender in their critique of colonialism, imperialism, and modernity as it is manifest in Western conceptions of personhood. While their resistance to Euro-Western conceptions of rationality and the hegemonic discourses therein is well placed, they commit a grave error by understanding race, gender, and other modalities as being apart from each other. As such, the Afro-personhood critique of Western conceptions of personhood only partially captures the denigration of Blackwomxn. Afro-personhood theories separate systems of oppression in its reaction to the West. To be sure, Afro-personhood is rooted in the isolation of one system of oppression, as race, while occluding others, namely gender. As such, the normative theory does not reflect the structural convergence of systems of power. This separability of oppression is premised on centering the essentialized experiences of relatively privileged members of a group. By essentialism, I mean a “system of permanent beliefs that remain stable, reluctant to an evolution, always identical, [and] impermeable to time and history” (Hountondji, 1991: 58). Brubaker and Cooper argue that this kind of essentialism is normative and creates an expectation of manifest solidarity in shared dispositions, shared consciousness, or collective action (2000). This approach distorts the simultaneous oppressions Blackwomxn are subject to. Put differently, Afro-personhood approaches race and gender as exclusive categories. In so doing, they render the qualitative experiences of discriminatory practices against Blackwomxn invisible (Crenshaw, 1991: 1245). Patricia Hill Collins argues that Blackwomxn sit at the intersecting point of prevalent systems of power as race, gender, social class, sexuality, ethnicity, and age which form mutually constructing features of social organization (2000: 299). These mutually

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constructing systems of power differentially shape the lived experiences of Blackwomxn. So, if Afro-personhood theories see gender oppression and racial oppression as separable, they only capture the racial problems that Blackwomxn face. Hence, it only partially captures the social condition of Blackwomxn. That is, a homogenizing approach to lived experiences serves to mask the ways in which ethnic, gender, and sexual identities intersect to make various Blackwomxn’s experiences different across the board. This subsumption masks the complacency and complicity of black men and black women in the violence enacted against Blackwomxn. Thus, given that the theory does not fully account for Blackwomxn, it cannot assist us in intervening in their present social condition. It is my contention that Afro-personhood theories reflect a kind of socio-moral theory that privileges certain lived experiences over others. Resultantly, the theory is dismissive and silencing as it does not reflect all differences. Such a moral theory lacks the social utility to address the specific social problem of violence enacted upon Blackwomxn in the present day as a result of their gender. This exclusion of Blackwomxn from Afro-personhood, jettisons them out of the boundary in which moral values and considerations of moral worth apply. If they remain invisible in the theories, harming or exploiting them will continue to appear to be appropriate or normalized in the public domain. Thus, a theory that remains neutral in a society of difference is dangerous and, more importantly, complicit in the violence. I argue that the exclusionary nature of Afro-personhood theories reflects a tendency to identify with the oppression for which men experience and, in turn, consider all other oppression as secondary and/or of less importance. Said oppression then has the propensity to be elevated to master status thereby excluding Blackwomxn from the moral theory. Invariably, this leads to a kind of contradiction where the oppressed becomes the oppressor in intra-group relations. Collins asserts that “oppression is filled with such contradictions because these approaches fail to recognize that a matrix of domination contains few pure victims or oppressors” (2000: 287). So, the kind of exclusion of Blackwomxn in Afro-personhood amounts to secondary marginalization. Now, one could argue that owing to the “discursive context” (Scott, 1999: 9) of the day, the centralizing of race in the Afro-personhood theories’ critique of racial neutrality is contextually specific. That is, the racial totalization I have identified is merely instrumental. As such, the essentialized and homogenized notion of Black and/or Blackness herein was for the sake of political praxis. To be sure, the idea of a singular unitary notion of a group was necessary for political strategy. Therefore, it is perhaps inappropriate to charge Afro-personhood with excluding Blackwomxn. However, as I have shown, the exclusion of gender from their critique of Western theories of personhood and its consequent absence from considerations of the conception of personhood is not “innocently” taken for granted. Rather, it reflects a particular kind of understanding of oppression and inequality and/or a particular subjectivity in social relations. Thus, their critique of Western conceptions of personhood remains incomplete and, as a result, the moral theory remains illogical if it only defends and secures the personhood of some over others. In the following section, I will entertain the view that Afro-personhood is gender neutral. As such, it could be instrumental in fixing the two gaps I have identified.

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In my discussion, I will engage proponents such as Rianna Oelofsen and Motsamai Molefe. Oelofsen and Motsamai defend the idea that the theory cannot be blamed for the immoral nature of society. As such, they share the view that Afro-personhood theories invoke positive relations among persons, especially where it concerns marginalized groups such as women.

Separating the Theory from Society Rianna Oelofsen asserts that the relational ethic embedded in Afro-personhood ideals is essentially egalitarian. Herein, such relations require equality between the sexes. As such, Oelofsen claims that the importance placed on good relationships, which necessarily require recognition-respect for all, ensures equality among all persons thereby condemning the subordination of women in society (2018: 42–43). To support this claim, Oelofsen consults the work of Nkiru Nzwegu (1994) on dualsex systems in some traditional African societies. To begin with, Oelofsen concedes that while traditional African societies may be patriarchal and subjugate women, this does not undermine the egalitarian principles of Afro-personhood. That is, the fact that African societies do not live up to certain ethical implications of Afro-personhood does not mean that the theory does not have said implications. She argues that Afro-personhood theories prescribe egalitarian relations but do not state that such relations are egalitarian in reality (2018: 49–50). In other words, she argues that Afro-personhood expresses that we ought to recognize our uniqueness and difference with the moral goal of community building and harmony. She maintains that while it is the case “that women are not necessarily explicitly understood as equal in African communities and in how their personhood is formed,” if the principles of Afro-personhood are applied consistently, one sees that there is a prescription that they ought to be treated as equals (2018: 50). Oelofsen advances the argument that if there are indeed gender differences in Afro-personhood theories, they would not necessarily lead to gender hierarchy. Rather, the gender differences evident in Afro-personhood are complimentary. For Oelofsen, even if it were the case that all traditional African societies oppressed women, it is not yet enough to say that gender differences connote gender inequality. She argues that evidence of this is seen in the work of Nkiru Nzwegu on equality in dual-sex systems. Nzwegu argues that we ought to move away from a conception of equality that rests on individual autonomy and sameness. She claims that such an understanding of equality is not in accordance with African relational identities (Nzwegu, 1994: 73–74). Nzwegu contends that what we see in traditional African societies is a different socio-political structure to that of Western cultures. In Western cultures, men and women are assigned value based on their biological differences. As such, women are undervalued owing to asymmetrical patriarchal power relations rooted in said biological differences. Inversely, traditional African societies assign men and women value according to what they do. That is, in the African sociopolitical structure individuals are valued for the skills they bring to the community and the role they play in progressing the culture. Moreover, identity is structured in

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terms of equal worth of social duties and responsibilities. Herein, equality is a matter of social responsibilities and obligations. As such, gender equality is construed as comparable worth. Because gender equality implies comparable worth, women and men are taken to be complements of one another even if African societies have hierarchical structures in regards to “age, experience, marital status and rites of initiation” (1994: 84–85, 89, 94). In agreement, Oelofsen asserts that we ought to see the gendered relations in Afro-personhood theories as complimentary effectively standing in equal power (2018: 52). On this account, in spite of the presence of gender differences central to attaining full-personhood, it is possible for these not to result in the moral denigration of women. Therefore, in principle, Afro-personhood is an egalitarian moral theory built on principles of equality. In a similar vein, Motsamai Molefe asserts that Afro-personhood has the moral resources to engender a just social order characterized by gender equality. He imagines a just social order to be characteristically egalitarian wherein persons are treated equally. As such, Molefe argues that Afro-personhood does not sponsor the socio-cultural conditions that dehumanize women. Molefe asserts that one of the most fundamental errors that we commit in the discussion of the place of women in African moral thought is to conflate cultural values and moral values. He argues that we ought to separate the ontological notion of personhood qua personal identity from the normative one, where the normative notion relies on the values of moral excellence. As such, when one says that we need the community to realize moral possibilities or moral capacities, we are appealing to cultural values. That is, that personal identity requires particular cultural values for its realization. Here, he has in mind cultural values such as how to dress, sing, dance, or get married. However, these cultural values may differ from each society because they each have different ideas about how to socialize individuals in the process of personal identity formation. Each traditional African society has different ideas on how we ought to socialize individuals in an effort to form personal identities (2020: 63–64). With this in mind, Molefe argues that we cannot determine the status of a theoretical idea by considering these cultural values. It is Molefe’s view that while it may very well be the case that many academics are “caught-up” (2020: 65) in the contingencies of their societies, it does not logically follow that the moral theory itself has no moral resources to give us a plausible Afro-personhood theory. He argues that the function of the philosopher is to transcend cultural values in “search of truth” (ibid.). As such, Molefe claims that while it is possible that Afropersonhood has been used in ways that perpetuate patriarchy and/or that it is an expression of historical power relations, it is entirely different to claim that we cannot use the theory for social justice. Put plainly, Molefe is cautioning us not to blame Afro-personhood for the state of affairs in Africa and the oppressive attitudes of practitioners, especially where it concerns women, because a theory cannot directly cause an oppressive condition. Herein he posits that “the problem is not intrinsic to the term [person]. Rather it is the problem of cultures and male academics that are prejudiced by their male centred societies” (2019: 9). As such, it is not Afropersonhood theories that are gendered for Molefe, rather the academics are bigoted and discriminatory.

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Keeping with the critique of the conflation of moral and cultural values, Molefe states that we ought to not reduce the notion of moral excellencies to cultural norms based on “intragroup recognition” (2020: 65). He argues that this is entirely too narrow of an interpretation of Afro-personhood. Rather, he proposes that we ought to take a wider reading of Afro- personhood. In so doing, when we speak of moral excellencies, we interpret the system of moral values in African societies to be applicable to all human societies in so far as Afro-personhood is a “moral theory proper” (ibid). By “moral theory proper,” he means that the theory is built on objective values necessary to conceptualize a just society. In this way, on a theoretical level, when we speak of moral excellencies, we are referring to a “trans-cultural system of values” (ibid) that is not context specific and capable of recognizing all humans. These “trans-cultural systems of values” embody a moral system intended to cover the whole sphere of human relations wherein the individual is required to perfect themselves as moral entities. They are expected to display certain virtues and norms as well as to uphold certain ideals. Consulting Kwame Gyekye, Molefe asserts that these virtues include “generosity, kindness, compassion, benevolence, respect and concern for others; [and] any action or behavior that conduces to the promotion of the welfare of others” (Gyekye as quoted in Molefe, 2020: 66). These are other-regarding virtues enacted in social relationships in order to safeguard the welfare of others. Molefe argues that these social relationships imagined by Afropersonhood theories are strongly marked by virtues which we would not “naturally associate with the marginalization of women or any other grouping” (2020: 67). He contends that this aspect of Afro-personhood undermines the critique that it is not egalitarian. Molefe argues that we can further see the egalitarianism of Afro-personhood theories in the concept of moral status. To make this argument, he considers the work of Ifeanyi Menkiti (1984). He submits that Menkiti’s conception of personhood suggests a particular theory of moral status – one where an entity is recognized in virtue of their ontological capacities. Herein, we owe individuals duties of recognition-respect because they have the capacity for a moral personality owing to their ontological features. To be sure, Menkiti avers that we owe these entities “duties of justice. . .which is dependent on their possession of a capacity for moral sense” (1984: 177). Molefe affirms that such recognition-respect is not dependent on the achievements of persons but the mere possession of these capacities. Moreover, Molefe argues that it is this moral status on an ontological level that makes all persons morally equal (2020: 71). Molefe asserts that the ethical requirement to treat persons equally gives us an indication of how we ought to treat each other in our social relationships. For Molefe, personhood, as a concept, embodies moral ideals that ought to shape our society and social relations in two related ways. Firstly, he states that our social spaces must function on the moral principle of treating each other equally in order for personhood to work. This has several implications for our social spaces such as aiding moral patients where they require help; treating each other fairly; fostering a socio-economic system that treats us all equally; and gender neutrality. Secondly, moral equality requires us to relate to each other in ways that promote collective

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welfare. Given that being a person requires one to exhibit other regarding duties, it follows that we would all be contributing to a common good that fosters social egalitarianism for all within the collective. He asserts that it is required that one ought to distil these other regarding duties without regard to gender, class, or race. Molefe claims that this will empower individuals to live a “decent” life by creating humane conditions for all (2020: 72). Thus, Molefe concludes that it is not true that the Afro-personhood theories do not have the moral resources to foster the equal moral regard of women. Altogether, these thinkers do not necessarily dispute the empirical claims that African societies are patriarchal and that such relations are oppressive to Blackwomxn. However, it is their view that on a theoretical level Afro-personhood does have the tools to secure the moral worth of women. Given that Afropersonhood is grounded on the prescription to treat people well in virtue of their ability to commune with others, it fosters cooperative social relations intended to engage in mutual aid and solidarity. Therefore, Afro-personhood can regulate the cultural values of our society. As such, we ought to promote those moral values which these thinkers take to be gender neutral and/or gendered in complimentary ways that guard against moral maltreatment. Perhaps what is most perturbing about this defense of Afro-personhood from the charge that it is inegalitarian, is the willingness of its proponents to bracket the theory from social reality. That is, they are preoccupied with “abstract theoretical concerns” and not involved in the practical affairs of African people (Gyekye, 1988: 1). Given the ethical exigency to respond to and intervene in the moral denigration of Blackwomxn in society, we can no longer be idealistic about morality. Afterall, Gyekye asserts that the very nature and purpose of philosophy is a “conceptual response to the basic human problems that arise in any given era or society” (ibid: 3). Herein, Gyekye asserts that it is in the realm of axiological reflection wherein philosophers ought to be concerned with practical considerations for it is from this vantage point that philosophy can offer practical guidance on questions of individual action and social policy and can provide people with “fundamental systems of belief to live by” (ibid: 5). If they wish to remove the theory from the realm of praxis, by disassociating it from social reality, what then is the practical value of the theory? After all, as Ralph Eaton asserts, the very act of theorizing is aimed at “moulding nature to our will” and making “experiences intelligible” (1921: 2–3). It strikes me as odd to have a moral theory divorced from people effectively rendering it a moral theory that speaks past the people. While I agree that moral theories are in their nature prescriptive or idealistic, this prescription need not remain mute in its theoretical form. The ought in the moral theory is created with the aim to influence what is. So, if the prescription of morality is mute and does not aim to improve society, it has no value especially where it concerns social reform. It leaves one asking why we cannot mold this moral theory to our will where it concerns the moral devaluation of Blackwomxn? The moral theory, while claiming to safeguard the moral worth of all persons, does not give us the tools with which we can respond to marginalization. In truth, it seems there is a willingness to look to Afro-personhood where it has solved social

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problems in the African context. For example, in the South African context we have looked to Ubuntu innumerable times to intervene in social problems to the extent that it has informed juridical and political practice. Thus, if we can credit the moral theory where it solves social problems, why can we not blame it where it fails to do so? That is, the proponents of Afro-personhood seem to be simultaneously suggesting that the theory can intervene in the social problems myself and others have identified to the extent where they credit it for such successes. However, Molefe and Oelefson are unwilling to blame the theory for the neglect of gendered oppression. As such, it seems counter intuitive to state that we should not look to this moral theory or blame it where we see inequitable and exclusionary relations. It is their very expositions that point to the inseparability of theory and praxis, i.e., that we need personhood in order to be treated humanely in society. For these reasons, there seems to be a cherry picking about when we can link theory to the social. One wonders, what is being protected here? It seems to me that what is being protected here is the personhood of cis-heterosexual males. If one adheres to the logic of the perfectionist model of Afro-personhood, it follows that you are a person in so far as you treat other people well. As such, if you fail to do so, you have failed at being person. Yet, perpetrators of violence against Blackwomxn, which are shown to be largely cis-heterosexual men, are not denied their personhood. There is no punishment of such acts in the scholarship. Instead, there is a relaying of an idealistic abstract traditional African society wherein all persons are equal. As such, non-persons, i.e., immoral cisgender men, are protected and valued at the cost of persons. In the end, we see that cisheterosexual men are afforded full moral considerations despite the fact that they do not meet the very criterion spelt out by Afro-personhood. Herein, we see a kind of altruism extended to cis-heterosexual men, effectively empowering them to devalue other persons. By this very theory, these non-persons disrupt the relational values espoused by Afro-personhood yet proponents continue to evade directly engaging this violence and/or the inadequacy of the moral theory to engage in these social issues. Regrettably, we are left with a moral theory that is ineffective in holding perpetrators of racialized gendered violence accountable. Therefore, what we have at hand is policing of personhood wherein the theory is propagated despite its internal contradictions. As such, the moral theory lacks theoretical purchase where it concerns gender-related matters as they present themselves today.

Conclusion In this chapter, I made the argument that while African personhood theories purport to be gender neutral they are in fact gendered in pernicious ways that adversely affect Blackwomxn. Its gendered nature is evident in the intragroup marginalization of Blackwomxn owing to the non-recognition of their personhood. In the main, I unearthed two subliminal gaps in African personhood theories that contribute to the non-recognition of Blackwomxn. These gaps are the heteropatriarchal relational norms in the theories and the subsumption of Blackwomxn in the category of race.

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In the case of heteropatriarchal norms, I showed the reader that the imagined normative differences between men and women in African personhood theories bolster asymmetrical hierarchies that render women inferior to men. The supposed gender neutrality or, at times, the gender complementarity of the theory merely serves to conceal these power relations with the aim to make the theory seem more egalitarian than it is. In the case of the subsumption of women into the category of race, I illustrated to the reader the danger of a non-intersectional understanding of race and/or the effects of racism on Blackwomxn. That is, a response to the Western denigration of African people that is centered around only one axis of power as race seeks to center the experiences of cis-men thereby erasing that of Blackwomxn. All in all, this chapter serves to motivate for the conceptual modification of Afro-personhood theories such that they reflect the lived experiences of Blackwomxn. Moreover, such conceptual modification should be oriented toward the radical transformation of our society given the ethical exigency to intervene in the denigration of Blackwomxn’s personhood. The moral theory is in serious need of an intersectional approach to axiological analysis with a particular focus on gender. The analysis of gender and/or gendered relations is essential in understanding and analyzing marginalization and non-recognition toward the goal of attaining social equity.

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An African Feminist Interrogation of Existential Epistemology: Women as the “Other of the Other” in (Post)Colonial Africa Abosede Priscilla Ipadeola

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Colonization of Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Colonial Existential Epistemology of Othering Africans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women as the Other of the Other in Colonial and Contemporary Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . A Feminist Deconstruction of Colonial Existential Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The African peoples’ colonial experience raises some fundamental existential questions that should not be ignored. There is no doubt that the process of decolonizing contemporary Africa is going to be difficult, if not outright impossible, without addressing those existential questions. It is worth noting that in addition to altering, distorting, and destroying part or all of the political, economic, relational, moral, and social structures that existed before colonialism, colonizers also imposed some existential ideals upon Africans, which have continued to affect how many contemporary Africans perceive and define themselves, their continent, and other Africans too. As colonizers, they endeavored to change the existing existential narratives and beliefs the colonized held about themselves for centuries to give way to a new narrative. Regarding human dignity and worth, colonialism was a system of control and dominance that relegated Africans and other colonized peoples to the lowest ebb of human existence. There was a common misconception that Africans were inferior to the ideal human being or subject in their society. As a result, it became pretty easy to rationalize A. P. Ipadeola (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria Faculty of Philosophy and Education, Katholische Universitaet, Eichstatt-Ingolstadt, Eischtaett, Germany © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_45

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their commodification (during the transatlantic slave trade) and dominance (during the colonization) of Africans during this period. However, colonialism did not give African women the existential identity of “the other,” but that of “the other of the other.” This chapter argues that many of the problems associated with underdevelopment, social inequality, and neocolonialism, many of which African states have battled for decades, will remain unsolved until the existential epistemology which reinforces the marginalization of African women is critiqued and deconstructed. Keywords

Existential epistemology · African women · Colonialism · Decolonization · The other · The other of the other

Introduction The continent of Africa like, and also unlike, many other continents around the globe has a history of an admixture of the good, the bad, and the ugly. There have been great empires, kingdoms, outstanding scientific and technological discoveries, astounding artifacts, economic prosperity, and other laudable achievements on the continent. However, one of the ugliest events to have taken place on the continent is the annexation of considerable parts of Africa to empires and powers from other parts of the world. The colonization of Africa is one of the ugliest on the continent because for it to be established, kingdoms and communities were violently subdued, which led to the deaths of countless Africans with some losses on the part of the invaders too. In addition, many communities were sacked, and thousands of monuments and artifacts were either destroyed or taken away from their communities of origin out of the continent to be displayed in the houses of the super-rich and foreign museums. All that was destroyed or taken away from Africa was, however, not as tragic as what was left behind. Colonialists left behind an Africa whose political, economic, moral, relational, social, epistemic, metaphysical, religious, and domestic structures had been significantly mangled. Significant among the fallouts of colonialism is the distortion of what the people believe about themselves or the way they see themselves. Existential epistemology refers to a person or group’s belief about their existential position or condition. When a marginalized person or group is made to believe that their condition is adequate for their inferior nature and that they do not deserve any better, then the warped existential epistemology serves to strengthen and perpetuate their subjugation. The existential epistemology of being perceived and treated as the other of the colonizers, who were presented as ideal humans, was imposed upon Africans during the colonial era. Partially transcending this belief, which culminated in Africans demanding self-rule in the 1950s and 1960s of the twentieth century was, however, not enough to liberate the continent from the strings of colonization. As evident in

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the continent’s opprobrious overreliance on their erstwhile colonial masters, it has since become apparent that there is more to be desired than the lame and empty political independence given to African states in the mid-twentieth century. This awareness gave rise to the emergence of postcolonial studies and decolonization. Much has been written and theorized by postcolonial scholars. Meanwhile, this chapter underscores the importance of reexamining the existential epistemology that Africans, especially African women, inherited from colonialism.

The Colonization of Africa Different reasons have been attributed to the decision of European powers to colonize Africa. The most obvious, however, is the need to control more territories for political and economic gains. In other words, the “new imperialism of the late nineteenth century was a product of both the continuing industrial revolution and the great power rivalry between European nations” (Maddox, 2018: 2). However, European powers did not embark on the venture of colonization without providing justifications for its imperativeness. One of the most popular justifications for colonialism was the need to bring enlightenment to the primitive people living on the continent of Africa. It was argued by some of the famous intellectuals and adventurers that there was a moral burden on them to bring the light of civilization to Africa. In other words, colonialism was either spoken of as an altruistic venture or at least a win-win idea for both Europe and Africa. The French and British colonizers especially pushed the argument that colonialism was a civilizing mission aimed at bringing education and enlightenment. For instance, Joseph Chamberlain who was Britain’s Secretary of State for Colonies in the 1890s referred to colonization as “constructive imperialism” and he urged the “intervention” and “assistance” of the British imperial government to “develop” their “great possessions in every part of the globe” (Hodge et al., 2016: 6).

Fundamentally, therefore, colonialists made their venture look like a religious cum moral obligation, with a tinge of legality. In other words, colonizers did not just embark on the conquest and colonization of Africa without appealing to what they believed were appropriate and relevant laws which were promulgated by them for that purpose. For instance, during “the ‘Scramble for Africa’ (1870–1914) during the age of New Imperialism, the European States and non-State actors mainly used cession and protectorate treaties to acquire territorial sovereignty (imperium) and property rights over land (dominium)” (Linden, 2016: 1). However, the intrinsic motivations for colonizing Africa were economic and political domination, expansion, exploitation, and possession. European nations needed raw materials to drive their economies and many of the raw materials were and are in Africa. Hence, the control began with colonization and has continued to contemporary times because despite professing to have attained independence, the economic relationship between Africa and Europe remains that of a trade relation

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between unequal trade partners. While bemoaning the problem of attributing African nations’ underdevelopment to the symptoms observable on the continent rather than the cause hidden away outside the geographical enclave of the continent of Africa, Rodney notes that: The whole import-export relationship between Africa and its trading partners is one of unequal exchange and of exploitation. More far-reaching than just trade is the actual ownership of the means of production in one country by the citizens of another. When citizens of Europe own the land and the mines of Africa, this is the most direct way of sucking the African continent. Under colonialism, the ownership was complete and backed by military domination. (Rodney, 2018: 27 emphases added)

Africans could have next to no say on vital issues that affected their economic and political lives, such as the ownership and distribution of natural resources from the continent, how they are governed, and so on. Similarly, they could have very little input into the curricula that formed the core of their so-called education and enlightenment. One of the most devastating effects of colonization was requiring people who lived and settled in communities and who had learned from a variety of experiences and challenges to go along completely different routes to unlearn what the natural world and experience had taught them and their ancestors, and to learn from alien cultures that were shaped by historical and experiential circumstances that differed greatly from their own. Therefore, since the curricula were designed by colonialists whose fundamental purpose was to own or exploit and dominate the colonized, the content of the curricula was mainly to advance the cause of colonizers. Hence, a lot of things peddled as education were toward the purpose of actualizing the original intent of colonizers. Education – both formal and informal – was, therefore, a formidable means of achieving the aim of controlling Africans and their natural resources. Thus, existential epistemology became one of the cardinal furtherance/enablers of colonization.

The Colonial Existential Epistemology of Othering Africans Existential epistemology describes the condition of justifying marginalization, oppression, subjugation, and pain by implying or claiming that the victims’ existential realities are consistent with their nature or inferior variety. The goal of existential epistemology is to withdraw from or deny agency to the oppressed group and make them view and define their existence through the lens provided by their oppressors. Sometimes, the victim is blamed for their oppression. For example, some women are blamed for being raped and are subsequently blackmailed or threatened into accepting their pain as a necessary outcome of their nature or for something they have done wrong or failed to do right (e.g., dressing inappropriately or appearing irresistibly attractive, or even for being female and thereby possessing what could satisfy a sexually active man). On the other hand, any attempt from the marginalized to resist or reject the narrative imposed by existential epistemology is responded to with stiff, and

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oftentimes, violent suppression. Existential epistemology creates a model of studying, understanding, defining, and perceiving the oppressed through the lens provided and endorsed by the oppressor. Existential epistemology, unlike existentialism, does not strive to secernate existence and essence from each other. As a matter of fact, it serves the purpose of the oppressors to conflate existence and essence and present the distorted belief to the victim of oppression as their necessary reality. One of the ways by which generations of humans have managed the complexities of the vast universe, especially this planet, which has served as their home from time immemorial, is to categorize and differentiate based on perceived similarities and differences. In other words, “[h]uman societies have always produced corporeal norms, norms explicitly stating how the body should be, or ought to be like, which though, may evolve from time to time, form the basis of normalization for persons within such social contexts” (Imafidon, 2019: 4–5). However, when difference is made on the basis of a person’s or group’s acceptance or the justification for treating them as unequal, then the difference has become politicized. Sadly, bodily difference (that is, skin color difference) was not just the basis of othering Africans under the colonial regime. The difference was much more fundamental than the mere empirical or bodily difference of skin color to have included the intellectual ideal of existential epistemology. Existential epistemology is a political scheme that enables a group or person (subject) to determine not only what valid knowledge is and how it is acquired but also to preponderantly determine who can acquire valid knowledge, as well as the options available to “the other” in terms of knowledge production and acquisition. In other words, oppressors and hegemons employ existential epistemology to weaponize knowledge and thereby legitimately other anyone who does not fit their ideal or description of a holder of justified knowledge or anyone whose knowledge is at variance with their own type of knowledge, which is considered to be the standard of the ideal. In a nutshell, This reminds us of the attempts of the anthropologists of the ontological turn to explain practices observed in Amazonian cultures. . . . Here we see the politics of epistemology right in action. The othering of non-European peoples takes effect through the epistemological criteria modern Western culture has defined and declared to be universal. Only what is translated into theory, only what has entered the realm of abstraction, of reflection, is recognized as valid knowledge. (Roothaan, 2019: 68)

Existential epistemology was a grand tool employed by colonialists to ground their cause in Africa. In order to sustain the conquest of African kingdoms, empires, and communities, which was not achieved by colonizers without some heavy prices and losses on the sides of the colonizers but most fundamentally on the side of the colonized, an epistemic system underlaid by the wry belief about the inferior nature of the African was concocted. This kept colonialism going for many decades until young African scholars and intellectuals began to challenge the assumptions. The challenge led to agitations for independence in many parts of Africa, which in turn

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led to the exit of colonizers and a formal end to their active participation in the affairs of African states. Although not without occasional agitation, confrontation, and resistance, colonizers were able to stay in Africa for as long as they did because of the existential belief in the inferiority of Africans that they instilled in them. In so many ways, Africans were made to believe that colonizers had superiority in everything: the system of governance, military power, domestic/familial composition and arrangement, cuisine, methods of hygiene, economic systems, religious belief, spirituality and worship, medical care, educational system, history, and culture. Hence, the white man and everything about him became the standard or ideal, while the African man and everything about him became relegated as the other. As a matter of fact, the belief and arguments supporting the view of the African as the other underpins the commencement of colonization in the first place. At its inception, as mentioned earlier, colonialism was described as the means of bringing the light of civilization to the Dark Continent and its uncivilized and barbaric inhabitants. Mudimbe argues that for the colonialists to commence and sustain the colonial scheme, they had to “invent” an Africa, which was basically different from that which was on the continent before their arrival. Without the “invention” which shaped the policies of the colonialists and thereby engendered an Africa that could serve the cause of colonization, colonizing Africa would have been a futile project. According to him, [I]t is possible to use three main keys to account for the modulations and methods representative of colonial organization: the procedures of acquiring, distributing, and exploiting lands in colonies; the policies of domesticating natives; and the manner of managing ancient organizations and implementing new modes of production. Thus, three complementary hypotheses and actions emerge: the domination of physical space, the reformation of natives’ minds, and the integration of local economic histories into the Western perspective. (Mudimbe, 2020: 2 emphases added)

Before the advent of colonialism, Africa was a vast continent of diverse peoples with multifarious cultures, worldviews, ideals, ideas, historical trajectories, and aspirations. However, colonialism created a strait jacket of false identity for Africans. The message was simple. They were perceived as the other of the subject and were treated accordingly. The invention of a new identity was imperative to drive the aim and objectives of colonization. in other words, colonizers constructed a binary view of humans “with implicating and contesting discursive constructions of African identities which have succeeded in producing generic Africanness – a nativised Africanness – within discourses that are hostage to the ‘logic of identity’ in which identity represents saturated and oppositional natural essences” (Ngwena, 2018: 5). Being constantly inundated with the constructed identity of the other, which was not just believed but also behaved and instituted, has continued to impact the minds of many Africans even in contemporary times. One of the means of driving the existential epistemology of seeing themselves as the other into the consciousness of Africans was to relegate and invalidate the existing epistemic and linguistic

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structures in precolonial African cultures. Talking about the dominant role which language played, the languages of the colonizers were made the only officially recognized languages of business, education, and entertainment in many of the colonies. In other words, languages were taught to be hierarchical, with the languages of the colonizers at the top, while those of the colonized were commonly referred to as vernaculars, and so were outlawed in important conversations. This initially forced Africans to learn in silence until they became minimally proficient in the newly adopted languages. Learning in silence, however, means accepting, with a sense of awe and wonder, the superiority of the native speakers of the languages. This was one of the condescending means through which Africans were attached to the colonizers’ apron strings, such that even after colonization has been officially ended, the attachment remains. The imposition of colonial rule was accompanied by the imposition of a hegemonic foreign language. Today, it is this language that provides the educated postcolonial African elites with the much desired ‘window to the world’ at the price of continued and largely exclusive political, cultural, and economic ties with the former colonial ‘master’ in terms of trade, monetary standards, external telecommunications, technical and budgetary assistance, specialist training, etc. for many, however, this fact stigmatizes the ex-colonial language as a symbol of perpetual hegemonic domination. (Wolff, 2018: 862)

To be sure, the force of the imposition of colonial language was varying depending on the colonial power in charge. Like the colonial policy of assimilation of the French and Portuguese empires, the imposition was absolute. However, in other colonies controlled by the British and Belgian empires, indigenous languages commonly referred to as vernaculars were only permitted to be used to teach lower elementary school pupils, who had not started serious scientific studies (Adegbija, 1994: 32). This explains the reason scientific theories and research are basically done in foreign languages even centuries after colonization has officially ended. Therefore, even currently, “[m]any African colleges and universities maintain a staunch commitment to the original colonial language imposed upon (their ancestors) by their Western martinets” (Knaus & Brown II, 2018: 269). Scholars (Olaniyan, 1995: 38–39; Augusto, 2013: 118) have argued that using colonial languages as the officially recognized languages of education, law, governance, and every important business inadvertently affirms the imperial cultures of the colonial powers, while it also admits the inferiority and suppression of the cultures of colonized peoples. The problem is, however, more fundamental because thinking and doing business exclusively and primarily in foreign colonial languages reinforces the notion that the colonized are the other. In its state of consciousness, the other tries to be like the subject. This is what the colonial languages have done to Africans. The consistent relegation of the indigenous languages has produced a generation of Africans who constantly look up to the erstwhile colonizers as ideal humans, while they strive to be like them in the understanding and usage of their languages as much as possible, while they neglect and relegate their own indigenous languages (some of which have already disappeared).

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Apart from imposing the colonial languages, an imposition of the colonial system of education is another method of wedging an existential gap between the colonizers and the colonized. In many precolonial African societies, a person’s profession had a different meaning in relation to their perception in society than in colonial Africa. While idleness was preponderantly frowned upon in many traditional African societies, there was no necessary nexus between a person’s profession and their social status. The forms of education required to practice a profession were usually not focused on giving a person a higher status than other people in society. The fundamental objective of training people in different professions was to provide for the existential needs of people and society. However, with the introduction of “formal education” by the colonizers, the meaning and aim of acquiring education and training changed. Some jobs and professions were presented as more prestigious than others because they pay more than some other less important professions and jobs. Through the introduction of profession-based hierarchies, the existential epistemology of othering Africans became grounded. Under colonial rule, a person’s social status was determined by how prestigious their profession is. Doctors, engineers, and lawyers, for example, are higher in status (and are paid much better income too) and are, therefore, deserving of greater respect than cooks, farmers, and cleaners in social gatherings. Existential epistemology gives the spurious hope (inauthenticity) that with more efforts and greater achievements, the other can become more like the ideal. Therefore, many African young people try hard to study and go into some of the “important” professions in other to affirm or enhance their humanity. In other words, the impression given is that one becomes more human when they have a good job or when they go into a high-status profession. Measuring a person’s worth through their profession is a degrading way of othering the person. This is because, for this type of worldview, activity precedes humanity. Ranking activity above humanity was consistent with the aim of colonization. Hence, describing Africans as lazy and indolent helped the colonizers to justify their imposition of forced labor on the colonized Africans. For them, productivity comes before humanity. In other words, apart from influencing Africans’ choice of profession later in the history of colonial Africa, at the inception of colonization, “the stereotype of the ‘lazy African (man) . . . was frequently used as a justification for a coercive labour regime” (Rönnbäck, 2016: 28). Meanwhile, the worst sufferers of the othering of Africans by the colonial process and regime were the African women. The marginalization foisted on African women by colonialism cuts across so many aspects of their private and public lives.

African Women as the Other of the Other in Colonial and Contemporary Africa Colonization fundamentally deepened the chasm created by patriarchy between African men and women. Although there were diverse roles for men and women in precolonial African communities, this was not founded on the existential

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epistemology of othering either of the sexes. Things changed, however, when education and jobs became political tools and were weaponized as instruments of dividing African societies to rule and subjugate them. Apart from suffering marginalization and the existential epistemology of the other as Africans, women also suffered because of their gender as women. Colonial powers divided Africans along gender lines and accorded different rights and privileges to them. Othering Africans was not just a random act from a handful of colonial administrators. Rather, it was an institutionalized pattern and part of the colonial strategy. This is because, The colonial home office, as well as religious and lay sponsors, required Europeans to write detailed daily, monthly, and annual descriptions. Though not all were published, these documents offered missionaries and colonialists a privileged venue through which they were able to confirm their identity as members of a ‘higher civilization.’ . . . And, for the most part, the authors represented themselves in a rather positive light. The reason is transparent. They had constituencies; they needed to advertise their work, satisfy their donors, and solicit recruits and funds. (Musisi, 2002: 97)

Colonization created and validated a different pattern and/or means of earning an income. The new method introduced by colonizers requires the kind of training that was not as focused as that which was given to workers and professionals in precolonial African societies. Also, the type of education introduced by the colonizers was not individual-focused like the education given in precolonial Africa. Colonial education was toward the end of each person, proving how they are better and smarter than their fellow students, hence the rat race that it encourages. Women and girls were grossly excluded from acquiring western education for a long time in colonial Africa. This, therefore, inhibited their qualification for being able to enter some professions early. To a large extent, women’s inability to take up many prestigious and well-paying jobs and professions put a decisive gap between men and women and reinforced the idea of African women as the other of African men. Women were, therefore, late starters as entrants into many professions that require cerebral smartness and scientific knowledge. This inadvertently popularized the existential epistemology of women as the incompetent and inferior other. Many women were, as a result, forced to rely on their men for their subsistence and to provide basic needs. While some African societies have been able to transcend this situation, it is unfortunate that many African societies are still trapped in this mindset of seeing women as incompetent or not capable of taking up some jobs in the public sector. Coming with the Victorian era idea of the ideal family structure, colonizers wedged a decisive division between the domestic and political spheres. While men were given some restricted access to the public sphere, women were systemically confined to the private sphere. In precolonial times, many African women were famous traders who traveled far and wide to buy and sell. However, since colonialism made the “white man’s jobs” the lucrative and prestigious jobs that everyone desired, many African women were not prepared to take up the jobs, as they were initially denied the requisite education. It was only later that things began to improve

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as more women could acquire western education. Even when a woman takes up a paid employment, it is still preponderantly believed that her primary role is her unpaid and unacknowledged work as a cook, cleaner, and homemaker in the domestic sphere. Therefore, many contemporary women work full-time as professionals and simultaneously work full-time as homemakers. Therefore, Even though in many modern African households the custom that a woman is not allowed in the public sphere, which means she is not allowed to take up a paid employment is no longer popular, homemaking is still believed to be a woman’s foremost and exclusive duty. For instance, when there is a clash between her duty as a mother or wife and her career, she is in most cases required, or expected to sacrifice the career. In many more cases, this is not the case with men in contemporary Africa. (Ipadeola, 2023: 66)

In addition, the relegation of women as the other of the other was emphasized by how people were appointed to political positions in colonial Africa. Contemporarily, many political scholars and other stakeholders in African politics are worried about the fact that there is “a significantly low level of women’s participation in politics, (and) . . . their exclusion – or limited participation – in governance. The argument is that despite constituting half of the world’s population, women’s presence in the political setting is not a fair representation of their percentage in Nigeria and around the world. Hence, women are mostly ignored when it comes to decision making” (Agbalajobi, 2021: 28). However, the problem of low participation of women in politics in contemporary times is sometimes not holistically analyzed by tracing it to the impact of colonization on African politics. Colonization had a great impact on African peoples’ ways of administering their societies and making women the other of the other in the political sphere is one of the effects of African peoples’ colonial experience. In administrative and political matters, colonizers mostly involved men and disregarded women. British and French colonizers adopted different political methods in administering their African colonies. While the French adopted the method of direct rule and total assimilation, the British ruled through the existing political structures. Although the precolonial political structures in many African societies were not founded on the principle of equal gender participation, and did not have women on par with their male counterparts in governance, it can still be said that women were not completely excluded from governance in most parts of Africa. To be candid, patriarchy is a fact in precolonial Africa. However, colonialism further pushed women (both African and Western) into oblivion in the political sphere. In the first instance, the colonial administrators that came to Africa were mostly men. In cases where women were permitted to accompany their husbands, it was after the conquest had been achieved and the women were allowed to come only on their husbands’ merit. This gave the impression women are not cut out for the activities that take place in the public space, especially in the political realm. In African colonies where the natives were ruled by some of their own people, women were not considered as good enough to hold political positions by the colonizers. Even in their struggles against colonial powers, women were grossly ignored, and their efforts underreported. This was fundamentally borne out of the view that while

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African men were generally inferior to the whites, African women were not even part of the consideration at all as they were even less human than the men. In a way, the African woman was perceived and defined through her body. The Platonic dichotomy between body and soul was employed to categorize and associate the African woman with her body. Since there is a hierarchy between reason and body, anyone or group associated with reason automatically assumes a higher or significant position, while anyone or group associated with the body is relegated to the position of inferiority. Anyone that assumes the higher position, therefore, owns the narrative, and could even reason the body to a point of invisibility. Hence, “[a]s a site of postcolonial hauntology, the African female body becomes a site of this ‘somethingto-be-done’ and a site of re-narrativization. As a site, the female body, and eventually the postcolonial woman, becomes a ghostly figure” (Coly, 2019: 16). Like Oyewumi argues, the problem of associating people with the body to subjugate them is an age-old one in Western culture, dating to the ancient period of philosophy. [T]he issue of gender difference is particularly interesting in regard to the history of and the constitution of difference in European social science and thought. The lengthy history of the embodiment of social categories is suggested by the myth fabricated by Socrates to convince citizens of different ranks to accept whatever status was imposed on them. (Oyewumi, 1997: 5)

The original reason for embarking on colonization was to look for raw materials for the teeming European industries and possibly expand the market for the finished products. As stated already, however, one of the ways by which the occupation of Africa was achieved was to associate Africans generally with inferiority because of racial differences. For African women, the segregation covered both racial and gender differences. Although most of the differences introduced or deepened by colonialism have been challenged and some of them shown as having no place in modern societies, the underlying existential epistemology that keeps the system of subjugation running has not been considerably confronted and dealt with. In contemporary Africa, the woman’s body has remained a domain of othering. The relegation of African women as the other is therefore largely because their bodies are used to define or identify them. The practice of identifying women through their bodies is not limited to African women, as it is found in many cultures across the planet. The problem, however, cannot be neglected if Africa is to develop. The problem, however, cannot be neglected if Africa is to develop. For example, society identifies a woman through her body. In order to look “slim and pretty,” she is told to exercise. On the other hand, she is considered unattractive if she exercises too much and becomes “muscular.” Her hair must look Caucasian to make it look attractive. To be considered good enough as a wife or a mother, contemporary African women undergo a variety of inconvenient procedures. While they must be attractive, they must not be seductive. Hence the focus is always on the body of the woman, in a way that a man’s body is not so gazed. Oyewumi (2005) argues that the body is the realm of oppression in the West. She notes that Europeans place undue and unnecessary emphasis on the body, even when the reality in question is not physical, because the body is for them a realm of power and domination. The stratification of

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the mental and palpable realms is a ploy to categorize people and justify oppression and marginalization. Although the somatic-intellect dichotomy imposed by colonialists is one of the tools of perpetuating the othering of Africans, the palpable realm assigned to Africans is further graded and women are assigned to the lower rung. This model of social relation has been adopted by contemporary African societies to associate women with the body, while men are usually associated with the intellect. The association with the body underlies the subordinate position that many women “gladly” take in intellectual matters. Women, therefore, pay inordinate attention to their appearance – their hair, nails, skin tone, lips, body shape, body mass index, tummy, eyelashes, leg shape, and height – because their value is somehow attached to how appealing these parts of the body appear. This is not to say that men do not pay attention to their bodies. In most cases when they do, it is for verdure or salubrity purposes rather than for aesthetics. There is a subtle compulsion or burden placed on women to define their worth based on their looks, whereas men are usually not so burdened. The aesthetic burden has been placed on women by patriarchy even in precolonial Africa. In other words, the burden placed on women to be alluring cannot entirely be blamed on the colonial experience of Africans. However, the condition became exacerbated with the imposition of western values by colonialism. For many women, therefore, the chase after beauty as defined for them by the existential epistemology of otherness, is a lifetime pursuit. In other words, the efforts put into measuring up to societal expectations in relation to beauty and attractiveness consume many women’s time, which they could otherwise have invested in their intellectual development.

A Feminist Deconstruction of Colonial Existential Epistemology Existential epistemology is not just employed by the privileged to look down on or oppress “the other” from a distance; it is rather considered effective when the oppressed are made to know and agree that they deserve and should accept the position of subjugation allotted to them. Therefore, in order to deconstruct the colonial existential epistemology, which has continued to perpetuate the objective (s) of colonization over the decades, there is an urgent need for Africans, particularly the African women who have been made to believe that they are the other of the other to change the dominant narrative of subjugation and to reject the existential epistemology foisted on them by the colonialists. For African women, the attempt to return to the pattern of gender relations before the emergence of colonialism would not completely solve the problem of marginalization. This is because, while in precolonial African societies women were not relegated to the rear like in colonial Africa, it remains to be refuted that there was no mild gender disparity in precolonial African families and societies. Therefore, to effectively deconstruct the existential epistemology of colonization, contemporary and pragmatic realities and exigencies must be prioritized. What is meant by prioritizing contemporary exigencies is to consider the cost of inequality to the development of the continent of Africa and the countries that form the continent. An Africa that does

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not jettison disparity is an Africa that would be trapped in the cycle of underdevelopment for as long as the existential epistemology of inequality persists. Even though colonialism’s bolstering of the perception of women as the other was a reflection of the gender relation which was the reality of many of the European societies of the precolonial and colonial times, contemporary Europeans have already moved beyond relegating women as the other because they know that this worldview contradicts building a developed society. The desire of contemporary Africans to develop the continent must override any form of gratification derived from subjugating about half of the population and making them believe that this is stipulated in the traditions. The existential epistemological outlook of women as the other in contemporary African societies has a grave fundamental impact on the opportunities available to women and what they are allowed to do. For example, in some places in contemporary Africa, despite the abject poverty that makes it imperative for women to take up paid employment offers, many women are required to remain in the home as carers and homemakers, activities which are not considered prestigious nor rewarded. This further keeps such women marginalized and dependent on their husbands, who are the sole breadwinners. Demolishing the edifice of colonial existential epistemology requires a two-level deconstruction of the colonial bequest of viewing or defining the African woman as the other of the African man, and that of viewing or defining the African man as the other of the European colonizers. Unless the two-level deconstruction takes place in the mind of the contemporary African and is also reflected in the curricula, processes, and blueprints of contemporary knowledge production and acquisition in Africa, the desideratum of decolonization, which is requisite for development would continue to be elusive. To deconstruct the colonial existential epistemology in Africa, we must pay adequate attention to how knowledge is validated in contemporary Africa’s research institutes and academic institutions. Education is the bedrock of advancement and civilization. Therefore, any form of knowledge production or justification process that privileges male perspectives over females’, or which prioritizes perspectives or narratives from the global North cannot engender decolonization for the African continent or liberate African women from the shackles of colonial existential epistemology. More than ever before, a new pattern of thinking that would give Africans a new identity is required. The pattern of thinking inherited from colonialism gives two differing identities, stratified along gender and class lines, to Africans. However, to deconstruct this pattern of thinking, Africans must address their local existential challenges without looking up to the global North, and women should also see themselves as active contributors to the development of the African continent on political, economic, cultural, epistemic, ethical, and social issues. In other words, for Africa to achieve decolonization and deconstruct the colonial existential epistemology that has kept the continent in a state of underdevelopment for centuries, there must be a strategic delinking or weaning of the epistemology of the continent off the erstwhile colonial powers and their epistemic structure left at the expiration of active colonial occupation. According to Mignolo,

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Delinking requires analysis of the making and remaking of the imperial and colonial differences, and it requires visions and strategies for the implementation of border thinking leading to the de-colonization of knowledge and being; from here new concepts of economy and social organization (politics) will be derived. . . . Delinking means to remove the anchor in which the ‘normalcy effect’ has been produced to hide the fact the anchor can be removed, and the edifice crumbled. (Mignolo, 2010: 407)

In all, deconstructing colonial existential epistemology is a task that all Africans must be interested in because achieving decolonization depends on a deliberate and strategic deconstruction of the existential epistemology of colonization. A feminist confrontation and deconstruction of colonial existential epistemology, therefore, presupposes that contemporary Africans purposefully examine the epistemic structure(s) foisted on Africans by colonizers that still shape the way people understand and treat women. All epistemic values and structures that support the subordination of women should be rejected and done away with in order for women and the continent to move forward. African feminism should be focused on redefining the existential identity of the African woman. Contemporary African women and girls should view and assert themselves as people who are equally capable of achieving development for Africa. Women and girls should not be excluded from contributing to the discourses on the development of the African state. Excluding women and girls from important discourses on Africa’s development manifests in some contemporary African societies in two ways. One is denying the African girl child education, and the other is excluding women from politics. The two conditions are reflecting the legacy of disparity left in the wake of colonialism. Until the existential epistemology of gender disparity in the areas of education and politics is successfully addressed, Africa cannot claim to have achieved decolonization.

Conclusion Having examined how African women became the inferior other to African men, a status or identity which was important to realize and perpetuate the colonial objectives, it is imperative for contemporary Africans, especially African feminists, and women to confront and reject the idea. The concept of women as the other of African men serves to preserve the existential epistemology of African men as the other of colonizers. As long as women are viewed and treated as the other, therefore, the ideal of colonization (and marginalization) is strengthened and this impacts Africa in many ways. It is, therefore, necessary to constantly examine and reexamine the ideals of gender relations to ensure that they are devoid of the burden of inequality introduced by the colonizers. Every existing means of defining African men and women through the identity provided and endorsed by colonization must be firmly resisted and rejected. Africans must redefine their identity themselves in a way that liberates

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them from subjugation and marginalization imposed by the colonial definition of African men and women’s identities. Realizing decolonization and setting contemporary African states on the paths of development depends on doing away with the colonial epistemology of gender disparity and other legacies of colonialism.

References Adegbija, E. (1994). Language attitudes in sub-Saharan Africa: A sociolinguistic overview. Multilingual Matters Limited. Agbalajobi, D. T. (2021). Promoting gender equality in political participation: New perspectives on Nigeria. Rowman and Littlefield. Augusto, A. F. (2013). Assessing the introduction of the Angolan indigenous languages in the educational system in Luanda: A language policy perspective. David Publishing Company. Coly, A. A. (2019). Postcolonial hauntologies: African women’s discourses of the female body. University of Nebraska Press. Hodge, J., Hold, G., & Kopf, M. (2016). Developing Africa: Concepts and practices in twentiethcentury colonialism. Manchester University Press. Imafidon, E. (2019). African philosophy and the otherness of albinism: White skin, black race. Routledge. Ipadeola, A. P. (2023). Feminist African philosophy: Women and the politics of difference. Routledge. Knaus, C. B., & Brown, M. C., II. (2018). The absence of indigenous African higher education: Contextualizing whiteness, post-apartheid racism, and intentionality. In M. C. Brown II & T. E. Dancy II (Eds.), Black colleges across the diaspora: Global perspectives on race and stratification in postsecondary education (pp. 263–288). Emerald Publishing. Linden, M. v d. (2016). The acquisition of Africa (1870–1914). Brill. Maddox, G. (2018). Conquest, and resistance to colonialism in Africa. Routledge. Mignolo, W. D. (2010). Delinking: The rhetoric of modernity, the logic of coloniality and the grammar of decoloniality. In W. D. Mignolo & A. Escobar (Eds.), Globalization and the decolonial option (pp. 371–410). Routledge. Mudimbe, V. Y. (2020). The invention of Africa: Gnosis, philosophy, and the order of knowledge. Lulu Press. Musisi, N. (2002). The politics of perception or perception as politics? Colonial and missionary representations of Baganda women, 1900–1945. In J. Allman, S. Geiger, & N. Musisi (Eds.), Women in African colonial histories (pp. 95–115). Indiana University Press. Ngwena, C. (2018). What is Africanness? Contesting nativism in race, culture and sexualities. Pretoria University Law Press. Olaniyan, T. (1995). Scars of conquest/marks of resistance: The invention of cultural identities in African, African American and Caribbean drama (pp. 38–39). Oxford University Press. Oyewumi, O. (1997). The invention of women: Making sense of western gender discourses. University of Minnesota Press. Oyewumi, O. (2005). Visualizing the body: Western theories and African subjects. In O. Oyewumi (Ed.), African gender studies: A reader (pp. 3–22). Palgrave Macmillan. Rodney, W. (2018). How Europe underdeveloped Africa. Verso. Rönnbäck, K. (2016). Labour and living standards in pre-colonial West Africa: The case of the Gold Coast. Routledge. Roothaan, A. (2019). Indigenous, modern, and postcolonial relations to nature: Negotiating the environment. Routledge. Wolff, H. E. (2018). African socio- and applied linguistics. In T. Güldemann (Ed.), The languages and linguistics of Africa. Walter de Gruyter GmbH.

Part VII Philosophy and the Nonhuman

The Nonhuman in African Philosophy Alena Rettova´

Contents Introduction: African Humanism and the Nonhuman Turn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Nonhuman in African Thought: From Al-Inkishafi to Postcolonial African Texts . . . . . . . Al-Inkishafi: A Nineteenth-Century Philosophical Primer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The World Is Worthless and Destructive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The World Is Impermanent and Deceptive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion: The Nonhuman, Language, and Genre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter interrogates the conceptualizations of the nonhuman in African thought. To do this, it draws on a Swahili Sufi poem entitled Al-Inkishafi, by Sayyid Abdallah bin Ali Bin Nassir (1720–1820). The poem presents a distinct notion of the nonhuman as “the world,” constructed in opposition to the human understood as fundamentally antagonistic to humanity. The world is characterized as worthless, impermanent, deceptive, and destructive. Such a view of the world is not isolated in African cultures, but is indeed ubiquitous in regions with a strong influence of Sufi Islam, and even beyond these regions. Based on the philosophical assertion about “the world” in Al-Inkishafi, the chapter then traces the developments of this notion of “the world” in two postcolonial African texts: a Swahili novel by Euphrase Kezilahabi, Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo (1975), and a Wolof novel by Boubacar Boris Diop, Doomi Golo (2003). It suggests that reading these novels against the background of Al-Inkishafi’s conceptualization of “the world” dramatically changes their interpretation. In the case of Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo, an intellectual continuity between Sufism, existentialism, and socialism makes it possible to attribute the failures of socialism in Tanzania to the A. Rettová (*) University of Bayreuth, Bayreuth, Germany e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_42

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very nature of the world. Doomi Golo presents a world where the ephemeral nature of human existence is taken as a point of departure and where deception belongs to the basic setup of all reality. Keywords

Nonhuman · Al-Inkishafi · Genre(s) · Literature · Textual cultures · African languages · (Euphrase) Kezilahabi · Boubacar Boris Diop · Swahili · Wolof

Introduction: African Humanism and the Nonhuman Turn “I know of no African philosopher who has not argued that African philosophy is humanistic,” states Lewis R. Gordon, and goes on to define humanism as “a value system that places priority on the welfare, worth, and dignity of human beings” (2008: 186). Lewis Gordon’s statement discloses the glaring absence of a “natural philosophy” in African philosophy. Does this absence reveal a lack of interest in the nonhuman? Indeed, the existing representations of African philosophy seem to confirm Gordon’s observation. Gordon himself derives “African humanism” from the ontological hierarchy inherent in African cosmologies, which places God on top, followed by spiritual beings, ancestors, and then humans. Animals, plants, and inanimate nature follow in rank after humans. Such a scheme is present in a number of presentations of African philosophy, most famously Placide Tempels’ Bantu Philosophy (1959). On the other hand, many African philosophers situate the root of “African humanism” in social practice. This is the case of “Ubuntu,” literally “humanity” or even “humanism.” “Ubuntu” is seen as a fundamental philosophy common to all Africa (Ramose, 1999), even if in some cultures it may be present under different names, such as “communitarianism” (Gyekye, 1995). Ubuntu philosophy is built on two pillars, a normative understanding of humanity and a constitutive role of community in the formation of humanity. This chapter contests this apparent absence of a philosophy of the nonhuman. The focus on human relations – as demonstrated in all the variants of the philosophy of Ubuntu as well as versions of communitarianism – is, without a doubt, a key foundational philosophical insight; this is hardly surprising, given the fact that humans are bound to be interested in their own nature and the practical arrangements of their own lives. This chapter, however, argues that the “humanistic” trends of African thought are complemented by equally strong tendencies that interrogate the nonhuman; and again, this is more than obvious: as humans, we are naturally interested not only in that which we are, but also in that which we are not. The interest in the nonhuman is revealed in African textual cultures, and this chapter looks at textual traditions that portray the nonhuman as that which faces and opposes the human; as that which is enemical to human strivings and poses a threat to human existence. It is thus a fundamentally antagonistic understanding of the nonhuman. In the textual traditions under examination, this broadly understood nonhuman is generally referred to as “the world.” The intuitions of an adversarial

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world opposed to human strivings are particularly common in intellectual traditions derived from Muslim thought, in particular Sufi Islam. Islam spread in vast swathes of the African continent at the end of the first millennium or in the early second millennium, and as Souleymane Bachir Diagne emphasizes, the centers of Muslim learning such as Timbuktu, Djenné, Mopti, or Coki are source of a tradition of “written erudition” (Diagne, 2016: 57, see also Diagne, 2018) whose presence in African philosophical thought has so far been almost entirely overlooked. But Islam also penetrated East Africa, where equally significant centers of learning – city states such as Pate, Lamu, Mombasa, and many others – burgeoned along the Swahili coast. Swahili – the name of a language nowadays – is derived from the word meaning “the coast” in Arabic, and it originally referred to a cluster of coastal cultures and their variants of a Bantu language. The key source of this chapter from which I tease out a conception of the nonhuman is a precolonial text in Swahili, Sayyid Abdallah bin Ali bin Nasir’s AlInkishafi (ca. 1800). In this text, the nonhuman is conceptualized as “the world.” The human, then, is itself defined through its opposition to the nonhuman. In such philosophies of the nonhuman, the human is not a point of departure of philosophical thought but a relational concept: the human is that which the nonhuman is not. In place of the foundational emphasis on the human as the philosophical starting point, in these philosophies the focus is thus on the nonhuman while understandings of the human are derived from these primary intuitions. This understanding of the nonhuman underpins concepts classified under epistemology (knowledge, illusion), practical philosophy and ethics (good and evil, the meaning of life, moral behavior), for that matter, also ontology and metaphysics (the nature of things, the larger scheme of worldly existence, and the beyond). In other words, a full-fledged philosophical system is present – at times formulated explicitly, at times implicit – and built on this understanding of the nonhuman. The story, of course, does not end with Al-Inkishafi, itself one poem in a continuous tradition along the East African coast (Knappert, 1979; Vierke, 2016) and one that is mirrored in very similar poems in West African Muslim scholarship (Sylla n.d.; Seydou, 2008; Brenner, 2005; Lô, 2020). This foundational insight about “the world,” as well as the conceptual repertoire built on it, is further operative in a vast body of African texts of subsequent epochs, where it has been interrogated and developed, but also applied to topical historical events and impacted understandings of African history, politics, and generally African experience throughout centuries. This conception of “the world,” as a “traveling figuration” (Vierke, 2016), for instance, has been used to interpret the experience of the historical upheaval that was the imposition of socialism in Tanzania in the late 1960s. Contemporary African textual traditions reflect such fundamental philosophical insights on which they are based. Here a word should be said about the method through which the interrogation and development of these concepts in African texts is effectuated. The processes through which African texts perpetuate, complement, or challenge the foundational philosophical insights exposed in texts such as Al-Inkishafi are not necessarily the theoretical, abstract articulation that is the foundation of most of Western philosophy today; after all, nonfictional prose is but

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one textual genre among others. Traditions of thought – African postcolonial texts being a case in question – often proceed by a narrativization of concepts: concepts are projected in the narrative structure of a story, they are explored through the temporal development of a narrative, they are spatialized in actual or imagined settings and embodied in fictional characters. In other words, these intellectual traditions use genres of what is conventionally called “literature.” This chapter considers narrativization and fictionization as legitimate processes of philosophical inquiry, in as much as it challenges the bias of contemporary (mainly Western or Eurocentric) academic philosophical practice toward nonfictional prose as its sole genre of expression (Rettová, 2021a). This preponderance is but a historical contingency affecting Western philosophy and should not limit philosophers’ access to the philosophical traditions of other cultures, which often use other genres and other forms of articulation and projection in order to arrive at their philosophical understandings. In terms of theory, this chapter departs from recent articulations of the nonhuman, present in fields of philosophy, literary, and cultural theory, such as object-oriented ontology, animal studies, ecocritical and ecological theories, and branches of posthumanism. Its key inspiration is the recent theorization of the “nonhuman turn” by Richard Grusin and the researchers assembled around him. Grusin states that “the nonhuman turn . . . is engaged in decentering the human in favor of a turn toward and concern for the nonhuman, understood variously in terms of animals, affectivity, bodies, organic and geophysical systems, materiality, or technologies” (Grusin, 2015: vii, emphasis added). This list of “the nonhuman” is significant: it makes clear that the notion of the nonhuman is very wide and inclusive. Grusin also clarifies the origins of the conceptualizations of the nonhuman: the theorists of the nonhuman turn “argue . . . against human exceptionalism, expressed most often in the form of conceptual or rhetorical dualisms that separate the human from the nonhuman – variously conceived as animals, plants, organisms, climatic systems, technologies, or ecosystems.” (Grusin, 2015: x, emphasis added). The nonhuman turn is timely in contemporary humanities. As Grusin elaborates: Given that almost every problem of note that we face in the twenty-first century entails engagement with nonhumans – from climate change, drought, and famine; to biotechnology, intellectual property, and privacy; to genocide, terrorism, and war – there seems no time like the present to turn our future attention, resources, and energy toward the nonhuman broadly understood. (Grusin, 2015: vii, emphasis added)

Grusin does not give a full-fledged definition of the human, and perhaps that is precisely his objective: to demonstrate the fluidity of the human, the inability to define it other than by speaking about the nonhuman – a procedure strikingly similar to how Al-Inkishafi approaches the human. He does, however, mention in passing the “traditional liberal humanist subject” (Grusin, 2015: xvii) as the human pole in the “conceptual and rhetorical dualisms” evoked in the above quotation. Indeed, this notion – one based on the humanism of the European Enlightenment, on thinkers such as Descartes or Kant, to be explicit – appears to underpin his entire theorization

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of the nonhuman turn. This is of course a limitation of Grusin’s work. How far is the nonhuman turn relevant for African philosophy? If Grusin’s orientation is clearly Eurocentric, his list of the nonhuman phenomena contains such that are globally pressing and topical. If African philosophy wants to be relevant in contemporary theory, the nonhuman turn is, then, a highly relevant notion. This does not mean, however, that the pole of the human needs to be defined in the same way as Grusin and his colleagues do, nor does this theorist’s list of the nonhuman exhaust the categories of the nonhuman as constituted and pertinent in African contexts. The nonhuman turn is relevant as a critique of any humanism; only the poles of human and nonhuman will be defined differently depending on the context. An African humanism produces specific notions of the human and the nonhuman; and an African philosophy of the nonhuman inevitably defines its human counterpole. Finally, is it necessary to start from a philosophy of the nonhuman? Also African humanisms offer conceptualizations of the nonhuman; are these not satisfactory? Cosmological humanisms rank the nonhuman in a hierarchy, below the human; in this way they devalue it. Ubuntu philosophy, on the other hand, is based on human relations – relations among humans. Such relationality has, by some theorists, been expanded to include also nonhuman others and the environment; Ramose himself proposes an “ecology through Ubuntu” (2009). Puleng LenkaBula states that the philosophy of Ubuntu (she uses the Sotho cognate Botho) is a philosophy that includes a consideration of the environment: Botho implies at minimum a sensible acknowledgement of the rights of others. It also recognises the relevance of equality, self-respect, health, opportunities, income, wealth and relations with the cosmos, the planets and creation. (LenkaBula 2008: 379)

The relationship to the environment is, in fact, constitutive of humanity, in as much as community and a relationship to a deity are constitutive of it: Sesotho/Setswana saying motho ke motho ka batho ba bangwe, motho ke motho ka boyena, motho ke motho ka tikologo, motho ke motho ka modimo. This literally translates as ‘a human being is a human being through other human beings, through the human self and through the physical organic cosmic environment and through God.’ (LenkaBula 2008: 383, emphasis in bold added)

It should be noted that, in this quotation, LenkaBula translates or explains the Sesotho word tikologo “surroundings, environment” as “physical organic cosmic environment” – a semantic expansion or reinterpretation granted to the philosopher, but introducing meanings (notions of the physical, the organic, the cosmic. . .) not necessarily present in the Sesotho word itself. Human interactions with the nonhuman are indeed based on relating to the human. However, a philosophy of the nonhuman modeled on human-to-human interactions is insufficient. As the nonhuman does not react in the same way as the human – it does not “speak back” –, these interactions are of an unequal nature and easily end up in objectifying and instrumentalizing the nonhuman. If Ubuntu has

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been criticized for giving insufficient attention to the individuality of persons, in favor of the constitutive role of the community for individuals, this is doubly true for the nonhuman. As a social construction of the other, Ubuntu is unable to ensure the nonhuman upholds its autonomy and agency. Ubuntu therefore logically leads to anthropocentrism, relating everything back to humanity, to the human center (Horsthemke, 2015). It inevitably fails to consider the transcendence (Levinas, 1979) of the nonhuman other. A fundamentally different way of discursive construction of the nonhuman appears necessary. On the other hand, there are also good reasons to construct the nonhuman as antagonistic to the human. This has been demonstrated during the recent Covid-19 crisis. Several African philosophers tried to articulate African responses to the pandemic based on versions of African humanism (e.g., Ikuenobe, 2020; Diagne, 2020). They referred, respectively, to communitarian ethics and to cosmologies in adopting and observing measures to curb the spread of the virus. But how can the virus itself be conceptualized in such philosophies? While the communitarian approach hardly considers the virus as a distinct entity and prioritizes human solidarity in the management of the infection, the cosmological approach appears particularly problematic to conceptualize the situation. If “nothing is at level zero of life, nothing is inert; from the force of forces, which is God, to the mineral, you have the continuity of life” (Diagne, 2020). Also, the virus is part of this continuity of life and part of the constellation of “forces,” as Diagne says in tacit allusion to Tempels (1959). How then can strategies be developed to combat it? How can anti-Covid measures be justified, such as the vaccines, which are tested on (and destroy) animals, also members of the overarching “continuity of life”? Even more poignantly, from the perspective of the planet (anthropogenic degradation of the environment, climate change, etc.), the virus appears to work against the human destruction of the planet and reestablish an equilibrium; how can then members of the large Ubuntu community (humans) strive to eradicate it? Cosmological and relational constructions of the nonhuman thus appear inadequate and there is need of a dualistic philosophy that opposes the human to the nonhuman and helps understand their mutual antagonism, even destruction. Can such a philosophy be found in African philosophical thought? What foundational insight on the nonhuman is there in African thought? Before we proceed with the interrogation, it is important to consider what is “African thought”? African thought is articulated in African textual cultures; and it is these that are the source of approaches to the nonhuman in this chapter. More specifically, it is in Afrophone (African-language) texts that intellectual continuities and resonances can best be established: language and linguistic legacies constitute links across centuries and across spaces. This chapter uses texts in Swahili and in Wolof. The genres of the texts under scrutiny here are conventionally described as “poetry” and “novels.” Various genres of poetry have traditionally been the avenues of philosophical discourse in many African cultures; and it is the novel that has served as the chief intellectual vehicle to negotiate African colonial and postcolonial modernity, including its philosophical foundations (Rettová, 2016b). It is thus impossible fully to understand philosophical thought in African postcolonial

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societies without taking into consideration the discourses developed through the medium of these genres – even if they do not fit neatly in the strict categories of “scholarly philosophy” (Kresse, 2007: 20) or “second-order philosophy” (Oruka, 1990), themselves categories of considerable Eurocentric bias.

The Nonhuman in African Thought: From Al-Inkishafi to Postcolonial African Texts Al-Inkishafi: A Nineteenth-Century Philosophical Primer While multiple categories of the nonhuman (the animal, the machine, the spirit, etc.) are elaborated in African textual cultures, in this chapter I will concentrate on a general notion of the nonhuman constructed in categorical opposition to the human. To isolate this notion, I will draw on a precolonial Swahili poem called Al-Inkishafi, authored by a Pate nobleman named Sayyid Abdallah bin Ali bin Nasir (1720–1820). In the poem, the poetic persona dwells on the impermanence and evanescence of earthly life and worldly pleasures and admonishes the “heart,” a reference to the inner sphere of the human being, to withdraw itself from the world in pursuit of religious truth. The poem thus establishes a distinction between the human and the nonhuman: the two notions are constituted oppositionally. While the human is reduced to the capacity to resist the nonhuman (Rettová, 2020), the discursive construction of the nonhuman is far more elaborate. The nonhuman is referred to as dunia or ulimwengu, “the world” (etymologically, the former is an Arabic loan word while the other word has a Bantu origin). “The world” appears in two meanings in the poem, (1) as historical and material settings of human existence and (2) as a metaphysical principle on which these material conditions operate. It is this second meaning that is particularly interesting from a philosophical point of view. Sayyid Abdallah bin Ali bin Nassir’s Al-Inkishafi inscribes itself in the tradition of poetic discourse along the East African coast which, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, gave expression to Sufi trends of Islam. It is thus not an isolated poem; on the contrary, the East African tradition of Swahili Sufi poetry was already highly developed in the nineteenth century (Vierke, 2016). One of its trends was poetry of religious asceticism, zuhdiyya (Abdulaziz, 1996: 421). As Sperl explains: The zuhdiyya preaches renunciation of transient, sensual pleasures so that man’s soul may remain pure and he may be rewarded with eternal bliss in the hereafter. . . . The world (al-dunyā) is full of deceit (ghurūr) to which man falls victim because of his ignorance ( jahl). As a result, he goes astray (ḍall), is subject to greed (ḥirṣ) for wealth and stature, and so humiliates himself (adhalla) by committing acts of evil (sharr). He acquires wealth through the misery of the poor and spends his time in laughter and amusement (maraḥ, ghibṭa). On the Day of Reckoning he will be cast into hell-fire. (Sperl, 1989: 72)

This description applies also to Al-Inkishafi. The poem captures in gist the double nature of the world: on the one hand, the world makes up the physical environment of human existence; on the other hand, it operates on a metaphysical principle that

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makes it into a highly unreliable place. Al-Inkishafi stands out among similar homiletic poetic texts of its time precisely in its rich depictions of the world as historical conditions, as a living space. The world is the context of human life, human agency, action, and activity. In the poem, this living space is described in its transition from wealth and luxury to ruin and decay, from human civilization and enjoyment to wild animals (bats, owls, spiders, vultures, cockroaches. . .) inhabiting the space. Vierke speaks of the topos of “two cities, constructed in contrasting terms” (Vierke, 2016: 234). The poem thus presents a fascinating phenomenology of “the world” as living conditions, characterized as wealth and pleasure, and a corresponding phenomenology of the self, elaborated in opposition to the world (and much less clearly defined, cf. Rettová, 2020). The connection between the world and the self is in the concept of death, and this concept is related to the meaning of “the world” as an operational and organizing principle of reality. Death is a process of change and transformation, an encroachment of the nonhuman on the human, transforming the human into the nonhuman. Death makes humans realize that their living conditions – the context of their lives and actions – are unreliable and changeable, if not outspokenly hostile. Four characteristics can be derived from the meaning of the world as operational principle, as portrayed in Al-Inkishafi. The world is • Worthless: dunia ni jifa siikaribu/haipendi mtu ila kilabu (st. 19, the world is a rotten carrion, do not come close to it, only dogs want it) • Impermanent: suu ulimwengu uutakao . . . hauna dawamu hudumu nao (st. 31, this world that you so desire does not last, and you will not last with it) • Deceptive: dunia ina ghururi (st. 12, the world is full of deceipt) • Destructive: suu ulimwengu bahari tesi . . . kwa kulla khasara ukhasiriye (st. 13, this world is a raging ocean, destructive in every way) (quoted from the edition by Mulokozi, 1999, with my own translation) These characteristics are of course related: the world is characterized by being impermanent and deceptive, and as a result, it is worthless and destructive; they are therefore also valid simultaneously. These characteristics of the world as an organizing principle of reality affect the world as the conditions of life: they impose on it a unidirectional development, from wealth to decay, from pleasure to pain – a pain that does not finish at death but is perpetuated in the torment of Hell for those who did not realize the risks of succumbing to the temptation of the world soon enough to secure salvation for themselves. We can see here that “the world,” the nonhuman is constructed in Al-Inkishafi in a radically different way than the constructions present in African cosmologies, where the nonhuman occupies specific ranks of the hierarchy of “forces” (Tempels, 1959), with the human in the center, or in African communitarian approaches, like Ubuntu, where the nonhuman exists in a network of relationships with the human. In AlInkishafi, the nonhuman is constructed in opposition to the human and it stands in strong antagonism to the human, frustrating human effort and, indeed, destroying human possessions, even human physical existence. This antagonism is a very

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important aspect of this construction of the nonhuman; as we have seen, relational or cosmological constructions of the nonhuman struggle to explain antagonistic relationships with the nonhuman, such as when the nonhuman destroys the human (virus, wild animals, natural catastrophes, etc.). Another aspect of this construction of the nonhuman that needs to be noted is that it is exceedingly common across African cultures. Al-Inkishafi is not isolated in constructing the nonhuman in this way: not only does it rest on a rich tradition of Swahili poetic discourse along the East African coast; it reflects, in fact, a notion of “the world” present, if not prevalent, in most cultures in Africa that have adopted Islam, notably many Muslim cultures in West Africa (Diagne, 2016). But the Sufi Muslim notion of the deceptive and destructive world also resonates with Christian notions of the world, and the duality of the hidden and the apparent, of the truth concealed behind a deceptive surface, upholds multiple African systems of divination, manipulation of magic – in general terms, forms of spirituality. This means that similar, more or less adversarial conceptions of the nonhuman are likely to be found in many African cultures, and they relativize the harmonious conception of the nonhuman developed in ramifications of Ubuntu philosophy and other communitarian or cosmological systems. It is then not surprising that the sentiments voiced in Al-Inkishafi strongly resonate in African textual cultures. A conceptualization of “the world” derived from Al-Inkishafi can help conceptualize and interpret salient phenomena of modern African history and politics, such as socialism, migration, knowledge and cognitive pluralism, war and violence. Postcolonial African writing applies the method of narrativizing philosophical concepts, principles, and insights to reflect on these historical and political phenomena. Intertextual continuities connect the “genre ecologies” (Spinuzzi, 2003) of African cultures. The two case studies presented in the following sections analyze a novel in Swahili, Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo by Euphrase Kezilahabi, and a novel in Wolof, Doomi Golo by Boubacar Boris Diop. Spanning Africa’s West and East, published nearly 30 years after one another, both the novels present “the world” as a setting of human action. These qualities of “the world” as a metaphysical principle profoundly impact human lives and determine the outcomes of human activity. While all four characteristics apply to “the world” in both cases, worthlessness and a destructive nature of the world are prominent in the way “the world” is portrayed in Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo. On the other hand, impermanence and deception are essential attributes of “the world” in Doomi Golo.

The World Is Worthless and Destructive The influence of Sufi philosophy encapsulated in Swahili poetry of the nineteenth century on Swahili postcolonial novelists is a direct one. These authors stand on a long tradition of poetry voicing rejections and devaluations of “the world.” The world is worthless, changeable, unreliable, and destructive to humans. Next to religions poems, also “popular poetry” taps on this tradition. The famous Mombasan poet Muyaka bin Hajji al Ghassaniy, who “brought poetry out of the mosque and into

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the market-place” (Harries, 1962: 2), characterized the world as unreliable and unworthy: Dunia mti mkavu, / kiumbe siulemele, Ukaufanyia nguvu / kuudhabiti kwa ndole; Mtiwe ni mtakavu, / mara ulikwangushile. Usione kwenda mbele, / kurudi nyuma si kazi. The world is a dry brittle tree; do not lean on it, you mortal creature. Nor should you hold on to it tightly with too firm a grip. It is made of rotten wood, and will soon drop you to the ground: Do not be too tempted by present good fortune, misfortune may come any time. (Lit. You may be finding yourselves moving forward now, but going back is the most easy thing to happen). (Muyaka bin Haji (1776–1840, in Abdulaziz, 1979: 63, transl. Abdulaziz)

Muyaka’s contemporaries, such as Ali bin Athmani from Pate, known as Ali Koti (1820–1895) (Harries, 1964), or poets taking up his poetic legacy in the twentieth century, such as Ahmad Nassir Juma Bhalo (1966, 1971), presented similar visions of the world. Ultimately, these sentiments can be traced back to the Qur’an, which states (in Swahili translation): “Na maisha ya dunia si kitu ila ni starehe ya udanganyifu.” (“Worldly life is merely delusory enjoyment.”, Qur’an, sura 3, verse 185, Tarjuma ya Quran Tukufu kwa Kiswahili, https://www.iium.edu.my/ deed/quran/swahili/3.html, my translation). There is also a long line of novelists, playwrights, and filmmakers who have referred to this notion of “the world” in some of their key works. In Said Ahmed Mohamed’s Dunia Mti Mkavu (The World Is a Dry Tree, 1980), the Sufi sentiments of the unreliability and destructiveness of the world serve to explain the failure of a dockers’ strike. In a secularized notion of the Sufi notion of dunia under the impact of Marxism, the nature of dunia is to blame both for the ailments of the world (exploitation, oppression) and for the failures of political measures, such as a strike, to address these. The Sufi philosophy of renunciation legitimates resignation and accounts for the ineffectiveness of means of class struggle. Obviously, this renunciation of the world derived from Sufism is in tension with the Marxist aspiration to shape reality and change the world. The same author’s Dunia Yao (Their World, 2006) alludes to the saying “dunia ni mapito, dunia si yetu” (the world is impermanent, the world is not ours); this saying often figures as an inscription on kanga cloths (wrappers used by women as clothes). The world is presented as distant and inaccessible, alienated – “not ours.” The novel reinterprets this distancing in postcolonial and generational categories. Popular productions trace the flimsical nature of human relationships, in particular marriage, to the treacherous nature of the world. Good examples are the novels Dunia Hadaa, by Hammie Rajab (1982), Dunia Hadaa by Catherine N. M. Kisovi (2007), as well as Lamir H. Omar’s Dunia Mashaka Makuu (2004), the video Dunia Hadaa ¼ The Cheating World by Kassim El-Siagi, Amri Bawji, Ruwa Ali, Kassim

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Mohamed, and Alex Mgaya, produced by El-Siagi Movies, GMC Wasanii Promoters (2003), the play Dunia Hadaa by I. B. M. Mtunzi (1980), and the film Dunia Hadaa (2020). Human relationships and human society are thus also subsumed under the term dunia; even the community is part of the unreliable and destructive workings of “the world.” The human is indeed reduced to the gist, the agency and capacity of resistance to the temptation of “the world” thus understood (Rettová, 2020). Euphrase Kezilahabi’s Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo (The world is an arena of chaos, 1975) uses the metaphysics of “the world” to criticize the Tanzanian policy of Ujamaa (socialism, “familyhood”) (cf. Rettová, 2016a). The title of the novel introduces the word fujo, which has an interesting history. Firstly, the title is a quotation of a Swahili saying, where fujo refers to human effort: the world is a place where humans can realize their ambitions. Yet, in contemporary Swahili, the word fujo means “chaos.” For Kezilahabi, the word signals the notion of absurdity derived from the philosophy of existentialism, which he introduced into Swahili literature (Bernarder, 1977; Bertoncini Zúbková et al., 2009; Rettová, 2016c). The existentialist redefinition of fujo – from “effort” to “chaos” – has dramatic consequences. The novel captures the radical shift of meanings under Ujamaa, the change of productive work into dispossession and frustration at a time of historical rupture, as experienced by the characters of the novel. With the introduction of socialism into Tanzanian society, the world transforms itself from a place where people could achieve success and prosperity through focus and applied effort to a stage of absurdity and chaos. The world has become unpredictable due to Ujamaa: private property has been nationalized, innocent people have experienced dispossession, and the forced relocation to artificially created vijiji vya Ujamaa (socialist villages; this phenomenon is studied especially in Kezilahabi’s subsequent novel, Gamba la Nyoka, A Snake’s Skin, Kezilahabi 1979) has disturbed traditional values and lifestyles. These are phenomena well known from most regions where socialism was violently introduced. Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo demonstrates this on the life of Tumaini, a village youth who rises to become a wealthy farmer. With the arrival of Ujamaa, however, his farm is nationalized without compensation. Tumaini cannot bear the frustration and kills the party functionary whom he blames for this theft of his property. The final scenes of the novel show Tumaini in prison awaiting execution. Visited by his former friend, Dennis, who prospers in the new regime, Tumaini complains: “Ulisema kwamba Dunia uwanja wa fujo, kwamba kila mtu lazima atumie kichwa chake ajitahidi, afanye kazi kwa bidii ili apate kujiendeleza. . . . Mimi nimefanya fujo hiyo: nimeweza kuwa tajiri. Lakini sasa niko wapi?” Dennis alikaa kimya. “Ulinidanganya Dennis,” Tumaini aliendelea. “Sikusema uwongo,” Dennis alijibu. “Wakati huo Azimio la Arusha lilikuwa halijawa na nguvu. Wakati huo mambo yalikuwa hivyo kwa sababu ndipo Azimio lilipokuwa likianza. Lakini sasa mambo yamebadilika.” (Kezilahabi 1975: 187) “You said that the world was a place to make an effort, that everyone had to use his head to try and work assiduously in order to develop himself. . . . I made that effort: and I managed to get rich. But where am I now?”

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Dennis was quiet. “You lied to me, Dennis,” Tumaini continued. “I did not tell a lie,” Dennis responded. “At that time the Arusha Declaration was not yet in force. At that time things were like that because it was the time when the Declaration was being launched. But now things have changed.” (translation mine)

With the Arusha Declaration – the manifesto of Tanzanian socialism from 1967 –, the rules of the game changed. Those playing by the rules lost. Tumaini bitterly observes: “Dennis. Sasa nitazame. Nitakufa kama ng’ombe. Nitatupwa pembeni kama gunia zee niliwe na mchwa.” “Lakini mwanasiasa yule alitupa fasili nzuri ya dunia uwanja wa fujo. . . .” “Alisemaje?” “Alisema dunia uwanja wa fujo. Lakini fujo hii ni ya kiuchumi. Lazima tuifanye kwa pamoja, kijamaa, ndipo tutaweza kufanya fujo itakayoweza kujulikana ulimwenguni.” (Kezilahabi 1975: 188) “Dennis, now look at me. I will die like cattle. I will be tossed aside like an old sack to be eaten by termites.” “But that politician gave us a good interpretation of what it meant that the world was a place to make effort. . . . ” “What did he say?” “He said the world was a place to make an effort. But that effort was economic. We must do it together, socialistically, and then we will be able to make an effort that will be known in the world.” (translation mine)

The change of the meanings of the traditional saying is a good example of the “annihilation of semantics” (Glanc, 2022) that illiberal political regimes sometimes effectuate. Meanings shift or words are emptied of meaning altogether: they become signifiers of a reality to which they no longer refer with any measure of predictability and stability. With Ujamaa, the world has become unreliable, changeable, and as a result worthless and destructive. In this world become worthless, also human action, derived from it and situated in it, becomes worthless. Human possessions, even human existence itself is destroyed: the human body is “thrown away like an old sack.” In as much as people are invested in this unreliable world, they are prone to such reduction to nothing, as Al-Inkishafi has warned us. The upheaval of Ujamaa, where human effort was frustrated by a violent imposition of a political regime, meant that social conditions changed from one day to another. People suffered dispossession, frustration, and disillusionment. Uhuru – independence – became for them not an era of freedom and fulfillment but yet another fracture of history, ushering in a system that many failed to understand. The world became changeable like a chameleon, constantly jeopardizing human activities and efforts. Ujamaa is the implementation of the deceptive and changeable nature of the world. Kezilahabi establishes a continuity of thought between Sufism and existentialism, on the one hand. Sufi sentiments about the world are reinterpreted according to existentialist philosophy, using the notion of absurdity. On the other hand, there

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is also a continuity between Sufism and socialism or Marxism, where the evil of the world is linked to the class structure of society, to exploitation and oppression, and the destructive nature of the world is manifest in the failure of political measures to redress these social ailments. This is the case in Dunia Mti Mkavu by Said Ahmed Mohamed, less so in Kezilahabi; in Said Ahmed Mohamed’s work the Sufi resignation with the world resurfaces to justify the failures of socialist politics to bring about a positive change in society, and it legitimates a withdrawal from politics. Postcolonial Swahili literature adopts pivotal concepts of Sufi thought, such as dunia, but it also “quotes” earlier texts and textual forms (such as genres of poetry, as in the “quotation” of Muyaka’s line “dunia mti mkavu” by Said Ahmed Mohamed), topoi or “figurations” (Vierke, 2016). These become the carriers of intellectual continuity from Sufism to existentialism and Marxism. They are present in contemporary African literature on the level of language (the word dunia), through generic fracturing (quotations of poetry, cf. Rettová, 2021b), in imagery and themes. Postcolonial literature in African languages thus stands on, elaborates, and recontextualizes the philosophical notions and principles from its textual predecessors – such continuity is often absent, less visible, or even quite impossible in Europhone African literature; yet these notions and principles are key in reading such contemporary texts. We will see this very clearly in the next case study, which offers an interesting duality of “world-views” established by translation, more precisely, by the author’s creation of a new version of the text in another language. Reading Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo against the background of the Sufi philosophy explicated in Al-Inkishafi has dramatically changed its interpretation. The same phenomenon will be observed in Boubacar Boris Diop’s Doomi Golo, where linguistic and textual continuity with the same tradition of Sufi Islam, mediated through the word àddina, which shares the same origin as dunia in the Arabic word dunyā (‫)ﺩﻥﻱﺍ‬, will affect perceptions of the postcolonial situation in Africa and in particular of migration from Senegal to the Middle East.

The World Is Impermanent and Deceptive Doomi Golo was published in 2003 in Wolof, then as Les Petits de la guenon in 2009 in the author’s own French translation (Diop 2003, 2009; see Repinecz, 2014 for a comparison of the two versions). In 2016, the book was published as Doomi Golo – The Hidden Notebooks in an English translation by Vera Wülfing-Leckie and El Hadji Moustapha Diop. This translation (used here) follows the French version. There is also a Spanish-Wolof bilingual edition (Diop 2015), but the two texts appear one after another and the translation by Wenceslao-Carlos Lozano is also from the French, not from the Wolof. Referring to the translation will be significant here, as the meanings of “the world”, present only in the original, have a major impact on the whole interpretation of the novel.

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The themes of Doomi Golo include life and death, migration, aping and mimicry, questions of community and family, orality and writing, communication and translation. Structurally, the book is a highly complex composition, consisting of “six Notebooks, different narrative strains that alternate like the movements of a symphony” using “cinematographic techniques [that] let [the author] zoom in on different locations, real or imagined, from this vantage point under the mango tree” and that “give him the freedom to skip back and forth between past, present and future, as he sees fit” (Wülfing-Leckie, 2016: viii). The six notebooks signal toward “a mysterious seventh Notebook, The Book of Secrets” (Wülfing-Leckie, 2016: viii). The novel was the first of Boubacar Boris Diop’s novels in Wolof. Diop adopted the Wolof language for his literary writing following his participation in Rwanda, écrire par devoir de mémoire, a session organized in 1998 by Nocky Djedanoum and Maïmouna Coulibaly (Fest’Africa) to motivate African authors to write about the Rwandan genocide. The Rwandan genocide was “un tournant dans la carrière littéraire de Boubacar Boris Diop” (“a turning point in the literary career of Boubacar Boris Diop”, Wane, 2004: 8), a turning point that also impacted his linguistic choice in subsequent writing. He recognized that “language policies had taken a not inconsiderable part in the Rwandan genocide” and “decided to distance himself from a linguistic world that could be seen as stained with blood” (Carré, 2015: 103). The political motivation of the linguistic choice was also linked to a philosophical view of language, in seeking an “equivalence between the mother tongue and a feeling of inner unity, a near transparency or adequacy of the self” and “links between languages and thoughts” (Carré, 2015: 103). Finally, the choice is motivated by aesthetics. Diop elaborates that “writing in your mother tongue makes you experience feelings . . . you would have thought absolutely impossible before . . . The words I use to write Doomi Golo do not come from school or from a dictionary. They come from real life. These words rise up to me from the very distant past, and if their sound is simultaneously so familiar and so pleasing to me, it is because I belong, with every fibre of my being, to an oral tradition.” (Diop, 2014: 117, quoted in Wülfing-Leckie, 2016: ix–x). The shift to Wolof effectuated a shift in the mediality of the novel – in the way it adapts itself to its medium. Wane speaks of a “roman parlé” (“oral novel”, Wane, 2004: 13). Diop confirms that the novel “est lu en famille, à haute voix. Il a une vie tellement différente des autres” (“is read in families, outloud. It has a completely different life from the others”, Tervonen, 2003), and he adds: “En français, les mots n’ont pour moi aucune réalité sonore. Ce sont des mots qui sont dans les dictionnaires, dans d’autres livres, dans un univers froid” (“In French, the words do not have a reality for me in their sounds. They are words that exist in dictionaries, in other books, in a universe that is cold”, Tervonen, 2003). He affirms that: “when I compare my earlier novels to Doomi Golo, I realize now that the words of ‘the Other’ helped me articulate as much as they reduced me to silence or a pathetic stammer.” (Diop, 2014: 117, quoted in Wülfing-Leckie, 2016: xxv). Yet, he is also aware that he is “writing

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for a future audience” (quoted in Wülfing-Leckie, 2016: xxv), in as much as African-language literatures constitute a “littérature de transition” (“literature of transition”, Zanganeh, 2010). Ultimately, this linguistic choice will be able to “better articulate a thinking of [Africa’s] own, freed from the words and concepts born of and attached to European languages” (Carré, 2015: 104). While it is true that “local languages express with a greater accuracy the reality that has to be described” (Carré, 2015: 110), there is another very important aspect of Boubacar Boris Diop’s adoption of Wolof: the establishment of intertextual references and continuities. It was the adoption of Wolof that enabled Diop to fill his complex work with subtle, yet unambiguous references to West African culture, in particular to Sufi mysticism present through quotations of Wolof songs and poetry. The list of intertextual references is long, including Senegalese poet and writer Cheikh Aliou Ndao (1933-), author of first novel in Wolof Buur Tileen (1967, transl. to French Buur Tilleen, roi de la Médina, 1972), the famous philosopher Kocc Barma Fall (1586–1655), proverbs, songs, Sufi poets Serigne Moussa Kâ (1890–1926) and Serigne Mbaye Diakhaté (1875–1954), philosopher and Egyptologist Cheikh Anta Diop (1923–1986), as well as the film maker Ousmane Sembène (1923–2007). Yet where these references depend on linguistic continuities, these links are entirely lost in translation. The best illustration of this is the opening passage of Doomi Golo, which introduces the notion so important to us, that of “the world.” In fact, “the world” is the very first word of the text: Àddina: dund, dee. Leneen newu fi, Badu. Lii rekk: deman, maa ngi ñëw. Naka laa wax loolu, daldi déggaat woykat ba: “Àddina amul solo, ndeysaan. . . Ku ci dee yaa ñàkk sa bakkan, ndeysaan”. (Diop 2003: 13) The world: life, death. There is nothing else here, Badu. This only: go, I am coming. As I said this, then I understood that poet: “The world has no importance, pity Those who die, lose their life, pity.” (translation mine)

“The world”, àddina, is the very first word of the novel and reappears in the two lines from a song or a poem. The notion of “the world” derives from West African Sufi Islam and thus shares a common origin with that of Al-Inkishafi. Also the linguistic form is similar: its basis is the same Arabic word, becoming dunia in Swahili and àddina in Wolof. How surprising it is, then, that the reference to “the world” is absent in Boubacar Boris Diop’s self-translated French rendition of the novel! The solemn opening of the Wolof original, supported by two philosophical

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lines from a poem or a song, contrasts sharply with the lengthy introduction of the topic in the translation. The poetry lines only come on the second page of the text, after several paragraphs introducing the “farewell ritual” of mourning the dead; the reference to “the world” is lost. This passage needs to be quoted at full length to demonstrate this point: For generations, the farewell ritual in our family has remained the same: one by one, we enter the room where the dearly departed has been laid out on a mat, and there we each say our silent prayers for the peace of his soul. The faces are grave and the bodies solemn, as befits the occasion. But almost without fail there will be someone – often the closest friend of the one who has passed away – more devastated than the rest, and he will try to brighten up the atmosphere a little. He will gently tease the deceased who thought it so clever to make a quick getaway from our trivial worries here on earth. And he will tell him, “You are mistaken, old chap, if you think it’s all over between you and me. I am never going to leave you in peace. I’m already on my way, in fact, and I promise I will give you so much hell in heaven that you’ll regret ever having gone there!” And when he implores him to keep a cozy little spot for him in Paradise, some of the others manage to flash a quick smile, gone in an instant. Such moments are precious, Badou. We do need to remind ourselves from time to time that life isn’t really such a big deal, even if we all make a huge fuss about it, this flickering little flame that the wind can snuff out at any moment. But don’t get me wrong: I haven’t opened the first of my seven Notebooks with these slightly somber, doleful words to fill you with disgust for life. It’s quite the opposite. When it comes to living life, I, for one, have never been shy. Right now, for example, as I write these lines to you, a piece of music that was very popular some sixty years ago is rising up in my memory. Addina amul solo ndeysaan / Ku ci dee yaa nakk sa bakkan ndeysaan. (Diop, 2016: 4)

The word àddina appears only in the quotation of the poem; yet, this line remains untranslated. The line is introduced as “a piece of music” that testifies to the narrator Nguirane’s “never being shy.” Through this connection with Nguirane’s youthful frivolity “some sixty years ago”, the Sufi resonances of the two verses are irrevocably lost, especially since the two lines are untranslated – an exoticizing element in the translation, left without a deeper meaning. The link of the poem, through the word àddina, with the heavy philosophical opening is erased. Also the entire atmosphere of the piece has changed. While the author speaks of “the silence that follows, the sudden gravity of atmosphere”, the translated version of the passage does not allow for such silence and gravity; on the contrary, the text appears light, it is full of words and cheerful memories. Boubacar Boris Diop himself has commented on this precise passage as a prime example of the difficulty of translating across two very different cultures: Le meilleur exemple que je peux donner de la difficulté de la tâche, ce sont les trois premiers mots du roman: « Àddina. Dund. Dee. » Quoi de plus facile à rendre en français, a priori ? Cela donnerait: « Ici-bas. Vivre. Mourir. » Il est facile de voir que cela ne veut strictement rien dire. Il m’a fallu près de deux pages pour donner un peu d’allure à ces trois mots si chargés de sens et de tendresse en wolof mais complètement pétrifiés et d’une parfaite niaiserie en français. . . . Pour faire saisir la difficulté à rendre efficacement l’ouverture de

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Doomi Golo, il me faut raccorder ses sonorités à ma propre enfance. Chaque fois en effet qu’il y a eu un décès parmi nos proches, ma mère a annoncé la nouvelle par ces trois mots tout simples: « Àddina. Dund. Dee. » Il suffit de les prononcer devant n’importe quel Sénégalais pour qu’il entende, comme moi-même jadis, le silence qui s’ensuit, la soudaine gravité de l’atmosphère en cet instant où chacun semble se souvenir bien malgré lui de la dérisoire précarité de l’existence humaine. (Diop, 2012) The best example of the difficulty of the task that I can give is the first three words of the novel: « Àddina. Dund. Dee. » What could be easier, a priori, than rendering these in French? It would be: “Here below. Live. Die.” It is easy to see that this does not mean anything. It took me nearly two pages to render somewhat acceptably these three words so charged with meaning and tenderness in Wolof but completely fossilized and perfectly silly in French . . . To communicate the difficulty to render effectively the opening lines of Doomi Golo, I have to remember the sounds of my own childhood. Effectively, every time there was a death among the close relatives, my mother announced the news through these three simple words: : « Àddina. Dund. Dee. » It is enough to pronounced them in front of any Senegalese person and he or she will understand, like myself back then, the silence that follows, the sudden gravity of the atmosphere in this moment when every one seems to be reminded even in spite of him or herself of the derisory precariousness of human existence. (My translation.)

This is the effect of having to translate between two entirely different mental words: Lorsque l’on traduit de l’italien vers l’espagnol ou du bambara vers le pulaar, on est dans le même univers sonore et les codes culturels peuvent se faire harmonieusement écho. Dans ce cas-ci, je devais me débrouiller pour faire correspondre deux univers mentaux radicalement différents, les univers pris en charge par les langues wolof et française. (Diop, 2012, quoted in Carré, 2015) If you translate from Italian to Spanish or from Bambara to Fulfulde, you are in the same sound universe and the cultural codes echo one another harmoniously. In this case, I had to establish correspondences between two mental worlds that are radically different, the worlds as portrayed by the Wolof and the French language. (My translation)

The distance created by translation has made invisible the intellectual continuities between Doomi Golo and the Sufi Muslim universe – precisely those intertextual references and continuities that could be established with the author’s adoption of Wolof for writing. While the Wolof version presents a development of the philosophy of the nonhuman understood as “the world”, this philosophical layer of the story of Nguirane and his grandson is absent in the French or English versions. In is only in Wolof that the readers find themselves in a world of impermanence and passing – the same universe we witnessed in Al-Inkishafi. Yet, this philosophical level is significant for the storyline of Doomi Golo, for it is a world where human relations are torn and where people and values are lost. It is the qualities of àddina that configure what happens to the characters. The world is like that and the grandfather is accepting of this nature of the world. The grandson is lost to the grandfather (through migration to the Middle East for work), the son is lost to the father (through

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death), and the book also interrogates how personal and cultural identities are lost on account of history and politics. But an even more important element of àddina is the characteristic of deception. Indeed, this reference explains the prominent thematic line of mirroring and aping in the novel. In Sufi thought, the world’s deception gives rise to a pervasive duality between apparent reality and hidden true reality. Jan Knappert explains the conceptual opposition, using Swahili words derived from Arabic: BATINI – “Interior, esoteric.” Every word of the Qur’ān, and indeed every creation of God has a double significance; one is its outer appearance (dhahiri), the other is the interior or hidden meaning, disclosed only to a few philosophers and mystics whose long hours of meditation have brought them closer to the secrets of the Omniscient. They are able to see every creature as an expression of divine beauty and goodness. . . . DHAHIRI – “apparent”. The word dhahiri denotes the opposite of batini; dhahiri is the exterior of things and people, their outer form, which is perishable and therefore deceptive. (Knappert, 1970: 69–70)

This opposition has been very productive in Swahili literature. Tanzanian writer William Mkufya develops an entire philosophy of udhahiri, identified with Marxist materialism (with European, Asian and African variants), which is professed by souls of materialist thinkers in Hell (Mkufya, 1999, see also Rettová, 2007a). The same duality is – again with the same Arabic loanwords – also present in Wolof language, as saaxir and baatin (cf. Minerba, 2022), and it is indeed operative in the understanding of “the world” in Wolof culture and literature. In Doomi Golo, the dimension of deception is present in the “obsessive metaphor” (Ngom, 2013) of mirror, and aping is present in the very title, Doomi Golo, which refers to “a monkey’s young.” Monkeys appear in several incarnations and species – baboons, gorillas, but also humans – in the novel. Mirroring and aping are concepts that appear to have clear meanings, and a reading of the mirror and monkey metaphors as referring to mimicry as theorized in postcolonial theory (Bhabha, 1994) lies at hand (Wülfing-Leckie, 2016). Yet, also here, the setting of the novel in àddina provides a deeper philosophical level to the book: it dramatically changes the understanding of reality and of its enunciation. Deception and the duality of layers – the apparent and the hidden – makes up the basic setup of the world in Sufi philosophy. The seventh notebook, the “Book of Secrets”, is thus not only secret; as it is secret and hidden, it has an intrinsic relationship to the baatin dimension of reality, that is, to truth. On the other hand, that which has been exposed in Nguirane’s six notebooks is saaxir, it is the narrating of mere appearences. It is inherently unreliable and deceptive, entertaining but not necessarily expressive of truth. The philosophical univers sonore of Wolof culture and language thus gives quite another meaning to the events described in the book than they assume in the Europhone translations. Even more, it configures quite differently the entire relationship of the text to truth.

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Conclusion: The Nonhuman, Language, and Genre This White Supremacy in Eurocentric Epistemology takes a precolonial text in an African language as a primary theoretical orientation and organization of material. Through narrativizations, it applies this theorization to salient phenomena of recent African history and to philosophy. In interrogating the nature of the nonhuman in a precolonial Swahili poem, Al-Inkishafi, the chapter works out a conceptual framework and terminology to the nonhuman as “the world.” It then goes on to analyze the narrativizations of this philosophical concept in postcolonial novels in African languages. It is African textual cultures, including novelistic writing, that connect the foundational philosophical insights to recent African history and politics. The foundational theorization of “the world” provides the basic concepts for understanding recent or contemporary African realities in that the philosophical concepts derived from Al-Inkishafi are narrativized through novelistic writing, and through that, contribute to a philosophical, political, and historical understanding of the African continent. In distinction to Al-Inkishafi, which establishes “the world” as a prominent theme, the two novels rather establish “the world” as setting – the setting in which their plots unfold and their characters act. “The setting” is a narrative technique of the novel as a genre, next to narrative techniques such as the use of characters, emplotment (arranging of events into a plot), narrative voice, etc. What is specific about the setting, in distinction to the plot or the characters, is that it is an essentially non-objective form of representation: this representation thus avoids objectifying “the world”; such an objectification, in its turn, represents it as an object of thought and of discussion. A non-objective representation is the only adequate way to represent “the world”, because “the world as a whole is not an object and any attempt to comprehend it as an object (and that precisely means an attempt to model it in thought as an object of intention) is false” (Hejdánek, 1994, my translation). “The world” is one of the “non-objective realities”, next to freedom, truth, the self/the subject, the whole (unity), nature (physis), or logos (Hejdánek, 1997). The passages I cited in this chapter are of course exceptions; they recenter attention on the setting, on “the world” and philosophize about it, therefore they make it into a “noema” in the Husserlian sense, that is, the object of consciousness (of intentional experience, see Husserl, 1977). But generally the two novels regard the plot, the characters, other themes. “The world” as setting is not kept in focus, nor does it act or narrate. It is the horizon of the plot and the actions of the characters – a horizon that, however, exercises great power as it determines the meanings of the actions of the characters and the episodes of the plot, and it contextualizes the thought and pragmatic behavior of the characters. Coming back to Lewis Gordon’s statement, cited in the Introduction, about the pervasiveness of humanism in African philosophy, do the three texts considered in this chapter advocate a “nonhumanist” philosophy, that is, a philosophy that is not only not humanist but that expressly conceptualizes the nonhuman? While AlInkishafi, in conformity with the conventions of homiletic poetry, thematizes “the world” and could be rightly called an exposition of such a nonhumanist philosophy,

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the novels present the nonhuman – “the world”– in a non-objective manner as setting. This representation of “the world” thus profits from the specific setup of a narrative genre – the novel – to achieve a non-objective manner of developing a philosophical concept, that of “the world.” The nonhuman is not in focus, not the object (theme) of the narrative, yet it is a key factor in understanding and interpreting the novels, as it configures the meanings of events (in narrative terms, plot), behavior (characters) and words (dialogue, style). The nonhuman is then central as the semiotic axis of the narrative. To recapitulate, this chapter raises the importance of the notion of “the nonhuman“, which has so far been marginalized in African philosophy in favor of forms of humanism, or it has been developed from within those humanisms rather than as an independent category. It further highlights the importance of formal determinants of African philosophy, such as language and genre, in order to facilitate an understanding of the contribution of Afrophone philosophical discourses and debates to the field of African philosophy. To these notions, I would like to add several remarks that point beyond this chapter, but contextualize it within broader debates in African philosophy: (1) Language. It has been demonstrated that the intellectual, indeed, philosophical continuity between precolonial and postcolonial, historical and contemporary thought is hidden or erased in translation: the loss of the language leads to the loss of the conceptual framework. Boubacar Boris Diop’s Doomi Golo demonstrates this very clearly; the entire notion of àddina is either left out or left untranslated in the French or English versions of the novel. With it, the awareness of the setting of the events in the novel in “the world” is lost, with the specific understanding of “the world” as elaborated in this chapter. This means that language is a pivotal factor of philosophical understanding and that the exclusive reliance of the field of African philosophy on languages of European origin (cf. Rettová, 2002, 2007a) is deeply problematic. The question of language is particularly important for the theme of the nonhuman, and I would like to allude here to the very interesting discussion about ontology. The focus on the nonhuman, of course, is related to what was called “natural philosophy“in Europe. Pre-Socratic Greek philosophers were intent on natural philosophy, the focus then resurfaced in Renaissance and the Enlightenment with the boom of natural science. The roots of “natural philosophy” lie in the question of “being”: what is it that connects all realities around us? The fact that they are something, they are somewhere, and they are in some ways. This orientation toward “being” has been compellingly challenged both by linguists, such as Émile Benveniste (1971), and by African philosophers such as Alexis Kagame (1955), Paulin Hountondji (1982), and Souleymane Bachir Diagne (2021), who point out that this questioning derives from the structure of Indo-European languages, more specifically Ancient Greek, Latin, English or French. It is also only possible in these languages, as the verb “to be” has a variety of uses there: from the copula to locative or existential meanings. Non-Indo-European languages show a dramatically

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different situation as they may have specific verbs for the ways in which persons and objects are characterized and function in their surroundings. In a language in which a person teaches or walks, but never is a teacher or a pedestrian, a table “hards”, stands in a room, but never is a table, never is hard and never is in a room, and a tree “talls” or blooms, but never is a tree, never is tall and never is in bloom, there is no common quality or activity that connects these persons and objects. It is in fact absurd to assume that all these qualities and activities should be brought to something common to them, such as “being.” This questioning of the notion of “being” leads to a questioning of the notion of “ontology”, and this is of course particularly pertinent in the questioning of the nonhuman, which is generally accessed precisely through the notion of “ontology” in Western scholarship, with “object-oriented ontology“being the most recent offshoot of this theorization. A radical questioning of “being” will undoubtedly lead to another conceptualization of the nonhuman, and African philosophy has a clear headstart in this interrogation. This chapter has shown how the nonhuman manifests in texts relatively uninfluenced by “ontology” and by Western “natural science”, informed by ontology, such as Al-Inkishafi, and it has also shown how that departure point provides us with quite a different conceptual inventory to then interpret how the nonhuman is viewed in contemporary African novels. (2) Genre. In this chapter, the texts that critically analyze contemporary phenomena of African history and that provide some of the most incisive insights into these are not academic treatises or essays, in one word, nonfictional prose. It is poetry, then again poetry of several genres that in the emic understanding may fall into multiple categories that cannot meaningfully be subsumed under the umbrella term “poetry”, that has voiced philosophical concerns in both Swahili and West African Muslim cultures for centuries (cf. Kresse, 2007; Rettová, 2010) and it is the novel that gives voice to African modernity (Rettová, 2016b). What is called African literature, and in particular literature in African languages, thus becomes a major resource and articulation of African philosophy. For the precolonial era, it is the only available resource, as the field defines itself as an academic discipline only after 1945 (Masolo, 1994). The academic discourse on African philosophy remains a relatively elitist undertaking. By contrast, the varied philosophical concerns of African cultures are present in existing discourses in those cultures. It is then necessary to interrogate a wider spectrum of “African texts”, including “literature“, discussions on the internet, media broadcasts, etc. to examine their contribution to African philosophy and work with a much wider perspective on what philosophical thought really is in Africa, in the continent’s cultural diversity and multiplicity (Rettová, 2021a). (3) The nonhuman. The nonhuman has been debated in this chapter in only one meaning, “the nonhuman as such”, “the world.” Moreover, the discussion has been limited to notions of “the world” strongly influenced by Muslim thought, dunia (in Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo) and àddina (in Doomi Golo), hence quite close to the departure point, “the world” (dunia) in Al-Inkishafi. A broader interrogation of the concept of “the world” in African texts points to a more diversified spectrum of meanings. First of all, notions of “the world”

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can be influenced by other monotheistic religions, typically Christianity, by contemporary European thought, and by local religious, cultural and philosophical thought. For instance, the notions of “the world” in Lingala migration novels, mokili or mikili in the plural (“worlds”), refer to the worlds and knowledges in a multicultural or global setting (Rettová, 2012). The notion of umhlaba in Ndebele war and genocide novels (Rettová, 2016a) merges an understanding of “the world” as historical and material conditions with a philosophy of history as periodical change of “worlds”, as specific configurations of such conditions, and of wars and violence, as ruptures leading to a reconfiguration of these conditions on another foundation (Kahari, 1997; Rettová, 2007b). Secondly, there is not only “the nonhuman“, but also “nonhumans“, and African texts provide a vast range of such “significant nonhuman others” (cf. Oduor, 2012): the animal; the machine; the spirit. Here the contribution of the genre becomes particularly relevant. It shows the textual, narrative, and broadly stylistic strategies and means that can be used to represent the nonhuman (Herman, 2018) or the role of digital textuality in an understanding of “the machine” as a nonhuman producer of information (Hayles, 1999). Finally, certain forms of the nonhuman constitute what could be called “genres of reality”: they are game-changers of how humans perceive reality and behave in it, they suspend habitual conditions and open the field for a reconfiguration of human understanding of reality. Such phenomena include the pandemic, the climate crisis, the war, or the apocalypse. Some of these are, furthermore, “entanglements” between the human and the nonhuman. They challenge habitual distinctions between the two: is war human or nonhuman? Is a pandemic a medical problem or a social one? Is the diseased body, or indeed the body as such, human or nonhuman, and why? Kezilahabi’s understanding of “chaos” changed drastically in his novelistic writing following the “realist” phase of Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo. Kezilahabi developed another notion of “chaos” in his last novels, Nagona (proper name, Kezilahabi 1990) and Mzingile (Labyrinth, Kezilahabi 1991). He adopted the Fanonian concept of violence (Fanon, 2004) in his doctoral thesis African Philosophy and the Problem of Literary Interpretation (1985), where he went on to apply it to African philosophy, in advocating for “a destructive rather than a deconstructive stand vis-à-vis the Western philosophy of value and representation” (Kezilahabi 1985: 4, see Rettová, 2018). In Nagona, he applies this understanding of violence to the notion of “chaos”, which he now expresses through the word vurumai; it contrasts sharply with the “chaos” of fujo in Kezilahabi’s earlier writings. While fujo is chaos full of confusion and frustration, absurdity, meaninglessness, the impossibility of agency, by contrast the chaos of vurumai is man-made, active and productive chaos. This chaos caused by human violence leads to an apocalypse in Nagona, but at the same time this very apocalypse is a new opportunity for human agency in the novel’s sequel, Mzingile (1991). Kezilahabi thus makes a full circle: by embracing the destructive nature of the universe (dunia), he reinserts this destruction within the human through the notion of violence and employs violence to achieve an

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apocalypse, a destruction of the universe. It is in this clearing that a new humanity takes up agency again and builds a new African philosophy (Rettová, 2004).

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The Animal in African Philosophy Kai Horsthemke

Contents Animals and African Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ontology and Metaphysics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Social, Political and Moral Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aesthetics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Philosophy of Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

African philosophy has, in recent decades, emerged from the academic margins to assume occupation of its rightful place in the scholarly mainstream, having garnered long-overdue acknowledgement and recognition. Within African philosophy, the question of the animal, which has for a long time been ignored or deemed comparatively unimportant, is now beginning to get the kind of attention it deserves, acknowledgement that has, similarly, been long overdue. This chapter examines the status of “the animal” in African ontology and metaphysics; epistemology; social, political, and moral philosophy; aesthetics; and philosophy of education. The argument is that while African philosophical treatment of otherthan-human animals has tended to be anthropocentric, or human-centered, African philosophy is equipped with the requisite conceptual resources for the systematic development of a comprehensive non-anthropocentric stance. What this requires on the part of African philosophers, however, is nothing less than intellectual, ethical, and practical honesty and consistency. K. Horsthemke (*) KU Eichstätt-Ingolstadt, Eichstätt, Germany University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa Oxford Centre for Animal Ethics, Oxford, UK © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_29

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Keywords

African philosophy · Animals · Anthropocentrism · Relationality

Animals and African Philosophy Africa has an extraordinary wealth of non-human animals – domesticated and freeroaming animals, as well as non-domesticated liminal animals who live among or in close proximity to humans. To speak of “the animal,” then, is apparently to commit a two-fold error. It not only seems to ignore the fact that human beings too are animals, but it also involves what might be called the fallacy of the collective singular. Indeed, to speak of humans and other animals, collectively, would be to ignore the sheer diversity that exists within the non-human animal kingdom. Yet, reference to “the” animal is both a tribute to Credo Mutwa’s fascinating and significant book Isilwane: The Animal (1996) and an acknowledgement of the symbolic, totemic role played by animals in African thought and practice over the centuries. In what follows, reference will be made to “the animal” occasionally as deliberate short-hand for “other,” “non-human,” or “other-than-human animals” – and to “other,” “non-human,” or “other-than-human” animals only as a matter of emphasis. African philosophy has, in recent decades, emerged from the academic margins to assume occupation of its rightful place in the scholarly mainstream, having garnered long-overdue acknowledgement and recognition. Within African philosophy, the question of the animal, which has for a long time been ignored or deemed comparatively unimportant, is now beginning to get the kind of attention it deserves, acknowledgement that has, similarly, been long overdue. At the heart of African philosophy is the idea of relationality, which arguably goes beyond the naive forms of community, communalism, and holism that have been embraced by less reflective practitioners and that may, indeed, be targeted by those not favorably disposed towards African philosophy. The idea that we are all related, that all is related, is not unique to Africa. It is captured in the Lakota phrase mitakuye oyasin and the Cree notion of wahkohtowin. In the southern Africa, it has been articulated in terms of ubuntu (a Nguni language-group term), botho and hunhu (in SeSotho and Shona, respectively). In the northern Africa, notably Egypt, the equivalent would be maat, signaling harmony, righteousness, and the need to locate and understand oneself and one’s actions in the context of a greater whole, which has profound implications for human and extra-human relations. Relationality and relationalism characterize African ontology and metaphysics; epistemology; social, political, and moral philosophy; aesthetics; and philosophy of education, which are fundamental to understanding the position of animals in thinking and practices on the African continent. This is not to imply that African thought and practices are homogeneous. Approximately, one third of all human languages are spoken on the African continent. This means that there exist at least 1500 different languages in Africa, with a corresponding tribal and ethnic diversity. While some of these languages are spoken

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and understood across national borders, every African state is host to at least a few but often a large number of different languages that are not spoken and understood by all of its citizens (see Horsthemke, 2015: 1). This vast linguistic, tribal, and ethnic diversity makes it even more surprising that there are many commonalities and points of agreement with regard to African philosophical thinking. While there exists no single unified “African philosophy,” or “African philosophical outlook,” there are nonetheless certain core ideas that appear with astonishing regularity across African societies and cultures.

Ontology and Metaphysics The African understanding of the universe tends to be binary. It would arguably be mistaken to call it dualistic, since there is no hard and fast divide between the spiritual and the physical realm. Although they are represented by the sky and the earth, respectively, they correlate and interact in a variety of ways. An important component of this worldview is the so-called hierarchy of beings (see Etieyibo, 2017: 152–153). This ontological hierarchy is composed of a number of levels and forms an intricate web of relations. At the top of the hierarchy, unsurprisingly, is the creator-god, who is responsible for all existence and has designed and created all beings, living and non-living. These are, in hierarchical order, the spirits (which often act like divinities), ancestors or “living-dead” (who act as mediators between humans and god), human beings (both those of who exist presently and those yet-tobe-born), animals, plants (which are often assumed to occupy the same level as animals, in that they are used by human beings for sustenance and sacrifice), and finally non-living beings, like rocks, mountains, rivers, stars, etc. A related way of establishing this hierarchy would be in terms of vitality or life force, as dispensed by God (who is “at the apex of the ladder”) in varying degrees to “spirits and then ancestors, humans, animals, and inanimate beings” (Etieyibo, 2017: 153). According to the African view of the universe, there is an interrelationship of all beings, living and non-living: all created beings depend on each other and God. The universe is viewed as the totality of all existence, spiritual and physical. Regarding human–animal relationships, Africans believe God gave animals to human beings for their responsible use. Apart from the consideration that possession of animals is a sign of wealth and prestige, they are used by humans for food, for clothing and for the manufacture of musical instruments like drums, as payment of dowry (or “bride wealth”) and of fines (following offenses against God, the ancestors, or fellow humans), in the settlement of disputes, and in sacrificial ceremonies. Many animals also have symbolic or totemic functions in families, communities, and clans. The problem, of course, is that the totemic status of one kind of animal offers no protection against those who prize and are committed to preserving a different kind (Horsthemke, 2015: 74). The treatment of animals primarily as means to human, spiritual, and divine ends is commonly justified on the basis of them not being persons. The problem is that,

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according to the criteria listed by Ifeanyi Menkiti (1984: 173, 174, 176), infants, young children, and those lacking cognitive and moral autonomy do not qualify as persons either. Among additional criteria militating against using the latter as means towards the ends of full-fledged persons are species membership and the purported special relationships human beings have with each other (see Metz, 2017a, b), all of which would exclude non-humans. In other words, what earns infants, young children, and the relevantly disabled special moral consideration and treatment is the fact of their being human and/or their being part of essentially human relationships. On reflection, the concomitant exclusion or degradation of non-humans seems rather arbitrary and is, more often than not, based on an unwillingness to take seriously their characteristics and abilities, let alone their needs and interests.

Epistemology Relationalism is also a characteristic of African epistemology: “I know because we know” or “A knower is a knower because of other knowers.” This reflects what might be called the epistemological dimension of ubuntu – which treats knowledge as communal, as instrumental to the well-being of the community. In other words, knowledge is not pursued in and for itself but for the potential benefits it holds for collective human flourishing. Mogobe Ramose (2002a: 230) furnishes a systematic and sustained account of ubuntu as “the root of African philosophy, . . . the wellspring flowing with African ontology and epistemology.” He observes further that from the perspective of African philosophy, “truth is simultaneously participatory and interactive.” As “active, continual, and discerning perception leading to action,” truth “is distinctly relative rather than absolute.” Logical and practical problems around relativism notwithstanding, what is noteworthy about this account of knowledge and truth is their contribution to communal and, indeed, cosmic harmony (237), i.e., “harmony in all spheres of life.” The logic of ubuntu is directed “towards balance and harmony in the relationship between human beings and between the latter and the broader be-ing or nature” (Ramose, 2002b: 326). Although ubuntu and its cognates are by definition human-centered – pertaining to living human beings (umuntu), the living-dead (abaphansi), and future generations, the yet-to-be-born (see Ramose, 2002b: 326) – animals, too, are credited with wisdom and general epistemic agency (Mutwa, 1996). The potential benefits that communal, instrumental knowledge holds for (collective) human flourishing also pertains to what is sometimes taken to be “animal wisdom” – which is seen to embody significant lessons and potential benefits for humans. Animal behavior enables not only prediction of weather patterns, but also issues in communication of the social standards expected of people. Thus, it is the traits of certain animals or species that are considered to provide valuable lessons for humans and that are worth emulating – not least among which is the wisdom of cooperation found in social animals.

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Social, Political and Moral Philosophy The most comprehensive discussions, by some distance, of the place of the animal in African philosophy have been in areas that concern considerations of custodianship, care, justice, rights, obligations, and the like. For example, the functions of totem animals and social taboos are discussed by a large number of authors, as are cultural rituals and ceremonies involving other-than-human animals (Behrens, 2009; Metz, 2017a; Akenzua-Ebeigbe, 2018; Zimunya & Gwara, 2018; Oduwole & Fayemi, 2018; Kelbessa, 2018; Ofuasia, 2018; Qekwana et al., 2019). At the heart of social, political, and moral philosophy are the values “I am because we are” or “A person is a person because of other persons,” exemplified by ubuntu (botho, hunhu) (Ramose, 2002a, b; Mangena, 2012, 2013; Zimunya & Gwara, 2018). The social, political, and ethical significance of relationality is expressed in ukama (Murove, 2004, 2009; Prozesky, 2009), while maat locates human existence within a larger whole (Karenga, 2004). Three (rather broad) tendencies can be identified within contemporary African philosophical thought: 1. More or less outspoken anthropocentrism and more or less qualified endorsement of human moral superiority (Kagame, 1989; Menkiti, 1984; Kaphagawani, 2004; Oduor, 2012; Masaka, 2019). 2. Lip service to environmental or animal-friendliness, but morally humans remain the measure of all things and at the center of ethical concern and deliberation. Conflicts of interests ought unequivocally to be decided in favor of human beings. These scholars generally reject moral anthropocentrism and speciesism in the sense that they do not wish to be associated with these, yet on closer inspection their positions offer other-than-beings inferior or subordinate standing and rights compared with those usually associated with humans (Mutwa, 1996; Ogungbemi, 1997; Mangena, 2012, 2013; Tangwa, 2004; Metz, 2017a, b; Bujo, 2009; Ramose, 2002b, 2009; Murove, 2004, 2009; Prozesky, 2009; Kelbessa, 2018; Etieyibo, 2017; Ndasauka & Manthalu, 2018; Umar, 2018; Oduwole & Fayemi, 2018; Qekwana et al., 2019). 3. Outright rejection of moral anthropocentrism; explicit pro-animal attitudes (Masiga & Munyua, 2005; Behrens, 2009, 2014; Taringa, 2006, 2014; Ojomo, 2010, 2011; Nneji, 2010; Tutu, 2013; Zimunya & Gwara, 2018; AkenzuaEbeigbe, 2018; Roba, 2018; Oduori et al., 2018; Ofuasia, 2018; Molefe, 2017, 2018). I have dealt with the several of these authors in considerable detail elsewhere (see Horsthemke, 2015, 2017a, b, 2018a, b, 2019a, b), so I will focus mainly on new contributions to the debate and attempt to highlight their virtues and/or shortcomings. As a representative of what I have characterized as the first kind of tendency in contemporary African philosophical thinking, Dennis Masaka (2019) defends a “moderate anthropocentrism” in thinking about non-human animals from an African perspective. Animal ethics and environmental ethics are human created and therefore

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necessarily (moderately) anthropocentric: “human beings are not necessarily inclined to create the kind of moral parity between them and non-human animals” (236). In order to test the logic of this argument, it may be instructive to compare Masaka’s moderate anthropocentrism to (moderate) white-centrism and/or androcentrism. Thus, his argument might be extended along the following lines. Human rights are white-male-created and therefore necessarily (moderately) white-centric and/or androcentric: “whites/men are not necessarily inclined to create the kind of moral parity between them and blacks/women.” Does inclination (whether natural or not) yield moral justification? Hardly; in all three instances, it amounts to little more than prejudice in favor of one’s own kind. Representing what I have identified above as the second kind of tendency, Yamikani Ndasauka and Chikumbutso Manthalu (2018: 34–36) discuss “indigenous African values” like “sense of community” and “sacredness of life” in relation to the ideas of hierarchy and human stewardship (38). Well-known problems concern sacrifices involving animals (37), the economic status of nations and/or communities, as well as reliance on animal-driven agriculture. Social relations define who/what can be part of a community. Therefore, it is not surprising that the authors should plumb for animal welfare (39) rather than animal rights. The idea of moral obligation, too, is rendered so weak as to be practically meaningless: “In some regards, humans are understood to have certain moral obligations to some non-human animals” (35; emphasis added). In her discussion of strategies for wildlife management on the African continent, Bridget Bwalya Umar (2018), similarly, see-saws between wildlife management and animal-centered approaches, seemingly unable to commit unequivocally to the latter. While Workineh Kelbessa (2005) draws attention to the symbolic and ethical reservoir in African indigenous traditions that ensures respect and compassion for other living creatures, his references (2018) to so-called “moral status” and “rights” accorded to animals are mere window-dressing: anthropocentrism and superstition govern relations between humans and non-humans, something the author seems to be completely unaware of. In contrast (and here we arrive at what I have referred to as outright rejection of moral anthropocentrism and explicit pro-animal attitudes), Desmond Tutu (2013: xv) argues that justice applies not only to human beings, but also to “the world’s other sentient creatures.” “Even when faced with human problems” that “fight for our attention in what sometimes seems an already overfull moral agenda,” we should not overlook “instances of injustice,” i.e., “the abuse and cruelty we inflict on other animals.” Clive Tendai Zimunya and Joyline Gwara (2018: 22) maintain that, “despite its genuinely philanthropic nature, ubuntu fails to acknowledge the importance of non-human organisms such as plants and animals . . . The theory of ubuntu is indifferent to the rights of animals . . .” Zimunya and Gwara suggest broadening the philosophy of ubuntu “using the principle of totemism,” “transforming African perceptions of non-human animals from merely being of instrumental use to being in and of themselves intrinsically valuable and worthy of care” (30). However, it is doubtful whether broadening the philosophy of ubuntu in this fashion is likely to

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yield the kind of transformative force the authors are hoping for. Apart from being side-tracked by superstition, this alleged modification is substantially weakened by the fact that one clan’s totem animal is another clan’s favorite bush meat. Sweet Ufumwen Akenzua-Ebeigbe (2018) reveals the much-hailed animalfriendliness of indigenous Africans (see, for example, Kelbessa, 2018) as sham. The author makes a strong case against animal sacrifice and useful recommendations in this regard – but stops short of making suggestions regarding diet/food. Anteneh Roba (2018), however, does just this, in his discussion of the deleterious effects of factory farming not only on non-humans but also on humans and the environment. He rejects all arguments in favor of meat consumption on the African continent – but unfortunately does not deal with culturalist arguments, that is, arguments that locate practices as essential within a given culture, which in turn determines individuals. Finally, the case study by David Obiero Oduori et al. (2018) of working animals in Kenya and Egypt examines cultural (mis-)perceptions about working equines like horses and donkeys (282).

Aesthetics It is not only the wisdom and character traits of (certain) animals that are celebrated in African cultures and societies but also their beauty and their grace (Mutwa, 1996; Adepoju, 2017: 512–515). While non-human animals may have moral value, they also have their own aesthetic value and purpose/telos. Praise song and poetry is a common practice among African societies and cultures. Praise accompanies community leaders during ceremonial functions describing their prowess, such as the Nguni izimbongi praise songs for kings and chieftains, but it is also used to greet, thank, and demonstrate appreciation for both domestic and free-roaming animals. Thus, the use of totemic praise is common among African communities and is applied to animals as a greeting, gesture of respect, or means of appreciation (see Mutwa, 1996 for numerous examples of praise songs to domestic and “wild” animals). Rock art, too, is an important feature of many African communities, like the Amazigh (Berbers) of North Africa, the Soninke and Dogon of West Africa, and Khoi and San communities in the southern Africa. Dating back to pre-colonial times, that is, well before the consolidation of the colonial rule in the nineteenth century, they commonly depict ceremonies or everyday activities like hunting. Most of these rock or cave paintings portrayed both members of the local communities and animals, but in many cases complex symbol systems were used to provide a means of transmitting information and knowledge to other shelter users and to future generations. According to Nicolas Argenti (1992: 197–198), in the highland region of Northwest Province, Cameroon, known as the Grassfields, decoration of carved and/or beaded artefacts is characterized by geometric designs associated with certain animals, which in turn signify status ascriptions or other associations in the

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social structure. The major designs are those of the stylized frog, spider, lizard, python, bush cow, elephant, and leopard.

The last four are associated especially with small polities headed by kings or chieftains, the so-called fons, while the frog is often spoken of as symbolizing fertility and the spider as symbolizing the supernatural (through its connection with the ancestor spirits in the ground). The spider, accordingly, is used in divination practice throughout the area. All of these associations between animals, motifs, and social or cosmological categories form part of the informants’ overt knowledge . . . .

It is of course debatable whether or not one can really speak of “knowledge” here, as opposed to (mere) belief, but these considerations have little bearing on the aesthetic value bestowed on other-than-human animals. Aesthetic and symbolic value, like beauty, are in the eye of the beholder.

Philosophy of Education Like philosophy of education elsewhere, African philosophy of education emanates from the mother discipline, philosophy. According to Kwasi Wiredu, philosophy is first and foremost a matter of effective thinking. To “think effectively” means to have knowledge (wisdom and skills), to be tolerant and willing to enter into dialogue, and to possess moral maturity (Wiredu, 2004: 17, 18). For Wiredu, this normative conception of effective thinking is inspired by the following: indigenous (African) knowledge systems (24), traditional African faith in consensus (21), and the conceptual and normative priority of community over individuality (20). African philosophy, therefore, “must combine all these considerations, which . . . reveal the strengths of the traditional African conception of education” (24). Wiredu, Oduor, and others emphasize that political liberation of African countries must be followed by intellectual liberation, “the emancipation of our thought” (Oduor, 2012: 4). The substratum for decolonization of the African mind and for “creating an educational vision capable of serving the legitimate interests of Africa in the contemporary world” (Wiredu, 2004: 24) is for Africans to (learn to) think and/or philosophize in their own language. The difficulty with this account, as I will elaborate below, may be to prevent decolonization of and within education from assuming the form of indoctrination, i.e., unquestioning acceptance of the new ethical, political, and educational status quo. Mutwa (1996: 14) refers in particular to initiation schools whose function it has been to teach “the oneness of the human being, the animal and the Deity.” By being made to believe “that the highest gods were part animal and part human being,” African children are “taught to look upon animals with great reverence, love, and respect. If you are taught that God has the head of a lion and the body of a human being, you will treat lions with respect.” It is difficult to separate this kind of teaching

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from indoctrination: the intention of the educators may be to instill reverence, love, and respect, but the method of teaching permits little or no critical interrogation and engagement on the part of the learners. Nor could the content, i.e., what is taught, be said to convey knowledge or to have truth value. Animals should be revered, loved, and respected not in and for themselves but because of the partial animal nature of the gods. Moreover, it is surely not a coincidence that the focus is on majestic and powerful mammals like lions. If African children were taught that God has the head of a grasshopper or the body of a cockroach it might be considerably more difficult to instill in them reverence, love, and respect. The clash between the plight of animals and the demands of indigenous culture (see also Metz, 2017a: 272, 284–286, 289–293) is starkly demonstrated in the annual ukweshwama (“first fruits”) festival in KwaZulu-Natal (South Africa). “To continue our culture and customs is very important because in our new democracy, it doesn’t mean we forget our ways,” Chief Zibuse Mlaba explains (see Horsthemke, 2015: 49). “Education does not mean we forget our past.” By killing a bull, a symbol of power, with their bare hands the modern-day warriors are believed to strengthen the bond with ancestors who ruled the region. “We must use our bare hands,” Mlaba adds. “It’s cruelty, we agree, but it’s our culture. We cannot change our culture” (ibid.; emphasis added). The obvious response to Mlaba’s assertions is that a monolithic view of culture is simply mistaken. Traditions and cultural practices are by their very nature fluid, dynamic, and ever evolving. Moreover, democratic education has a crucial function in contributing to social and cultural change, in highlighting and interrogating morally dubious traditions and practices. Moeketsi Letseka suggests “that educating for botho or ubuntu, for interpersonal and cooperative skills, and for human wellbeing or human flourishing, ought to be major concerns of an African philosophy of education” (Letseka, 2000: 180). Incidentally, Letseka has, perhaps unwittingly, indicated the gulf that exists between botho/ubuntu and concern for animals: Consider . . . the case of an offence on which everyone agrees that it is heinous and an affront to botho or ubuntu, such as repeatedly raping an eighty-year-old grandmother or a six-yearold girl. To express their displeasure community folk might utter statements like: “He is not a person but a dog” [or] “Oh God, he is an animal.” (Letseka, 2000: 186)

The questionable move of equating rapists and animals like dogs might be excused as reporting an unreflective popular perception, but it arguably points to something deeper – namely the view that animals occupy a territory untouched by ordinary moral concerns and considerations: indeed, an amoral if not immoral realm. Recent articles and opinion pieces by W.N. Masiga and S.J.M. Munyua (2005), Bellarmine Nneji (2010), Oduori et al. (2018), Emmanuel Ofuasia (2018), and Motsamai Molefe (2018) are welcome additions to the body of new African philosophical writings that engage critically engage with traditional cultural teachings and practices. Oduori et al. (2018: 285) discuss educational initiatives to ameliorate the plight of working equines. Regarding research and laboratory animals, Masiga and Munyua (2005) – in their critical, albeit largely empirical account of the current state

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of “animal welfare” in Africa – lament the fact that in most African countries “there are no policies and legal frameworks in place to support the initiatives“ that pertain to research and development work: “To compound the situation, in countries like Kenya and other former British colonies, the legal system criminalized animal abuse without any provisions for community awareness or education about animal welfare” (584). Although their survey is hard-hitting and graphic, the recommendations made by Masiga and Munyua unfortunately do not transcend basic welfarist objectives: regular reviews of existing legislation, monitoring and reduction of instances of animal abuse, increasing community awareness and “promoting . . . community involvement in and education about animal welfare issues,” and promoting “training in animal welfare for service providers in veterinary practice, livestock production, and wildlife management” (585). Nneji (2010: 40) emphasizes the need for children to put themselves into the position of animals, via “imaginative empathy” and sympathy, in order for an appropriate consciousness to be brought about or attained. Just as society can teach children to be indifferent to (or dismissive of) the plight of other-than-human animals, it can achieve the opposite, through both the elicitation of care, empathy and sympathy as well as the inculcation of “moral knowledge,” principles and skills. A child has to realize that what is wrong for another to do to her is wrong for her to do another. This appears to be the essence of the idea that there is no substitute for a direct concern for others as the basis of morality. Ofuasia investigates the defensibility of animal sacrifice in an African (in particular, Nigerian Yorùbá) context, informed by recent scientific (evolutionary) and ethical theory. The result is a measured but nonetheless refreshingly critical analysis. Interestingly, Ofuasia opts for “ethical individualism as the suitable groundwork that considers the interest of animals recommended for sacrifice” by traditional customs (6; on ethical individualism, see also Horsthemke, 2010, 2017c). Apart from the objection that sacrificial slaughter causes irrevocable harm to individual animals, there are some concerns about what underlies the very purpose of animal sacrifice. Does it really occur for reasons of communal well-being and harmony, as is often alleged? Is the performance of sacrifices perhaps intended to prevail upon the Gods and/or ancestors to bestow some favor on the sacrificer or to ward off some danger to the latter? Or is it to compel or coerce them to do what the sacrificer wants to be done? Either way, it is difficult not to see these motives as selfregarding. Molefe (2018), in turn, considers it inconsistent and indeed paradoxical to lambaste cannibalistic practices (for example, of so-called traditional healers), while continuing to consume animal flesh. He considers and dismisses several arguments from moral difference between humans and other animals. In so doing, he draws on both the argument from marginal cases and the argument from speciesism. The former holds that if it is permissible to kill and eat animals then it must be permissible to kill and eat human beings with relevantly similar mental abilities. The latter argument states that excluding animals because they are not part of the human community is as arbitrary as excluding blacks because they are not part of the white community, or women on the grounds that they are not part of the male community. Molefe then addresses what he calls the “cultural argument,” which is

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characterized by the “concern . . . that not eating animal flesh is against some of our deeply cherished cultural practices and rituals”: The simple response to this . . . argument is that we need to evaluate our cultures in the light of moral reason. If we find that our cultures are immoral, we have all the reason to abandon them and seek noble cultures that create harmony between us and the stakeholders in the natural community. It was once part of our modern culture to sell and own slaves. It was once part of our culture to exclude women from participating in politics and in the economy. It was once part of our culture to carry women off to marriage without their consent. The mere fact that something is part of our culture does not make it right. The point is not to reject culture but to imagine a culture that is morally sound. (Molefe, 2018)

Emancipation of thinking, then, is surely brought about also through nurturing a critical perspective on social and cultural assumptions and expectations. This is an important function of education. According to John M. Coetzee (2018: xiv), In any endeavor to shift ingrained attitudes, the role of education is and will be crucial. It is not hard to bring it home to small children – who are so much closer to the ground than adults – that animals have lives of their own and deserve to be treated humanely. But to spread this message across the breadth of the continent requires the bringing into being of a corps of teachers who believe the lesson is important, and more generally the fostering of a new animal-friendly awareness.

Conclusion While African philosophical treatment of other-than-human animals has tended to be anthropocentric, or human-centered, African philosophy is equipped with the requisite conceptual resources for the systematic development of a comprehensive non-anthropocentric and non-speciesist stance. The “great goods,” “harmony, friendliness, community” (mentioned in Tutu, 1999: 35; see also Metz, 2017a: 280ff), “imaginative empathy” and sympathy (Nneji, 2010), or compassion (Tutu, 2013), and especially the notions of interconnectedness and interrelatedness between everything in nature provide a fertile terrain for reconsidering the place of the animal in African philosophy. The multitudinous historical and geographical relationships we have with other-than-human animals give rise to multi-faceted moral responsibilities, which vary according to the kinds of relationships we find ourselves in. Thus, our obligations towards our companion animals will differ from those we have with regard to feral urban and free-roaming animals, just as our obligations towards “our own” may be different from those towards others, but these differences do not signal any kind of ontological and ethical hierarchy. “I am because we are” does not necessarily pertain exclusively to humans. The “we” in question could quite reasonably be taken to apply also beyond the so-called “species divide.” What this requires on the part of African philosophers, however, is nothing less than intellectual, ethical, and practical honesty and consistency. Ongoing interaction between humans and non-humans being inevitable, it stands to reason that we should investigate and welcome the whole range of possibilities of such interactions and

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engagement. Any non-anthropocentric and non-speciesist conception of relationality will require humans to relinquish their questionable benefits from animal exploitation and abuse. However, a philosophically coherent and consistent approach will identify not just the sacrifices that justice and imaginative empathy require of us but also the generative new relationships rendered possible by justice and empathy.

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Part VIII Existentialism and Phenomenology

Key Concerns in African Existentialism Austine E. Iyare

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Philosophical Perspectives on the Meaning of Human Existence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Relationality and the Meaning of Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Death and the Meaning of Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Existentiality of Suffering and Meaning of Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Modern Africa and the Crisis of Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter examines themes and issues in two phases of African Existentialism, the first in premodern Africa and the second in modern Africa. By premodern Africa, I mean here African cultural experiences prior to contact with foreign cultures, and by modern I mean the exact opposite, African cultural experiences after her contact with foreign cultures as we experience today. In the first phase, I show that primary concern and theme in Africa Existentialism is the question of the meaning of life. According to African traditional thought, the life of an African is meaningful if he or she lives in a community-accepted life. I also explore the issue that arises from this theme, such as individual autonomy in a living community-accepted life. In the second phase, I show that the concern shifted primarily to the question of African identity and authenticity of life in the face of Western influence. In this case, I explore the works of African existentialist such as Frantz Fanon and Aimé Césaire. I concluded that African existentialism is an essential part of the African philosophy curriculum for understanding the identity and meaningfulness of life of the African person. A. E. Iyare (*) Department of Philosophy, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_32

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Keywords

African existentialism · Relationality · The meaning of human existence · Existentiality · Identity crisis

Introduction Existentialism as one of the most famous movements in the history of philosophy characterizes itself as it tends to examine several themes as they affect human existence. Right from when Socrates redirected the attention of philosophers from the cosmos to man himself, philosophers have been asking questions regarding the nature of human existence. While there are myriad of themes in existentialism, different philosophical traditions such as the Western, African, and the Oriental traditions have examined themes in existentialism as they affect their respective traditions. In particular, existential issues in Western philosophical tradition differ a great deal from its meaning in Africa. While both Western and African philosophical traditions ask fundamental questions about man’s existence, they differ in what they believe gives life its meaningfulness. For instance, the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard asked the following questions “What is the point of man’s life? What sense can people make out human existence? What is the purpose of human event? (Cited in Stroll & Popkin, 1956: 105). The views on human existence in works of Søren Kierkegaard, Jean-Paul Sartre, Friedrich Nietzsche, Albert Camus, and others have always been what and how man’s existence can be meaningful. For the existentialists, “they believe we are trapped in existence, living in a completely meaningless world. No principle that we can use for ordering or comprehending events have any basis. But we cannot escape having to deal with existence, having to make sense out of it” (Cited in Stroll & Popkin, 1956: 105). Their concern is not so much in understanding and answering questions such as how man ought to live in an irrational world, but to also search for more humanistic beliefs, ways of dealing with one’s experience so as to make life meaningful. The discourse on the meaningfulness or meaninglessness of life, no doubt, is not peculiar to a particular worldview or civilization. These views exist in all human cultures and civilizations, and are all philosophies of life which try to answer in different ways the question that men are inclined to ask about human existence. Although these views became extremely popular in the France, Germany, and Latin America since the Second World War, they also became popular in the Englishspeaking world, and recently, it has garnered attention from African scholars such as Thaddeus Metz (2020, 2022), Motsamai Molefe (2020), Ada Agada (2020), David Aribiah Attoe (2020). My primary concern in this chapter is to examine some key issues in African existentialism. As stated in the preceding paragraph, themes in existentialism as they relate to the African place have been addressed and are still being addressed by African thinkers. For instance, regarding the theme of the meaning of human existence, while scholars such as Ada Agada argued for a theory of meaning that

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has a direct bearing with the concept of vital force, Motsamai Molefe pointed out that the meaning of human existence is tied to one’s personhood. Another key issue to be examined in this chapter is the crisis of identity which has a precolonial and postcolonial coloration. It is important to note here that the term “African” as will be used in this chapter does not represent a homogenous concept. Objections may be raised when the term is used to make generalizations. The reason for this is not obscure: Africa as a continent has more than three thousand (3000) tribes, diverse cultures, and different languages. Thus, generalizing the use of the term “African” may suggest a superimposition of a culture over another within the continent. While this is the case, Femi Otunbanjo (1989: 15) points out that there are unifying elements in the beliefs and ideas of the innumerable social groups in Africa to enable them to be identified as being one genre. Consequently, the use of “African” in this chapter represents the indigenous peoples of the sub-Sahara. Having the above points in mind, I set out in this chapter by attempting an exposition of the meaning of human life, with emphasis on different perspectives in African traditions. Here, I pay close attention to theories of the meaning of human life, such as the vital force theory, the personhood theory, and the relationality theory. In what follows, I examine the crisis of identity in Africa with emphasis on the crisis during the precolonial and postcolonial era and also with reference to the works of Aimé Césaire and Frantz Fanon. All this is followed by an evaluation of the key issues examined in this chapter.

African Philosophical Perspectives on the Meaning of Human Existence The African understanding and conception of existence differs a lot from the conventional Western metaphysical interpretation and speculations on human existence and composition. Although not a lot has been done to address the question of the meaning of life as an African perspective, however, effort will be made to look at views from some African thoughts in some sub-Saharan African societies, and from these plethora of views, aggregate views that cut across all the positions that can most likely be taken as what constitute meaning of life in Africa. Across most African societies, the meaning of life are similar to the point that they share similar thoughts on issues of creation and perception of what life is generally, but this conception explores an understanding of existence different from the dominant binary postulations in traditional philosophy, that is, monism-dualism, the material-spiritual, the sensible-nonsensible dissection of reality among others (Adedayo, 2021: 7). What does it mean for something to be “African?” According to Oladele Balogun as cited in Yolanda Mlungwa, “African philosophy can be viewed as a rational and systematic examination of the essential issues that Africa faces, and it looks to understand and find plausible answers for these problems” (Balogun cited in Mlungwa, 2020: 118). From Balogun’s conception, it suggests that the analysis

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and definition of ideas, problems, and questions that are immersed in the issues of life are grounded in the belief system of Africans. For instance, the Yorubas are associated with beliefs bothering on their interpretation of puzzled reality; these beliefs include explanations on creation, predestination, beingness, extinction of human persons, and also the issues of destiny, immortality of the soul, and the relationship between the celestial and terrestrial world and the role it plays in the reality of human existence (Balogun cited in Mlungwa, 2020: 117). In the attempt to answer the question: what makes life meaningful within the African context? Yolanda Mlungwa examined this question from three different approaches, namely, life, love, and destiny. After careful evaluations of these approaches, he argued and concluded that the destiny view is the most plausible account of life’s meaning (Mlungwa, 2020: 155). Looking at the different approaches mentioned above, different African societies give different meaning of life, from life as seen in the Akan people’s culture of Ghanaian ethnic group which sees life as a force of creative energy with the term “Se,” which means that human life is being understood as a force or power that continuously recreates itself and so it is characterized by continuous change and growth which depends on its own inner source of power (Attoe, 2020: 130). In the opinion of Aribiah David Attoe, any African understanding of the meaning of human life in African philosophy can be examined from four different perspectives, and they are: African God-purpose theory; the vital force theory; the communal normative theory; and the consolationist theory (Attoe, 2020). The God-purpose theory sees meaning as domiciled in the fulfilment of one’s destiny or through the obedience of divine law as what makes life meaningful. This theory is often hinged on the argument that religion and the belief in God as the Supreme Being permeate the African communal-ontological life. According to Pantaleon Iroegbu: So far, nobody to our knowledge, has disputed the claim that in African traditional societies, there were no atheists. The existence of God is not taught to children, the saying goes. This means that the existence of God is not learnt, for it is innate and obvious to all. God is ubiquitously involved in the life and practices of the people. (Iroegbu, 1995: 359).

Evidently, by conceiving that God exists and that He mediates in the affairs of men, Africans believe that God, therefore, has the power of determining the purpose and the meaning that is often attached to human existence. It is important to note, according to Attoe, the belief in God-purpose theory of meaning suggests that “nothingness is impossible” (Attoe, 2020: 5). What this implies, to him, is that in African context, nothingness is similar to being-alone and being-with-others essence of the African communal life. Differently construed, the emphasis Africans place on the intersubjective relationship with others is important in the attempt to ensure that nothingness does not exist. This stands in contradistinction to the Cartesian Cogito where the individual is seen as an enclosed entity that is not open to others. Relationships with other people are how existence should be manifested. This is how the other realities that come from God validate his

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existence as a being-with-others. Consequently, “the African rejection of nothingness for being-alone comes from the African understanding of God as necessarily eternal (at least regressively speaking) and also the progenitor of the universe” (Attoe, 2021: 6). It is important to state here that the concept of destiny is sometimes tied to the God-purpose theory of meaning. The reason for this is because it is believed that the human destiny, good or bad, is divine. Thus, the meaningfulness or meaninglessness of human existence in an African place is inextricably linked to one’s destiny. Here, it can be argued as to how one is to correlate bad destiny with the good one since it is God that gives one destiny. However, Segun Gbadegesin was quick to point out that both good and bad destinies are from God, whether or not the individual choses it. Regarding the divine law and the role it plays in the Godpurpose theory of meaning, according to Idowu, “divine laws are known to the individual via different conduits that serve as representatives or messengers of the supreme – usually lesser gods, spirits, ancestors, or priests” (Idowu, 2005: 186–187). While these laws differ from one culture to the other, it is expected that there are some taboos or injurious acts that individuals are expected to avoid in order to avoid disharmony in the community. Thus, not adhering to these divine laws breeds meaninglessness. While the God-purpose theory is a plausible theory in the discourse on the meaningfulness/meaninglessness of human existence, several criticisms have been levelled against it. One is the idea problem of determinism. Given that God determines the meaning attached to human existence, does it not suggest that human freedom becomes useless? From another perspective, does this not encourage laziness? While these questions are pertinent is that the human freedom is already removed from the equation as God is the sole determinant of his/her destiny. For the second question, individuals may decide to stay put and watch as things unfold, and decide not to take action where necessary. Another criticism of this theory is that it fails to capture the meaningfulness of human existence that is outside one’s destiny and divine law. Consequently, if a person’s desire of becoming a musical genius conflicts with his predetermined destiny, they will not succeed in making their efforts significant. But it seems to reason that such an endeavor counts as a noteworthy moment (Attoe, 2021: 7). Another theory that is germane in the attempt to understand the meaning of human existence in the African place is the Vital Force Theory. Before we proceed here, it is important to by way of retrospect understand what the vital force entails. According to Placide Tempels, the “vital force” which is also known as the “inmost nature of being” is seen as a cosmic energy which permeates all entities that exist in the Bantu ontology. He captures it as follows: The key principle of Bantu philosophy is that of vital force. The activating and final aim of all Bantu effort is only the intensification of vital force. To protect it or to increase vital force, that is the motive or profound meaning in all their practices. It is the ideal which animates the life of the ‘muntu,’ the only thing for which he is ready to suffer and to sacrifice himself (Tempels cited in Okafor, 1982: 84–85).

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In the same vein, Lajol expresses that: Africans believe that behind every human being or object there is a vital power or soul (1989, 369). Africans personify nature because they believe that there is a spiritual force residing in every object of nature. (2017, 28).

Since the vital force is important in the discourse on African ontology, scholars such as Ada Agada has incorporated it in the attempt to understand the meaning of human existence in an African space. He poignantly conceptualizes this by stating that: Since vital force is the energy of life, determining the mode and extent of survival, it stands to reason that a meaningful life will be one that maximises vital force in all aspects of a person’s life. Positive states of mind and affects like optimism, hopefulness and joy are to be maximised, while negative states of mind and affects like pessimism, nihilism, fearfulness and sadness are to be minimised. Knowledge must be pursued and ignorance rejected (Agada 2020: 103).

Evidently, the individual is expected to maximize the vital force for his/her own benefits. This can further be understood within the context of the three perspectives from which the vital force can be understood, according to Tempels. In his words: (a) The nature of the universe to the Bantu African is nothing if not the “universe of forces.” (b) These forces can weaken or strengthen the life of a person who stands as the center of the universe. (c) In the face of the fact that one’s life force can be dangerously diminished or beneficially enhanced and strengthened, the best course of action for one is to take care to avoid the diminution of one’s life force (Tempels cited in Okafor, 1982: 85). The last point above is important in appraising the vital force theory as one of the theories of the human existence. This simply means that some practices are causally interpreted in relation to the weakening or strengthening of life force, as shown by the way witchcraft, sorcery, the medicine man, ancestor worship, the king, and the chief are dealt with. This setting makes the argument that some of these players weaken life energy while others strengthen it. Put differently, life becomes meaningful for the individual if he or she does things that strengthen the life force, and the life becomes meaningless if he or she also does things that diminish the life force. If the concept of a vital force is to be taken seriously, it is necessary to acknowledge that the vital force is a significant component of the person and that there are several ways in which it can be increased or decreased. One must look to illness, misery, depression, exhaustion, disappointment, injustice, failure, or any unpleasant event as factors to the loss of vital force. In the same way, it is possible to argue that positive interactions with others, justice, enjoyment, good health, particular rituals, and other factors all help to strengthen and bolster vital force. These concepts bring us to vitalism as a theory of meaning (Attoe, 2021: 8).

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What relationship, if any, exists between personhood and meaning in an African place? By personhood, we mean the constituents parts of the human person. It is important to state here without equivocation that there are two basic constituents of the human person in African traditions, and they are: the descriptive ontological and normative social. Regarding the former, the human person is believed to possess some physical features such as the head, hand, legs, eyes, etc., while the normative social has to do with the individual’s ability to conform to the social norms of his immediate community. The personhood theory of meaning has been defended by Motsamai Molefe who argued in his article entitled “Personhood and a Meaningful Life in African Philosophy” (2020), that this theory of meaning “is construed in terms of the agent achieving the moral end of moral perfection or excellence. A life that exudes moral perfection to satisfactory levels, given the limits associated with morality, is a meaningful one” (2020: 202). What is central to understanding this conception of the meaning of life, according to Molefe, is the concept of dignity. . . .inflorescent dignity is used to refer to individuals who are flourishing as human beings – living lives that are consistent with and expressive of the intrinsic dignity of the human. Thus, dignity is sometimes used to refer to a state of virtue – a state of affairs in which a human being habitually acts in ways that expresses the intrinsic value of the human (Sulmasy, 2008: 473).

The term “inflorescent dignity” describes a state of virtue that an agent develops over time; the agent’s ability to secure her standing or inherent dignity leads to the emergence of the state of virtue under examination. Always keep in mind that according to the ethics of personhood, we have status or inherent dignity since we have the ability for moral virtue. The growth of the agent’s potential for virtue translates to moral perfection, which we may also think of in terms of a life of honor. This form of dignity is what we obtain in relation to our attempts to acquire moral perfection; it is known as achieving dignity. As a result, the development of the unique human capacity for virtue is a necessary condition for a dignified human existence and the pursuit of a meaningful life (Molefe, 2020: 202). The personhood theory of meaning can further be understood within the context of the normative social component of personhood in African traditions. The normative social component of personhood states that the human person attains full status on the basis of his ability to abide by the community norms and values. In this sense, the life of the individual is meaningful if and only if he sees himself in relationship with others. This is captured by Segun Gbadegesin who stated that: The purpose of individual existence is intricately linked with the purpose of social existence, and cannot be adequately grasped outside it . . . The meaning of one’s life is therefore measured by one’s commitment to social ideals and communal existence. The question, ‘What is your existence for?’ (Kíni o wà fún?) is not always posed. It is posed when a person has been judged to be useless to his/her community. It is therefore a challenge, a call to serve. It presupposes a conception of human existence which sees it as purposeful, and the purpose is to contribute to the totality of the good in the universe (Gbadegesin, 1991: 58).

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It is important to state here that several criticisms have been levelled against this theory of meaning. For instance, it has been argued that this theory of meaning takes meaning beyond the physical components of the human person such as the brain and other central nervous activities. Put differently, this theory suggests that the meaning of human life is predetermined and as such, the individual has little or nothing to do to make his or her life meaningful. In summary, the vital force theory sees the constant striving to increase one’s vital force as what makes an individual life meaningful. The communal normative function theory sees meaning in the sustenance of harmony through positive interactions with one’s community while the consolationist theory sees the constant yearnings for perfection as what makes life meaningful. This was also seen in Segun Gbadegesin’s theory of destiny from the Yoruba thought which suggests that prior to one’s birth, one is given a preordained destiny that is specific to the individual (Adedayo, 2021: 7). This is because God knows how destiny fits to its grander schemes the individual possesses enough free will to accept, fulfil, reject, or disregard one’s destiny. Even in fulfilling one’s destiny, it will only be realized when it aligns or it is in consonant with the destinies of others, and the dictates of the community. This means the individual destinies are achieved along with the destinies of others and the community he relates with. These views of the meaning of life may not be exhaustive in this work, but it is evident that similarities exist among the different cultures in Africa. The meaning in life is presented in varying degrees among human persons depending largely on their choices and these are sometimes conceived in terms of purpose to be achieved (Metz, 2020: 116). These purposes to be achieved can be interpreted differently by individuals and the community to which they belong. For some they believe that giving birth to a child and rearing the child with love gives meaning to one’s life. Some tends to hold that the more one donates rightly, the more meaningful life becomes while others also believe to live a meaningful life is to grow old to a ripe age so that when he or she dies, he or she can become an ancestor. So for the African anything short of these makes life meaningless. For instance, if a man dies premature death, it means the person did not live a meaningful life. This also account for why to the Africans the physical death is not seen as the end of life. Life to him appears to be more meaningful even at death. That is why in Africa, living a good life does not depend of the individual alone, but his relation with others in the community. That means individual destinies can only be achieved through the destinies of others in a community. So man’s purpose in life is to achieve a meaningful life with others. In fact, if the individual existence is not in tandem with his or her destiny, a contradiction between the destiny and efforts of an individual can lead to an unfulfilled life (Balogun, 2007). From the foregoing discussions above, either from seeing life as meaningful from trying to fulfil one’s destiny as seen in the works of Gbadegesin, or a force of creative energy as espoused by Ada Agada, and in the works of Attoe, through the sustenance of harmony, through positive interactions with one’s community negates the Western belief in reason as the substance of personhood, which is placing the individual as centermost point of concern in society.

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The next sections shall show the importance of relationality and death in understanding the meaning of human existence in African space, and the crisis of identity posed by modern Africa as a result of colonialism and Westernization.

Relationality and the Meaning of Life The view that Africans by nature are relational refers to the connectedness that exists among Africans as a result of their communal lifestyle. It means the connectedness that underlines how no individual exists in isolation. Relationality is the acceptance of the individuality of others, for all are interconnected and in general, it is the acceptance of interconnectedness of human, nature, and the spiritual. Many African Scholars have written so much regarding the communalism and relationality that exist in the cultures and life of Africans. Each of these cultures in one way or the other shows how people are interconnected with others and their community. This communalism finds its best expression in the Ubuntu Philosophy. Ubuntuism is an African philosophical framework that is characterized by interconnectedness of all things and beings: the spiritual nature of people, their collective and individual identity, and their collective/inclusive nature of family structure; oneness of mind, body and spirit and value of interpersonal relationship (Kudakwashe et al., 2022: 325). Ubuntu – its etymology is a root associated with humanity; person, people, culture, and personhood between one of the core value of Africans is built around this communalism. Ethics in Ubuntu is the measure of one’s relationality with others, the environment, and all other independent parts (Kudakwashe et al., 2022: 327). According to Robert Kudakwashe et al.: The philosophy is known in different languages in Africa including bomato (Congo); gumutu (Angola); Umunthu (Malawi); Vumuthu (Mozambique); Vumuntu, Vhutu (South Africa); Humutu/ubunthosi (Zimbabwe) bumunhu (Tanzania); umuntu Uganda) to mention but a few. Ubunthu is rooted in the saying “I am a person because you are; I share because I share and participate and I am because of others.” (Kudakwashe et al., 2022: 327).

This same philosophy is noticeable in other cultures of the sub-Saharan Africa. For example, as evident in the Yoruba culture, Ubuntuism is noticeable and practiced to the extent that during marriage ceremonies the bride is often not seen as the wife of the groom alone, but as that of the entire family and the community at large. Just the same way, it is believed that the role of bringing up a child is that of the community and not the biological parent alone. This means the individual exists for the community and vice versa. This arrangement captures one’s purpose and the idea that the individual is the image of the community, and the community is the image of the individual. However, this is not to say there is no individual view point in Africa, or that community decides in the name of the subject. It is rather a position that views an individual as being nothing without the community and the community being nothing without the individual (Mwambi, 2020). In fact, for the African, life devoid of this human interconnectedness with others and the community is a meaningless life. A meaningful life is a life

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which incorporates the individuality of other, such that one is not complete in oneself but relies on other for completion. Apart from existing in relation to the others, the individual exists in relation to the specialized forms making a part of the whole. Thus, accepting the other human as oneself is to be in harmony with ultimate reality from which human and all forces derive and are intricately and inextricably interconnected.

Death and the Meaning of Life Death is a natural occurrence in every human society, and understanding how this phenomenon is conceived in Africa consists of understanding how Africans conceive reality an existence under which such events are subsumed (Imafidon, 2018: 93). Death simply means the physical termination of a person’s life. When death occurs, the person ceases to exist physically. But the actual meaning and conception of death depends on people’s perception and understanding of reality. For Sartre, dealing with the trauma of loss in death is never that which gives life its meaning. It is on the contrary that which as a principle removes meaning from life; if we must die our life has no meaning because its problems received no solution and because the very measuring of its problem remained undetermined (Sartre, 1969: 545). According to Camus “the meaninglessness and absurdity of existence ends with death” (Camus, 1955: 47). Some philosophers such as Plato, St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, and René Descartes have argued overtime that the soul is immortal and by extension, at the point bodily death, the soul transcends due to its immortal and indestructible nature. However, for philosophers such as Aristotle, Epicurus, David Hume and Bertrand Russell, there is no life after death, that is, the soul is mortal and destructible (Omoregbe, 1991: 67). From the above, it is evident that people’s beliefs in life and death reflect their approach towards death. Although the West, Oriental world, and Africa believe that death does not bring to an end the activities of man on earth, their interpretation of the meaning and conception of death differs based on their understanding of reality. For the Africans, the physical death is not the end of life but a transition from this world to the land of the spirits (Asuquo, 2011: 173). The African worldview understands death as an integral and continuous development of life process inseparable from the interwoven connection between the visible and invisible ontologies (Baloyi & Makobe-Rabothata, 2014). People do not cease to exist once they are physically dead, instead they transcend to the spiritual world to live in the community of the living dead. Dying marks a further development milestone which is not separate from life development process and stages it as a transition to a different phase of being. To the African, death does not sever family connections, but the dead becomes an ancestor (Baloyi & Makobe-Rabothata, 2014). However, there are different classifications of death resulting to either a good death or a bad death. A good death is when a person grows old and dies peacefully, while a bad death is when a person dies at a tender age because of his wrongdoings. It was not time for the person to die but due to something he did (Geest, 2004: 64). It is believed that in bad death, a person does not become an ancestor because the

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family and community only reckon with those who died a good death. So only people whose deaths are judged to be good gets the befitting burial by both family and community. A part of the reason is also because the dead who becomes an ancestor is most time still considered as a living dead. He or she is still being seen as relevant in the scheme of things among the living. This is why it is important for the community of the living to ensure that the dead is properly rested in the invincible realm of existence by performing the necessary rites to initiate the dead into the ancestral cult (Imafidon, 2018: 94). It is believed that the physically dead can become wrathful and harmful to the living if he or she is not properly transited into the invisible realm. That is the reason for and the importance of the burial rites by the family members. So even at the death there is this interconnectedness between the dead and the living; the dead once admitted into the ancestral cult still relates with the living, that is why at some ceremonies the living still acknowledge the dead by pouring libation during prayers for them to help direct and guide their affairs here in the physical world.

The Existentiality of Suffering and Meaning of Life The discourse of suffering has been an integral aspect of human thought and suffering remains a perennial and highly debated issue in the history of philosophy, religion, psychology, and studies in theodicy. This has led to two key perspectives of suffering deducible from existing literature on the subject matter. These according to Michael Stoeber are: (i) destructive or meaningless suffering and (ii) transformative or purposeful suffering (Stoeber, 2005). According to Stoeber, destructive suffering is “suffering which is purposeless and even inhibiting of any kind of personal growth” (Stoeber, 2005) or human well-being. This sort of suffering is often discussed in very close relation with evil and has dominated Western thought for ages as a human experience that threatens meaningful existence and must be avoided and prevented at all costs. In fact, bulk of the literature on suffering focuses more on this sense of suffering as destructive and meaningless and caused by evil. It does follows that in the discussion of destructive suffering, evil is invariably discussed. As Renee Jeffery explains it, citing copiously David Parkin’s view on the matter as well, . . . [in] the wide range of disparate understandings of evil . . . suffering is never lacking from its conceptualization. . . That is, the idea of evil, in its range of secular and theistic forms has traditionally sought to make sense of human suffering, to make otherwise meaningless suffering intelligible. . . the experience of suffering is central to our understanding of evil. . .

Hence, bulk of the existing literature on suffering that have emerged from philosophical discourses focus primarily on the origin of suffering in relation to the problem of evil. This is seen for instance, in the works of Plato, Augustine, and Leibniz. Little exist on the theorization of suffering as an actual, factual human and social experience conceptualized outside the realm of the divine origin of evil and suffering.

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Transformative suffering on the other hand is aptly explained thus by Michael Stoeber (2005: 18): Writing in a very general way, Dorothee Soelle argues that humanity ‘learns through suffering . . ., experiences change, is directed towards wisdom’. In such a view, suffering is understood in terms of the positive role it might play in one’s life. That is to say, it serves a purpose, has a goal, can be understood in terms of some better end towards which it contributes.

Thus, in this sense of suffering as transformative or purposeful, some scholars although recognizing the importance of evil in the discourse of suffering, recognize as well that there is more to the matter than evil. They see suffering as an integral aspect of human existence and reality having some benefits – this is not often the case with destructive conception of suffering which sees suffering as something alien to ideal human existence and thus must be fought against – which though may cause pain, also has purpose and benefits. This understanding of suffering is similar, for instance, to doing good. Doing good is seen as essential for human well-being as it leads to the betterment of others. But doing good may sometimes bring pain for some others, but such pain cannot jettison the good it brings as well. The transformative concept of suffering thus shifts from theodicy to existentialism as its backbone. In this existentialist understanding, suffering is a human experience that generally showcases life’s meaninglessness, facticity, finitude, and thrownness, but, as some existentialists show, also has a transformative side where we can learn through it and improve our lives and well-being. However, even in this transformative sense as we see, for example, in Kierkegaard’s existentialist philosophy, the goal is still to overcome suffering and attain ideal state of being and existence in this world or in an other-worldly existence. Hence, in both the destructive and transformative senses of suffering dominant in Western philosophical literature, suffering is abhorred and avoided at all cost and authentic existence is hinged on one’s ability to avoid, prevent, and overcome and take control of it at all cost. For example, the Greek moral philosophers including Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates all agreed that the ultimate moral goal is to maximize happiness of individuals in human societies through the cultivation of key moral virtues including one that is the foundation of philosophy, moral-intellectual virtue. Virtues in the Greek moral and philosophical tradition help to minimize human suffering and pain. The atomist philosopher Democritus is known to have said that medicine heals the body’s diseases but wisdom the soul’s suffering (pathe) (Blyth, 2012; Hall, 2012). Philosophy itself was thus seen in Greek philosophy as a way of overcoming suffering. In medieval, largely Christian and scholastic philosophy, there was a domination of the understanding of suffering from a largely JudeoChristian perspective. Suffering was seen as the result of man’s imperfection, sin, and inability to live up to ideal ethical standards. Christian philosophy is meant to lead the way to a life of perfection, free from suffering in an other-worldly existence. This is quite obvious in the philosophy of Augustine of Hippo and Thomas Aquinas and their understanding of sin, suffering, and the redemption and

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hope Christ’s death brings. Admittedly, these Church Fathers highlighted the role suffering plays in teaching of certain virtues such as endurance, but for them, suffering was never to be accepted as an ideal existential condition. The key point in medieval philosophy was that suffering comes from sin and a messiah will bring redemption from suffering (Tarling, 2012). This understanding of suffering found its way into modernity particularly in existentialism. Theist existentialists such as Martin Buber and Søren Kierkegaard, atheist existentialists such as Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre, and many modern and contemporary philosophers of religion and theodicy emphasize the destructive and abhorrent nature of suffering. Existentialists generally describe suffering as the lack of meaning and purpose in human existence. Overcoming suffering is therefore key to finding meaning and purpose in life (Camus, 1991). The discourse of, and ideas of, suffering are therefore, intrinsically linked to those of human well-being. The general destructive reception of suffering is essentially tied to the reason that it inhibits human well-being, and existing literature show this important connection between the two concepts such that the avoidance of the one – suffering – results in the actualization of the other – human well-being. This is where the African indigenous conception of suffering differs in the way it connects suffering to a meaningful life and the development of essential values. African traditions consists of a transformative, purposeful, and relational account of existential suffering. Embedded in sub-Saharan African cultures is a rich existential ontology of suffering which becomes the rich source of virtue ethics. Suffering is theorized and presented in African thought as emerging from an existential ontology of being. Suffering is an integral part of our being human and our relationship with other human and nonhuman beings, both this-worldly and other-worldly. Far from being essentially destructive, suffering is transformative, existential, and constitutes a vital feature of existence just like freedom, relationality, death, and responsibility. It is not a feature of reality that is abhorrent or meaningless. Rather it gives life meaning as it is key in developing personal and relational virtues such as resilience, endurance, strength, value for the good life, respect, solidarity and mutual support, virtues that makes life meaningful. Among the Esan people of Southern Nigeria, for example, Esan words such as oyaleto, iziegbo-oya, and oyazigholo, which translate as “suffering breeds longevity,” “suffering breeds patience,” “suffering breeds strength” manifest and projects the virtues embedded in suffering, virtues that individuals must develop to lead meaningful lives. Esan concept of existential suffering is thus transformative because it not only recognizes the pain that suffering could bring, but also emphasizes the benefits or utility of suffering for human well-being. More specifically, Esan thought emphasizes the virtues and values that are developed and sustained in community members due to their experience of suffering, virtues and values that are essential for human well-being and survival. Adages, names, and proverbs in Esan thought shows clearly such beliefs. For instance, the Esan names “oyaletor” and “oyazigholo” which translates as “suffering brings longevity” and “suffering breeds strength,” respectively, shows how suffering can be the source of important virtues such as strength, endurance, and patience. These names show

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that beyond the pain that suffering brings, there are benefits that could transform an individual, making him or her a better person. The adage “aziegbe agbon” also given in the shorter form as the name “aziegbe” explains how the problems and suffering one faces in life helps one to develop patience and courage. It is ubiquitous that Africa has rich and diverse cultural and philosophical heritages which questions this seeming singularity and universality in the discourse of suffering in African philosophy. However, there exist semblances particularly across sub-Saharan African cultures and communities in the general principles and assumptions about being, existence, values, and knowledge.

Modern Africa and the Crisis of Identity Modern Africa can be referred to as the period after the contact with the West which distinguishes from the premodern African forms of life and experiences prior to Western influences. This era can well be described as postcolonial Africa, which means the era proceeding the colonial period in Africa. After Africa’s colonial experience, most African societies experienced changes as a result of the impact of colonialism either positively or negatively which resulted in cultural mix of the major character with the colonizer and created new cultures for the Africans. The term postcolonial is defined as all the cultures affected by the imperial process from the moment of colonization to the present day (Abdulqadir, 2017). The term postcolonialism, apart from representing the historical period or state of affairs of the aftermath of Western colonialism, is also used to describe the concurrent projects to reclaim and rethink history of the people subordinated under various forms of imperialism. This period heralded different nationalist movements and reactions against the effect of colonization on the cultures of Africa. Postcolonialism also ushered in a lot of postcolonial literatures and writers who saw the need to redirect already distorted cultures as a result of the effects of colonialism. The main goal was decolonization which has to do with interrogating the effects of colonialism in terms of cultural alienation, anti-colonial struggles of the third world and the rise of nationalism. The decolonization of nations under colonial tenets incited an important move towards reproducing social and individual identities (Abdulqadir, 2017). The period likewise was marked by the battles of liberation at all levels of life; culture, economy, arts, and so on demanded a recapture of actual identity, previously lost by powers of colonization (Abdulqadir, 2017). The identity issues became prominent especially as was seen in the works of most postcolonial writers such as Frantz Fanon, Aimé Césaire, Edward Said, Chinua Achebe, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, and others. Therefore, the search for identity in modern Africa is the by-product of colonization (Abdulqadir, 2017). After Africa’s experience of colonialism, modern Africa became riddled with crisis of identity. Identity is characterized as “the certainty of being” who or what man or thing is. Identity as a term is derived from the Latin word identitas which means sameness. Philosophically identity is defined as the affiliation each thing carries only to itself

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(Iyare, 2017). It means those marked differences which distinguishes an individual or a group from the other. The psychological meaning of identity includes the characteristics, individualities, beliefs, expressions, and views that construct a person or group, while the idea of identity in sociology is understood as one of social appearance, selfappreciation, and looks that express their uniqueness and differentiates from others as national, cultural, and gender identities (Abdulqadir, 2017). As evident from the above discussions, modern Africa suffers the problem of identity such that this era became riddled with the identity crises. To resolve the identity crises, most African writers and nationalist championing this cause resorted to total decolonization. This colonization has to do with cultural, psychological, and economic freedom which aims at helping indigenous people achieve the goal of sovereignty; the right and ability to practice self-determination over their land, cultures, and political economic system. For instance, Edward Said in his idea of identity, as observed by Saman Abdulqadir in his work The Crises of Identity in Postcolonial Literature, focused on the need to assert oneself to develop an individual personality that is against the ideals of colonialism and imperialism. He stressed that this “transformation must be documented and analyzed since the development of a unique identity and the fate of a person is not dictated merely by his governing authority or oppressive rulers. It is in the hands of the person to shape his own destiny” (Abdulqadir, 2017). The argument here is that Western colonialism digs shatteringly into the dignity and authenticity of the African, such that the native African at all times tries to make himself look like a white man. Frantz Fanon also argued along this in his popular work Black Skin, White Mask where he constantly calls that we should reconstruct and reclaim the native African identity. Fanon’s argument is that native African identity has been distorted, deviated, and confused as a result of long years of colonization (Fanon, 2008: 57). For Fanon, the black man has two dimensions, one with his fellow black man; the other with the white man. A Negro behaves differently with a white man and with another Negro. . .this self-division is a direct result of colonial subjugation (Fanon, 2008: 62). Just like Frantz Fanon, Aimé Césaire was one of the most influential Caribbean writers of his generation and one of the founding fathers of Negritude, the black consciousness movement that sought to assert pride in African cultural values to counterbalance the inferior status accorded them in European colonial thinking. Césaire through the black consciousness movement frowned at all the activities and ills associated with colonialism, from all forms of oppression meted out on the black people during colonialism. According to Césaire “every day that passes, every denial of justice, every demand of the worker that is drowned in blood, every scandal that is hushed tip, every punitive expedition, every police van, every genderme and every militia man brings home to us the value of our old societies” (Césaire, 1972: 24). Césaire detested the derogatory manner the Negro had been described and made to look during colonialism. The uncivilized perception of the blacks by the white colonialist was of great concern to him. He argued that the idea of the barbaric Negro is a European invention, and also from the historians and novelists of civilization, they project a false objectivity, their chauvinism, their shy racism, their depraved passion for refusing to any

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merit in the non-Western races, their obsession with monopolizing all glory for their own race. Césaire believes in the value of our old societies. According to him, our old societies were communal societies never societies of the many for a few. They were societies that were not only ante capitalist but also anti-capitalist. They were democratic societies always, cooperative societies, fraternal societies (Césaire, 1972: 24). This confused identity described above by Fanon was also captured by Homi Bhabha; in Saman Abdulqadir’s work mentioned above he used the idea of “hybridity.” He observed that “such a picture develops when cultural traits of a colonial power and its colony intermingle together leading to a new identity that conforms to no specific stereotypical cultural description. He goes on to create the concept of a third space that lies somewhere in between two separate cultures. This space allows the mixing of different cultural traits without any prejudice, coercion or imposition” (Abdulqadir, 2017). These sort of confused identities still exist with Africans such that one of the greatest problems Africa and Africans are facing both here and in the diaspora is the problem of identity. Just as Fanon observed how an immigrant must appear to the stereotype of a white person, so as to be accepted in European nation or forced to subvert his own individuality so that colonial nation cannot view him under the prism of his own “backward” cultural characteristics.

Conclusion From our discussions above, it is evident that understanding Africa and African existentialism, one needs to understand the authentic being as against the inauthentic identity such as was experienced in postcolonial era. This authentic being has to do with the general understanding of what Africans conceive as reality. What gives meaning to life for an African as seen above differs from the Western conception of meaning. Hence, such values as God-purpose theory, communal normative theory, preordained destiny theory, relationality, “Ubuntuism,” etc., negate the Western imposed identity on Africa, most especially the Western belief in reason as the substance of personhood and placing the individual as the centermost point of concern in the society. So the imposition of a false identity by the experience of colonialism as seen in the works of Fanon and Césaire that the African must appear to the stereotype of a white person so as to be accepted in a European nation, or in the views of Césaire the uncivilized perception of the black by the white colonialist as “barbaric” Negro or in the idea of “hybridity” in Saman Abdulqadir’s work above which leads to no specific stereotypical cultural description only destroys the more the dignity and cultural identity of the African. For Africa to reconstruct and reclaim this battered and distorted identity for an authentic African identity, we need to appreciate and understand the rich and complex culture of Africa prior to colonialism. This leaves us with no other choice other than to see Africa existentialism as an essential part of African philosophical curriculum for understanding the identity and meaningfulness of life of the African person.

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Mwambi, S. 2020. From rationality to relationality: Ubuntu as an ethical and human rights framework for artificial intelligence governance. Carr Centre Discussion Paper Series, 2020–009. Okafor, S. O. (1982). Bantu philosophy: Placide Tempels revisited. Journal of Religion in Africa, 13(2), 84–85. Omoregbe, J. (1991). A simplified history of Western philosophy. Joja Educational Publishers. Otubanjo, F. (1989). Themes in African traditional thought. In Z. S. Ali, A. A. Ayoade, & A. A. B. Agbaje (Eds.), African traditional political thought and institutions (pp. 3–17). Centre for Black and African Arts and Civilization. Popkin, H., & Stroll, A. (1956). Philosophy made simple. Doubleday and Company Inc. Sartre, J. P. (1969). Being and Nothingness. London: Methuen. Stoeber, M. (2005). Reclaiming theodicy: Reflections on suffering, compassion and spiritual transformation. Palgrave Macmillan. Stroll, A., & Popkin, R. (1956). Philosophy Made Simple. London: Heinemann. Sulmasy, D. (2008). Dignity and bioethics: History, theory, and selected applications. In The President’s council on bioethics, human dignity and bioethics: Essays commissioned by the President’s council (pp. 465–501). President’s Council on Bioethics. Tarling, N. (2012). The meaning and the experience of suffering: A historian’s perspective. In J. Malpas & N. Lickiss (Eds.), Perspectives on human suffering (pp. 113–120). Springer.

African Conceptions of the Meaning of Life Aribiah David Attoe and Yolanda Mlungwana

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Love Theory of the Meaning of Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The “God’s Purpose” Theory of Meaning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Destiny Theory of the Meaning of Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Divine Law . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Vital Force . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Communal View . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (Yoruba) Cluster View . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Living a Religious Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (Contemporary) Cluster View (CCV) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The question of life’s meaning is a universal question that not only cuts across various cultures but also resides at the back of the mind of almost every individual that has ever existed. The very desire to continue striving in this world suggests that there is something about life that makes it worth living. Even in the throes of despair and suicide, there is something that drives the existential angst that awakens such despair. Both striving and despair in life stand as subtle and benign answers to questions about whether one considers his/her life meaningful. In African philosophy today, answer to the question of life’s meaning from an African perspective is receiving more attention now than it has in the last few

A. D. Attoe (*) University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] Y. Mlungwana University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_33

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decades. This chapter is a summary of some of the dominant views in the current literature on African conceptions of meaning. Specifically, it explores traditional conceptions of meaning such as the love view, the God’s purpose view (destiny and divine law view), the vital force view, the communal view, and the (Yoruba) Cluster view, as well as the more contemporary views such as living a religious life and the contemporary cluster view. Keywords

African conceptions of meaning · God’s purpose · Meaning · Vital force · Communal

Introduction Prior to a recent special issue of the South African Journal of Philosophy (SAJP, published in 2020 and edited by Aribiah D. Attoe), there have not been large comprehensive studies or extensive literature on African conceptions of the meaning of life. Even though the concept has been underexplored in English-written African philosophical literature, there have been some attempts to address, analyze, and sometimes critically engage with this question since 2020. What follows is a systematic account of a few of the theories of life’s meaning that have been discussed by African philosophers. Otherwise put, what follows is a comprehensive exposition of the question of the meaning of life, as defined and explained according to some characteristically African philosophical perspectives. Before discussing these African theories of the meaning of life in further detail, it is important to spell out some key elements that make a theory an account of meaning in/of life. According to Thomson (2012), a person’s life is meaningful by virtue of a characteristic or set of characteristics that the life may or may not contain in varying degrees. Thus, a life is more or less meaningful according to the extent to which a particular meaning-conferring condition is present within that account of meaning. Arjan Markus (2012) takes these key elements to include purpose, value, and/or coherence. Hence an answer to the question of what makes life meaningful ought to involve ideas that speak to an overarching goal, actions that are of intrinsic axiological value, and what binds various actions performed within the context of a theory of meaning such that it makes sense, pursuant to a certain goal (Markus, 2012). Metz (2013) talks about actions that transcend our animal nature, corrals high esteem and admiration, and also ends that are worth pursuing for their own sake. Any, and only, theories of meaning ought to capture some (if not all) of these elements, in order for them to stand as plausible theories of meaning. So, what are the dominant African theories of meaning, especially in the literature? This entry specifically examines the following: love view, the God’s purpose theory (destiny and divine law view), the vital force theory, the communal view, and the (Yoruba) Cluster view, as well as the more contemporary views such as living a religious life and the contemporary cluster view. The love view conceives a person’s

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life as meaningful to the extent that s/he is loving toward others. The God’s purpose view is captured with two sub-elements, destiny and divine law. The destiny view asserts that the fulfillment of one’s God-given destiny is the condition upon which a person’s life is meaningful (Attoe, 2020; Mlungwana, 2020). The divine law view conceives of an individual’s life as meaningful only insofar as s/he obeys or lives in accordance with divine laws given to individuals or communities by God through special intermediaries such as priests, diviners, or even spirits. The vital force view sees the meaning of life as involving one’s acquisition or cultivation of the all-pervading essence of life (vital force) – which emanates from God; and this vital force can be cultivated through rational and moral achievements. The communal view entails the idea that communality –a trademark in African Philosophy – or the communal values of fostering harmony and the promotion of the common good, while avoiding discord, are what make life meaningful; that is, the inescapable interdependence or relationality involved in African communalism is what provides human existence with purpose. For the more contemporary views about meaning, we also identified the Living a Religious Life (LRL) view, which locates meaning in the ability for one to pursue certain religious ideals, in service to God and, sometimes, in expectation of recognition by his/her community. Finally, we explore the contemporary cluster view, which finds meaning in the pursuit of certain specific values such as “self-sufficiency, child-raising, and accomplishing socio-cultural milestones and a high status in the community” (Attoe, 2021).

The Love Theory of the Meaning of Life Let us turn to the first African perspective on the meaning of life discussed in this entry, which is termed the love view. This conception of meaning is based on Munyaradzi Mawere’s (2010) idea of Rudo (love) as a theory of life’s meaning. Munyaradzi Mawere (2010: 279) begins by defining purpose as “the reason for which something is made or done.” He relates this understanding of purpose to the context of meaning as what provides the reason for human life in the world, or at least why human beings should continue to live. According to Mawere (ibid.), the Shona people (a particular ethnic group largely from Zimbabwe and Mozambique) answer the why question(s) of human existence through this understanding of purpose as the reason for human life on earth; this answer is to love. That is, our purpose – which shall be understood in terms of the meaning of our lives – is to love. This notion of love is not only a purpose, but it is also a widely cherished virtue in the Shona perspective. It plays a central role in human life and it influences all other human actions. Mawere’s conception of the notion of love is in the Greek sense of agape, which is a “pure ideal type of love rather than the physical attraction suggested by Eros” (Edwards 1990, quoted in Mawere, 2010: 279). Following Mawere, the Shona and the English terms for love are used interchangeably in this entry. Rudo is the Shona word for love. Rudo, or love, is defined as the “unconditional affection to do and

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promote goodness for oneself and others, even to strangers” (Mawere, 2010: 280). This kind of love goes beyond family and friendship ties, it extends to the entire community, even strangers. However, the community it extends to is only the human community in the sense that human beings are the only objects of love (Mawere, 2010). This is in contrast to how some philosophers of meaning, such as in Susan Wolf’s (2010) influential account, construe love as something that can plausibly be extended to objects, ideals, projects, or activities. According to the Shona traditional perspective, love is an innate gift that is inherent in the very make-up of all human beings (ibid.). Since it is an innate or natural attribute engraved in all persons, every human being has the propensity to love. Mawere (2010) also explains that this is not deterministic since despite the fact that love is a natural human faculty, to love – the act – requires the person’s own free will. Moreover, this capacity to love is “the sole purpose of life” (Mawere, 2010: 280). In general, there are metaphysical and normative implications for such a conception of love, and these shall be discussed in order to spell out the essential conceptual elements of the theory of love. The metaphysical worldview of the Shona is expressed in the term rudo as it highlights love as fundamental in all human relationships (ibid.). It is the foundation of community because it is essential and unconditional. It is also widely held that chaos and the destruction of life is the inevitable outcome of the absence of this love in human relationships (ibid.). Hence, love is at the center of what it means for a person to be virtuous in the Shona tradition. It does not only define the moral character of a person, but it is also a fundamental part of the metaphysical aspect of the notion of the purpose of life (ibid.). For instance, with regard to human dignity and value, rudo plays such a significant role that it is an encouraged virtue and an expectation for human persons to love all others; the opposite – or discriminating against others – is discouraged (ibid.). Rudo is the foundation and essential element of all good relations in a community, and it is for this reason that it is the purpose of human life. This expresses the underlying value of love as the cornerstone of communal living (ibid.). Communal living entails a specific way of life for every person that involves living and working in harmony with others in the various dimensions of communal life (ibid.). According to this Shona perspective of love, every role and responsibility that a person has in their life is grounded on love, this includes meaningful activities such as procreating, and ways of conduct like respect, generosity, encouraging peace, and mutuality within the community (of which ancestors and God are a part) (ibid.). Furthermore, Mawere (2010) makes explicitly clear and emphasizes the idea that in the absence of love, meaning is inconceivable. The meaning of any life in the world does not exist outside the realm of love. Love, as conceptualized by Mawere, is an intrinsic kind of value, that is, it is valuable for its own sake. The meaning of life, according to this view, encompasses the dimension of value (the value of love) as an inherent quality of a theory of meaning. In addition to this aspect, love is construed as the “sole purpose” of human existence. Hence, the notion of rudo captures the dimension of purpose, which is central to the kind of theory of life’s

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meaning that Mawere has in mind. Love is viewed as an individual’s intended purpose in life. Finally, for the coherence dimension, “a life is meaningful when one is loving towards others and all other actions strive towards loving; and thus, all acts of love and events that are loving in that life fit together” (Mlungwana, 2020: 156).

The “God’s Purpose” Theory of Meaning Reality, as we know it, did not emerge out of nothing. In fact, as Wiredu (1998) and the anonymous traditional African philosophers of the Akan school of thought see it, absolute nothingness is impossible and is not captured in their metaphysics. Combined with the beauty, and harmony we see in the world, it became apparent to our ancestors that there must have been an all-enduring first cause, who had to be a conscious cosmic designer that created the Universe as we know it. They also imagined that the creation of the world could not have been arbitrary and so there must be, at least, a cosmic purpose for which the world was made, and for which human beings play some role. Following this, one immediately sees that meaning is derived from a person playing the assigned role that his creation entails or helping in some way to fulfill God’s cosmic purpose. How is this fulfillment achieved? The literature identifies two major ways – the pursuit of destiny, which some like Mlungwana (2020) have treated as a stand-alone account of meaning, and obeying divine law.

Destiny Theory of the Meaning of Life According to Gbadegesin (2004), destiny is the teleological end, given to a person by God (usually before birth), which outlines the purpose of that person’s existence – it is that person’s source of life’s meaning. In other words, life is meaningful if and only if one fulfills one’s destiny. Gbadegesin’s ideas about destiny, which he derives from the Yoruba traditional perspectives, direct the current interpretation of destiny as a theory of meaning (Gbadegesin, 1991, 2004). The concept of ori in the Yoruba tradition illustrates the fundamental belief in pre-given destinies. The term ori means the head and it symbolizes what is called an inner head, which expresses the notion of some kind of bearer of a person’s destiny (Gbadegesin, 1991). This inner head also serves as the individual’s guide throughout their life on earth. The idea that one’s destiny is “wound and sealed up in an ori” (Gbadegesin, 1991: 47) expresses the pre-given nature of this concept (this notion of a “pre-given destiny” will be discussed later on in this section). Destiny is ordained to individuals and it is in accordance with this destiny that their lives are meaningful. The significance of this belief is that there is a God-given “purpose for human existence in the world, that human beings have to accomplish a ‘mission’ or convey a message, and that this is the meaning of their existence” (Mlungwana, 2020: 157).

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To return to the issue of a “pre-given” or ordained destiny, which explains how human beings obtain destinies, let us ask the question, what is the source of destiny? There are various ways that the Yoruba conceive of how human beings obtain their destinies. These include the notions of a chosen destiny, an ordained destiny, as well as a combination of the two extremes as the source of an individual’s destiny. The first concept is what the Yoruba call Akunleyan, which means “that which one kneels down to choose” (Gbadegesin, 2004: 315). This refers to the idea of choice according to which human beings obtain their destiny by choosing from an array of options presented to them by God. The second conception of the source of destiny is what the Yoruba call Akunlegba, which means “that which is received while kneeling” (Gbadegesin, 2004: 315). This refers to the idea of an affixed destiny, which is one that is received from or ordained by God. In this case, God or the Creator is completely responsible for the destinies of all human beings (Gbadegesin, 1991). Essentially, this means that it is through God’s will that our lives are meaningful (Gbadegesin, 2004). The third conception of the source of destiny is what the Yoruba call Ayanmo, which means “that which is chosen and affixed to one” (Gbadegesin, 1991: 315). This refers to the idea of affixed choice, which is an intermediate position between that of a chosen destiny and that of one that is received (Gbadegesin, 1991). Although the idea of choice is at play here, it is not clear who makes this choice – whether it is the individual herself or some external entity like the creator (Gbadegesin, 2004). Something that all three conceptualizations of the source of destiny have in common is that destiny is closely linked to ori.1 This means that whether the individual chooses, passively receives, or is the subject for which the choice is affixed, there is a significant element of some kind of a pre-given nature to destiny. One does not have to pick a side between the two extremes of a determined life and a freely chosen one. The third conception of an affixed choice works as the middle ground of destiny as in some respect received from God while it is also, to a certain extent, chosen or fulfilled. Mlungwana (2020) proposed that it seems favorable to use the term “pre-given” instead of terms like “predestined” or “pre-determined,” and this is in order to highlight the important aspect of the possibility of failing to accomplish one’s destiny. According to this interpretation, human beings receive their destinies from the creator; however, fulfilling this destiny is not an inevitable end (Mlungwana, 2020). Rather, it is up to the individual to freely will to fulfill this destiny. Nevertheless, a failure to fulfill one’s destiny means that one’s lacks meaning or has less meaning than that of a person who fulfills their destiny. Human beings are directed toward their destiny, and it is from the pre-given (received) dimension of the concept of destiny that one can infer that individuals are not oriented toward it, but they also possess an inclination or disposition toward their

1

As mentioned earlier, Ori is the bearer of one’s destiny, and this is the case for every human being. It for this reason that in any of the three sources of destiny, there is a dimension of an pre-existance to one’s destiny – ultimately from the Creator.

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destiny. To elucidate this concept, here are examples that distinguish between a meaningful and meaningless life in accordance with the destiny view of meaning: if we suppose that Beyoncé’s pre-given destiny is to become the greatest performer of all time and she chooses to do all the things that will help her fulfil this destiny, then she has lived a meaningful life. Hence, although her destiny was received, the choice to fulfil that destiny was subjectively derived. In contrast, consider an individual who is destined to be the greatest painter of all time but chooses to become a drug addict and fails to fulfil this destiny. Such an individual received a destiny, but failed to pursue it. In this instance, such a person’s life is less meaningful. (Mlungwana, 2020: 158)

To further explore the conceptual elements of destiny as part of the God’s purpose theory of life’s meaning, let us analyze what destinies are. Gbadegesin (2004) argues that the very idea that every human being has a destiny implies that there is a connection or link between one’s own destiny and the destinies of others – these others may be one’s parents and children, partner(s), relatives, friends, or any other person in one’s community. To illustrate this point, let us consider, for instance, a person like Harriet Tubman who may (for the purpose of this argument), presumably, be destined to become an abolitionist who frees hundreds of slaves. Tubman’s destiny affected the destiny of other people, such as those slaves that she set free. It is plausible to think that the many slaves that Tubman liberated had to be slaves in order for her to be able to free them – that without slavery she would not be an abolitionist – and had their oppression and injustice, as well as their subsequent rescue, as part of their overall journey toward their own specific destinies. In this way, we see how the destinies of the different people may be intertwined with each other in some significant or even trivial way. This is the idea that each and everyone’s destiny is intertwined to the extent that the destiny of one individual, whether it is chosen, received, or an affixed choice, is fundamentally linked to those of others. Ultimately, this suggests that the destinies of members of a community are connected, at least to the extent that certain events in the life of each member have an impact on the lives of other members – all this, to serve God’s grand plan or cosmic purpose (Gbadegesin, 2004; Attoe, 2020).

Divine Law Another way in which God’s purpose confers meaning is through the obedience of divine laws. These laws are precepts about how to live in the world as passed down from God to human beings, with Diviners and priests as the usual medium of communication. These laws often prescribe ways in which an individual can live a harmonious life with others, certain rites and rituals that sustain the community and cosmic harmony, certain taboos and sacrileges that inform discord or an unpalatable shift in the balance of things, etc. For the individual in search of meaning, the subjective desire to always obey these laws and precepts ensures that not only the individual, but the community in which s/he belongs, continues to flourish, and the balance needed to hold together

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the very fabric of our existence, as things in the world, is sustained (Mbiti, 2015: 49). Conversely, a meaningless life is one that fails to obey these divine laws, and beyond mere meaninglessness, the repercussions could be dire. An example of sacrilege would be murder and/or suicide. Such actions often entail banishment and huge forms of sacrificial reparations that are done in order to retain the harmony and balance that was otherwise destroyed. While Divine laws do not immediately appear as purposes in our minds and might make one wonder why it is part of the purpose theory, we must remember that these laws are given because of the cosmic purpose – either to (1) ensure that existing beings are provided with the space/wherewithal to accomplish that cosmic end or (2) provide guidelines that aid the individual’s fulfillment of that cosmic purpose. Attoe (2020), has argued that, perhaps, what ties the destiny view with the divine law view, is the harmony that sustains the universe. According to him: Harmony as described in this light expresses fully the mutual interdependency that is thought of in African philosophy to characterise our existence and mode of living. At the highest level of being, it shows the mutual interdependency between God and the universe with God sustaining the universe and the universe authenticating and legitimising God’s existence. At the lower levels, our very destinies are intertwined in such a way that achieving them creates the sort of harmony that sustains the universe and legitimises God. The African God-purpose theory of meaning would therefore locate meaning in an individual’s ability to obey divine law and pursue her destiny in such a way that the harmony necessary for the sustenance of the universe and the legitimisation of God is achieved. (Attoe, 2020: 132)

Recall that in African metaphysics, which is mostly relational, the idea of beingalone is unattractive (Iroegbu, 1995; Attoe, 2022). Thus, for the first cause, God, the need to be, and remain, a being in relation necessitated the need for something else to exist in order for relationality, and the transformation from a being-alone to a beingwith-others, to occur. For scholars like Attoe, this is the reason for the existence of the Universe. In order to continually provide God with an authentic relational existence, the universe had to exist, and for God’s existence to continue to remain authentic, the harmony and the type of relationality (among things in the universe) that sustains the continuous existence of the world. Thus, fulfilling destiny and/or obeying divine law constitutes the meaning of life as the individual performs those actions that contribute to a grand cosmic purpose – the legitimization of God’s existence.

Vital Force Another theory of meaning that finds root in African thought is the vital force theory of meaning. To understand the view, it is important to understand the metaphysics behind it. When one examines a thing, especially a thing that has life, we see that in some ways it is an animated entity. Even in inanimate things, consider a volcano exploding or the movements associated with atoms when heated, we see expressions of this animation in varying degrees. Dissect a living thing or dismantle a mountain,

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and all one would see are component parts of a thing, none of which clearly (or, at least, common sensically) expresses the very thing we know to be “animation.” For the anonymous traditional African philosopher, whose penchant for empiricism and pragmatism is well-established, it only makes sense to conclude from the available evidence that the thing which encapsulates the very idea of animation, must be some form of non-physical substance, present in things in the world, which allows them to express themselves as animate things. Now, this substance, mostly called vital force, is also thought of as all-pervading, as we find its expression in everything that exists in the present world. However, when we observe certain things in the world, we see that the level of animation varies from thing to thing. Rocks, mountains, and rivers appear to have very low levels of vital force that occasionally express themselves once in a while (for instance, the occasional volcanic eruption or flash flood), and so inanimate things must have vital force but at very low levels, at least when compared to plants. For with plants, one can observe animation in the growth and movement (usually toward the sun), but this level of animation, though more active than those of inanimate things, cannot be compared to the activity produced by animals, and so on. Observing this, anonymous traditional African philosophers came to the conclusion that various beings in the hierarchy of being2 all have varying degrees of vitality each commensurate with its place in the hierarchy. One can even say that it is actually the level of vital force that a thing possesses that determines its place in the hierarchy of being. Whichever is the case, one thing that is common in the vitalist view is that this substance, this vital force, clearly originates/emanates from God, which is the first cause. The mere assumption of this idea places God as the being with the most vital force, and the being from which other beings get their vitality (since God is the creator of all things with vital force). Turning our focus to human beings, we see that the vitality we possess, unlike those of animals, plants, and inanimate things, is injected with rationality and a moral drive. These capacities can, themselves, be harnessed and increased. And so, traditional Africans and traditional African philosophers began to assert the fact that vital force could be acquired or diminished depending on one’s relationship with other things in the world. According to the very controversial Placide Tempels3: The Bantu say, in respect of a number of strange practices in which we see neither rime nor reason, that their purpose is to acquire life, strength or vital force, to live strongly, that they are to make life stronger, or to assure that force shall remain perpetually in one’s posterity.

2 In African metaphysics there is a hierarchy of being mostly in this order – God, Lesser gods/spirits, ancestors, human beings, animals, plants, and inanimate things (Menkiti, 2004). 3 Tempels’ (1959) work is a controversial in African philosophy mainly because of its colonialist foundation, the imposition of some western ideas as African and the sweeping assumption that all Africans think the same way. However, some aspects of Tempels’ views, in spite of the biases, can be salvaged, only insofar as they correspond with the views of indigenous African thinkers and philosophers.

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Used negatively, the same idea is expressed when the Bantu say: we act thus to be protected from misfortune, or from a diminution of life or of being, or in order to protect ourselves from those influences which annihilate or diminish us. (Tempels, 1959: 22)

What we see above is the idea that the acquisition of more vital force is something that makes life “stronger,” and the lack of this vitality, or low levels of it, implies a diminution of life or death. What this simple principle implies is a theory of meaning that is based on the acquisition, harnessing, or increase in vitality. This theory has now been explored by various scholars from Aribiah Attoe (2020), Yolanda Mlungwana (2020), Ada Agada (2020) to Thaddeus Metz (2020). If meaning involves the acquisition of vital force and meaninglessness involves the diminution of vitality, how is vitality increased or reduced? Attoe (2020: 133–134) identifies two major ways in which an individual can increase his/her/their vital force. The first is by an appeal to God. God, as was alluded to earlier, is the source of all vitality, and beyond being the source of vitality stands as a being capable of doling out vitality to other beings-in-the-world. In some traditional African belief systems, one can appeal to God for vitality through worship, the performance of certain rituals, and other religious acts, as a means of improving the vitality one has, and thereby making one’s life meaningful. The second way is through normative self-improvement. As Attoe (2020: 133–134) puts it, it involves: immersing oneself in morally uplifting acts. In positively exercising one’s moral communal obligations towards the community of life, it is inevitable that that individual by extension improves the quality of her/vital force. It would also involve engaging in those acts that positively expresses human creativity, growth and productivity. (Dzobo, 1992)

In this way, when one is morally virtuous, when the individual engages positively with others, when that individual expresses creativity, then that individual acquires more vital force, which makes his/her life more meaningful. In other words, it is through the enhancement of both the rational and moral components of one’s vitality that meaning is achieved. Conversely, meaninglessness ensues when the individual (1) loses and is unable to acquire vitality, perhaps because of illness, (2) when the individual refuses to acquire more vitality, for instance, if a person is lazy, and (3) when the individual is malevolent to others. This account of meaning can also be extended to the more naturalistic accounts of vitality that focus on the idea of wellbeing, productivity, and creative genius (Dzobo, 1992; Kasenene, 1994; Metz, 2012). Here, acquiring more vital force would involve engaging in those acts that excite our creative genius or enable our well-being (both of which can be accounted for in the enhancement of our moral and rational capacities).

The Communal View Communality stands as a major trademark of African philosophy, and it is an idea that cuts across African ontology, African ethics, and African perspectives of meaning. It is also an idea that one may find in snippets in other African views

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about meaning – take, for instance, the vitality view in which acquiring more vitality incorporates aspects of positive communal relationships with others. The idea of communality or relationality can be found in the works of various African scholars including Mbiti (1990), Khoza (1994), Ramose (1999), Menkiti (2004), Asouzu (2004, 2007), Murove (2007), Ozumba and Chimakonam (2014), Metz (2017), etc. The idea is this: the universe, as Africans perceive it, is a universe in relation. In other words, one can think of all that exists in the world as a collection of mutually interdependent entities, which are part of a complementary whole (Asouzu, 2004). Within this framework, emphasis is on maintaining that relationality in a way that sustains the harmony inherent in that complementary whole. Socio-ethically speaking, this relationality assumes a normative character, one that enjoins individuals, even ancestors and lesser gods/spirits, to always seek harmony and avoid discord. What is harmony (in the context of society)? One answer is that harmony involves solidarity and shared identity, and living harmoniously involves performing/promoting those actions that exhibit solidarity and a shared identity (Metz, 2017). For others, it involves living with the noetic propedeutic that one is only a missing link – that is, it involves the mindset that recognizes that absolutism and/or being in isolation is an unattractive mode of being and that one must cultivate a mutually interdependent relationship with other persons and things in the world (Asouzu, 2004). It is also the recognition that who we are/become as individuals, is largely dependent on whether we relate with people positively or negatively (Mbiti, 1969; Ramose, 1999; Menkiti, 2004), and that one must relate with the other as strongly as one would relate to a family member (Nyerere, 1968: 1–15). At the core of this social communalism is personhood – the idea that there is more to the individual, which can either be acquired/earned (Menkiti, 2004) or enhanced (Gyekye, 1992). For scholars like Menkiti, one must distinguish between an individual and an individual person. According to him the individual: considered as an individuated source of consumption, a bundle as it were of primary appetites, [it] could still count as an agent in the world. But to go beyond the raw appetitive level to the special level marked by the dignity of the person, something more would seem needed. In this regard, ‘individual’ and ‘individual person’ may carry somewhat different weight and it is the context of the discussion that spells out whether they converge or diverge. (Menkiti, 2004: 325)

This weight is normative in nature as one acquires and/or enhances it by engaging positively with others in the society and also participating in the cultural rites and rituals, specific to one’s cultural context. In other words, by promoting harmony and not discord. To become a person is not merely about existing as an individual, but also involves acting in certain positive ways with others in one’s community. But what are positive actions, in this context? Metz (2017: 111) presents a clue: “[a]n action is right just insofar as it produces harmony and reduces discord; an act is wrong to the extent that it fails to develop communion.” On the basis of the foregoing, African scholars like Attoe (2020: 136), have curated the communal theory of meaning as follows:

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Meaning in this sense would therefore consist in the individual’s ability to acquire humanity in its most potent form through a sustained performance of those acts that foster harmony, avoid discord and promote the common good. Meaningfulness in this sense would involve a transcendent mindset that goes beyond our animal instincts to shed the pettiness of our animal desires. The purpose of human existence and what would be most desirable would be the attainment of full human flourishing.

So, one could be an individual without being a person (by acting in ways that promote discord), thereby leading a meaningless life, and one could acquire personhood over time and therefore have a life worth living. It is important to note, at this point, that while the discourse on personhood reveals that personhood is attained and sustained over time, the communal view of meaning does not fixate on that point. Instead, one can understand moments of communality as moments of meaningfulness, and also understand the attainment of personhood as bearing on the meaning of a life taken as a whole.

(Yoruba) Cluster View Another theory of meaning that one can find in the literature on African conceptions of meaning is based on what has been termed the cluster view (Attoe, 2021). Cluster views involve ideas about meaning that are based on a conglomeration of various specific but interrelated values that come together to form a single theory of meaning. In this iteration of the cluster view, the focus is on traditional Yoruba concepts of meaning. This conception appears in the works of Oladele Balogun (2020), and you would find snippets of it in the works of Benjamin Olujohungbe (2020). It is this approach to meaning that also inspired Attoe’s contemporary cluster view, as we shall see later on. Balogun, in his description of the Yoruba cluster view, identifies certain values that constitute the component parts of the cluster. These values include: material comfort symbolized with monetary possession; a long healthy life; children; a peaceful spouse; and victory over life’s vicissitudes. What is interesting is that each of these views is inextricably linked to another, and so isolating one value as the only route to meaningfulness does not work (Balogun, 2020: 171). Thus, one must only consider these values together, and pursue the achievement of each of these values, if one is to attain meaningfulness via the Yoruba cluster route. The related values, or “life’s goods,” as Balogun calls them, are themselves (according to him) not intrinsic ends, but a means to meaningfulness – that is, one can think of meaningfulness as a “cluster state,” one that can be abstracted from these life goods themselves. To further drive home the point, consider the following: The above five ‘life goods’ are worthy of attainment, and the extent to which one achieves them is assessed as exhibiting features of a meaningful life. Understood in this sense, life’s meaningfulness is not an absolute state even when adjudged at the end of a person’s lifetime. It is an evolving and unending process that can still be externally adjudged after the demise of a being. [. . .] In both life and death, the notion of meaningfulness is involved. The Yorùbá

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believe that death also accords meaning in life. A fulfilled and meaningful life is a life that dies a good death, which involves dying at old age, having lived a good and moral exemplary life, and having children that carries one’s name after death. (Balogun, 2020: 172)

It is at the achievement of this cluster state that meaning is located, and because the life goods are objective values, judging a life as meaningful is possible (subjectively and externally) while one is alive and even after one is dead (externally, by others in the society). While Balogun suggests that the attainment of these life goods ought to be exact and complete, if meaning is to be attained, it is plausible to suspect that the number of goods attained, and the degree to which they are attained, ought to influence the degree to which a life is meaningful. In this way, a life that has attained four of the five life goods is meaningful but not as meaningful as a life that has achieved all five life goods.

Living a Religious Life The preceding discussions have been about meaning from a traditional African perspective. That is, while the theories of meaning that have been described above do bear on contemporary African life, they are mostly based on core traditional values that have been passed down from pre-colonial times. Fortunately, the literature does not end there. In a recent article, Attoe (2021) provides us with some ideas about what some contemporary African accounts look like. Specifically, he mentions two specific accounts about meaning (living a religious life and the contemporary cluster view), which he finds to be indicative of contemporary views about meaning grounded on contemporary values. These two accounts will be explored in this section and in the next one. The living a religious life (LRL) view finds its footing in the religious lifestyle and values of Africans today. It is important to note, at this point, that the LRL view, though based on religious values, is not synonymous with the God’s purpose theory described earlier. This is so for a few reasons. First, a specific focus on the type/ nature of God is not necessary to this account of meaning, and so all the Gods worshipped in contemporary Africa (and by extension all the religions in contemporary Africa) are fully captured by the view. Second, the fulfillment of a God-given purpose is not the paramount concern of this view. With all these in mind, what then is the LRL view? Attoe (2021: 177) captures the crux of the view in the following terse statement: . . .A life can be meaningful if one lives honorably and in pursuit of religious ideals, according to the precepts and expectations of his/her religious sect in service to God (insofar as God exists) and (sometimes) in expectation of recognition by his/her community.

Let us unpack this account of meaning a bit. Contemporary Africans are generally religious people. Indeed, the Pew Research Centre (2016), tells us that in 2010 only 3% of Africans do not identify with a religion. This all means that contemporary

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Africans are religious and/or influenced by some religion. Attoe (2021) contends that it is this subjective drive or willingness to identify with a religion is drawn from the idea recognizing and sticking to a deity, as well as the religion that is associated with that deity, transforms the individual into a “being-for-god,” immediately immerses the individual into something larger than himself/herself. It is from this feeling of transcendence that meaning emerges. Attoe (2021) also recognizes that beyond this subjective transcendence, there is also the feeling that the objective or external recognition that the individual is living a religious life also confers meaning on the individual’s life. Whether this recognition is based on appearances or not is not relevant to the view, as meaning emanates from the high esteem that living religiously entails. Whether one is considering the subjective or external posturing of the LRL view, the claim ticks all the boxes that concepts of meaning such as Metz’s family resemblance concept of meaning (2013), or Attoe’s modification of it (Attoe, 2021). The view emerges from a subjective willingness to be a religious person and it transcends our animal nature by allowing the individual to invest in something larger than himself/herself/themselves. The accolades attached to the recognition of one’s piety also corral high esteem and admiration. Attoe (2021), however, acknowledges the fact that the existence or non-existence of God does play a role in determining the plausibility and implausibility of the view. For if God did not exist, then living a religious life becomes a futile exercise. The clause “insofar as God exist” in LRL2 above, is inserted to mitigate against the possibility that the potential non-existence of God undermines the view.

(Contemporary) Cluster View (CCV) Recall that earlier we had caught glimpses of the Yoruba version of the cluster view, put forth by the likes of Oladele Balogun and Benjamin Olujohungbe. In this section, the focus is on Attoe’s contemporary version of the cluster view that is drawn from certain life goods or values that speak more to the context of contemporary Africa. Like in the Yoruba cluster view, Attoe identifies three interrelated ideals that he believes encapsulate meaningfulness. These ideals include self-sufficiency, childraising, and accomplishing socio-cultural milestones and a high status in the community. For him (and unlike Balogun), while each of these values is independently sufficient in accounting for (at least) moments of meaningfulness, they also do a good job as an interrelated cluster of values whose attainment grants meaning. Let us now unpack the contemporary cluster view (CCV). Attoe (2021), begins by providing an overview of each ideal of CCV. First is the idea of self-sufficiency. One might think, as Attoe rightly points out, that the idea of self-sufficiency hardly stands as something that transcends our animal nature. It involves mundane acts or state of affairs, like feeding, having shelter, etc.

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However, Attoe argues that the peculiar recent history of Africa (which involved the violence of slavery and colonization), and the present condition of a significant chunk of the African populace, who live below the poverty line and sometimes have to navigate poor conditions of living, ensures that living well or even being self-sufficient is not a given for those who do not belong to the wealthy class. For this significant chunk, animal nature does not usually involve appropriate food, clothing, or shelter. In this way, Attoe argues, the desire or ability for one to move beyond or transcend that sorry state of affairs and, in so doing, exercise one’s will and dignity as a human being, is a legitimate end worth pursuing for its own sake, mode of transcendence that merits esteem and admiration, especially from those within that context – transcendence, desire, esteem, all hallmarks of meaningfulness. Next, is the idea of raising a child. In traditional African societies, procreation is an important value, and for many reasons that we would not get into here. In contemporary societies, it is not so much procreation that is the value for meaning but child-raising, which goes beyond bearing a child to include raising the child into becoming a proper person in society. This process is often a life-long activity for parents who are willing to indulge, and it often involves providing decent formal education for the child so s/he can be self-reliant (or preferably wealthy), and it involves providing decent informal education, so the child is instilled with the right sorts of virtues that nod to the particular society of which the child is part of. Oftentimes, not only is the eventual success (financial and/or moral) of the child indicative of meaningfulness on the part of the parents, but also when a parent is seen to raise their children properly that parent’s life is adjudged to be meaningful. The reason is simple. While merely procreating speaks to our animal nature, raising a good child implies transcending that nature, pursuing an end that is intrinsically worthy, and corralling esteem not only from others in society but also from the child. Indeed, meaninglessness manifests when one merely procreates and raises a child badly. Presumably worse is procreating and abandoning the child without proper arrangements for its future care. The third ideal is a combination of two mutually dependent ideals – achieving socio-cultural milestones and attaining status. Oftentimes, the latter follows from the former. Socio-cultural milestones and status are ideals that were also valuable in traditional African societies. In contemporary times, the content of what constitutes status and socio-cultural milestones have changed, at least compared to precolonial times. In contemporary times, milestones like, going to school and getting good degrees, getting a job or business (or a legitimate source of income), getting married, raising children, engaging positively with one’s society at a recognizable level (for instance, through philanthropy), are the type of goods that are pursued. Eventually, the achievements of these milestones, and a recognition of those achievements, allow for the external conferring of status on the individual, either informally (where the individual is recognized as a good person/stalwart in the society) or formally (through things like

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chieftaincy titles or honorary degrees). This two-pronged pursuit of milestones and status enables a view that locates meaning in the “subjective pursuit of socio-cultural milestones, which grants his/her life a high status in the community” (Attoe, 2021: 182). With these three component parts of the CCV intact, Attoe proposes the following as a terse statement that captures the CCV as an account of meaningfulness: . . .An individual’s life can be considered meaningful if s/he achieves financial success and self-sufficiency, raises children who contribute positively to themselves and their community, and/or also pursues those socio-cultural milestones that grant his or her life a high status in the community (Attoe, 2021).

Following this point, Attoe also notes that the CCV acknowledges the possibility of degrees of meaningfulness. That is, one only needs to attain some of the ideals in the CCV for their lives to be meaningful, which then implies that some lives could be more meaningful than others, depending on how much they achieve, relative to others.

Conclusion The aim of this chapter was to provide a systematic account of a few of the theories of life’s meaning that have been explored by some African philosophers. It explored some of the ways that have been postulated as answers to the fundamental question of what, if anything, is the meaning of (human) life. The general overview of some African theories of Meaning – where characteristically African perspectives locate the meaning of life – looked at eight major theories; namely, the love view, the destiny view, the divine law view, the vital force view, the communal view, the (Yoruba) Cluster view, living a religious life, and the contemporary cluster view.

References Agada, A. (2015). Existence and consolation: Reinventing ontology, gnosis and values in African philosophy. Paragon House. Agada, A. (2020). The African vital force theory of meaning in life. South African Journal of Philosophy, 39(2), 100–112. Agada, A. (2022). Consolationism and comparative African philosophy: Beyond universalism and particularism. Routledge. Asouzu, I. (2004). Methods and principles of complementary reflection in and beyond African philosophy. University of Calabar Press. Asouzu, I. (2007). Ibuanyidanda: New complementary ontology beyond world immanentism, ethnocentric reduction and impositions. LIT VERLAG GmbH & Co. Attoe, A. (2020). A systematic account of African conceptions of the meaning of/in life. South African Journal of Philosophy, 39(2), 127–139. Attoe, A. (2021). Accounts of life’s meaning from a contemporary African perspective. Philosophia Africana, 20(2), 168–185.

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Attoe, A. (2022). Groundwork for a new kind of African metaphysics: The idea of singular complementarity. Palgrave Macmillan. Balogun, O. (2020). The traditional Yoruba conception of a meaningful life. South African Journal of Philosophy, 39(2), 166–178. Dzobo, N. (1992). Values in a changing society: Man, ancestors and god. In K. Wiredu & K. Gyekye (Eds.), Person and community: Ghanian philosophical studies (pp. 223–240). Center for Research in Values and Philosophy. Gyekye, K. (1992). Person and community in Akan thought. In K. Wiredu & K. Gyekye (Eds.), Person and community: Ghanian philosophical studies (pp. 101–122). Center for Research in Values and Philosophy. Gbadegesin, S. (1991). African philosophy traditional Yoruba philosophy and contemporary African realities. Peter Lang Publishing. Gbadegesin, S. (2004). Toward a theory of destiny. In K. Wiredu (Ed.), A companion to African philosophy (pp. 313–333). Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Iroegbu, P. (1995). Metaphysics: The kpim of philosophy. International University Press. Kasenene, P. (1994). Ethics in African theology. In C. Villa-Vicencio & J. de Gruchy (Eds.), Doing ethics in context: South African perspectives (pp. 138–147). David Philip. Khoza, R. (1994). Ubuntu, African humanism. Ekhaya Promotions. Markus, A. (2012). Assessing views of life: A subjective affair. In J. Seachris (Ed.), Exploring the meaning of life: An anthology and guide (pp. 95–112). Wiley-Blackwell. Mawere, M. (2010). On pursuit of the purpose of life: The Shona metaphysical perspective. Journal of Pan African Studies, 3(6), 269–284. Mbiti, J. (1990). African religion and philosophy. Heinemann. Mbiti, J. (2015). Introduction to African religion (2nd ed.). Waveland Press. Menkiti, I. (2004). On the normative conception of a person. Blackwell Publishing. Metz, T. (2012). African conceptions of human dignity: Vitality and community as the ground of human rights. Human Rights Review, 13(1), 19–37. Metz, T. (2013). Meaning in Life. Oxford University Press Metz, T. (2017). Towards an African moral theory (revised edition). In I. Ukpokolo (Ed.), Themes, issues and problems in African philosophy (pp. 97–119). Palgrave Macmillian. Metz, T. (2020). African theories of meaning in life: A critical assessment. South African Journal of Philosophy, 39(2), 113–126. Mlungwana, Y. (2020). An African approach to the meaning of life. South African Journal of Philosophy, 39(2), 153–165. Murove, M. (2007). The Shona ethic of Ukama with reference to the immortality of values. The Mankind Quarterly, 48, 179–189. Nyerere, J. (1968). Ujamaa: Essays on socialism. Oxford University Press. Olujohungbe, B. (2020). Situational ambivalence of the meaning of life in Yorùbá thought. South African Journal of Philosophy, 39(2), 219–227. Ozumba, G., & Chimakonam, J. (2014). Njikoka Amaka: Further discussions on the philosophy of integrative humanism: A contribution to African and intercultural philosophy. 3rd Logic Option. Pew Research Centre. (2016). Pew-Templeton Global Religious Future Project. Accessed July 18, 2020. http://www.globalreligiousfutures.org/regions/sub-saharan-africa Ramose, M. (1999). African philosophy through Ubuntu. Mond Books. Tempels, P. (1959). Bantu philosophy. Presence Africaine. Thomson, G. (2012). Untangling the question. In J. Seachris (Ed.), Exploring the meaning of life: An anthology and guide (pp. 40–47). Wiley-Blackwell. Wiredu, K. (1998). Toward decolonizing African philosophy and religion. African Studies Quarterly, 1(4), 17–46. Wolf, S. (2010). Meaning in Life and Why it Matters. Princeton University Press

African Phenomenology: Introductory Perspectives Abraham Olivier

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hountondji and the Struggle for Meaning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Problem of Subjectivity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phenomenology of Language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Universality of Meaning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hountondji’s Critique of Husserl’s Universals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hountondji and Wiredu on Particulars and Universals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conceptual Universals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cultural Universals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Masolo’s Midway to Phenomenology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Return to the Indigenous Lifeworld . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lived Intersubjectivity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Phenomenology is an emerging field within the broader domain of African and Africana philosophy. The phenomenological method, with its various approaches to studying the meaning of lived experience, is at the core of the thought of African philosophers such as Paulin Hountondji, Dismas A. Masolo, Achille Mbembe, Mabogo More, Tsenay Serequeberhan, Noel Chabani Manganyi, and proponents of Africana Philosophy such as WEB Du Bois, Frantz Fanon, Lucius Outlaw, Lewis Gordon, George Yancy, and Linda Martin Alcoff. Technically, the term “African phenomenology” is not used as widely, or introduced as systematically, as Africana phenomenology. The aim of this chapter is to introduce some of the central issues and theorists of the field of African phenomenology. As the subtitle of this chapter indicates, its scope is limited to what one may call A. Olivier (*) University of Fort Hare, East London, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_37

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introductory perspectives in African phenomenology. The idea is to outline for further investigation some thematically related contributions to African phenomenology with specific reference to the grounding work of Paulin Hountondji as related to works of Kwasi Wiredu and Dismas A. Masolo. Hountondji’s critical adoption of Husserl’s classic phenomenological approach offers a broad, foundational scope, which makes it particularly suitable for a basic introduction to African phenomenology. Keywords

Phenomenology · African phenomenology · Hountondji · Wiredu · Masolo · Particulars and universals

Introduction Phenomenology is an emerging field within the broader domain of African and Africana philosophy. The phenomenological method, with its various approaches to studying the meaning of lived experience, is at the core of the thought of African philosophers such as Paulin Hountondji, Dismas A. Masolo, Achille Mbembe, Mabogo More, Tsenay Serequeberhan, Noel Chabani Manganyi, and proponents of Africana Philosophy such as W.E.B. Du Bois, Frantz Fanon, Lucius Outlaw, Lewis Gordon, George Yancy, and Linda Martin Alcoff. Their theoretical focus on the critical analysis of the lived experience of the prevalent workings of the colonial regime and its intersectional modalities of exclusion in race, gender, nationality, culture, class, and religion actually penetrates and permeates the writings of many African and Africana philosophers. This includes African philosophers from the analytical tradition such as Kwasi Wiredu, Kwame Gyekye, and Kwame Appiah and Africana Philosophers like Paul Taylor, Charles Mill, and Naomi Zack. This does not imply that all African and Africana philosophers are phenomenologists. Rather, it means that many African and Africana philosophers, regardless whether they are from the continental or analytical tradition, reflect in their writings what one can call a common phenomenological concern with lived experience particularly of black people struggling because of colonial or neocolonial oppression. Technically, the term “African phenomenology” is not used as widely, or introduced as systematically, as Africana phenomenology with its focus on an analysis of the lived experience of those within the African Diaspora, who were and are subjected to colonialism, slavery, and racism (Gordon, 1997, 2000, 2008; Outlaw, 2017; Henry 2006). As Mabogo More writes: “Phenomenology and existentialism among African people in South Africa have a long history, which unfortunately has not been explicitly thematised or philosophically engaged” (More 2023). This also goes more generally for phenomenology in the African context. Indeed, there does not seem to be any comprehensive systematic introduction to African phenomenology as compared to the introductions to Africana philosophy by, for instance, Lewis Gordon, Lucius Outlaw, or Paget Henry. Notably, the first anthology that gives a

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systematic introduction to African phenomenology is only forthcoming, entitled Phenomenology in an African Context: Contributions and Challenges (Olivier, 2023b). In any case, Lewis Gordon is well-known for his extensive introductions to Africana Phenomenology, more specifically, what he calls Existential Africana Philosophy in Existence in Black (Gordon, 2000), while Lucius Outlaw has recently published an extensive overview in his entry “Africana phenomenology” in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Outlaw, 2017). Paget Henry in turn offers a succinct systematic overview of the field of Africana phenomenology by outlining its contours, problems, and theorists in his paper “Africana Phenomenology: Its Philosophical Implications” (2006). African Phenomenology awaits such introductions of works in its field. To some extent, my aim is similar to that of Henry. It is to introduce some of the issues and theorists of the field of African phenomenology. A personal disclaimer is in order at this point. My aim is not to try to introduce my own view of what is African Phenomenology. Given the focus of African Phenomenology on the problem of the lived experience of black people under colonial and postcolonial conditions of oppression, and the fact that I am a white male, structurally privileged by the very same conditions, such an attempt would be questionable. My focus, rather, is on a thematic introduction of some of what can be considered foundational works in African Phenomenology, specifically the grounding work of Paulin Hountondji as related to works of D.A. Masolo and Kwasi Wiredu. The reason for my focus on Hountondji is that his classical foundational work naturally offers a good starting point for introductory purposes. Prior to and more than any other African philosopher, he has dealt with Husserl’s beginnings of phenomenology, or what is commonly known as classical or traditional, or more specific, transcendental phenomenology. One can say, indeed, that Hountondji’s critical adoption of Husserl’s work paves the very first steps of an African phenomenology. Masolo’s thorough reception of and expansion on Hountondji’s adoption of Husserl’s work serves well to complement and further his (Hountondji’s) “way to phenomenology.” Thus, to give a basic introduction to African phenomenology, it seems in order to start with Hountondji’s beginnings and its relation to other further going works, specifically Masolo’s. One might grant that it is understandable to focus on Hountondji and Masolo for introductory purposes, as they offer systematically foundational works of African phenomenology and, more than others, focus on Husserl’s beginnings of phenomenology. However, one might like to object, why include Wiredu, an analytical philosopher, and not Serequeberhan, or Okere or Okolo, whose works on hermeneutics seem closer to phenomenology? Or, closer to home, why not discuss More’s work on African phenomenological existentialism and black consciousness? To begin with, my focus on Hountondji and Masolo brings me naturally to their inclusion of Wiredu’s work. As is shown in extensive detail, both Hountondji and Masolo take recourse to Wiredu’s classical notion of conceptual and cultural universals, more particularly, the seminal issue of conceptualizing lived cultural experience. Furthermore, Okere and Okolo are not included for the simple reason that their focus is primarily on hermeneutics, not phenomenology. To some extent, the

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same goes for Serequeberhan. This is indicated by the title of his book The Hermeneutics of African Philosophy (Serequeberhan 1994). Technically, the term phenomenology occurs only twice in The Hermeneutics of African Philosophy and not at all in his other main work Existence and Heritage (Serequeberhan 2015). This does not mean that Serequeberhan’s work is not relevant to an African phenomenology. After all, its aim is a hermeneutical examination of the meaning of lived experience in a colonial and neocolonial context. However, while Serequeberhan concentration in both major works is more narrowly on hermeneutic phenomenology, with specific reference to the work of Heidegger and Gadamer, mine is, again, on Hountondji’s focus on classical Husserlian phenomenology, which has a broader scope and as such is well suited for basic introductory purposes. In addition, Serequeberhan’s thematic focus on the issue of “thingification,” dealt with somewhere else (Olivier, 2023a), does not neatly fit to the themes of particularism and universalism on which this chapter concentrates. The same applies to More, whose thematic focus on Sartre’s, Manganyi’s, and Gordon’s existentialist phenomenology and Biko’s black consciousness differs from and has a narrower scope than Hountondji’s classical phenomenological explorations (More, 2008a, b, 2018). More’s work on Sartre and Biko is undoubtedly relevant to an African phenomenology but also goes beyond my specific introductory scope. Due to limited space, other more recent works, for instance, by Achille Mbembe (2017), Rozena Maart (2015), M. John Lamola (2020, 2023), and Michael Cloete (2019) cannot be incorporated. As before, to do some justice to the works this chapter focuses on, it is confined to a selection of a primary phenomenological issue, which is the tension between the particularity of experience and the pursuit of conceptual universality – which is, as Barry Hallen argues in A Short History of African Philosophy (2002) an underlying issue in African philosophy as such. As the subtitle of this chapter indicates, my scope is limited to what one may call introductory perspectives in African phenomenology. Perspective here means something like a viewpoint, inviting the exploration of other points of view, thus an adumbration of sorts. The idea is to outline for further investigation some thematically related contributions to African phenomenology, again, with specific reference to the foundational work of Hountondji as related to works of Wiredu and Masolo. Once more, my focus is on a primary issue in African phenomenology: the tension between the particularity of experience and the pursuit of conceptual universality. As this is such a major, comprehensive issue, relating themes of language, knowledge, subjectivity, culture, community, oppression, and decolonization, its examination serves well to offer a basic introduction to African phenomenology. The first section examines Hountondji’s fundamental exploration of and expansion on Husserl’s work, specifically, by focusing on the tension between lived experience and its conceptualization. The second section compares Hountondji’s and Wiredu’s views of the relation between conceptual and cultural particulars and universals. The third section shows how Masolo’s work presents a midway in its presentation of this relation. The conclusion takes the lead of these authors to suggest a possible working definition of what one may call classical or traditional African phenomenology.

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Hountondji and the Struggle for Meaning Paulin Hountondji is what one might like to call the father of African Phenomenology. He started by writing his doctoral dissertation on Husserl’s first ventures into phenomenology in his Logical Investigations. Much later, the first and major part of Hountondji’s book, The Struggle for Meaning (Hountondji 2002 -henceforth SM), gives, as he calls it, a “parasynthesis” of his doctoral dissertation, linking it to other works of Husserl and of his own. It is impossible to do justice here to Hountondji’s rich reflections on Husserl’s voluminous Logical Investigations or to give a thorough assessment of his account. Hountondji himself points out the need to limit his focus and confine himself to examining the first volume of the Logical Investigations and the First Investigation of the second volume (SM 27). The following section concentrates on three central issues in Hountondji’s exploration of Husserl’s Logical Investigations in The Struggle for Meaning: the problem of subjectivity (section “The Problem of Subjectivity”), the phenomenology of language (section “Phenomenology of Language”), and the universality of meaning (section “The Universality of Meaning”). Note, the first two subsections examine Hountondji’s close, standard reading of Husserl’s phenomenology, while the remaining subsections and section “Hountondji and Wiredu on Particulars and Universals” turn more specifically to his use of Husserl in moving towards African phenomenology. While Hountondji is widely known for his critique of Ethnophilosophy, little attention is paid to his notion of phenomenology; this is all the more reason to focus here on his phenomenology.

The Problem of Subjectivity Hountondji’s states that his main interest remains to examine the “incipient phenomenology” as Husserl first launches it in his Logical Investigations (SM 27). Husserl develops a notion of phenomenology that integrates two different theoretical lines, (Brentano’s) psychological theory and (Bolzano’s) logical theory. On the one hand, he develops a descriptive psychology, which analyses various types of firstpersonal subjective experience; on the other hand, he develops a kind of logic, a theory of meaning or semantics, which reflects the ideal meanings (ideas, concepts, images, propositions) of types of experience (Moran, 2000, 2005; Smith, 2018). As these ideal meanings can be shared and corroborated by different subjects, they can be considered objective. Husserl’s phenomenology thus aims – throughout his works in fact – to develop an objective analysis of subjective, first-personal or conscious experience, in short, consciousness. Consequently, I use the terms experience and consciousness interchangeably to refer to first-personal conscious experience. Against this backdrop, Hountondji cautions not to mistake Husserl’s focus on subjective experience for a “retreat into subjectivity” (SM 28). As he puts it: The investigation of experience seeks to confirm the objectivity of essences, by identifying in experience itself an internal element of transcendence that obliges it to recognize its objective correlate. (ibid.)

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When he refers to a “retreat in subjectivity,” Hountondji has in mind Husserl’s critique of psychologism in the first volume of the Logical Investigations. Psychologism retreats into subjectivity by isolating subjective experiences as factually occurring psychological states (SM 32). The Logical Investigations, on the contrary, set out to define phenomenology as a study of the necessary or essential structure of types, forms, and acts of experience. Husserl thus asks the question as to what is the essence of types of experience such as an act of perception, or an act of thinking, etc. As Hountondji points out, essences refer to the ideal, and in this sense, objective correlates that constitute particular types of experience (SM 33/34). Phenomenology does not account for actual psychological states but describes and analyses ideal acts of experience, and in this sense pursues the “logic of experience” (SM 32). Hountondji thus endorses Husserl’s logical quest to unite the subjective and the objective by identifying objectively shareable meanings of firstpersonal subjective experience. Far from retreating into subjectivity, so Hountondji consequently shows, Husserl rather reaches for objectivity, for the “things themselves” and how they can be given to any possible subject. As Hountondji puts it, “. . .phenomenological analysis proper (is – AO) the in-depth exploration of subjective experiences in which the object ‘is constituted’. But never, not even in its most resolutely ‘subjective’ approaches, does Husserlian phenomenology risk dissolving this already cleared terrain, of letting this hard and concrete ground of objectivity slip away” (SM 12). The focus on the subject is at the same time, as Husserl’s well-known motto goes, a call to go “Back to the things themselves” (Zurück zu den Sachen selbst!). Hountondji consequently begins his discussion of the Logical Investigations with Husserl’s motto to go back to the things themselves. Starting with the First Investigation in the second volume of Logical Investigations, Hountondji argues that Husserl “appealed to an immediate, pre-reflexive experience of the world that is always already there, and simply called for a description, prior to any explanation, or interpretation, of this primary experience” (SM 13). In this way, so he infers, “the object is always already given, and with each object is this horizon of all possible objects that we call the world” (ibid.). Hence, so Hountondji concludes: “Consciousness is not a monad with neither doors nor windows; it always points to something other than itself, it is ‘intentional’” (ibid.). With intentionality, with the “necessary object-directedness” of consciousness, “arises the outright possibility of objective knowledge” (ibid.). Hence, “intentionality provides an escape from a retreat into the self; it removes the danger of solipsism and of being mired in the irrational” (ibid.). Notably, Hountondji points out that Husserl ascribes intentionality to our most basic experiences, the sensory experiences, which subjects have prior to any reflection or expression in linguistics signs or words. He dedicates the rest of his first chapter to defending Husserl’s inclusion of what appears to be our most primary experience, “nonintentional” primary sensory perceptions and affective states, into intentional consciousness (SM 13). Even our most primary sensory perceptions (sensory matter or data) direct us, prior to any reflection, meaningfully to things. These primary experiences include also the “entire sphere of affective states such as feelings of pleasure, pain, itching, ‘as well as sensual phases in the realm of drives’” (SM 19). Feelings of pain and pleasure, for instance, are not mere “vibrations of the

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subject on itself, circular experiences with no relation to an object: they are intentional” (ibid.). There is no pleasure without an intentional object of pleasure, neither is there pain without an intentional object of pain. Pleasure and pain are acts of consciousness directed toward specific objects. The same is true of desires and drives (ibid.). Thus, so Hountondji shows, Husserl expands the notion of intentionality to the sphere of both sensory and affective phenomena. The fact that even the most primary experiences are intentional means they are not confined to an internal subjective realm but directed to external objects of which subjects can share experience. However, these experiences can only be shared if they reach expression of some sorts. Such expression is achieved, so Hountondji argues, through the “phenomenology of language.” This is an enquiry into the origin of and “struggle for meaning,” more precisely, the struggle for the objective expression of the meaning of subjective experience. As is shown in section “The Universality of Meaning,” Hountondji’s reference to a “struggle for meaning” pertains specifically to the African subject – a return to the African subject means a struggle to decolonize concepts, which dominate epistemically and culturally African experience and its lifeworld.

Phenomenology of Language Hountondji dubs the section of The Struggle for Meaning in which he examines Husserl’s notion of language in the First Investigation (of the second volume of Logical Investigations), “the language of things” (SM 52). This emphasizes, from the outset, Husserl’s motto to go back to the things themselves, to the given, to phenomena in the sense of whatever immediately appears to consciousness in the manner that it so appears. The Logical Investigations, as is shown, is interested in “logical experience,” in the formation of types of acts and states of consciousness that can be ideally or essentially shared. This calls for their expression in language, that is, intended expressive acts such as writing or uttering sentences. As Hountonji says, for Husserl, language in its primary sense is an act of speech (SM 53). Speech does not merely consist of verbal articulation in linguistic signifiers such as words or sentences, but rather verbal articulation is just the accidental manifestation of a more primal act of speech, the “mental act of signification” (ibid.). Hountondji thus moves into the heart of Husserl’s distinction between signifiers of language such as words and the act of signification in his First Investigation. Signification refers to the act of conferring meaning to an intended object through linguistic signifiers such as words. Not the linguistic signifier per se but the act of signification extends meaning to objects. More specifically, the act of signification turns a signifier into a sign that expresses meaning (SM 53). As Hountondji puts it: For Husserl the linguistic signifier does not signify by itself, but its relationship to the signified is conferred to it by the subject. Behind the reference of the signifier to the signified, which a superficial linguist might see as inherent to the signifier itself, the phenomenologist discovers a signifying act which, by investing the given phonic or graphic matter, transforms it into a sign. (ibid.)

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These introductory marks require some more explanation of the relation between acts of signification, signifiers and signs. The further going explanation in the following will be related to distinctions Wiredu also makes, as discussed in section “Hountondji and Wiredu on Particulars and Universals.” To start with, consider Husserl’s notion of signs. Husserl distinguishes between two types of signs in his First Investigation: indications and expressions. Indications pertain to something that refers to something else, for instance, smoke indicating fire, or a fossil as a sign of a mammal, or a flag referring to a nation (Husserl, 2001: Logical Investigations I § 2; SM 54). As such, indications do not express meaning. Expressions, on the contrary, convey meaning. Expressions primarily manifest in terms of acts of speech (excluding gestures and facial expressions). Their function is to communicate the meaning of phenomena, of objects as they appear to us, of signified objects. More precisely, expressions convey the ideal, shareable meaning or sense of the objects that appear to consciousness. Expressions consist of signifiers such as written or spoken words or sentences. On their own, signifiers say nothing. Only through an act of signification, when a subject confers meaning to a signifier, does it express meaning (Husserl, 2001: Logical Investigations I § 7). Such signification can even take place in “solitary life” when something is thought by someone without saying anything to someone else. However, typically subjects do not separate meanings and signifiers. As Moran puts it, “we normally experience an expression as a set of words and meanings which are so unified that they cannot be separated” (Moran, 2000: 111). Importantly, Hountondji points out that Husserl distinguishes between “sense-giving” and “sense-fulfilling acts,” or between “meaning-intentions and their fulfilment” (Husserl, 2001: Logical Investigations I § 9; SM 57). To explain this distinction, consider the expression “the Victor of Jena.” This expression refers to Napoleon’s victory at Jena. Its intended reference is Napoleon’s victory, and it finds sense-fulfilment if the intended reference is the actual referent, Napoleon (SM 57). So, on the one hand, the expressed act of signification is a sense-giving act with an intended reference. It gives meaning to some object, its intended reference. On the other hand, this act seeks sense-fulfilment in its objective correlate, an actual referent. The sense-giving act thus has as its meaning-intention the intended reference and its fulfilment is through the correlating referent. Notably, Husserl uses meaning and sense interchangeably, unlike Frege who takes sense to refer to reference. As Moran (2000: 112) points out, though, arguably Husserl’s distinction between meaning/sense and reference is ultimately similar to Frege’s distinction between meaning and sense/reference. According to Husserl, several expressions may have different meanings while having the same intended reference. For instance, “The victor at Jena” and “The vanquished at Waterloo” are examples of two expressions with different meanings referring to one and the same individual, Napoleon. Inversely again, the same expression may refer to different objects but have the same meaning, for instance, the expression “emperors of Germany” may refer to different individuals at different stages in history who were emperors of Germany. A meaning-intention thus has a range of possible meaning-fulfilments, and it will find such fulfilment in a particular

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objective correlate specified by its context only (Husserl, 2001: Logical Investigations I § 13). Whatever the case, an expression always “means something, and in so far as it means something, it relates to what is objective” (Husserl, 2001: Logical Investigations I § 2, 280). Notably, as Moran says in his introduction to the Logical Investigations (Husserl, 2001: Logical Investigations I, lix.), Husserl’s distinction in the First (§1) and Fifth Investigation (§17) between the signified object and the signifying act is the basis for the distinction between noesis and noema that he will make later in his Ideas. Noesis corresponds with the sense-giving act of signification and noema with the meaning of the signified object. One can say, the noetic act of signification has a meaningintention that finds meaning-fulfilment in a signified object (noema). More specifically, the noetic act of signification uses signs in the sense of shareable expressions to signify the meaning of its referent. Noemata are thus signs qua signifiers that express shareable meaning, they are bearers of meaning. In short, one can distinguish between the sense-giving act of signification (noesis), the sign as expression of meaning (noema), and the object of its reference. Hountondji rightly argues that the core of the phenomenology of language consists for Husserl in the mental act of signification. The focus is not on the signifiers (words) or signs (expressions of meaning) of language as such, but rather on the sense-giving act of signification, the act of making expressions out of signifiers; in short, the act of consciousness. Even when an intended object ceases to be given, or when words (signifiers) are missing, or when no communication takes place with others, consciousness keeps “sustaining language” by producing meaning in terms of what Husserl calls “silent thought” (SM 54). The phenomenology of language consists essentially in the act of conferring meaning on objects even in their absence and the absence of others in the form of what he calls solitary discourse. Consequently, Hountondji emphasizes the importance of Husserl’s systematic effort to “purify the sign” in order to reduce it to its essential function – the act of giving sense (SM 54). This purification means, firstly, to exclude the indicative sign (a material sign such as a flag) in order to concentrate on the sign as expression. Secondly, it requires severing physical aspects of expression to focus on the linguistic sign, the true bearer of meaning. Finally, purification results in reducing the sign to its use also in the absence of signified objects, such that it obtains an ideal form and manifests in an act of sense-making shared by all possible speakers and interlocutors. The idea is to progressively “de-realize” the sign in order to free it for its essential function of sense-giving in an act of speech (SM 54). As such the sign is simultaneously bound to the reality of speaking subjects and free for the ideality of possible discourse going beyond individual subjects – it becomes universally shareable.

The Universality of Meaning To resume, according to Hountondji, the sign as carrier of meaning concurrently features in the reality of acts of speech and the ideality of shared meaning going beyond these particular acts. In this sense, meaning eventually becomes something

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independent both of the thing it refers to and any particular act of speech. In fact, any particular object carries in itself ideally the meaning it could have for all possible subjects. As Hountondji says: The object is no longer a mere thing in itself, independent of the subject and locked in itself. Every object became a sign. (SM 58)

Such ideal meaning turns the meaning something has for me into what it means for us. Even in the soliloquy of individual experience, there is already a supposed other who might interpret the meaning of such experience. Ultimately, the origin of meaning cannot be merely located in the individual act of sense-giving, but rather, the sense-giving act anticipates an intersubjective genesis of meanings. Ideally, the meaning of the first person singular “I experience” coincides with the first-personal plural “we experience.” Hountondji does not point this out, but this notion of the first-personal plurality or intersubjective genesis of experience anticipates Husserl’s idea of intersubjectivity as he develops it in later works, for instance, in his Cartesian Meditations (fourth and fifth Meditation) and Nachlass of 1921–1928, entitled Zur Phänomenologie der Intersubjektivität (On the Phenomenology of Intersubjectivity). The idea is that meanings are both grounded in subjectivity and exist intersubjectively independent of individual subjects. My experience of an object is always accompanied by the possible meaning it could ideally have for others (Zahavi 2005: 166ff.). Such ideal meanings of things permeate our experience also in the absence of the things we experience. As Hountondji says, “All in all, the human universe is from end to end a universe of meaning where things announce themselves without ever becoming truly present” (SM 59). Ultimately, it belongs to a phenomenology of language to employ logic to prove the truth of ideal meanings on a level that is universally justified (SM 64/5). Hountondji follows Husserl by rejecting the metaphysical notion of the existence of ideas that are in themselves true. Rather, truth is the result of an act of thought, of judgement (SM 53). More precisely, truth is based on the intersubjective formation and justification of what is known today as prepositional attitudes, of S believing that P, with P expressing the meaning of the intended object, and as such the content or prepositional matter of the belief. As such epistemic truth consists in the corroboration of sense-giving acts expressed in terms of shareable beliefs (prepositional attitudes) of propositions (prepositional contents), which hold universally. Consequently, one can say, the logic of experience ultimately aims at a universe of true meanings.

Hountondji’s Critique of Husserl’s Universals Hountondji worries that in his Logical Investigations Husserl leans towards emphasizing the notion of ideal meanings at the cost of the reality of first-personal experience. He argues that Husserl’s universe of ideal meanings at the end gives

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way to the metaphysical notion of a universe of meanings-in-themselves. This is how Hountondji puts it: It appears to me that this notion of ‘meaning in itself’ concludes a constant attempt, throughout Investigations, to exclude the subject, after its initial consecration as the condition and the primary source of meaning. If the proper object of a phenomenology of language, as of any phenomenology in general, is to show the subject at work behind the production which, at first sight, hides it, the clearest result of Husserl’s analyses in the First Investigation is, paradoxically, to reveal the subject at the end of the journey and to subordinate it to a necessary and intemporal order that precisely establishes it as subject by giving it the task of carrying this pre-existent order to the expression. In this manner, experience is taken seriously only long enough to be transcended, relativized, and subordinated to a presubjective a priori that grounds it. (SM 62)

Hountondji does not deny that Husserl takes seriously the subject at work behind the production of ideal meaning and subjective experience as its primary source. Unlike Kant, Husserl does not submit experience to universal metaphysical categories to unify it and, in doing so, to give it meaning. Rather, Hountondji admits that for Husserl: “The unity of experience takes care of itself through a progressive and horizontal articulation, in an open, unfinishable process” (SM 62). In this regard, Hountondji appreciates the way “. . .Sartre also pushed Husserl’s analyses to their most radical limits by emphasizing the uncontrollable spontaneity of prereflexive consciousness” (ibid.). It is consequently easy to see, so Hountondji says, how “such an approach led to the existentialist position and all the issues relating to Heidegger’s analytics of the Dasein, of ‘being-there’” (ibid.). Thus, Hountondji concedes that Husserl recognizes the spontaneity of lived experience, of what Sartre described in terms of the prereflective freedom of experience, and what Heidegger would call, Dasein, being there in the world, with its open horizon of meaning. Hountondji refers, of course, to Sartre’s Being and Nothingness (1958) and Heidegger’s Being and Time (1962), but he does not explore these works in any further depth. In any case, what Hountondji finds missing in such scholarly expansion on Husserl’s work is “. . .a clear understanding of the logical motivations of Husserl’s method,” and his primary interest in the idealization of “logical experience” (ibid.). In short, Hountondji cautions one to see how Husserl ultimately lends towards subordinating lived experience to logical experience. My intention is not to make an assessment of whether Hountondji’s critique of Husserl is justified or not. What is more important is that he gives an indication of his own particular approach to phenomenology. Hountondji is wary of any metaphysics of ideal universal meanings that does not account for the experiential reality of the subject, more precisely, the subject’s first-personal, sense-giving, and sense-fulfilling experiential act of signification. Thus, his strong phenomenological appeal to return to the subject, and to the things themselves as they are first personally experienced and expressed. Notably, Hountondji’s critical appeal has a political dimension in the sense that it pertains specifically to a critique of the imposition of colonial categories on the African lifeworld and lived experience of the African subject. One can say that this

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distinguishes his phenomenology in particular as African phenomenology. There are in African philosophy notorious examples of such colonial imposition. Hountondji refers particularly to the Rwandan ethnophilosopher Kagame, who attempted to translate Aristotle’s metaphysical categories into his own language, Kinyarwanda, “even if it meant later proposing a table of correspondences between his four categories and the standard list of Aristotle’s ten categories established by scholasticism” (SM 200). Recall Kagame’s four categories pertain to categories of Ntu (Being) and include Mu-ntu (Being with Intelligence), Ki-ntu (Being without Intelligence or Thing), Ha-ntu (the Being of Space and Time), and Ku-ntu (the Modality of Being) (Kagabo, 2004: 235). Hountondji argues that Aristotle’s mistake was to take categories owed to the Greek language to be universally valid. This is an “entrapment in the particular” (ibid.). He concludes that, “Aristotle fell into this trap unwittingly. Kagame, in his turn, fell into it, knowingly and freely” (SM 200). Hountondji importantly points out that “What was in question here, in fact, were the shortsighted language policies of our neocolonial states” (ibid.). Against the neocolonial trend to sustain colonial languages, Kagame’s motive was actually to introduce indigenous concepts of thinking (SM 201). Kagame’s attempt could be considered a strategy to decolonize language. However, his failure was to sneak in neocolonial concepts through the backdoor. This demonstrates the failure of an entrapment in the particularity of false universals. One can thus say the struggle for meaning is as much as it is a semantic quest for logical objectivity also a political fight to decolonize spurious universals. At the heart of this struggle for meaning is, however, a phenomenological struggle – the struggle to express meaning that simultaneously accounts for the particularity of contextualized first-personal experience and its possible universality across such contexts. This brings us to the next section on the tension between particulars and universals, specifically, a comparison of Hountondji and Wiredu.

Hountondji and Wiredu on Particulars and Universals In his reflection on his past works in The Struggle for Meaning, Hountondji appeals emphatically for both taking particular lived contexts of experience seriously, and aspiring for universality as foundation of all thought. Aristotle and Kagame fell into the trap of the particular purported to be universal. Hountondji draws a lesson from it: This lesson was clear: the particular exists, and it must be recognized. However, rather than shutting up oneself in it, it should be acknowledged the better to live through, contextualize, relativize, and, if possible, transcend it. From this point of view, Wiredu’s approach seemed healthier to me. (SM 200)

Hountondji thus takes recourse to Wiredu’s approach, specifically his notion of linguistic and cultural particularity and universality. Hountondji’s recourse to Wiredu calls for a closer look at the latter’s view of language, conceptual and cultural universals, and its relation to the former’s own notion of it.

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Conceptual Universals Wiredu’s Cultural Universals (Wiredu 1996 - henceforth referred to as CU) starts with two opening chapters on communication, paving the way for his view of cultural particulars and universals. The first chapter opens with the statement of a paradox. There is something paradoxical going on in discourse among cultures. While, on the one hand, there is an unprecedented intensification of informational interaction among the different cultures of the world, there is, on the other hand, increasing skepticism regarding the very foundation of such discourse; namely, the possibility of universal canons of thought and action. (CU 1)

Wiredu refers to the skepticism of the way the discourse of Western culture dominates intercultural communication, through ongoing colonization. Such domination flouts, wittingly or unwittingly, the possibility of respectful dialogue, which is a vital condition of the possibility of intercultural communication (CU 2). Africa in particular is a victim of such malpractice. Wiredu calls for African philosophers to think about their use of Western languages, and the question whether or how their vernacular can be conceptualized in such languages. They also have to think about whether they sustain a colonial mentality by using such concepts without thinking critically about their imposing character and forced conceptualization of vernacular material (CU 3). Hence, Wiredu’s plea to exercise “conceptual decolonization” and in this way unmask “spurious” universals (CU 5). The decisive test is to see if concepts of a “metropolitan” nature can be translated into “vernacular” language (ibid.). If not, then they lose their claim to be universally meaningful – as Kagame discovered with his translation of Aristotle’s concepts. But what, exactly, is a concept? This brings us to a decisive linguistic distinction that Wiredu makes between signs, signifiers, the act of signification, and the referent. These distinctions, so I show, are strikingly similar to the ones Hountondji makes. Consider the following passage: Suppose, for example, that a certain flag flying over a house signifies that a king is present there. It would be idiomatic to say that the flag signifies the king. But, strictly, what is signified is not the king but the thought that the king is present. In fact, in every use of a meaningful symbol or sign, whether it be a word, a variable, or an entity such as a flag or a gesture, what is signified is a thought, never an entity. It is true that symbols do frequently refer to objects, entities. The point, however, is that when a symbol refers to an entity, the entity can never be said to be the signification or the meaning of the symbol. The entity is the referent, not the signification, and it is the signification that directs us to the referent. (CU15)

Wiredu thus distinguishes between the signifier (a word or symbol like a flag), signification (the thought of a king’s presence), and the referent (the king). The signifier, the flag, does not refer to the king but to the thought, or meaning, or signification of the king’s presence. The signifier can only refer to the king because it conveys the thought of a king. In another passage in an essay entitled “Empiricalism,” Wiredu gives another helpful account of these distinctions:

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In communication we have to use signs. These are purely physical existents, signifying nothing. It is by means of our own semantical conventions that we associate with the sign meanings, conceptions, or connotations. By this process the sign becomes a word, or, in company with other words, a sentence. Let us call what is thus associated with the sign its signification. Then it is natural to ask with regard to a given word whether there is something to which it refers (by virtue of its signification). (Wiredu, 2011: 26)

The similarity with Hountondji is striking. Wiredu takes a sign as such to signify nothing – Hountondji would say, it is just an indication. Only if a sign expresses meaning does it signify something. A sign signifies in terms of signifiers such as words or symbols. To use Wiredu’s example: the word house is a signifier, however, it can only signify an actual entity such as a house, if it expresses meaning, a thought, or a concept of a house (ibid.). A signifier needs a concept or meaning to be capable of signification. If the referent is absent, it can still signify meaning. For instance, a unicorn has no referent but carries meaning, for it is a concept of fiction (ibid.). Thus, Wiredu maintains a distinction similar to Hountondji’s between a signifier (word, symbol), signification (meaning, concept, thought), and actual referent (entity). It is furthermore striking that also Wiredu’s focus is not on the signifiers of language but on the act of signification and communication. More precisely, he also holds that acts of signification manifest socially through communication. The capacity to conceptualize is learned and developed through communication. This begins already at the most basic levels. Human communication is in fact “only a development and refinement of the capacity to react to stimuli in a law-like manner which is present in even amoebic forms of life.” (CU 23) Wiredu takes the instinctually uniform gestures and noises in the most elementary forms of life as an analogue to conceptualization and the “humble origins of the rules of conceptualization and articulation which are distinctive of human communication.” (ibid.) It is through communication with others that subjects learn to signify, to express their experiences in shareable thoughts (CU 19). Thus, the capacity to signify, to conceptualize, “. . .unfolds in communication and communication is learned.” (ibid.) All humans share this social capacity to learn to express and communicate their experiences conceptually. This is what Wiredu refers to as conceptual universals. Wiredu’s view thus is that the universal capacity to conceptualize and communicate experience is socially learned and shaped. Notably, this reading of Wiredu goes against Eze’s and Janz’s objection that Wiredu presupposes as metaphysical category a priori conceptual or cultural universals (Eze, 1998; Janz, 2009). In any case, in this reading, Wiredu’s view seems to relate fairly well to what Hountondji calls the phenomenology of language. Recall Hountondji’s view is that conceptualization (signification) is a sense-giving act that anticipates an intersubjective genesis of meaning. His view does look compatible with Wiredu’s idea that subjects develop socially through communication the capacity to conceptualize experience. This again seems to match with Fanon’s concept of “sociogeny” in Black Skins, White Masks (Fanon, 1967: 4) in its basic sense that consciousness, and its capacity of concept formation, is developed through social interaction (Gordon, 2008: 84; Henry, 2006: 11ff). Hence, one could say that Hountondji, Fanon, and Wiredu

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basically share a phenomenological concern with the social conditions that make possible consciousness. Wiredu’s notion of conceptual universals is the basis of what he famously called cultural universals. This brings us to the next subsection.

Cultural Universals It is well known, says Wiredu, that concepts differ from culture to culture (CU 20). Consequently, he asks: “Is there any scheme of concepts which can be shared by all the cultures of humankind?” (CU 21). In other words, is there “anything about which all the different cultures of the world can communicate?” (ibid.). In response to this question, Wiredu introduces his well-known concept of cultural universals. It is worthwhile going into some detail here as, I think, Wiredu’s conception of conceptual, epistemic, and cultural universals can be read as a valuable supplementary to Hountondji’s view of universal meanings. Wiredu famously introduces his argument for cultural universals with a reductio ad absurdum argument in the opening passage of the third chapter of Cultural Universals: Suppose there were no cultural universals. Then intercultural communication would be impossible. But there is intercultural communication. Therefore, there are cultural universals. (CU 21)

Wiredu bases his view of cultural universals on his notion of conceptual universals. As before, conceptual universals manifest as the socially developed capacity of signification, of forming and communicating concepts. Again, the capacity to conceptualize already starts with instinctually uniform gestures and noises that are the humble origins of conceptualization and articulation, which are distinctive of human communication. (CU23) However, human behavior is “governed by both instinct and culture.” Because of instinct there will be a uniformity in human actions and reactions. And because of culture, which Wiredu takes to be characterized by “habit, instruction and conscious thought,” there will be variation. (CU 23) Notably he then says: The point, however, is that what unifies us is more fundamental than what differentiates us. What is it that unifies us? The beginning, at least, of an answer is easy. It is our biologicocultural identity as homines sapientes. (ibid.)

At the minimum level, biologico-cultural unification means that humans are “organisms that go beyond instinct in the drive for equilibrium and self-preservation in specific ways, namely, by means of reflective perception, abstraction, deduction, and induction.” (ibid.) What does that mean? Wiredu explains. Reflective perception means “a kind of awareness that involves the identification of objects and events through the conscious application of concepts

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and which entails, consequently, the power of recall and re-identification.” (CU 23) Abstraction refers to the capacity to bring particulars together under general concepts and these again under still more general concepts. Inference again refers to both deductive and inductive logical capacities, which are already presupposed in rudimentary forms in reflective perception. For instance, induction pertains to the capacity to draw from the perception of particulars general concepts and to envisage hypothetical situations such as the consequences of one’s actions (ibid.). This again presupposes the deductive capacity, for instance, not to take the perception of X for a non-X, by application of the fundamental principle of noncontradiction (ibid.). Importantly, Wiredu concludes that the capacity to conceptualize (to perceive reflectively, to abstract and infer) is what all humans share regardless of their cultural context: . . .being a human person implies having the capacity of reflective perception, abstraction, and inference. In their basic nature these mental capacities are the same for all humans, irrespective of whether they inhabit Europe, Asia, or Africa. (ibid.)

As humans have this as a defining capacity, they can ideally communicate across cultures. But are some concepts not untranslatable? Wiredu argues that all languages share at least the aspect of the conceptualization of directly perceived objects in the environment, which all humans deal with by using their capacities of abstraction and inference. What one can conceptualize one can also translate. “This is what ensures that all human languages are, at bottom, inter-learnable and inter-translatable.” (CU 26) More complicated issues of abstraction and inference are not only a challenge inter-culturally but also, in fact, intraculturally (CU 26). Consequently, Wiredu is skeptical of any claim of untranslatability. In this, Hountondji once again agrees with him. Wiredu, so Hountondji shows, distinguishes between “tongue-relative” (tongue-dependent) and “tongue-neutral” statements. Tongue-relative statements are propositions that are only meaningful within the conceptual space of a particular language or family of languages. Tongueneutral statements are propositions whose meaning exceeds the limits of particular languages. African philosophers typically think in European languages. They lend towards giving credence “to notions, problems, and positions that, in some cases, would be untranslatable in their own languages.” (SM 201) Translation thus becomes a decisive test of universality. European concepts which cannot be translated by tongue-relative languages are taken to be universal. However, so Wiredu objects, “the untranslatable is the false universal, the relative that masks itself as universal under cover of the particularities of a language.” (SM 201). Wiredu is certainly aware of the obstacles of cross-cultural communication. As Hountondji helpfully notes, he distinguishes between culture in its narrow sense of contingent customary forms, beliefs, and practices in the context of a specific type of physical environment and in its broader sense of conceptualization by means of language. In its narrow sense “. . .what defines culture, or to be exact, a culture, is the humanly contingent, not the humanly necessary.” (SM 28) The humanly necessary is

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culture in its broader sense, thus the possibility to conceptualize by means of language; in short, the possession of language. Thus, Wiredu says, . . .the fact of language itself, i.e., the possession of one language or another by all human societies, is the cultural universal par excellence. (CU 28)

Wiredu thus argues that all human societies, irrespective of their cultural particularity, possess language. This means, on the one hand, language is what all societies have, it is an intracultural universal. In other words, within all cultures people have the universal linguistic capacity to conceptualize, that is, to perceive abstractly, to abstract and infer. On the other hand, language makes it possible to communicate cross-culturally and is in this sense an intercultural universal. Thus, conceptual universals are the foundation of intra- and intercultural universals. Once one grants conceptual universals, more precisely, the universal capacity of perception, abstraction, and inference, then one must also grant the universal capacity of understanding truth, that is, to be able to justify the truthfulness of one’s perception, abstraction, and inference. It is inconsistent to say people can understand each other across cultures and deny that they can share truth. Thus, conceptual universals and epistemic universals go together. (CU 28). Nevertheless, as is to be expected, Wiredu rejects any metaphysical notion of the existence of universals that are in themselves true. This is clear, for instance, from Hallen’s defense of Wiredu’s notion of truth against any such metaphysical charge (Hallen, 2004). Hallen shows that Wiredu argues that whatever is called the “truth” is always someone’s truth (Hallen, 2004: 107). For a piece of information to be awarded the appellation “true,” it must be discovered by, known by, and defended by human beings somewhere, sometime. Furthermore, what human beings defend as “true” can prove to be false from an alternative point of view. Therefore, whatever is called “truth” is more starkly described as “opinion.” Consequently, Wiredu argues that societies have their own notion of logic that dictates what they take to be truth. This means, one can only critique the notion of truth from within the logic of the language and culture of a particular society. Therefore, he rejects a metaphysical notion of truth as a mind-independent property of timeless information. Truth does not derive from a mind-independent reality but from intersubjective human endeavor of rational inquiry. Truth is, however, not a matter of subjective opinion, but of intersubjective interpretation. “In his (Wiredu’s – AO) view, such intersubjectivity becomes a sine qua non to truth and is responsible for his enduring opposition to both subjectivity and relativism.” (ibid. 107). Wiredu’s conception of truth matches with Hountondji’s view. For Hountondji, as was shown, it belongs to a phenomenology of language to employ logic to prove the truth of ideal meanings, thus the truth of meaning beyond its first-personal, or one can add, cultural formation. Again, Hountondji follows Husserl by rejecting the metaphysical notion of the existence of ideas that are in themselves true. Truth is the result of an act of logical analysis and conceptualization expressed in propositions and their justification through intersubjective corroboration.

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To conclude this section, one can say, both Hountondji and Wiredu produce what one may call an analytical African phenomenology. On the one hand, they pay phenomenological respect to the particularity of African experience, on the other hand, they advocate its expression and clarification in terms of universal concepts. As Hallen points out, Wiredu criticizes analytic philosophy to remain on the level of conceptual clarification of given beliefs instead of being engaged in developing beliefs from a particular cultural context of experience (Hallen 2004: 110). A remaining worry, one that Hountondji himself holds against Husserl, is if Hountondji’s and Wiredu’s analytical emphasis on conceptual universals ultimately happens at the cost of the particularity of cultural experience. Is there no better midway between particulars and universals? This question leads to the next section, Masolo’s midway.

Masolo’s Midway to Phenomenology In his Self and Community in a Changing World (henceforth SC), Masolo (2010) takes both Hountondji and Wiredu on board in advocating a phenomenological midway between cultural particularism and universalism. The following section has its focus on Self and Community in a Changing World; however, some precursors of his midway are found in his African Philosophy in Search of Identity. In African Philosophy in Search of Identity, Masolo gives a critique of an exclusively linguistic approach that removes concepts from the lived context from which they arise. His critique is specifically directed at analytical philosophers who follow the approach of ordinary language philosophy (Masolo, 1994: 95–102). Masolo points out that a danger of linguistic philosophy is that the philosopher might end up creating universals removed from and misrepresenting the ordinary meaning and particular context, which these words bring to expression. Masolo consequently argues that the philosopher’s interests in meaning go beyond the limits of the linguist (Masolo, 1994: 102). The philosopher needs to steer a midway between the universalists, who argue for conceptual analysis that supersedes common sense, and the pluralists or relativists, who argue in favor of the diversity of the variant modalities of human experience and systems of representation (Masolo, 1994: 247). He proposes a “middle ground” by arguing for rational procedures that account for rather than disregard the “variant modalities of experience,” including the “disorderly life of the body and the emotions” (ibid. 248). Masolo thus wants to navigate between universalism and particularism. However, he would only give a more detailed account of his position in Self and Community in a Changing World. Here he suggests a phenomenological midway with recourse to both Hountondji and Wiredu. In the following, the focus is on two aspects: first, his argument for a return to and reflection on the particularity of subjects’ cultural situatedness, and, second, his advocacy of intersubjectivity as possible universal.

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The Return to the Indigenous Lifeworld In a notable passage in Self and Community in a Changing World, Masolo writes: African philosophy will benefit from the midway instead of committing itself to a single culturally universalist or culturally particularist methodological approach. This will leave the discipline space to take seriously both the particularity of our historical cultural situatedness and universality of our common capacity to reflect about and beyond our cultural situation on an individual level. (SC 21)

Masolo’s midway starts with his adoption of and expansion on Hountondji’s idea of the return to the subject, by exploring what he calls the return to the indigenous African subject. In this way, he broadens Hountondji’s scope by representing more strongly than the latter Husserl’s later work on the “lifeworld.” Masolo begins his analysis by “revalorizing” the colonial notion of the indigenous. More particularly, he “brackets” the “oppositional colonial categories of traditional and modern,” “local and imported,” and the imposition of such colonial categories on the African context. In his view, Hountondji accuses ethnophilosophy exactly of such colonial imposition of binary categories. Masolo argues that the core of Hountondji’s critique of ethnophilosophy is that it sets out to describe basic intuitions of African people (myths, songs, sages) and then markets these descriptions as philosophy of an exotic sort to serve Western interests and prejudices (SC 24ff). Indigenous accounts of experience remain on what Hountondji takes to be the descriptive level of prereflective intuitions. These intuitions (doxa) must be critically submitted to conceptual analysis before they can be converted to proper philosophy (episteme) (SC 35). To call it philosophy carries a Western prejudice that Africa is capable only of folk philosophy of a primitive, irrational, emotional, and collective nature. A phenomenological analysis must therefore start with a critical suspension of intuitions, especially in the form of their ethnophilosophical rendition. In other words, a critical analysis needs to dismantle the myth of the given, specifically, the ethnophilosophical myth that the African world is given in the form of ethnic myths. This does not mean, however, that intuitions are not to be taken seriously. On the contrary, Masolo endorses Hountondji’s basic adoption of Husserl’s view that the world is intended also on the lowest level of intuitions, and that this is where all critical thought – philosophy, logic, science – starts. As he says, Hountondji “. . .appears to argue that critical thought emerges when individuals think of the world as already intended at a lower level, as in the form of common beliefs, meaning that our relationship with the world as an object of intention is grounded in understanding and dialectically seeks to make sense of our senses of it, our noemata, or meanings of it.” (ibid.) A critical analyses aims to examine how such meanings arise. This requires a careful analysis of the intentional structure of experience and acts of consciousness. Masolo consequently endorses Hountondji’s basic phenomenological approach. In the following notable passage, he offers a succinct account of the primary links between Husserl’s and Hountondji’s phenomenological approaches:

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It seems that the goal for both Husserl and Hountondji was, first, to recognize the role of the active structuring of consciousness that enables it to intend its object. Second, Hountondji seeks to show, again (or still) working within the Husserlian scheme, how the world of intentionality is the locus of our everyday experiences. Our consciousness is directed at (intends) this world and forms a relationship with it. (SC 33)

As Masolo points out, Hountondji follows Husserl’s basic phenomenological view of phenomenology as the study of the intentional structure of conscious experience with its original locus the everyday lifeworld. In the first two extensive chapters of Self and Community, he shows in detail Hountondji’s adoption of Husserl’s view that the venture-point of any reflection – philosophical or scientific – is a critical examination of its situatedness in everyday experience, specifically, in an indigenous African context. This indigenous context includes “the whole sociocultural realm that defines or constitutes certain basic elements of our consciousness.” (SC 35) Masolo clearly sees a strong “constitutive” relation between the realm of the indigenous, the “whole sociocultural realm,” and the nature of subjectivity, including consciousness and selfhood. In fact, as the title of his book suggests, this relation is at the bottom about the way the self is intentionally directed at its community in a way that shapes its character. In short, subjectivity is shaped by its community, and constantly so in a changing world. In this regard, Masolo reflects Husserl’s late view about the constitutive effect of the “lifeworld” on subjectivity. Consider the following quote from Husserl’s text, entitled Zur Phänomenologie der Intersubjektivität, (Towards Phenomenology of Intersubjectivity): What I generate from out of myself (primarily instituting) is mine. But I am a ‘child of the times’; I am a member of a we community in the broadest sense – a community that has its tradition and that for its part is connected in a novel manner with the generative subjects, the closest and the most distant ancestors. And these have ‘influenced’ me: I am what I am as an heir. (Husserl, 1973: 223)

This passage amply reflects Husserl’s shift of focus in the 1920s, as it were, from the “world of logic” to the “lifeworld.” One can view it as a succinct account of what one could call a sociogenesis of sorts, that is, of the shaping effect of community life on subjectivity. As is pointed out in section “Hountondji and Wiredu on Particulars and Universals,” the idea of “sociogenesis” finds some reflection in Hountondji’s view that any subjective sense-giving act anticipates an intersubjective genesis of meanings, a social act of meaning formation, so that, ideally, the meaning of the first person singular “I experience” coincides with the first-personal plural “we experience.” In other words, the intersubjective genesis of meaning makes possible the formation of consciousness and its capacity to grasp meaning; it is its enabling condition. Hountondji thus subtly introduces a radical social phenomenology found only in the later Husserl. Once more, the notion of sociogenesis also relates to Wiredu’s idea that the capacity to conceptualize the meaning of experience is a product of social learning.

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Masolo cites Wiredu extensively in agreement in his third chapter (CS 245). The idea of sociogenesis is one that Husserl, Hountondji, Wiredu, and Masolo seem to share despite their differences. However, it is Masolo who devotes the most extensive analysis to this idea. The result is his Self and Community. His basic contention is that the self is an heir of its community. “I” have been together with and have learned from others as long as “I” can recall. My community has its own tradition and conventions, customs, and language and wittingly or unwittingly “I” am its heir. In allusion to Wiredu’s essay on Anton Wilhelm Amo (Wiredu, 2004), one can say, if one is an Akan in an African village in Ghana, one shall become another Akan than an Akan such as Anton Wilhelm Amo, who grew up and taught philosophy in Germany. No matter where one is, one’s experience of the world and oneself will be structured in accordance with the experience of other members in the community in which one is reared. As Wiredu says, to be, in Akan, wo ho, means to be at some place, and this means to be a product of such place (CU 49). This notion of cultural heritage makes it sound rather rhetorical when Masolo’s asks, How do African people think differently from other people and what are those differences? What do they stem from? Or do they differ at all? (SC 51) It seems obvious: subjects do differ and this difference goes back to their sociocultural lifeworld experience. But then, how about cultural universals? What is Masolo’s midway? The next section tries to show that it consists in “lived intersubjectivity.”

Lived Intersubjectivity Given its sociocultural plurality and contingency, the African indigenous lifeworld poses a challenge to its cross-cultural representation in philosophical concepts, especially in non-African contexts. Masolo reiterates that a major issue in this regard is the danger of false representation, including “misinterpretation, misrepresentation, or even total misconceptualization of African meanings, indicating lack of mastery of African languages by many scholars of African knowledge systems.” (SC 38) The problem of misconceptualization particularly has been a theme of postcolonial discourse and the quest for a decolonized mind (ibid.). However, so Masolo argues, “Concepts are not necessarily made clearer or easier to apprehend because we have expressed them in the native tongue of our interlocutor.” (SC 39). There may be multiple reasons for such a difficulty; however, the core reason is the fact that it is hard to be precise in relating words to their meanings (ibid.). Masolo agrees with the distinction both Hountondji and Wiredu make between words and the concepts that carry their meaning. Sometimes, so he says, subjects have no specific words or terms for these concepts. This forces us to “strategize, to choose and select words in order to hit as closely as possible to the meanings we intend to pass on to others regardless of the medium we use.” (ibid.) This makes the transmission of concepts between languages a particular challenge. Nevertheless, Masolo holds that “. . .it is not impossible to express any concept in any language.” (ibid.) Consequently, he agrees with both Hountondji and Wiredu:

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Can we, then, use English or French words to transmit African meanings? I believe that the answer to this question is yes. (SC 39)

The philosophical worry remains “. . . .whether we can preserve the core of our cultural integrity, our conceptual or theoretical representations of the world—when we use other languages.” (ibid.) This problem, so Masolo agrees with Hountondji and Wiredu, is not limited to the contrast between African and non-African languages, as the debate tends to suggest within the contexts of postcolonial discourse (SC 41). He concedes that problems of colonial mistranslation and the need to use African languages to express indigenous knowledge in Africa is an enigmatic problem, nonetheless, he holds reasonable conceptual translation to remain a definite possibility. Ultimately, Masolo agrees with Wiredu, and one should add, Hountondji, that: . . .concepts are language-free characteristics of the mind, as Wiredu argues, but also that language is an elastic phenomenon that we can bend, twist, weave and stretch in any direction and to any lengths in order to accommodate or to communicate the concepts we have in our minds. (SC 41)

Masolo takes as an example of how languages can be stretched to communicate concepts the way they continue to borrow from other languages across the globe, especially in the professional disciplines such as law, medicine, chemistry. Indeed, philosophy itself is characterized by such conceptual bending and lending. However, bending, lending, and sharing practices do not appease the underlying worry that it may not do justice to the particularity of some local sociocultural meanings, for “it is often difficult to determine the exact sense that a term delivers when it is used for a concept or theory from a different system of thought.” (SC 41). At its core, this difficulty reflects the most basic phenomenological concern, which is “. . . .to take our local experiences seriously and to examine the world along the lines of our experience of it.” (ibid.) This core difficulty, so Masolo cautions, calls for careful phenomenological analysis of subjectivity and what is really shared. As he puts it: One cannot simply take a collective set of intuitions to be a form of subjectivity, but rather, an analysis is required to find out what is really shared (eidetic variation). What is really shared among humans is that they are endowed with subjective consciousness, such that a plurality of subjects cannot be simply reduced to the anonymous chorus of a crowd (like ethnophilosophy and totalitarian discourses do). (SC 83)

Masolo criticizes once again the ethnophilosophical mistake to reduce subjectivity to a collective set of intuitions. Simultaneously, he sustains the phenomenological claim that subjective consciousness is the most basic human endowment that all subjects share throughout all personal and cultural plurality. Similar to Hountondji and Wiredu, he claims that at the heart of what all subjects really share are their thoughts – the significations or concepts or meanings that express their experiences (SC 83). Reverberating Hountondji and Wiredu, he says:

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Our thoughts are the basic significations and confirmations of our being and of our lives; they are our bridges to the outside world. (SC 83)

Masolo thus prizes communication through shared thoughts to be the “bridges” for every subject to its outside world, including the world of the other, both intraculturally and interculturally. Thought expresses the intersubjectivity of shared meanings, including intuitions, perceptions, abstractions, and inferences. As such, thought is no a priori metaphysical category, independent of subjective experience, but rather it establishes itself through intersubjectively shared experience. The fact that subjects share the capacity to express their experience, to abstract and infer, thus to have “logical experience,” is subject to what Masolo calls, after Husserl “eidetic variation.” This means a careful intersubjective reflection and corroboration of the really shareable and in this sense objective contents of subjects’ experiences – their intuitions, perceptions, and emotions. All subjects share the capacity of thought. As such, thought does not belong to a metaphysical realm independent of experience, but rather, it is a capacity subject to and shaped by experience. In this sense, the plurality of the lifeworld and lived experience is always ahead of a subject’s capacity to think about it and to share their thoughts universally. If one thinks of the lifeworld as an indigenous lifeworld, so Masolo emphasizes, one should not mistake it to be a static historical sociocultural space, “fossilized and unchanging,” but rather, “the indigenous is constantly being transformed, always negotiating its form” (SC 36). As such it is a “lifeworld” in its real sense, one that makes intersubjective – intracultural and intercultural – and ultimately universal thought an ongoing challenge and something to keep striving for. Thus, one can say the lived particularity of indigenous intersubjectivity as what is shared between all possible subjects is always ahead of its possible universal expression through conceptual analysis. Masolo’s midway, it seems, is to take the sociocultural plurality of subjectivity to be a subject’s lived reality and to think of the universality of intersubjectivity as a lived possibility. Masolo’s midway finally indicates how a phenomenological focus on the particularity of the lived experience of intersubjectivity can be combined with rigorous, universally shared conceptual analysis. One could say, he offers an analytical African phenomenology of lived intersubjectivity.

Conclusion The aim of this chapter has been to introduce some of the central issues and theorists of the field of African phenomenology. As the subtitle of this chapter indicates, its scope is limited to what is called introductory perspectives in African phenomenology. The idea has been to outline for further investigation some thematically related contributions to African phenomenology with specific reference to the grounding work of Hountondji as related to works of Wiredu and Masolo. Hountondji’s classical Husserlian approach offers a broad, foundational scope, which makes it particularly suitable for a basic introduction to African phenomenology. Therefore,

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the focus here is on his classical approach rather than on ones with a narrower scope, for instance, Serequeberhan’s hermeneutical and More’s existentialist approaches. Moreover, the focus has been on a seminal (African) phenomenological issue, the particularity of sociocultural experience and its rendition in what is claimed to be universal, but often criticized as colonial, concepts of philosophical thinking. The discussed authors demonstrate ways in which the phenomenological focus on the study of experience can combine with the critical analytical focus on its conceptual rendition. In this sense, one can speak of an analytical African phenomenology. A brief recap of the discussion and comparison of Hountondji, Wiredu, and Masolo is in order. Section “Hountondji and the Struggle for Meaning” explained how Hountondji endorses Husserl’s phenomenological appeal to return to the subject, and to the meaning of the things themselves as they are first-personally experienced and intersubjectively shared through speech. Hountondji argues that the pursuit of meaning is ultimately not merely philosophical, or logical, or scientific, but political. In the African context, it is a struggle to decolonize deeply entrenched neocolonial categories of concepts purported to be universal, and to ideally find meaning that simultaneously accounts for the particularity of contextualized first-personal experience and its possible universality across such contexts. Section “Hountondji and Wiredu on Particulars and Universals” argued that a comparison of Hountondji’s and Wiredu’s views of universals shows striking similarities. Both Wiredu and Hountondji argue for the intersubjectively shared meanings of personal and cultural contexts of communication. Linguistic analysis plays a pivotal role in clarifying the nature of such communication. However, Wiredu criticizes analytic philosophy to remain on the level of conceptual clarification instead of being engaged in the social genesis of concepts from within particular sociocultural contexts. Both Hountondji and Wiredu take the particularity of sociocultural contexts of living as point of departure to advocate the notion of interculturally shared concepts as possible universals. Both concentrate on lived sociocultural experience within the African context and simultaneously its decolonized, conceptual analysis in universally shareable terms. In this sense, they both produce what one could call an analytical African phenomenology. A remaining question was if Hountondji’s and Wiredu’s analytical emphasis on conceptual universals might be at the cost of the particularity of cultural experience, and if there is no better midway between particulars and universals. Masolo’s view was proposed as possible midway. Section “Masolo’s Midway to Phenomenology” showed how Masolo’s midway to phenomenology expands on Hountondji’s idea of the return to the subject, specifically by focusing on the sociocultural constitution of African subjectivity. Given its constitutive sociocultural plurality and contingency, the African indigenous lifeworld poses a challenge to its cross-cultural representation in philosophical concepts, especially in non-African contexts. Making strong both Hountondji’s and Wiredu’s ideal of intercultural conceptual communication, Masolo develops the

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notion of lived intersubjectivity as the underpinning of the possibility of universally shared meaning. His focus on lived intersubjectivity and its expression appears to be less idealistic than Hountondji’s and Wiredu’s notions of conceptually shared subjectivity. His focus is on the careful critical conceptual analysis of concretely lived African intersubjectivity as possibly shared universal. One could say he offers an analytical African phenomenology of lived intersubjectivity. One might still ask at the end of this introduction: but what exactly is African phenomenology? The focus here has been on a primary issue in African phenomenology, the tension between experiential particularity and conceptual universality, which offers a good basis for a working definition, one closely related but significantly different to the standard encyclopedic definition of phenomenology as the study of the essential structures of experience. If pressed to give a kind of working definition, then one could take Hountondji’s lead as related to Wiredu and Masolo, and perhaps say the following tentatively and without the pretension to be complete. African Phenomenology is a critical conceptual analysis of the sociocultural conditions and intercultural shareability of subjective experience, with its inclusive focus being the African context. Because of its emphasis on both experiential as well as conceptual analyses, one can call it analytical African phenomenology. There is a specific methodological focus on the sociocultural and linguistic context, but as in the case of phenomenological methods in general, this is open to the approach of its proponents. The same goes for its thematic focus. The examination of the tension between experiential, cultural particulars and conceptual universals covers a major, comprehensive issue, relating themes of language, knowledge, subjectivity, culture, community, oppression, and decolonization. Such examination serves well to offer a basic introduction to African phenomenology. However, this introduction is but one perspective of many others awaiting further exploration in this emerging field. Acknowledgment I am indebted to M. John Lamola and Justin Sands for helpful comments on a first draft of this chapter. I also received fruitful comments from several colleagues, when presenting a shortened draft of it at The Third Biennial African Philosophy World Conference, October 28–30, 2019, University of Dar es Salaam. I thank Elvis Imafidon for the invitation to contribute to this collection.

References Cloete, M. (2019). Steve Biko: Black consciousness and the African other – The struggle for the political, in Olivier A. (ed), The African other: Philosophy, justice and the self. Angelaki: Journal of the Theoretical Humanities, 24(2), 104–115. Eze, E. (1998). What are cultural universals?, in Cultural universals and particulars by Kwasi Wiredu. African Philosophy, 11(1), 73–82. Fanon, F. (1967). Black skins White masks. Pluto Press. Gordon, L. (Ed.). (1997). Existence in Black: An anthology of Black existential philosophy. Routledge.

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Gordon, L. (2000). Existentia Africana. Understanding Africana existential thought. New York. Gordon, L. (2008). An introduction to Africana philosophy. Cambridge University Press. Hallen, B. (2002). A short history of African philosophy. Indiana Press. Hallen, B. (2004). Contemporary anglophone African philosophy: A survey. In K. Wiredu (Ed.), A companion to African philosophy. Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Heidegger, M. (1962). Being and time (J. Macquarrie and E. Robinson, Trans.). Oxford: Blackwell. Henry, P. (2006). Africana phenomenology: Its philosophical implications. Worlds&Knowledges Otherwise, https://globalstudies.trinity.duke.edu/sites/globalstudies.trinity.duke.edu/files/fileattachments/v1d3_PHenry.pdf Hountondji, P. J. (2002). The struggle for meaning: Reflections on philosophy, culture, and democracy in Africa. Ohio University Press. Husserl, E. (1973). Zur Phänomenologie der Intersubjektivität. Texte aus dem Nachlass. Zweiter Teil: 1921–1928, Iso Kern (Ed.). Den Haag: Martinus Nijhoff. Husserl, E. (2001). Logical investigations (J. N. Findlay, Trans.). London: Routledge. Janz, B. (2009). Philosophy in an African place. Rowman & Littlefield. Kagabo, L. (2004). Alexis Kagame (1912–1981): Life and thought. In K. Wiredu (Ed.), A companion to African philosophy (pp. 231–242). Blackwell. Lamola, M. J. (2020). Ramose and the ontology of the African: An existentialist unveiling of moônô. In H. Lauer & H. Yitah (Eds.), The tenacity of truthfulness (pp. 21–40). Mkuki na Nyota. Lamola, M. J. (2023). A post-Sartrean reflection on being black in the world: Reading Steve Biko through Slavoj Žižek. In A. Olivier, M. J. Lamola, & J. Sands (Eds.), Phenomenology in an African context. SUNY Press, forthcoming. Maart, R. (2015). Decolonizing gender, decolonizing philosophy. Radical Philosophy Review, 18(1), 69–91. Masolo, D. A. (1994). African philosophy in search of identity. Indiana University Press. Masolo, D. A. (2010). Self and community in a changing world. Indiana University Press. Mbembe, A. (2017). Critique of Black reason (Laurent Dubois, Trans.). Durham: Duke University Press. Moran, D. (2000). Introduction to phenomenology. Routledge. Moran, D. (2005). Edmund Husserl: Founder of phenomenology. Polity. More, M. (2008a). Biko: Africana existentialist philosopher. In A. Mngxitama, A. Alexander, & N. C. Gibson (Eds.), Biko lives!: Contesting the legacies of Steve Biko (pp. 45–68). Palgrave Macmillan. More, M.P. (2008b). Gordon on contingency: A Sartrean interpretation. The CLR James Journal, 14(1), Special Issue on Lewis Gordon (Spring 2008), 26–45. More, M. P. (2018). Looking through philosophy in Black: Memoirs. Rowman and Littlefield International. More, M. P. (2023). Chabani manganyi: The lived experience of difference. In Olivier A., Lamola, M.J., & Sands, J. (Eds.). Phenomenology in an African Context. Albany: Suny Press, forthcoming. Olivier, A. (2023a). Enframing and transformation: Reflections on Serequeberhan and Heidegger. In F.-X. de Vaujany, J. Aroles, & M. Pérezts (Eds.), Phenomenology and organisation studies (pp. 534–556). Oxford University Press. Olivier, A. (2023b). African phenomenology – What is that. In A. Olivier, M. J. Lamola, & J. Sands (Eds.), Phenomenology in an African context. SUNY Press, forthcoming. Outlaw, Jr. L. T. (2017). Africana philosophy. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2017 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (Ed.). https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2017/entries/ africana/

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Sartre, J-P. 1958. Being and nothingness (J. J Barnes, Trans.). London: Routledge. Serequeberhan, T. (1994). The hermeneutics of African philosophy: Horizon and discourse. Routledge. Serequeberhan, T. (2015). Existence and heritage. SUNY Press. Smith, D. (2018). Phenomenology. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2018 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (Ed.). https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2018/entries/ phenomenology/ Wiredu, K. (1996). Cultural universals and particulars: An African perspective. Indiana University Press. Wiredu, K. (2004). Amo’s critique of Descartes’ philosophy of mind. In K. Wiredu (Ed.), A companion to African philosophy (pp. 343–351). Blackwell. Wiredu, K. (2011). Empiricalism. In H. Lauer, N. A. Appiah, & A. J. A. Anderson (Eds.), Identity meets nationality: Voices from the humanities (pp. 18–34). Sub-Saharan Publishers. Zahavi, D. (2005). Subjectivity and selfhood. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

Part IX Philosophy of Religion

Toward a Philosophy of African Endogenous Religions Lawrence Ogbo Ugwuanyi

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theoretical and Conceptual Justification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Summary Discourse on the Principal Tenets of African Endogenous Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . Locating the Endogenous Philosophy of African Religions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This work sets out to engage African endogenous religions with the view to articulate the philosophical principles that will account for the wisdom around which endogenous African religious beliefs are anchored. The work aims to locate how it can be held that there is distinct wisdom that defines endogenous religious practices in Africa. The work will engage African endogenous religious belief(s) as they are practiced in several parts of Nigeria and distill the key features of the practice to abstract from them and articulate what can be held to be the philosophy of this religion. To achieve this aim, I (i) provide some theoretical and conceptual justification of the work by discussing how philosophy (written or unwritten) animates religion. Thereafter, I interrogate the extent to which it is proper to refer to the religion as traditional and for its replacement with the concept “endogenous” and how it serves a more relevant gain. Next, I (ii) apply selected examples of these endogenous religions in Nigeria and explain their basic tenets. Finally, I (iii) abstract from the key dimensions of this religion –

*This work is a modified edition of a paper presented at the Global Africa Symposium on Africa’s Indigenous Religions held at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria, August 8–13, 2016. The author wishes to express his gratitude to those who organised the symposium. L. O. Ugwuanyi (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Abuja, Abuja, Nigeria © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_30

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such as belief in the supreme being, belief in divinities, belief in the ancestors, and belief in the spirit world – and apply this to locate what could be held to be the philosophy suggested by this religion. The method applied is textual research, speculative hermeneutics, and critical analysis. Keywords

African · Endogenous · Religions · Philosophy

Introduction This work aims to locate how it can be held that there is distinct wisdom that defines endogenous religious practices in Africa. The work applies African endogenous religious beliefs as they are practiced in several parts of Nigeria to do this. It abstracts from them to articulate what can be held to be the philosophy of African endogenous religion. To achieve this aim, the work will attempt to go beyond what can be called philosophy as a general worldview to look at philosophy as an interpretation of a worldview. By applying philosophy this way, it will locate the philosophical character that can be applied to characterize African endogenous religion. Some scholars have attempted to carry out similar project by way of engaging African traditional religion in relation to its philosophy. Apart from pioneering inquiries of scholars John Mbiti (1969) and Bolaji Idowu (1973), other works such as Ekeke and Ekeopara (2010), Izidory (2014), and Kofi Johnson (2004) have attempted to address this need. However, a major limitation of these efforts is that they attempt to discuss African traditional religion within the broader context of the African worldview. The appeal to the philosophical method in these but their appeal favors the application of philosophy broadly as a worldview – that is, philosophy in the first order. They do not engage African traditional religion through philosophy as a second order – that is, as a critique of this worldview. By this, I mean that these works do not engage the idea of African endogenous religion from the point of view of such dialectical and/or critical questioning that will reveal the cardinal principles and values that African Endogenous religion defends. Thus, in a way, nobody has made the search for the underlying philosophy of African Endogenous Religion a primary concern as this work has set out to do. What my work has set out to do is to attempt to address this gap. To do this, the work favors the application of the word endogenous instead of the word traditional. The reason for this is that the traditional is always evolving but the endogenous connotes that which has a local origin but can be found relevant outside its context of origin. The word endogenous which is a conceptual innovation from the word indigenous suggests a more socially valuable concept that adds relevance to African religion since it illustrates that these religions were also adopted from other localities and adapted to communities according to their peculiarities. My work will provide an interpretation of African Endogenous religion through an effort that will illustrate the key principles that direct the religion. It will then proceed to discuss the extent to

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which African Endogenous Religion can be held to be philosophically Africaninterpreted to mean the extent to which it represents a variant of religious practice with a different philosophy in the sense of providing for an idea of religion that should have a different philosophical underpinning arising from African experience. Thus this discourse of the philosophy of African endogenous religion is unique in that it examines the philosophy of a given religion through paradigms different from what is usually applied to study philosophy of religion, such as the problem of religious language, the question of immortality of the soul, and the question of the existence of God. I look at the philosophy of African endogenous religion to see how or whether it defends African worldview. My concern is to see how a distinct philosophy of religion can be attributed to Africans, which will lay a foundation for the study of African philosophy of religion. In brief, the effort amounts to a discourse on the meta-religious foundation of African endogenous religion. The work will proceed by (i) providing some theoretical and conceptual justification of the study and how philosophy (written or unwritten) animates religion and why it should be seen to be the case with endogenous religions in Africa. Thereafter, it will interrogate the import of the word “traditional” when applied to this religion, make a case for its replacement with the concept “endogenous” and state how it serves a more relevant gain. The chapter will next (ii) articulate the different dimensions of belief in African endogenous religion such as belief in the Supreme Being, belief in divinities, belief in the ancestors, and belief in the spirit world. I illustrate this with the instance of the religion of the Igbos, the Ggagyi, and the Urhobo, all of which are ethnic groups in Nigeria. The choice of these groups stems from the fact that they are not as widely discussed as other ethnic groups (in particular, the Urhobo and the Ggagyi) and the author of this piece is considerably familiar with the religious practices among these ethnic groups. Thereafter, it will then abstract from these modes of worship and this belief pattern and apply these to articulate the goal or philosophy of this religion by locating and conceptualizing fundamental principles that define and direct this religion. The work will then (iv) conclude by mapping out the gains of the study and directions through which other researches can improve on this effort.

Theoretical and Conceptual Justification Philosophy has repeatedly played roles in the evolution and consolidation of religious beliefs and practices the world over. Either as theoretically articulated positions – in its second-order form or as inscribed in the worldview of a people – philosophy has been involved in the shaping of religious thought. Strong evidence to this claim is the case of Christianity and Islam, which have applied philosophical traditions of the medieval and Arabian world to advance their cause and justify their positions. The two most important scholars of Christianity in the medieval era, namely Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine of Hippo, are known to have applied the works of Aristotle and Plato significantly to interpret and justify Christian beliefs and convictions. These can be glimpsed through such literature as Summa Theologica, De Ente et Essentia of St. Thomas, and the Confessions and City of

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God of St. Augustine. Other prominent religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism also harbor strong philosophical content. Indeed, Oriental philosophy and religions are strongly intertwined. Several positions can be applied to explain the longstanding relevance of the philosophy of religion. The first is to locate the fact that religion affects the whole structure of a people’s thought and their conception of reality. Samuel Huntington in his work The Clash of Civilization (1993:25) supports this claim and locates people’s concept of God as one the marks of their civilization. According to Huntington: Civilizations are differentiated from each other by history, language, custom, tradition, and most important, religion. The people of different civilizations have different views on the relations between God and man, the individual and the group, the citizens and the state, parents and children, husband and wife, as well as differing ways on the relative importance of rights and responsibilities, liberty and authority, equality and hierarchy.

On the strength of the above claims, Huntington recognized eight major civilizations of the world, namely: Western, Islamic, Orthodox, Latin America, Indic, Japanese, and African. A reading of this view suggests that answers to such issues as “perception of the other, the non-visible, the forces that impinge on man’s life” (Nwoga, 1984: 8), etc., depend on the influence of religion on the worldview of a people. Thus even if religion cannot be held to be the only force that drives human interaction, no one who is interested in capturing the worldview of a people can reasonably be indifferent to engaging the religious aspect of the society or afford to ignore it. A clear illustration of this can be found in Western modernity. When modernity in its Western tradition attempted to relegate religion in favor of a man-centered worldview, it was the extent to which the philosophy of religion then had made it difficult for reason to develop unrestrictedly. Yet even the effort to disregard religion did not succeed completely as the question of God has remained an aspect of this modernity. The classical illustration of this is in the works of the Western modernist philosopher Baruch Spinoza whose idea of God can be held to be religious and irreligious at the same time or variously held to be theistic, atheistic, or even agnostic. A closer reading of this idea in his remarkable book Ethics (2001) would justify this claim. This submission does not amount to a claim that the idea of God amounts to religion. God is clearly more than religion but no religion can function by alienating the idea of God completely. The second explanation why religion would often appeal to philosophy to advance its cause is that the two faculties of man that promote the ethics of belief and reason namely will and intellect and which define the two categories of human practice both arise from the same source. Hence, philosophy at once amounts to an effort to achieve a rational explanation of those ideas that are admissible to the human mind, while religion on the other hand seeks to submit the mind to those mysteries that are believed to lie beyond man but which make sense to the human spirit. The third explanation why religion demands philosophical justification is that it helps to locate the socio-cultural nature of religion as a result of which it must insert itself within some culture or, at least, be seen to make sense within a culture. By this it is

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meant that even if religion as a belief transcends culture, religion as a practice is culturedependent. Thus it is often difficult to explain religious practice without an appeal to some cultural convictions. Of religious belief in its fundamental appeal to human nature is how to be transcultural, that is, how or whether it can transcend the originating culture of the religion and allow itself to be inculcated by another culture. While some religions have addressed this need, some religions have not been able to address this need and it is for this reason that they have fallen victim of imperial or colonial ethics. After the effort to spell out why it is important to engage the African Endogenous Religion from the point of view of philosophy, it demands this study to explain why the term “endogenous” is found more cogent than the word “traditional” in relation to locally evolved religions in Africa. The concept “endogenous” is an advanced form of the word “indigenous,” which means that which grows out of a local environment. Paulin Hountondji, the Beninoise philosopher and one of the prominent scholars of endogenous knowledge in Africa, applies this concept in his work Endogenous Research Trials (1987) where he suggested that the concept “endogenous” connotes that which grows out of a local setting, but whose relevance transcends that setting. Thus endogenous transcends the indigenous in the sense that it allows for an external infusion and interaction with other belief patterns and by so doing makes it relevant. Properly understood, therefore, applying the concept to religion in the African context empowers it to perform such functions as religious socialization and/or religious development more than the concept of indigenous or traditional. Whereas traditional “indicates that it is undergirded by a fundamentally indigenous value system . . . with its own historical inheritance and tradition from the past” (Opoku 1976 cited in Johnson, 2004), it does not imbue the religion with civilizational values nor does it emphasize the transitional and developmental value of religion. Thus to call African Endogenous Religion (AER) another name such as African traditional religion robs it of its status. Indeed it gives it the status of a closed belief even when by all standards such religion may not be so. For instance, the variant of this religion as practiced the Igbo area of Nigeria – e.g., the Omabe or Odo cult/religion – was often copied or adapted from one part of Igbo land to the other and this very cultural potential of attracting the interest of communities outside its origin is an evidence of a trans-communities potential. Indeed the term religious complexity can be applied to characterize the nature of this religion, owing to the various modes of enculturation and acculturation it undergoes among different groups of adherents. After an engagement with AER from a theoretical and conceptual background, let me next proceed to discuss the basic tenets of this religion.

A Summary Discourse on the Principal Tenets of African Endogenous Religion At least four dimensions of belief define African Endogenous Religion (AER) wherever they are practiced. These are belief in God, belief in Divinities, belief in the Spirit World, and belief in the Ancestors. The Igbo, a major ethnocultural group in the southeastern part of Nigeria, calls God Chukwu, or Chineke, meaning one who

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sustains the world. Chi is a sort of “Igbo alter ego” (Oguejiofor, 1996: 52). Chukwu translates to the Great Chi that accounts for what there is in this side of eternity. Chukwu also translates to Chineke, which means the Chi that creates. There is however a debate in contemporary scholarship on whether it is proper to hold that there is a supreme being in Igbo thought or whether what is held to be a supreme being should merely be seen as one of the deities in Igbo religion who has been given the identity of supreme being due to Christian intervention in Igbo life. The argument here is that deities are the effective agent for supernatural intervention in Igbo life and that “Chi-ukwu” that is today upheld as God in Igbo thought is actually one of the deities in Igbo life and thought (Nwoga, 1984). What these views tend to suggest is that the Igbo world is fundamentally the material world and that any conception of supreme being must be grounded on the pre-eminence of the material world in Igbo thought. The other argument is that reality in the Igbo world is not one and cannot even be one in relation to the supreme. Thus the idea of one being that has no complimentary or supplementary aspect is not Igbo and cannot be inserted in the Igbo scheme. The claim here is that since everything has a dual counterpart, then even the deity should be read this way. For instance, the Igbos have Igwe na Ala (the Sky and the Earth); Madu na Chi ya (The person and the spirit); Nwoke na Nwanyi (Man and Woman). In a similar manner God is supposed to have a counterpart. In an interview with the Igbo sage Rev.Fr. Raymond Arazu (26/6/21), he suggested that the correct designation for the supposed God in Igbo thought is Chukwu na Ala. While the controversies do not constitute the major focus of this work, it is important to highlight this to widen thoughts on the notion of God in an aspect of African endogenous religion. The concept of God as Osebuluwa is usually common among the Igbos west of the Niger, and this is believed to arise from the corruption of the word oricha which is believed to have an Edo origin and also stands as God (Oguejiofor, 1996: 52). Apart from this general designation of God among the Igbos, some dialects may have peculiar ways of referring to God. Among those who live in the northern part of Igbo land – Nsukka, Isi-Uzo, Uzo-Uwani, etc. – concepts or praise names such as “ezechitoke” (the king that holds creation) or “ugwuanyi agama eriri ji obene (the one that ties the calabash to the palm tree) are also used as praise names for God. They possess nominal values as Chukwu, “the great Chi.” The Gbagyis or Gwari (found in the central part of Nigeria in Kaduna, Kogi, Niger, Nassarawa States and Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory (see endnote)) call God Shekwoyi, meaning “one who is greater than we all” (Umaru, 2006). To them Shekwoyi is the creator of visible and non-visible things in the world. The name the Gbagyis call the Supreme Being is descriptive of his nature and character. M.I. Kure (as cited in Je’adayibe, 1996: 7–8) points out that the Gbagyi concept of God was derived from three syllables – “Oshe,” “Okwo” and “eyi.” Oshe literally means heaven, sky above or up. “Okwo” signifies “old” or “elder,” stronger, big or bigger, greater or greatest, and “eyi” stands for the word “we,” that is the Gbagyi as a people. Thus the word Shekwoyi literally means, “The heavens or the sky, above or up, is greater than we are.” Kure contends that Shekwoyi denotes eternity, omnipotence, and the immensity of God. The Urhobo people found in the Niger Delta call God

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Oghene. They also call him Uku, Agbadagburu, Osonobruwhe, Obe odeotakponarhurhu, which qualify Him as the Omnipresent, Almighty, Majestic, and benevolent God (Ubruhre, 2001: 23). Indeed: Obe odeotakponarhurhu translates to “the plantain leaf sufficiently big to shelter the whole world.” Following the effort to account for the supreme deity in the AER, let us consider a second aspect of the worship of AER. The second aspect of African Endogenous Religions is belief in Divinities. Aspects of belief in divinities holds that divinities are offspring of the Supreme Being, and that they emanate from Him and share most of the attributes of the Supreme Being. Divinities report back to the Supreme Being and are held to be mere messengers that take orders from God. Some believers of AER hold that the divinities are the Children of the Supreme Being while some see divinities as the deputy to the Supreme Being. Divinities can be broadly grouped into three categories: (i) The divinities in heaven – this category of divinities are believed to have been with God in heaven and have been with him since the creation of the universe. According to this aspect of belief in AER, these divinities are part of the creative work of God. Man does not know their origin. The second group of divinities are (ii) Deified ancestors: These are human beings who had lived extraordinary lives while here on earth and after their death, the human community where they lived, decide to give them a place among the divinities. The third group of divinities are (iii) The personification of natural forces and phenomena associated with spirit in AER. These are awesome creatures such as animals, trees, stones, rivers, etc., that are deified and worshipped. Indeed in AER “whatever people consider to be home of spirit is usually set apart as sacred places, and there people offer worship to the particular spirit” (Awolalu & Dopamu, 1979: 73). It could be hills, mountains, rocks, trees, thick forests, etc. Divinities function under different names in AER. Among the Igbos there are several divinities which include the Ani or Ala deity, the Okike deity, the Anyanwu deity, the Amadioha deity, etc. Ala also known as Ani, Anu, Ana, Ale Ali in different Igbo dialects is an arch-deity in Igbo life and thought. Ala is believed to have a husband which is Anyanwu – the Sun god but the Sun god is hardly invoked as much as Ala. Two other deities are associated with Ala in a special way. They are Ufojoku and Mbari. Ufojoku or Ifejioku is the deity worshipped during and after plantation season in Igbo world while Mbari is the god of creativity – which is believed to inspire and direct all forms of creativity. Some of the best-known writers of Igbo extraction such as Christopher Okigbo were known to have associated with Mbari club to inspire and advance their creativity. Ala is presided by a priest but there are also instances of where Ala may have a priestess called Agbala. The worship of Ala deity varies. In some aspects of Igbo land there are shrines dedicated to Ala deity. In some other aspects of the Igbo world there is no shrine Ala and other deities mentioned above perform different functions in the sense that they carry out the duties that would ordinarily be reserved for God. Similarly, among the Gbagyis, there is also a belief in the divinities. Apart from the belief in Shekwoyi, they believe that Ashna (lesser gods or divinities) exist. To them, the lesser gods (divinities) were given power to partake in their affairs. The

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divinity could be personal, family divinity, or community divinity. Amawamwa is a popular divinity among the Gbagyi, which helps to maintain morals, social and economic stability in the community. When there is poor harvest, the Amawamwa divinity is usually consulted and thereafter sacrifices are offered to appease him. Divinities among the Gbagyi group include Azyiba, Bwagyi, Kudamyiyi, etc. Among the Urhobos, divinities are known as edjo or erha. Unlike other ethnic components of Nigeria, the Urhobo are held to have no common divinities. Their divinities are representative of the twenty-two socio-political units of Urhobo land. The belief is that these divinities provided spiritual support for these clans during the periods of migration conquests and counter-conquests (Ubruhre, 2001: 26). Divinities are intermediaries between them and the Supreme Being. They are representative symbols of their belief in one true God (Ajayi, 1981: 14). The divinities are called gods but smaller gods are different from God the Supreme Being. These divinities are considerably large and have nearly all aspects of human needs designated to them. Another aspect of belief in AER is the belief in spirits. Spirits are powers that we may or may not see but have great influence upon the lives of the living. They may take the shape of a human being in which case they may be extraordinarily tall or short. They have the power to be everywhere and that is part of why they are called spirits. The Igbos, for example, hold a strong belief in the spirit world. In the Igbo world, the spirit world, literarily known as ala muo, is inhabited by three spiritual forces: the supreme gods, supreme ancestral gods, and supreme personal gods (Nze, cited in Oguejiofor, 1989: 57). The Igbos hold a world of dualism in which the two worlds interact with each other and influence the actions of each other. The Igbo world is an anthropocentric world where human life is under the influence of each of the forces of life believed to have material/natural and spiritual/supernatural dimensions. The spiritual/supernatural dimension is dominated by interaction with the chi, translated to mean “spirit,” “god,” “guardian angel,” “co-creative agent,” or “supernatural agent.” Chi supervises the affairs of the individual and is the central functional agent in Igbo worldview. Hence, it functions as “the most potent of lesser spiritual beings invested with supernatural powers as far as the affairs of the individual are concerned” (Opata, 1998: 150). Chi is so fundamental to Igbo ontology that it has a higher status than the other deities and divinities in Igbo belief (Opata: 159) and is believed to arise from the same ontological principle that gives birth to the human being. While “deities and divinities that prove inefficient for the cause for which they have been acquired can be destroyed by the Igbo, no person dares think of destroying his or her own chi” (Opata: 159). This goes to demonstrate the depth of respect at which the Igbo holds for chi who is the embodiment of the spirit world. The Gbagyi also hold a strong belief about Spirits and the spirit world. Human spirits, according to the Gabgyi, are grouped into two, namely, the ghost Spirits and the ancestral spirits. The ghost is called “nyasibwi.” They are the spirits of those that die a bad death and are hence denied entry into the company of the ancestors. Hence, their spirits reincarnate in animals. Hunters who kill such animals end up becoming

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possessed by such spirits. The Gbagyi often narrate the experience on how they saw the spirit of a person that died. Some nunwola (sorcerers) reappear as nyasibwi after death to haunt the living. This is held as evidence of bad life in consequence of which they were rejected entry into the land of the ancestors. In fact, families where the “nyasibwi” phenomenon is popular are avoided even in marriage. This is because to die and come back is a stigma among Gbagyi but to die and rest in peace is a thing of joy and pride to the Gbagyi people (Umaru, 2006). The Azokwoyi (ancestors) is the second group of spirits. Azokwoyi are those that lived a good life here on earth and also died a good death. Such people are rewarded with a good abode after death. They later appear to members of their surviving families for friendly visits to inquire about family affairs. They also warn them of impending dangers. Sacrifices and offerings are made to these spirits out of goodwill because they are regarded as good. Azokwoyi can also possess human beings and make them their mouthpiece. This could lead to the revelation of things that happened in the distant past or things that are about to happen. They can, therefore, be likened to the Holy Spirit that speaks through Christians (Umaru, 2006). Ancestor worship obtains among the Gabgyi people. Among them, ancestors are called Azokwoyi and are worshipped by family members at the ancestral shrine. Members of the family arrange stone serially; each of the stones represents members of the family, beginning with the eldest who died to the least. The stone represents the departed soul. During the festival of Zhibaje, an akuta (stone) is brought out. Ancestors are believed to reincarnate into some subsequent generations. Hence, it is believed by the Gbagyis that a child born when an elder dies bears a certain resemblance to the dead relative. This is usually discerned after divination.

Locating the Endogenous Philosophy of African Religions In this part of the work, I attempt to glean out the underlying philosophy of African endogenous religion. I apply the features of the religion to suggest the underlying ideology behind this mode of worship and what it would look like if someone wanted to read meaning in the African endogenous religion from a philosophical standpoint. My focus is to see what the faith in African endogenous religion suggests in the sense of the philosophy of theology of African endogenous religion. To do this, I shall attempt to abstract views through the notion of divinities, ancestors and spirits as outlined above. It is very common to come across texts that provide positions that capture the philosophy of major religions in the world – the philosophy of Christianity, the philosophy of Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc., but nobody (at least, from the available literature) has undertaken the task of articulating the philosophy of African Endogenous Religions (AER). By philosophy, in this instance, is meant the wisdom that defines and directs AER and how this wisdom directs the practices of AER. For instance, while Christianity recommends belief in Jesus Christ as a basic requirement for heaven, it also requires that this belief is manifested through a college of people

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of the same faith. This belief also has some basic principles which explain the religion. One of this is that at the beginning of creation, the human being was pure and sinless. However, this state of purity was defiled by the first parents of humanity who disobeyed God and were then condemned to live in sin. Sin in turn brought death and condemnation which Jesus Christ has come to rescue man from. This ideology is different from the ideology of Hinduism. In Hindu belief, man is trapped in tanha-desire, and it is by liberation from this desire that nirvana-eternal peace and joy, can be achieved. Hence, the ethics of renunciation is a demanding feature of Hinduism such that Yoga, which is a prominent feature of this religion, aims at both physical and spiritual cleansing of adherents. Ideological interpretations such as this are yet to be strongly articulated for AER. In relation to AER, the question arises, what are the underlying principles of life and thought upon which adherents of AER find it cogent to worship their ancestors? Which understanding of life or the nature of the human person/community directs such practice? To address this aspect of the work it is important to note that African endogenous religion is a natural religion which mode of worship basically arose from a people’s encounter with their environment. As a result of this, much of the positions volunteered in this part of the work fall within what can be called speculative hermeneutics, that is a reading of African endogenous religion based on the practice and an effort to glean or filter some meaning from this practice. Thus the effort here is basically to suggest what can be designated as the philosophy of AER based on a hermeneutics of AER. To answer these questions and articulate the philosophy of African Endogenous Religion, this part of the work will provide some idea of man that can be abstracted from the modes of practicing this religion from where the paper will suggest what could be held to be the philosophy of AER. As a step toward this, some relevant descriptive observations on the features of the religion are hereby articulated. The first observation comes from the view of Dominique Zahan (cited by D.I. Nwoga (1984: 8) on the ideology of AER: It is not to please God or out of love for God that the African “prays”, implores or makes sacrifices, but rather to become himself and to realize the order in which he finds himself implicated. Man is the supreme and irreducible reality, the divinity itself enters his affairs in the same way as do the other beings which he is close to and uses. . .In addition, when man venerated the divinity, it is not for the glory of God but for his own personal development. Religion is thus essentially a function of the human element and of its domain, the earth (ibid: 8).

The second observation that provides the ground for our philosophical intuition on AER comes from the Ghanaian philosopher Kwame Gyekye (2004: 5) who holds that: Despite the existence of religious commonalities, it must be noted, however, that each religious system is limited to the people from whom that particular system emerged and who practice that system from generation to generation.

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The third position relevant to the effort to achieve the philosophy of AER comes from the view of Oso, a scholar of religion, who submits that in AER: Co-worshippers of one and the same deity are bound to be good to one another, to avoid harming one another in mind, body or state. . . Yet the same co-worshippers may not think it as obligatory to extend such beyond the circle of their fellow worshippers of the same divinity (Oso, 1979: 23).

The fourth position can be cited from L.O. Ugwuanyi (2005) who argues that within the provisions of African social and religious ethics people could condone some immoral acts committed against them by someone within their world or invite the punishment of a benevolent god on the offender, but when the same offense is committed by a son or daughter of a distant community, the wrath of a malevolent god would be invoked on the offender. Thus, it makes sense to read the African endogenous religion from the point of view of the role it plays among the believers and the sense that people make out of these roles. A reading of these views would suggest that the religion served some functions which are grounded on the cosmology and ontology of African worldview. In other words that religion in its endogenous form and practice in Africa had a grounding in the social-ontology of the people and was basically a utilitarian project meant to confirm and consolidate the fundamental assumptions of the people. It would also serve to indicate the humanistic philosophy that defines this religion (defined as a belief that centers reality in, around and for man and man as a being whose meaning, value, and worth can and should be measured by the quality of life that is manifested). To support the claim that AER has a huge ethics that appeals to man or human nature, it should be noted that major dimensions of AER often arise from the culture of a people and therefore regulate their culture. In many instances, the divinities arise from the historical and cultural history of the people. For instance, at Ogbodu-Aba in the northern part of the Igbo land, there is the Emukpe deity which is believed to be one that protected them during the period of migration. Consequently, there is the myth that the deity also protected the community against the Nigerian Army during the Nigeria-Biafra War. Similarly, as cited earlier, the Urhobo divinities represent their progenitors or those who are believed to have aided their migration and settlement. Among the Benins, Queen Idia who is today worshipped as a prominent divinity is believed to have been a warrior who fought for the cause of the people during the period of Benin wars. She is so revered that her symbols of conquest represent Benin culture and civilization. It is this underlying faith that directs the African endogenous religion. These are evidence of the historical origins of AER. A second general reading of AER suggests that the worship is built around people who have lived in their communities and died meritoriously at old age. These ancestors are the departed souls of prominent men and women in a particular locality. Some regard them as the “living dead.” This is because perhaps it is believed that the spirit of these departed men and women are still very active and somehow influence the lives of those who are alive. The ancestors are highly respected because they are believed to be present in the family where they watch over their family members and

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close relatives and protect the people from misfortune and illness and adjudicate in disputes through messages divined by special seers. They punish personal or communal offenses through personal and group failures, drought, fires, and other catastrophes. A third possible reading that explains African endogenous religion is that the divinities are rooted in the cultural legacies found among the people. While those who cultivate yam would normally offer sacrifice to the divinities with yam, those whose occupation are fishing offer sacrifice with fish, just as palm oil forms an item of sacrifice for those who cultivate palm oil. There was never a case of believers having to import their items of worship from another culture, apparently because the divinities should be offered what they give or what they have provided the believers. This further demonstrates that these religious patterns arose from the social and cultural history of the people. These characterizations have deeper implications of AER, and I apply them to locate what can be called a cohesive philosophical interpretation of AER. The view I advance here is that AER is fundamentally a utilitarian religion that functions for the enhancement of individual welfare, social cohesion, communal welfare, and communal wellbeing. This utilitarianism could be interpreted in terms of the protective humanism, pragmatism, and utilitarian communalism. I, therefore, apply these views to argue that one can locate endogenous philosophy of African religion in terms of the need to protect and enhance human existence on earth, and to keep the life of the world itself on course. In line with this, four principles are implied or implicated in the desired outcome of this faith in relation to human beings. These are (i) the Principle of Vitalism, (ii) the Principle of Connectivity, (iii) the Principle of Regeneration, (iv) the Principle of Cyclical/Corporate Harmony. By (i) vitalism is meant the idea of the vital force, that is, the view that whatever the African does or does not do is geared toward acquiring or achieving this force or power, something akin to vitalism or vitalist ontology. The claim here is that the AER serves the function of achieving this goal for the African. This theory holds that the principle of vital force is desirable, both for the social group and for the individual because they reinforce each other. Placide Tempels articulated this claim in his influential work Bantu Philosophy (1954), in which he inferred from the ethics of the Baluba people of Congo to suggest that Bantu people speak, act, and live as if, for them, being were force. He averred that for the Bantu “force is even more than a necessary attribute of beings: force is the nature of being, force is being, and being is force” and concluded of the Bantu that “[t]heir purpose is to acquire life, strength or vital force . . .”. Benezet Buto (1998: 16) also supports the notion of vital force as the underlying philosophy of force in Africa. He calls it “a kind of interaction” that leads to “the increase of vitality within the clan.” Polycarp Ikuenobe (2006: 63) interprets it in terms of a “harmonious composite of various elements and forces” that directs the African communal world. In view of the values identified with African endogenous religion, it makes much sense to suggest that vital force is the philosophical principle that defines AER. This is because from the claims available in this work, AER fundamentally serves the goal of leading to the actualization and realization of the worshipping individual one

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that makes the individual feel safe, secure, and fully self-actualized. The focus of this self-actualization is the measure of how much the individual is able to acquire the capacity to relate with other beings in a manner that will increase the beingness of the entity in question which amounts to raising the life force of the entity in question. Thus the claim that is being made here is that AER fundamentally serves to protect and increase the vitality of the individual. The second philosophical principle that can be applied to locate a theory of African Endogenous Religion (ii) is the principle of connectivity (defined as the capacity and ability to bring and bind together). The binding ethics of the religion, at least from the Igbo experience of the religion, is such that one can hardly function among the adherents of this religion without identifying with the adherents of this religion. Indeed deities in AER often function to bind a human group together such that it is difficult to belong to these communities and attempt to worship a different deity outside the one institutionalized by the community. While an individual might go to another community to offer sacrifice to a deity in a distant deity in order to achieve a desire or obtain favor, in AER, it is not common to witness a member of one community seeking to go to another community to belong to or worship a different deity permanently or members of the same community worshipping deities that function in a distant community. Similarly, the adherents of AER do not proselytize to the extent of seeking to spread the gains of worshipping a particular deity to another community. The deities and indeed the religion in any particular setting are held to be a privilege which those who belong to that community. Thus, believing that they should have privilege over others or should have over others such that anyone who does not identify with the religion is held to be anti-communal or even disadvantaged. Indeed fines and duties that are levied to appease deities are often seen as communal obligations such that all members of the community are expected to fulfil such communal obligations. As a result of this, all members of the community belonged to any form of AER practiced in the community and it was difficult to see the case of a non-religious and agnostic member of an African community at least prior to the advent of Western modernity in Africa. In several parts of Igbo land, after the arrival of Christianity, this principle of connectivity as an item that defines AER has suffered havoc as those who opted for Christian belief refused to fulfill common AER obligations to the community, and this has led to bitter quarrels between adherents of AER and members of the new faith. It is also in this regard that deities play the role of the moral guardian of a community such as when they appear at night to address a social or moral evil (Ezenwa Ohaeto, 1996) to re-assert their force and moral authority. The third principle that accounts for the philosophy of AER is the principle of regenerativity (defined as the ability to cause more life and sustain the principle of life and birth, one in which the human beings are seen or believed to be human because they fall within a chain of beings – one whose actions and inactions are capable of extended consequences beyond them – one in which historical connectivity forms a part of the vital item that defines them as a person and a vital part of his humanity). In recent times the Nigerian philosopher Innocent Asouzu (2007: 15) has been trying to apply this notion of life in Igbo thought scheme to formulate some

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ideas with the view that “reality is an all-embracing whole in which all units form a dynamic play of forces” and that the human person represents this paradigm because the “permanent and transcendent flow of consciousness connects the present life to the former life of the ancestors and to his own afterlife in the land of the spirits.” But the regeneration implied by the metaphysics of AER is in terms of the force and power of Ancestors. This also explains why AER has a prominent place for the ancestors and favors the institution of what can be called Ancestoricism, that is the ancestors as a principle and a value. The ancestors who are believed to be the living dead are held to have the capacity to protect the living spiritually. For this reason, sacrifice is offered to them to gain their favor and maintain a living and arm interaction with them. Through this process, AER suggests a form of renewal whereby a group reintegrates the dead and makes them a member of the human family with force and power over humans. The fourth principle that explains the wisdom behind AER is the Principle of Cyclical /Corporate Harmony. By this is meant the principle that there should be a balance of forces (i) between various levels and grades of beings in the universe and (ii) the different vital forces that regulate and control these beings. The African concept of reality rests much on the view that much is spiritual in the material or that the spiritual forces have many causal causes for or claims on the material. A famous saying from a priest in the southern part of Igbo land illustrates this claim. The priest had gone to offer sacrifice to his deity and pleaded that the deity fights and prevents the wrath of evil people on his behalf and not that of evil spirits, for while evil spirits can be appeased by the sacrifice of a goat or cow, it is not easy to appease evil people. This position is a demonstration of how much AER (at least inferring from the Igbo instance) recognizes the different spiritual forces at work and how emphasis is placed on achieving spiritual harmony with these forces. This aspect is also evident in the principle of causality suggested by the African worldview where things are often meant to have both physical and spiritual explanation, with the latter being privileged over the former. Thus one of the core principles that explain AER is the need to regulate competing forces that affect African social life.

Conclusion The nature of reality in the African thought scheme significantly provides the understanding that defines AER. In Africa, it is valid to hold that “reality is an all-embracing whole, in which all units form together a dynamic play of forces” (Asouzu, 2007: 15) and that the human person represents this paradigm because his “permanent and transcendent flow of consciousness connects the present life to the former life of the ancestors and to his own afterlife in the land of the spirits” (Asouzu, ibid). I submit that it is within this context that idea of African endogenous religion would be understood from a philosophical perspective. This understanding can lead to the form of connectivity that can influence the birth of positive norms and values that direct the society.

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This work has tried to locate what can be called philosophical foundations or explanations for the practice of AER. It articulated arguments that justify a paradigm shift to determining this religion as AER rather than African Traditional Religion. The work then went ahead to locate some principles that animate the religion and how this explains the wisdom behind the practice of AER. A number of wisdom ethics can be achieved through this engagement with AER. One of them is to locate the humanistic ideology that foregrounds AER. By this is meant the pragmatic character of AER and its predominant character of moderate supernaturalism and apply it in the effort to re-instate African civilizational values. The claim being made here is that drive to secularism is not hugely demanded or desired in the African world, if it is recognized that the African endogenous religion favors a form of pragmatic humanism and that there is a clear connection between this belief ethics and the practical demands of life in the African world. The second relevant value that is embedded in this religion is communal autonomy that this religion advertises through which it makes each community autonomous in her belief ethics. This autonomy makes it such that there were likely no cases of wars arising from belief in AER. The implication of this is that through AER, Africans should be challenged to harmonize the ethical provisions of this religion and apply it in the reconstruction of African modernity to enable some of the principles implied by the religion to register in modern African consciousness. The instance of this is the concept of justice/ injustice implied in this religion. Justice in AER aims to restore ontological balance and that is why it is considerably firm. If this notion of justice were to achieve a space in modern African thinking it will go a long way to re-design modern Africa. In modern African society, there is the acute demand for justice that it makes sense to engage the AER to see how or whether the ethics of justice therein can serve to modify this aspect of African life. For inferring from the Igbo illustration Iwuagwu suggests that “Deity in Igbo tradition is a God of righteous wrath. For the deity to be right and just, he should show no mercy to the “spoiler of the land” (cited in Nwoga, ibid.: 18). This quality of justice is considerably in short supply in modern African life. Given the quality of life in the pre-modern and pre-colonial African social world where this religion reigned supreme and where justice is held with very high respect, it makes sense to say that the case among the Igbos could be extended to other societies in the African world. It is hoped that the effort to engage AER will lead to more interest in the study of AER. All religions attempt to lead to or connect man to the divine but these belief patterns are anchored on a philosophy of what human existence on earth is like. Thus religion as an institution always has its human roots and foundations in terms of which it is held to be a worthier root to the divine than another. This work has attempted to locate how this AER functions in response to communal ethics of the African society and how the practices lead the metaphysics of generation and regeneration that regulate the spiritual forces that shape the African life. It is hoped that more efforts to engage AER would address such issues as the nature of the soul in AER, the nature of evil in AER, the question of life after death in AER, etc., all of which will serve to uncover the philosophy of AER. This effort has the

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potential of animating African philosophy and theology for, even as AER is considerably weak in the face of strong imperial religions in Africa, there are some principles inherent in this religion that might have some relevance for the social and moral (re)engineering of the African world.

References Ajayi, A. (1981). 50 questions and answer on West African traditional religion. Standard Press and Bookshops. Asouzu, I. (2007). Ibuanyidanda. New complementary ontology. Beyond world-immanentism, ethnocentric reduction and impositions. Zurich. Awolalu, J. O., & Dopamu, P. A. (1979). West African traditional religion. Onibonoje Press and Books Industries. Buto, B. (1998). The ethical dimension of community: The African model and the dialogue between north and south. Paulines. Ekeke, E. C., & Ekeopara, C. A. (2010). God, divinities and spirits in African traditional religious ontology. American Journal of Social and Management Sciences. https://www.researchgate.net/ publication/313275144_God_divinities_and_spirits_in_African_traditional_religious_ontol ogy [Accessed 25 Oct 2018]. Gyekye, K. (2004). Beyond cultures: Perceiving a common humanity. Washington D. C.: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Idowu, B. (1973). African traditional religion: A definition. Orbis Books. Ikuenobe, P. (2006). Philosophical perspectives on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lexington Books. Izidory, A. (2014). African philosophy and religion are the two sides of the same coin. https://www. academia.edu/7162034/african_philosophy_and_religion_are_the_two_side_of_the_same_ coin (Accessed October 2018). Je’adayibe, G. D. (1996). Gbagyi names, religion and philosophical connotation. Gbagyi Vision Publication University of Jos. Johnson, K. (2004). Understanding African traditional religion. Thinking About Religion, 4. Mbiti, J. (1969). African religions and philosophy. Heineman. Nwoga, D. I. (1984). The supreme god as stranger in Igbo religious thought. Hawk Press. Nze, C. B. (1989). Aspects of African communalism. Onitsha. Oguejiofor, J. O. (1996). The influence of Igbo religion on socio-political character of the Igbos. Fulladu Pub. Company. Ohaeto, E. (1996). The Voice of the Night Masquerade. Kraft Books Ltd. Opata, D. U. (1998). Essays on Igbo world-view. AP Express Pub. Oso, C. S. (1979). Lecture on West African religion. Bamgboye Press, Ltd. Ubruhre, J. O. (2001). Urhobo traditional medicine. Spectrum Books Ltd. Ugwuanyi, O. (2005). Africa, humanism and African development imperatives for cultural renewal. Journal of Arts and Humanities, 2(2). Umaru, E. (2006). “Spirit worship among the Gbagyi people of Kaduna state”, B.A. Thesis submitted to the Department of Religions, University of Ilorin.

God’s Existence and the Problem of Evil in African Philosophy of Religion Ada Agada

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Philosophy of Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . God’s Existence: Transcendence and Immanence in African Thought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Omnipotence, Evil, and the Search for an African Theodicy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oladipo and Wiredu’s Challenge to African Philosophy of Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Responding to the Challenge of Wiredu and Oladipo: Outline of a Possible Theodicy . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Traditional African societies tend to favor a theocentric and anthropocentric conception of the universe, with God at the top of the hierarchy of being, in which the human sphere is a major center of influence and meaning. God is sometimes conceived in the traditional theistic sense and attributed with superlative qualities of omnipotence, omniscience, and benevolence. On the other hand, a more critical study of oral sources of African traditional religious thought constrains the traditional theistic interpretation and presents the idea of a limited God. This chapter will provide an overview of the issues and questions that have driven debates in African philosophy of religion. Specifically, this chapter will critically engage the question of the existence of God and the problem of evil from the perspective of African philosophical thought. This chapter will highlight the strengths and weaknesses of the approaches to the problem of evil adopted by African philosophers. In the process of reconciling the transcendental and imma-

A. Agada (*) Centre for Leadership Ethics in Africa, University of Fort Hare, Alice, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_31

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nent conceptions of God in African religious thought, this chapter will provide an outline of an African theodicy as a basis for further explorations of African theodicies formulated beyond the limit of traditional African thought. Keywords

God · Evil · Omnipotence · Theism · Theodicy · African philosophy

Introduction This chapter will present the issues and debates shaping the evolving field of African philosophy of religion and critically examine the question of God’s existence in relation to the problem of evil. Africans are said to hold a strong belief in the existence of God (see Awolalu & Dopamu, 1979; Chuwa, 2014; Gyekye, 1995; Idowu, 1973; Mbiti, 1970; Metuh, 1981; Njoku, 2002; Parrinder, 1969; Senghor, 1964; Tempels, 1959; Wiredu, 2010) even while conceiving Him as so remote as to necessitate access to Him through lesser divinities and deities (Bewaji, 1998; Idowu, 1962; Mbiti, 1969). Chuwa, for instance, has asserted that traditional African worldviews favor God-centered and human-centered perspectives, with the former taking a vantage position. Scholars of African traditional religion (ATR) like Idowu and Awolalu have advanced the theocentric perspective and promoted theistic interpretations of God. More critical philosophers of religion like Oladipo (2004) and Wiredu (2010) have questioned the theistic interpretation of African traditional religion and thought. The second group of scholars, incidentally mostly philosophers, believe that the God of traditional African religion is a limited God. One immediately sees a conflict here. Out of this conflict emerges contradictions that are certain to further drive future debates in the fledgling field of African philosophy of religion. The conflict arises because of the tension between transcendentalism and immanentism, between the traditional understanding of God as a Supreme Being who is omnipotent, omniscient, and good, or just, and the critical interpretation of God as in one way or the other limited in power, knowledge, and goodness, or justness. The contradictions include reconciling God’s omnipotence and justness with the reality of evil in the world if He is conceived in the transcendental sense and accounting for how God can be the creator of the world and controller of lesser deities if He is conceived in the immanent sense of a being limited by preexisting matter. While much of the early literature on God in African philosophy appears to support the position that the basic African conception of God is one of a transcendental Being who is supreme, just, good, omnipotent, and omniscient, more recent critical literature argue in favor of a basic African conception of a limited immanent God burdened by the materials with which He works (see O.A. Balogun, 2009; B.J. Balogun, 2014; Bewaji, 1998; Oladipo, 2004; Wiredu, 1998, 2010). The problem of evil arises basically because traditional theism affirms the existence of a God who has the complete powers of an omnipotent potentate and creator of the universe, even in the face of the incompleteness of the universe as

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exemplified by the glaring reality of evil. Some African scholars endorse the idea of God’s omnipotence and point to the superlative names Africans give to God which clearly capture the essence of tradition theism, the belief in a personal God who is omnipotent, omniscient, and good. Given the obvious conflict between the transcendental and immanent conceptions of God, a possible theodicy that reconciles the clashing conceptions of God is one which regards God as so great that He brings into existence the good and the bad, such that it will be a limitation of His greatness if He is not the author of everything in the world, including evil (see Bewaji, 1998). This line of thought further interprets the reality of evil (suffering) as a consequence of the abuse of free will, or, put simply, punishment for transgression against the moral order instituted by God and sustained by His might through the instrumentality of divinities, deities, the ancestors, and even the living. But if moral evil, the abuse of free will, is easily accounted for in terms of due deserts for transgressions, it becomes harder to explain away the reality of physical evil which is evident in the occurrences of natural disasters, for which humans cannot be blamed, nor any mind-possessing entity not endowed with omnipotence. The problem of evil persists for the African philosopher investigating traditional African religious thought since most African societies conceive God as a creator, whether limited or not, a being in one way or the other responsible for the existence of human beings. While primarily constituting a survey of issues in African philosophy of religion, this chapter will advance African philosophy of religion by pursuing Wiredu and Oladipo’s hypothesis of a limited God in the direction of a possible theodicy beyond traditional African thought. The first section is the general introduction. The second section presents an overview of issues and trends in African philosophy of religion, highlighting the questions that have driven debate in the literature. The third section presents the conflict between the transcendental and immanent conceptions of God. The fourth section discusses the problem of evil in an African context. The fifth section examines Wiredu and Oladipo’s submission that Africans for the most part conceive God as a skilled (but not supremely skilled) workman of cosmic proportions rather than the omnipotent and omniscient necessary being of traditional theism. The sixth section puts up a defense of theism from the African philosophical space and argues that a conception of God as contemporaneous with the world can advance the skeptical trajectory of Wiredu and Oladipo without the repudiation of the theistic claim of God’s transcendence.

African Philosophy of Religion African philosophy of religion, like African philosophy itself, is still very much an evolving field. Unlike in Western philosophy of religion where the question of God’s existence has generated a great array of arguments purporting to demonstrate God’s existence, the demand for a proof, or proofs, of God’s existence has been largely muted in African philosophy. The main concerns of African religious thinkers initially revolved around what Wiredu (1998) labelled the decolonization of African religion. Scholars like Idowu, Mbiti, Awolalu, Dopamu, and Metuh with a

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background in theology took it upon themselves to debunk the racially informed theses of early European missionaries and anthropologists like Samuel Baker and Richard F. Burton about the African’s incapacity to comprehend an elevated conception of divinity. These missionaries and anthropologists formed a very low opinion of African Traditional Religion (ATR), consigning it to the category of the most primitive animism. Baker had declared with otiose assurance that: Without any exception they [Africans] are without a belief in a Supreme Being, neither have they any form of worship or idolatry, nor is the darkness of their minds enlightened by even a ray of superstition. The mind is as stagnant as the morass which forms its puny world. (cited in Ray, 1976: 2)

In a similar vein, Burton asserted that: “The Negro is still at the rude dawn of faithfetishism and he has barely advanced to idolatry...He has never grasped the idea of a personal deity” (cited in Njoku, 2002: 8; cf. Burton, 1864: 199). Indeed, no less a European philosopher than Hegel held the view that Africans lacked any discernible conception of a supreme being distinct from the world (cited in Njoku, 2002). Later it was argued that the missionaries and anthropologists did not properly interpret the religions of the colonized people of Africa they investigated from a Eurocentric and Christian perspective, having achieved little more than transplanting Christianity onto an African soil. For instance, Igbo religious scholars have argued that the name Chukwu is a European imposition on the Igbo and that the name Chi better reflects the Igbo term for God. The kernel of the debate is that a section of the Igbo ethnic group, the Aro, imposed their local deity Chi-Ukwu or Big Chi on the Igbo to give them an edge in business. Later, the European missionaries endorsed the name Chukwu as the general Igbo name for God (see Ezekwugo, 1987; Metuh, 1981; Nwala, 1985; Nwoga, 1984). Scholars like p’Bitek (1971) and Kato (1975) are convinced that African scholars like Idowu and Mbiti, who bought into the decolonization project, did not go far enough in their challenge of the theses of early European missionaries and anthropologists, as their Christian beliefs prevented them from faithfully interpreting authentic African views about God. The themes that gained prominence in African philosophy of religion include the question of the belief in God’s existence, the question whether African religion is monotheistic or polytheistic, the status of divinities and the ancestors, the relation of the divinities and the ancestors with God as the supreme being, theocentricism in relation to anthropocentrism, God’s transcendence and immanence, and the question of theodicy in the face of the reality of evil in the world. While a first examination of the literature clearly brings out elements of transcendence and the presentation of God in the tradition theistic sense of an omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent creator, a more critical reading shows that Africans conceive God in another dimension as a limited being. The latter discovery prompted philosophers like Wiredu, Oladipo, Sogolo, Balogun, and Fayemi to either present claims of a limited God who is only excellent relative to humans or argue that the problem of evil, and the consequent search for theodicies, does not arise in traditional African religious thought.

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Taking a rigid stance on the question whether the African God is immanent (and therefore limited) or transcendental (and therefore unlimited) appears incapable of doing justice to the duality that characterizes African religious thought. The idea of a transcendental God comes out clearly in the oral traditions of African societies side by side with notions that, paradoxically, curtail the flight of transcendence. It will then appear that African societies, like Western societies, grappled with the question of a God that can be, and has been, conceived as both infinite and finite, unlimited and limited. This point will seem to refute Fayemi’s position contra Oduwole that the problem of evil has no urgent importance in Yoruba traditional thought. According to Oduwole (cited in Fayemi, 2012), Yoruba religious thought allows the understanding of Olodumare in essentially transcendental terms. Fayemi accuses Oduwole of falling into the error of religious scholars like Idowu and Dopamu who were so concerned with batting away the accusation that Africans lack a coherent conception of God that they introduced European categories into African religious thought. Fayemi argues that God in Yoruba cosmogony is a limited Being who is capable of ibi, or evil. He notes that: “Unlike the Supreme Being of the Christian religion, Olodumare and the other gods are never regarded as perfect beings that cannot be malevolent” (Fayemi, 2012: 11). Fayemi’s stance is echoed by Balogun (2009: 15) who asserts that since the Yoruba conceive Olodumare basically as a high deity it is impossible for Olodumare “to possess the absolute attribute of all-loving, all-knowing, all-powerful, all-merciful that led to the philosophical problem of evil.” The very idea that Olodumare is limited as a creator implies a cosmic tragedy that warrants further investigation, which ultimately leads one to the search for a theodicy. The problem of evil persists because the Yoruba God is powerful enough to create or co-create a world. A creator or co-creator has a moral responsibility to ameliorate the evil in the world that it has created. Even if traditional Yoruba-African thought conceives God as imperfect (cf. Kasomo, 2009: 146, 149), one is still justified in asking why a (co)creator has to be imperfect. How did this impotent creator come into existence? Is he prior to the world and self-creating or is he contemporaneous with the world and, therefore, a universal principle of existence or is he posterior to the world and, therefore, just somewhat greater than an ancestor? In answering these germane questions, the problem of evil and the need for a theodicy rear their heads even when one is philosophizing completely within an African philosophical framework, without recourse to Western categories. Fayemi (2012: 12) himself admits that Olodumare and the divinities subject to His will “are blameworthy and cannot be rationally defended in the face of physical and spiritual [divinities-instigated] evils.” What can be firmly gleaned from Fayemi’s claim is that it has become necessary for the African philosopher to look beyond traditional African thought and wonder why a creator should in the first place be so limited as to indulge in evil. This chapter will critically examine the question of God’s existence and the problem of evil in African philosophy.

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God’s Existence: Transcendence and Immanence in African Thought Most scholars of African religious thought agree that the African world is to a large extent God-centered. God is regularly invoked in everyday activities as a source of inspiration, consolation, help, etc. Elaborate arguments for God’s existence are virtually absent in traditional African religious thought. The very suggestion that the human being should devise ingenious arguments to prove God’s existence would attract incredulity in a traditional African setting as it is widely held that no one needs to teach a child that God exists (Njoku, 2002: 154). The rationale for this assertion is that God’s existence “is not based on pure reason (a priorism) but on reflections regarding this partly empirical world and/or human experiences” (Majeed, 2016: 80). God becomes a real presence as the structure of the world and human spiritual experience guide the African towards the formulation of a teleological vision of the universe with God at the very pinnacle of the hierarchy of being, majestic to the point of absolute transcendence, yet immanent in the world. For Africans, God is at once transcendent and immanent, remote in His ineffable majesty, yet near to humanity in His benevolence towards His creation. The term transcendence, from the Latin transcendere (meaning to go beyond, to surpass), has evolved conceptually over the centuries, with the concept itself increasingly indistinguishable from the idea of immanence which implicates spatiotemporality. Transcendence can be understood in purely anthropocentric terms as self-transcendence, the capacity of the individual to independently pursue her goals and be the master of her destiny as a being in the phenomenal world (see Mondin, 1985: 195–211). The march of secularism that began with the Enlightenment saw the eclipsing of the theocentric worldview of the Middle Ages, and with it theological transcendence, the idea that a supreme creator of the world subsisting outside time and space manifests its effects in time and space and determines human destiny. Immanence, which implicates spatiotemporality, favors a conception of God as so involved with the world as to be a part of the world-series. African philosophers who have argued that traditional African religious thought is incompatible with tradition theism favor an immanent conception of God (see Balogun, 2009; Oladipo, 2004; Sogolo, 1993; Wiredu, 2010). While the concept of transcendence strongly supports the claims of traditional theism that God is omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent, the notion of immanence –which is this-worldly in focus – diminishes traditional theism, such that a possible deduction from the commitment to immanence is atheism, the complete denial of the existence of a God not accessible to the senses that structure the phenomenal world (cf. Kosky, 2004). This is the case since making God a part of the world-series not only limits His power but also renders Him causally redundant as explanations about the ordering of the world are sought in scientific knowledge. The idea is that if scientific knowledge suffices, then a limited God who is part of the world-series but not accessible to humans is as good as nonexistent. The dual transcendental and immanent conception of God in African traditional thought is on display in the names and titles that describe God in African languages. This conception of God also comes out clearly in wise sayings and proverbs.

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Traditional African societies conceive a transcendental God as all-sufficient, all-powerful, all-knowing, remote and near (see Bewaji, 1998; Gyekye, 1995; Idowu, 1973). Among the Akan people of Ghana, God is the omnipotent and sole creator of the world (Majeed, 2014: 15). Gyekye (1995) identifies the following names and titles given to God in Akan language that underline His transcendence: God is Odomankoma – the Infinite, the Boundless, the Eternal. He is also Brekyirihunuade – the All-knowing, and Otumfo – the Omnipotent. The Akan have this saying, wope asѐm aka akyeré Onyame a, ka kyerē mframa (If you want to say something to Onyame, say it to the wind). The wind whipping the face or blowing against the body can be felt, yet it cannot be seen. This Akan saying aptly captures the quality of God’s transcendence and immanence. God is so great and majestic that He is hidden from the human gaze, yet He is so near that His effects can be felt. His effects are the visible things in the world, revealed nature, and their psychological and logical implications for belief in a supreme maker of that which is empirically given. The Idoma of Central Nigeria call God Owoicho, or Lord of the Sky (Anyebe, 2015). The sky is seen as a symbol of infinity and transcendence. The force that rules the sky is, consequently, supreme. As the lord of the sky, God is omnipotent. His transcendence does not, however, rule out His involvement with the world He created. He is Owoicho Manchalla, the Lord of Mercy who guides and protects what He has created. Parents routinely give their children the name Owoicho, a clear indication that God’s awesome majesty is approachable. He can be approached through human agents such as the obochi, or medicine man, the individual guardian spirit or fate called owo, the living-dead or ancestors who may play the role of intercessors, and nonhuman agents like divinities. A similar conception of God can be found among the Igbo of Eastern Nigeria. As Chukwu, God is the Great One. He is Chineke, the Creator, Osebuluwa, Sustainer of the Universe, Obasi di n’elu, Lord of the Sky, Eze bi igwe ogodo ya ana-akpu n’ala, The Heavenly King whose robe flows down to the Earth, Onye ike nkwumu-oto, the Just Judge, Ogbara igbo gharii, the Incomprehensible, Ama-ama, Amasi-amasi, the Known, yet Unknown (Njoku, 2002: 149). These names and sayings capture God’s transcendence and immanence even as they simultaneously implicate the problem of evil. God is conceived as omnipotent, just, and benevolent; yet there is suffering in the world. Njoku (2002: 147) writes that: For the Igbo, to be existent in the way God is, is to be involved practically and realistically: to answer petitions and to say that He is around whenever, wherever and in whatever circumstances. ...If Chukwu does not answer accordingly, he is queried whether he is asleep...However ‘Chukwu’, ‘Chineke’ is a wonderful God – ‘Itununya’ – and not fully comprehensible...Humans know God in an insignificantly obscure way.

Njoku accounts for the Igbo dual conception of God by referring to the necessity of taking God out of the sphere of the profane and fully surrounding the very concept of God with sacred symbolism. For him, Chukwu’s hiddeness shows that “He is not a household property to be toyed with at will. Chukwu is outside the manipulations of

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men...the wholly otherness and ‘hiddeness’ or concealment of Chukwu is an essential attribute of his being” (Njoku, 2002: 147–148). What is not in doubt is that God [I]s, in most cases, regarded as the maker of the world and its sustainer and ruler; the origin and giver of life who is above all divinities and man; a supreme judge and a controller of human destiny. These attributes show that the Supreme Being in African cultures is regarded as the ultimate reality...the Supreme Being, called Onyame by the Akans, Chukwu by the Igbos, and Olodumare by the Yorubas, to cite a few examples, can be regarded as the ultimate point of reference in whatever may be called African traditional religion. (Oladipo, 2004: 357)

The suggestion by Njoku (2002: 147) that “If Chukwu does not answer accordingly, he is queried whether he is asleep” and that “Humans know God in an insignificantly obscure way” lays bare the tension between transcendence and immanence in African conceptions of God, a tension that suggest that the traditional understanding of omnipotence as absolute power does not resonate deeply in African religious thought. This tension becomes all the more philosophically relevant when we try to understand how the concept of evil fits into a God-ordered world, where this God is imbued with the superlative qualities considered above.

Omnipotence, Evil, and the Search for an African Theodicy While there are points of convergence between the Christian and African conceptions of God – for example, the presentation of God as the supreme creator of the world, who is just and demands goodness from humans – there are also areas of conflict between both conceptions that affect our approaches to the problem of evil in the world. One notable point of divergence involves the concept of creatio ex nihilo, or creation out of nothing. The Yoruba of Southwest Nigeria believe that God created the world from preexisting materials (Oladipo, 2004: 359; cf. Wiredu, 1998). “Preexisting” in the context under consideration may mean “eternally existing” or “antecedent to God’s existence” or “coexistent with God.” The obvious implication of the claim that God created the world from materials that had always existed is that God is in some way limited, that He is not omnipotent in the traditional sense. Oladipo (2004: 360) writes that: If omnipotence implies ‘infinite powers,’ then to say that Olódùmarè is omnipotent is to say that He is almighty in the sense that He is not subject to any constraints in the exercise of his powers. However, it is doubtful that Olódùmarè can be said to be all-powerful in this sense. A crucial consideration in this regard is the acknowledgment, by the people, of other powers and principalities – divinities, spirits, magic, witchcraft, and so on. Some of these powers and forces are treated as ends in themselves. Hence, the people endeavor, through sacrifice, to be on good terms with them in recognition of their powers to aid or hinder human activities.

Before we delve deeper into this dimension of African religious thought, let us see how the transcendental conception of God magnifies the problem of evil.

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If God is all-powerful, everywhere present, all-knowing, and good as the various names for God in African languages directly imply, why is there evil in the world? Why is there so much suffering for humans who are God’s children by reason of being His creation (cf. Gyekye, 2010: 115). A tentative answer is to suggest that Africans attribute the evils that befall humans to the activities of avenging and wicked spirits or divinities like Esu (Yoruba), Alekwu (Idoma), and Obonsam (Akan) (see Balogun, 2014; Dopamu, 2000; Majeed, 2016) or to regard these evils as punishment for the contravention of moral codes instituted by God, to which the whole of nature bears testimony (see Bewaji, 1998; Oduyoye, 1997). According to Mackie (1955: 200), the reality of evil constitutes a philosophical problem largely for someone who “believes that there is a God who is both Omnipotent and wholly good.” This initial problematization of the question of God’s existence in relation to the reality of evil in the world resonates in the African thought-world given the superlatives that describes God in African languages. Mackie’s scheme is straightforwardly applicable to the traditional theistic conception of God. Mackie’s scheme loses some level of coherence when applied to African understanding of God as a limited being who is yet the creator of the world, with controlling powers over lesser deities (both the benevolent and the malevolent). The very idea of a creator implies the possession of immense powers by the creator. These powers may not be great enough for one to describe the creator as omnipotent, but they are still immense powers. Going by Mackie’s scheme, it is not very clear whether a creator with immense creative powers should be regarded as in some way omnipotent and whether such a being is powerful enough to create a world without evil. If such a God is described as limited, yet powerful enough to create worlds and control lesser deities, a contradiction arises because the powers imputed to this creator indicates something of the vast powers that will normally be attributed to an omnipotent creator. One way of removing the contradiction without necessarily emasculating the creator-God is to speculate that while this God is able to create worlds, He is not a wholly good God. And if He is not a wholly good God on account of an existential deficiency that caused the category of power to fall short of the category of all-powerfulness, then the category of omnipotence cannot apply to Him. In this way, Mackie’s scheme survives the challenge of the powerful creator who is yet not all-powerful. If this resolution of the contradiction is admissible, then one can argue that the amount of evil in the world is compatible with the proposition that God exists. Even with this solution, it is still necessary to provide a more complete metaphysical description of the relation between a powerful God who is not all-powerful and the reality of evil in the world. It will be necessary to determine whether such a God is completely powerless to reduce the amount of evil in the world. If this God is considered blameworthy by virtue of creating a world where suffering is real and abundant, the question of the compatibility of evil with power (no longer omnipotence) persists and challenges the African philosopher of religion to seek creative answers to the problem of power and evil in the world. Currently, there is a dearth of metaphysical frameworks that adequately address the problem highlighted above.

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Since traditional theism asserts the existence of an all-powerful God who is all-knowing (omniscient) and benevolent, the reality of evil in the world casts doubt on the idea of omnipotence. The theist’s dilemma is that given the reality of evil it is either God is omnipotent but not benevolent or He is benevolent but not omnipotent. Again, the theist is faced with the difficulty of navigating between transcendence and immanence with the stubborn question of evil remaining in the foreground. If God is transcendental, He must be indifferent to the affairs of the world since He is outside the world-series. If He is indifferent while being omniscient, He cannot be benevolent because He must be aware of the evil that generates pain for humans in the world. If transcendence is absolute, God cannot exist from the perspective of human beings because He is simply not a factor. At most, He is an indifferent, if not impotent, principle of the universe. If God is immanent, then He is either limited in power or He is wicked outright. He is limited in power because He cannot eliminate evil or create a world without evil. He is wicked because He permits evil and suffering in the world. The problem of evil and the search for an adequate understanding of the relation of God with the world and the implication for the question of evil have stretched the philosophical ingenuity of philosophers over the centuries (see Spinoza, 1910; Mackie, 1955; Plantinga, 1967, 1975; Rowe, 1978; Swinburne, 1979; Reichenbach, 1982; Hick, 1985; Yaran, 2003). A thing should be considered evil if it grossly violates generally accepted moral standards or if it brings reasonably unjustifiable pain and misery to humans. Of course, moral relativists like Spinoza have argued that nothing is inherently bad or evil; it is our “interests,” our psychological, logical, cultural, etc., conditioning that persuade us that a thing or a state of affairs is evil. Spinoza (1910) specifically argues that if we understand the whole of nature as rigidly determined, with every existent thing functioning as a necessary part of the furniture of the world, we will no longer be presumptuous and regard a thing or a state of affairs to be evil. The very notion of evil, then, becomes invalid in the eternal context of a rigidly ordered system. Unfortunately, this way of approaching the matter is ineffective in accounting for the lived reality of human beings. The evidence for pain and suffering is overwhelming. Consequently, there is moral evil, the outcome of the exercise of the human power of choice, and natural or physical evil, negative occurrences, and outcomes beyond human control brought about by the way the world is structured (Yaran, 2003: 97–106). Examples of moral evil include murder, cruelty of all kinds, greed, envy, and stealing. Natural evil includes diseases, floods, hurricanes, falling asteroids, and earthquakes. If God is the able sustainer of the world, just and good (benevolent), He is under a moral obligation to eradicate suffering from the world into which He has thrown beings that He has created of His own free will. A free-willing God who acts in accordance with the rational laws of His nature would reconcile free will with determinism in His non-capricious acts. African societies tend to believe in predestination, a variant of determinism which regards God as fixing the life history of an individual before the individual’s birth, such that it is not within the power of the individual to create her fortune and reverse misfortune. This conception of destiny

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adds a strand of complexity to the problem of evil. Who is the author of evil? Is it God or the lesser deities who work for Him? Why can God not reconcile determinism with freedom in His rational act of world-creation? Or is He a limited God? Is the concept of destiny as found in traditional African cultures contradictory? In his study of the Yoruba understanding of destiny, Gbadegesin (2004) notes that God (Olodumare) bestows destiny jointly with a lesser divinity, Obatala. He notes too that the Yoruba conception of destiny is not rigid, implying that there may be a place for free will and responsibility. Gyekye (1995), working within Akan cosmogony, firmly attributes destiny to God and affirms that destiny bestowed by God is always good. His undeveloped theodicy attributes evil to the actions of wicked human beings. But this attribution burdens the traditional theist since the question of God’s omnipotence surfaces once again. One way of absolving God of any blame for the suffering that abounds in the world is to attribute evil to the activities of wicked spirits. Attributing evil to wicked divinities, however, undermines God’s transcendence as this attribution questions the claim that He is all-powerful. If God is the creator of everything, including the divinities, He should be able to call the rogue divinities to order. If He cannot, then He either did not create them or His powers are severely limited. Either way, the claim of omnipotence collapses. In view of the undeniability of evil and given that African conceptions of God make Him the creator of the divinities, another way of defending the claim of omnipotence, which involves the quest for an adequate theodicy, is to appeal to the idea of what we may call plenitudo potestatis, or the fullness of power. If God commands the fullness of power, then He is so great that He can create anything, including evil; in this sense, He creates evil and grafts it onto the structure or furniture of the universe with such consummate skill that evil becomes a necessary component of being, the absence of which renders being less complete. Variants of this claim can be found in Western philosophy, in the thought of St Augustine, Spinoza, and Leibniz, for example. Bewaji (1998: 8) came close to defending the claim when he writes that: The evidence that Olodumare is the creator of everything is displayed in virtually all accounts of the relationship between Olodumare and the Universe. Where He did not directly cause or create, He instructed the divinities to create and He supervised the creation work. So, He created both the good and the bad, the well-formed and the deformed, the rainy season and the drought. Through Him must be sought the cause of all things. And everything there is has a rationale and can be understood and used by the thoughtful and gifted like the herbalists and medicine men.

He adds that, “[i]n fact, to say that God does not or cannot do evil is to unnecessarily circumscribe His power” (1998: 8). Bewaji further appeals to an eternal moral order sustained by God to strengthen his theodicy. His argument goes thus: the reality of evil in the world by no means casts a slur on the concept of God considered in superlative terms – only in terms of absolute omnipotence and omniscience. Evil exists as a form of punishment for those

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who break the eternal moral code to which nature itself bears testimony. Olodumare is not the merciful God of Christianity; He is a just God who punishes wrongdoing with commensurate suffering in this world. The main source of evil is human abuse of free will, which invites punishment. In the final analysis, however, evil is a mystery which even the greatest philosophers could not grasp adequately. Bewaji’s invocation of a Spinozistic eternal context of things merely begs the question. The appeal to an eternal moral order and the willingness to find solace in the invocation of mystery reveal that there is a big problem. In his study of the Yoruba approach to the problem of evil, Balogun appeals to a fatalistic strain of mystery which compels humans to accept everything that befall them as part of a cosmic plan known only to God. About objective good and evil, he writes that “some things appear evil, but in reality they are good. It is in recognition of this that the Yoruba say...when God is doing good, we often think he is doing evil” (Balogun, 2014: 64). Metaphysical and ethical grandstanding is humbled in the face of the evidential problem of evil which casts doubt on the claims of theism, notwithstanding the logical consistency of positing God’s existence side by side with the reality of evil. The suffering in the world is real, and if Bewaji has addressed moral evil he has overlooked physical evil. In any case, his assertion that God is the creator of everything seems to contradict his claim that this universal sovereignty imputed to God is compatible with the proposition that where God did not create directly He created through proxies, or the lesser divinities. Traditional theism comes under threat even as the notion of a creator, which should ordinarily indicate some kind of omnipotence, becomes complicated and less transparent. Despite the dilution of the notion of omnipotence with the introduction of the idea of co-creatorship, the problematic category of omnipotence is not lost as the idea of a creator-God dominates African religious thought. The weakened notion of omnipotence remains threatened by an immanent perspective that cannot rule out atheism. Fayemi (2012: 7) puts this threat more clearly when he writes that: “By being the creator, it does not mean that He unilaterally creates everything without the support of and consultation with other divinities.” Odumuyiwa is even less ambiguous, asserting bluntly: “It is the deities who control the universe, in all circumstances of life, all its changing scenes, its joys and sorrows” (cited in Fayemi, 2012: 7). Sogolo is even blunter when he asserts that God’s excellencies are superlative only in relation to human limitedness. For him, God can do evil and therefore cannot be all-good and transcendental (Sogolo, 1993: 14). Notwithstanding the constraining of transcendence between Bewaji, Fayemi, Odumuyiwa, and Sogolo, it is instructive that immanence never assumes an absolute status in the proclamation of the triumph of atheism, as the God-element remains in the center of the discourse. Obviously, the world is not complete. The reality of evil is an eloquent reminder of this incompleteness. The problem the reality of evil poses for theism persists. The surest way of lifting the burden of proof which Mackie claims to rest heavily on the theist is to revisit the idea that Africans do not have a conception of God that places Him in a position of unconstrained omnipotence.

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Oladipo and Wiredu’s Challenge to African Philosophy of Religion Oladipo (2004: 359) notes that if God created the world out of something, some kind of preexisting materials, “then it follows that He had always been part of the worldorder. And, if this is the case, He cannot be said to exist beyond the world.” He expatiates by recalling Yoruba mythology which suggests that Olodumare has His abode in the sky. The argument goes that if Olodumare lives in the sky and the sky is part of the world, then He cannot subsist outside the world. If this is the case, immanence trumps transcendence. Oladipo notes that in Yoruba mythology, there was a historical time of constant intercourse between human dwellers of the earth and the spiritual entities of the sky, when humans could visit the sky-abode of Olodumare at the drop of a hat. Oladipo seems to have taken the Yoruba myth literally in arguing for immanence. The sky merely symbolizes the realm of nonlocal phenomenon. The sky identified in Yoruba myths cannot be the spiritual realm where Olodumare has His abode. Making this point does not obscure the fact that in traditional African thought the spiritual and the physical constitute a continuum where borders can be transgressed. The point being made here is that the unified framework of physical and spiritual phenomena which sustains the African universe cannot be invoked to support absolute immanence. Clearly, African conceptions of God make Him both transcendental and immanent. Nevertheless, the idea that God did not create the world out of nothing is a compelling one and worth investigating. Wiredu has put forward a strong argument in support of this thesis from the perspective of Akan traditional thought. In Akan traditional cosmology, God is the creator of the world, but he is not apart from the universe: He together with the world constitutes the spatio-temporal ‘totality’ of existence. In the deepest sense, therefore, the ontological chasm indicated by the natural/supernatural distinction does not exist within Akan cosmology... The notion of creation out of nothing does not even make sense in the Akan language... In the most usual sense creation presupposes raw materials. A carpenter creates a chair out of wood and a novelist creates fiction out of words and ideas. If God is conceived as a kind of cosmic architect who fashions a world order out of indeterminate raw material, the idea of absolute nothingness would seem to be avoidable. (Wiredu, 1998: 29–30)

Clearly, the idea of a creation out of nothing is problematic. But so is the notion of ex nihilo nihil fit, or out of nothing nothing comes, which is Wiredu’s major platform for absolutely rejecting the doctrine of creation out of nothing. That a thing already exists indicates two things, basically, that this thing’s emergence followed the path of complete novelty or that it has a foundation in something preceding it. Both possibilities are problematic given that what things are in themselves and why they are we do not know although we can discern and quite accurately describe their physical properties and behavior. This epistemic lacuna has implication for the concept of determinism which states simply that every event has a cause by virtue of an absolute necessity connecting effects with causes. But it is not clear why necessity should be

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by its very nature absolute and where this absoluteness springs from. If we appeal to laws of nature, one can counter that these laws are to a large extent human impositions on nature in its barest form and therefore mind-dependent. According to this stance, one can only talk about the absoluteness of natural laws if these laws are grounded in reality. To assert that the doctrine of creation out of nothing makes no sense as Wiredu claims is to fall back on the notion that something has always existed. Yet, the idea of an infinite regress suggested by Wiredu’s preferred concept is just as puzzling as the notion of creation out of nothing. It is possible to imagine and then think a beginning that sprang into existence from an absolute nil. Whether such a spontaneous emergence amounts to a miracle or not cannot be debated here; what is obvious in the context of African religious philosophy is that the traditional notion of omnipotence cannot be defended. God must be somehow limited both by the world into which He falls to bring about creation and the necessity that compels the falling into worldtime. It does not appear that it is the notion of creatio ex nihilo that puts the possibility of a limited God in stark relief since the notion itself is no fuzzier than the idea of ex nihilo nihil fit. Since African philosophers reflecting within the boundaries of traditional African thought are not denying the existence of God, it seems that what magnifies the limitedness of God is the suggestion that He falls into world-time to fashion an incomplete world by some kind of inescapable necessity. The limitation on omnipotence is all the more obvious when one takes the problem of evil into consideration. If God is limited, then He is not to blame for the reality of evil, both physical and moral. Wiredu (2010: 195) seems to think that this is the Akan position when he writes: “On the Akan understanding of things, indeed, God is good in the highest; but his goodness is conceptually of a type with a just and benevolent ancestor.” Comparing God to an ancestor enables Wiredu to avoid resorting to the freewill theodicy invoked by another illustrious Akan philosopher Gyekye (1995) who wanted to preserve the prima facie transcendental qualities attributed to God in African languages. The freewill argument, which has a venerable history in Western thought, submits that moral evil is a consequence of the human being’s power of choice which God guarantees to ensure that humans freely choose between good and evil. The underlying rationale for this stance is that God will come across as an irrational tyrant if He compels humans to choose only one course of action, the right course. While this rationalization meets the challenge of why God does not use His powers to ensure that humans always make the right decision, there seems to be no good reason for God not creating humans in such a way that they will only act right. The human will can still be free if its expression follows an unbranching path that meets the strict demand of goodness and morality in general since the outcome of willing in this situation is a perfect outcome. A situation where willing and acting always culminate in right conduct best characterizes freedom given that there will then be no need to even talk of a “free will.” A right will that invariably produces right conduct is a perfect will and contains within its structure the absolute spontaneity that equates freedom. As Wiredu (1998: 40) insightfully notes, the freewill alibi is not sufficient to buttress the claim that it is necessary for God not to use His powers to ensure humans

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use their free will only to produce good. Wiredu suggests that if there are conceptual problems with the idea of God using His powers to ensure humans do not act wickedly, the freewill argument cannot be one of them. Still searching for a theodicy, Wiredu mulls over Helaine K. Minkus’ submission that the Akan regard evil as intimate with the furniture of the universe just like good. While acknowledging the strength of this proposition, which removes the puzzle of evil existing in the world, he notes that one has still not arrived at a convincing theodicy. Wiredu is left with no choice but to seriously consider the circumscription of omnipotence as the only way to meaningfully approach the problem evil poses to theism. Still thinking within the Akan conceptual scheme, he writes: [The Akan] seem to operate with the notion of the power of God implying rather less than absolute omnipotence. That power is still unique in its extent, but it is conceptually not altogether unlike that of a human potentate. Indeed, correspondingly, God himself comes to be thought of on the model of a father who has laid well-intentioned plans for his children which are, however, sometimes impeded not only by their refractory wills but also by the grossness of the raw materials he has to work with. (Wiredu, 1998: 41)

He finds support in Danquah who notes that “physical pain and evil are revealed as natural forces which the Nana [God as the principle of good]...has to master, dominate, sublimate or eliminate” (cited in Wiredu, 1998: 41). Nevertheless, it should be noted that Wiredu flirts with the possibility of an African theodicy but does not take up the challenge of developing one, content as he is with demonstrating the variety and sophistication of African conceptions of God and His relation with the world. Given the transcendental and immanent conceptions of God in African religious thought, which highlight the problem of evil and in view of the limitation on omnipotence imposed by the view that God is a part of the world-series, a search for an African theodicy is desirable. The problem now is presenting an argument that is at once theistic and informed by the inadequacy of traditional theism, how to defend theism in the face of the seeming consensus that the “doctrine of a basically demiurgic God,” if not universal, is at least “widespread in West Africa” (Wiredu, 1998: 42). In the next section, an outline of a theodicy that draws inspiration from the Wireduian trajectory will be explored and an agenda will be set for African philosophy of religion.

Responding to the Challenge of Wiredu and Oladipo: Outline of a Possible Theodicy Excluding transcendence from the African view of God and endorsing a robust immanent conception of God fails to take into consideration the intuitive first-level understanding of God as transcendental which comes out clearly in African names for God, myths, and wise sayings. Indeed, some scholars believe that certain African ethnic groups like the Neur, Banyarwanda, and the Shona affirm the notion of creatio

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ex nihilo, which weighs heavily on the side of transcendence (see Wiredu, 1998: 42). The intuitive transcendental conception of God makes as much claim to philosophical relevance as the immanent conception that a more critical study of oral traditions unveil. This section will attempt the reconciliation of the transcendental and immanent conceptions of God by transcending traditional African thought. The section will invite African philosophers to go beyond traditional thought in individually engaging the question of the relation of God with the world and the implication for the problem of evil. Consolationist ontology will provide the framework for realizing the objective set out above. Consolationist ontology is the doctrine of being explicated within the system of consolationism, a twenty-first century intellectual tendency in African philosophy (see Agada, 2015, 2018). This ontology accounts for the universe as a totality of mood. Consolation philosophy views mind and matter as elements that developed out of a primordial stuff that implicates all unities and all opposites – intelligence and emotion, good and evil, freedom and determinism, chaos and order. This primordial stuff is called mood and can also be understood as originary mind to the extent that it is fundamental and mentalistic. Since mood carries within itself the inchoate and unfolding structure and content of intelligence the activities that it produces through the freedom of spontaneity are goal-directed. The differentiations or determinations we perceive as advanced consciousness (for instance, human consciousness), critical mental activities like thinking, emotional states and responses like joy and sadness, and the many psychological orientations of subjectivity arise when undifferentiated mood engages itself in an internal dialectic, which happens by a necessity of yearning. This necessity is fatalism. Fatalism follows a causal pathway not rigidly faithful to the traditional cause-effect sequence. The consolationist doctrine of fatalism submits that a fatal existence is that which “has no reason to be what it is beyond the fact that yearning characterizes it” (Agada, 2015: 62). Yearning is the innermost logic and outward orientation of mood. Yearning is the perpetual quest for the realization of freedom conceived as perfect willing, perfect acting, and perfect realizing. The existent which is characterized by yearning indeed seeks this freedom but never attains it, being burdened by the fatality of its nature which is its fate to seek that which is impossible but which can be recovered in degrees that fall short of the target of consummation or perfection in the process of the endless quest. It is immediately obvious that the fatal existent, that which has mood as its essence – and according to consolation ontology mood is the essence of all things – is at once an intelligent and emotional entity or an entity capable of evolving the structures of intelligence and emotion. Consolationist ontology, therefore, views the emotional and the intellectual as two orientations of one basic phenomenon – mood. God is the first principle of mood. He is not prior to mood, otherwise transcendence will completely eclipse immanence, such that we can never come to terms with the idea of a God who is concerned with the affairs of the world since this God will have a nature not subject to yearning. He is not posterior to mood, otherwise He will be the God Wiredu describes as just somewhat higher in power and general excellence than

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an ancestor. Such a God will not have transcended the dialectic within its intellective-emotional unity that makes possible the emergence of personality out of the impersonality of mood as first principle, nor will this ancestor-God be able to transcend the yearning of its own fatalistic essence to become a being of power and glory precisely by reason of this God being a creator. The God that consolationist metaphysics throws up is one contemporaneous with mood, existing simultaneously the very moment that mood sprang into existence as the yearning for freedom. God’s contemporaneity with mood means He is the constitutive principle of mood. Without God there is no mood and without mood there is no God. The world always existed in mood and creation means its unfolding from mood. Thus, there is no real conflict between the doctrines of creatio ex nihilo and ex nihilo nihil fit. The moment of the spontaneous emergence of intelligence and feeling implicates undifferentiated space and time which becomes physical space and time at the moment God creates or rather unfolds a world out of His essence, which is mood. Thus, God worked with preexisting materials, as Wiredu has contended and is a demiurgic God. But He is more than a workman to the extent that He is a being of power and glory even while not possessing the superlative qualities of omnipotence and omniscience. A being of power like God works with preexisting materials while an omnipotent being does not since the latter must be anterior to the materials with which a world is built. The materials God works with are, however, not something physical or something that is anterior to Him. The materials are the logic of mood (yearning) and its content. A being of power and glory is one that can create a world or worlds out of materials which are contemporaneous with His age, materials which He can manipulate but out of which, by the law of fatalism, perfection cannot be conjured. Yearning carries the emotional burden of its quest for a freedom beyond absolute realization, although realizable in degrees that yet fall short of the desired absolute. Consequently, God is limited, but not by the materials He works with; His limitation is imposed by His very nature as mood, as at once intelligence and emotion. The world that God creates is, unsurprisingly, imperfect, manifesting physical and moral evils in the shape of natural disasters, diseases, and the many wicked capabilities in humans that human history has documented in abundance. The claim of consolationist theodicy is that God is not to blame for the evil in the world because the principle of evil is part of the constitution of mood. Evil arises from the emotional essence of mood and actualizes itself in the course of its quest for freedom. One may ask: why does God create at all given that a fatalistic sequence is already guaranteed with evil as one of the outcomes? According to the law of fatalism, which states that an event or a state of affairs happens because it is inevitable as mood unfolds in its quest for freedom, God could not have refrained from creating an imperfect world. His own fatalistic essence demands it because it is in the creative act that He becomes a being of power and glory, a being that overcomes the emotive burden of mood. God is good in that He desires a perfect universe, but the universe He wills falls short of perfection. Since mood defines every existent thing, nothing existent is utterly guiltless, not God, not humans, not animals, and not even inanimate things. The theory just outlined

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is a panpsychist theory since it posits the fundamentality of mood, or primordial mind, which informs the basic constitution of all things, both what is alive in the sense of possessing mobility, sentience, and internal purposiveness and what seems not to be alive but which has the potentialities of aliveness, for instance, a stone. The profoundly difficult question of how God came into being together with the mood-stuff of which He is its principle will always harass the consolationist. This question is the age-old question of how God came into being. While the consolationist position allows God to be contemporaneous with the world and reconciles the conflict between transcendence and immanence, it fails to show where God and the world sprang from beyond the simple assertion of a spontaneous beginning. A closer examination of this most perplexing problem is, however, beyond the scope of this chapter. At the very least, the consolationist is able to propose that God emerges spontaneously with mood.

Conclusion This chapter introduced some of the questions and issues dominating debates in African philosophy of religion. The chapter highlighted the question of God’s existence and the problem of evil. The chapter showed that the transcendental and immanent conceptions of God put the problem of traditional theism in the front row of questions deserving critical investigation in African philosophy of religion. The chapter advances the emerging consensus that Africans conceive God as a limited being by appealing to consolationist metaphysics and arriving at the concept of God as a benevolent being of power and glory rather than a benevolent being who is omnipotent and omniscient. This conception of God as benevolent and powerful, but not omnipotent, advances the African understanding of a limited God while, at the same time, embracing the idea of God’s transcendence. African philosophers of religion are turning their attention to the interrogation of the prima facie transcendental conception of God in traditional African religious thought. This interrogation has shown that Africans do not conceive God in the traditional theistic sense. Nevertheless, not enough attention has been paid to the tension between the immanent and transcendental conceptions of God. This tension invites African philosophers of religion to individually systematize African theodicies that help reconcile the concepts of immanence and transcendence. The tension is particularly significant because it highlights the problem of a powerful but not all-powerful God who creates a world in which evil is real. If we conceive God as a being of limited powers, how is He still powerful enough to create a world? If such a God is not wholly good, can He be absolved of guilt over the reality of evil in the world He creates? What is the relation between the categories of power and omnipotence (all-powerfulness)? These are some questions that African philosophers of religion will need to address in view of the shift from a traditional theistic conception of God to an understanding of a limited creator-God in contemporary African philosophy of religion.

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Part X Philosophy of Education

A Sketch of an Ubuntu Philosophy of Education Chikumbutso Herbert Manthalu

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Contextuality of Philosophy of Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Educational Aims and Human Nature Conception . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Philosophy and Ubuntu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Principles of Ubuntu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Implications of Ubuntu on Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ubuntu Education and Local Situatedness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter sketches an African Philosophy of Education. It advances the argument that the Ubuntu conceptualization of human nature in African philosophy demands that education aims must fundamentally center other-regarding values just as they are committed to self-actualization virtues. The argument builds on the position that assumptions of a human nature conception of a particular society’s philosophical orientation generally determine the form and substance of the aims of its education. Upon showing how a particular human nature conception anchors and determines the form of educational aims, the chapter draws out the fundamental implications of Ubuntu principles on educational aims, by highlighting the kind of knowledge, skills, attitudes, capacities, and values the education aims would necessarily require. With its framework stringently centering other-regarding virtues just as it does self-regarding ones, Ubuntu-grounded philosophy of education would require that education aims should as much achieve individual well-being and self-actualization, as it cultivates attitudes, knowledge, capacities, and skills for collective life. An Ubuntu C. H. Manthalu (*) School of Education, Chancellor College, University of Malawi, Zomba, Malawi e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_23

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education will simultaneously promote self-regarding virtues and other-regarding virtues. The other-regarding virtues are promoted based on the normative worth of human relations as being constitutive of what it means to be a complete human being. Keywords

Other-regarding · Self-regarding · Ubuntu · Educational aims · Humanness · Connectedness

Introduction This chapter sketches an African Philosophy of Education. It advances the argument that the Ubuntu conceptualization of human nature in African philosophy demands that education aims must fundamentally center other-regarding values just as they are committed to self-actualization virtues. This assertion is motivated by the fact that different societies have particular metaphysical and ethical outlooks through which they actualize universal ethical ideals. Furthermore, it is contended that educational aims whether explicit or implied are an indispensable foundation for education, in that any form of education is necessarily expected to be directed towards achievement of some sort of ends. The argument particularly builds on the position that assumptions of a human nature conception of a particular society’s philosophical orientation generally determine the form and substance of the aims of its education. The case this chapter submits is made through an analysis of how the prevalent Eurocentric epistemological orientation of much of the education in Africa is largely founded on a (neo-)liberal conception of human nature that understands the self as detached, transcendent, autonomous, and rational chooser who is primarily driven by maximization of self-interest. For such a self, social cooperation and human relations have only extrinsic value as they are a mere means of serving self-interests. As such the aims of modern education reflect such self-regarding virtues by the nature and content of curriculums, pedagogical approaches, and educational policies. Upon showing how a particular human nature conception anchors and determines the form of educational aims, the chapter draws out the fundamental implications of Ubuntu principles on educational aims, by highlighting the kind of knowledge, skills, attitudes, capacities, and values Ubuntu education aims would necessarily require. With its framework stringently centering other-regarding virtues just as it does self-regarding ones, Ubuntu-grounded philosophy of education would require that education aims should as much as achieve individual well-being and selfactualization, as it cultivates attitudes, knowledge, capacities, and skills for collective life. This is grounded in the Ubuntu conception of human nature as being interconnected and tending to achieving humanness. An Ubuntu education will simultaneously promote self-regarding and other-regarding educational aims. The

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other-regarding virtues are promoted based on the normative worth of human relations as being constitutive of what it means to be a complete human being. In the immediate next section, the chapter discusses why education is necessarily informed by a philosophical ideology. The later section makes a case as to why foundationally philosophy of education particularly educational aims are and ought to be grounded in an ontological or ethical conceptualization of human nature. The next section discusses the principles of Ubuntu. Later on, the discussion draws implications of Ubuntu conceptions on human nature on educational aims. This involves describing the nature of the roles of education, pedagogy, curriculum, and educational policy that Ubuntu educational aims would demand.

The Contextuality of Philosophy of Education Among its main mandates, philosophy of education is expected to apply ethical and philosophical standards to prevailing assumptions about the model education in a society. This includes examining the philosophical nature of the curriculum and the learning processes (Hirst & White, 2001: 6). It is instructive to note that philosophical reflection does not occur in a vacuum. A particular social object such as education raises questions, creates conflicts and dilemmas that become the object of philosophical wonder. What this entails is that philosophical examination is an endeavor to help make the actual practice of education for a particularly situated society, meaningful, just, and responsive to different (individual or collective) needs. The cardinal thing is that educational philosophical reflection is arguably triggered by a particular context and also largely aims at bringing clarity and understanding for guidance to that particular social context. Thus, philosophical outputs in practical disciplines such as education are generally at least initially motivated by the need for context-responsiveness. The problems and concepts that (educational) philosophy attempts to answer and analyze, respectively, “are linked indissolubly with the social life of a group” (Hirst & Peters, 2001: 33). Philosophical problems particularly of the sort found in applied philosophy such as philosophy of education are directly connected to a people’s lived experiences. The philosophical answers are part of incessant efforts to improve the human condition of people in a particular society. A critic may hold that philosophy is expected to question the assumptions of the foundations upon which a particular society’s way of life is grounded. Philosophy should therefore not seem to be preserving and replicating society. However, this corrective role of philosophy ultimately still serves as a tool for the improvement of the particular way of life of a particular society. It is in this sense that transcendent philosophical truths are acknowledged but are appropriated by particular societies upon being vernacularized (Benhabib, 2011) in the context of social, cultural, and historical situatedness of the people. Furthermore, particular societies place different emphasis on different ethical or philosophical values owing to their historical, social, and cultural situatedness, without necessarily disregarding or undermining the other values.

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Educational Aims and Human Nature Conception The previous section has shown that education theory and practice are intricately linked to the particular philosophical ideologies that generally underpin a particular society. The proposition being advanced in this section is that particular models of education are grounded in ontological or ethical ideologies of communities. More particularly, the argument is that education aims or goals are not only (explicitly or implicitly) grounded in particular philosophical ideologies, but are rather more importantly anchored in a particular conceptualization of human nature that dominates and underlies the social life of that given society. Ultimately what this entails is the ontological assumptions, ethical norms, and values anchoring the education models borrowed from one society by another need to be contextualized, locally interpreted, or vernacularized (Benhabib, 2011) to include the ontological and ethical perspectives of the adopting society. Unless this is done, the borrowed education models risk not only being detached from the concrete articulations of being human for the society, but more importantly such approaches in principle undermine the normativity of the local ontological and ethical perspectives of being human. Assumptions, as is prevalently the case in much of Africa, that because certain moral ideals are universal, therefore, they must be concretely enacted in some prescribed universal form by all peoples of the world irrespective of their varying situationality are problematic. Among others, education would arguably be said to be necessarily required to be grounded in a framework of human equality whilst also among others aim at achieving and enhancing human equality. However, different societies owing to their cultural, social, historical, and philosophical orientations may actualize and enact the ideal of human equality differently. Conversely, such unique philosophical orientations towards the same ethical ideal may result in education models whose form and aims are different across human communities of the world. The argument is that since ontological and ethical conceptualizations of human nature shape the education of the society, as a matter of justice, borrowed education models need to be vernacularized to render the borrowed education just. Put differently, education in Africa is founded on a Eurocentric conceptualization of human nature that not only marginalizes normative values central in African ontology and ethical thought, but due to lack of venularization, impose a particular ontological and ethical perspective on African education. This chapter therefore argues for grounding education in Africa in the distinctive ontological and ethical conceptualization of human nature of Ubuntu. This is done by discussing the assumptions and form of educational aims grounded in Ubuntu. It is worth bearing in mind that it is not only education aims (explicit or implicit, particular or general) that are founded on a particular conception of the self and only make sense at least from this perspective. One can also infer that the selection of curriculum content and pedagogy are all informed by a particular type of conceptualization of human nature. Such an understanding of what it requires to be human informs the sort of capacities that students at a minimum should possess through education.

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While it is widely held that having education aims leads to narrow-mindedness and limits self-actualization, the notion of explicit or implicit aims in education is foundational, inevitable, and indispensable. The enterprise of education involves very diverse people with competing and contrasting interests. While one would agree with most education theorists who argue against articulation of educational aims as promoting narrowness and at worst closed-mindedness, it remains inconceivable how such an endeavor as education that brings together different parties to cooperate would be possible without having at the bare minimum certain generally agreed goals. In any society, the question of what metaphysical outlooks and ethical values to imbue public institutions and life is always a subject of contention. Whether overtly or covertly stated in a syllabus or curriculum objectives or whether they are principles that must be achieved by teaching and learning procedures, education cannot be divorced from aims whether as objectives or general aims (White, 2010: 5). However, aims of education are inseparable from the shared values of a particular society (Winch, 1996: 40). One of the fundamental and inevitable aims of education is preparing the young ones for adult life. In other words, it is about acquisition of capacities, skills, and knowledge for effective participation in the indispensable public life. However, such a general indispensable aim of education immediately raises ethical and ontological questions: which ethical values should the diverse society consider important for the aims to articulate? and founded on what shared conceptualization of human nature (Winch, 1996: 35)? As argued earlier, the discipline of education should necessarily be generally guided by overt or covertly articulated minimum aims. Ideally, the education should be anchored in a framework of outlooks and values that, at a minimum, is meaningful and relatable to the society. Unless this is done, it is inconceivable how sure the parties that have diverse and at times conflicting interests in a society would be guaranteed that the education is not systemically detrimental to them and their particular values contrary to the initially agreed upon or assumed shared values (Winch, 1996). One can draw that the role of philosophy of education should be to reflect on the ideal nature of aims of education, highlighting the distinctive features of such aims (their form) and the conditions ideal for the realization of such aims. Philosophy of education should reflect on how these different aims should be interrelated and how they should be prioritized (White, 2010: ix). It is inconceivable as to how determination of the nature of the aims, how they should relate, and what priorities there should be among them can be made without taking into account the society’s explicit or implicit conception of human nature shaping the construction of the aims. The position that the ends of education are rooted in a particular conceptualization of human nature is both an ideal position of what ought to be the case, as well as one inferred from educational practice. From a philosophical perspective, it should logically follow that construction of the ends of education must be in relation to who a human person is or should be. On the other hand, education ends are shaped by social and political elements (Gutmann, 2003; Standish, 2003). Ultimately, political authority influences decisions regarding what should be the conceptualization of the ideal educated person and what should be taught in schools to cultivate the

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attributes of such a person. It is worth highlighting here that the political influence when combined with a strong economic stature has the tendency of assuming a globalist form and tacitly imposes its preferences on other societies beyond the nation’s borders. This is the experience with most developing nations of Africa for whom the global economic structure has placed different epistemological impositions the countries are now fighting to decolonize themselves from (Waghid & Manthalu, 2019). In this sense, the global structure imposes not only a different education ideology, but more importantly a particular (paraded as universalistic) conceptualization of human nature. Modern education is largely informed by Eurocentric paradigms (Manthalu & Waghid, 2019; Masemula, 2015; Mbembe, 2016; Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2015). There is no inherent problem in having one society’s philosophical ideology shape the education of another society. What is problematic is when the borrowing or so-called hybridization in principle and practice undermines, devalues, and marginalizes local epistemologies, metaphysical outlooks and ethical orientations. Today for example, much of the aims of education, curriculum content and pedagogical strategies, across the world emphasize skills, knowledge and attitudes that cultivate virtues of individual well-being such as self-actualization and individual autonomy. However, the idea that education should promote individual autonomy and well-being (while also necessarily actively developing a strong sense of suspicion and mistrust of virtues of collective life) does not necessarily imply that this is the only or fundamental framework for educational aims across communities of the world today (White, 2010: 17). Besides individual-centric aims of education, there are also other-centered aims that center interest of others as having legitimate normative worth. The notion of individual liberty has been the central drive of Western educational thought largely influenced by the analytic philosophy tradition (Hirst, 2001: 124). In general, education is understood to aim at developing and promoting an individual’s good life as a whole (Hirst, 2001: 124). Human beings are understood to be “entities capable, by virtue of certain naturally given [rational] capacities, of making sense of themselves and their world and of engaging in autonomous action” (Hirst, 2001: 124). Such a conception of human nature regards a good life as one that is autonomously determined by reason (Hirst, 2001: 124). The existence of the autonomous person is understood to be prior to and indeed independent of social relations (Hirst, 2001: 125). The centering of individual liberty as the fundamental educational aim is apparently achieved through “the development of rational autonomy [that] is clearly grounded in particular doctrines about human nature and about the character of reason” (Hirst, 2001: 125). Human nature conceptualization shapes educational aims. The nature of human needs of the peoples of the world (which education must consider or help fulfil) are as many as they are complex. There is a real danger when only one aim of education is unduly elevated above all the possible others. Obsession with individual actualization whilst almost undermining social belonging and its demands may ultimately ruin the very project of self-actualization as the enabling and supporting conditions for the self-actualization are dismantled. In this regard, if

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education is to be just and meaningful, it is imperative that its educational aims or content must at a minimum be relatable to the general conceptualization of human nature for a particular society (Wilson, 2010). This, as the next section shows has been the deficit in the African educational context. The education has for a long time been grounded in and promoting virtues of a Eurocentric conception of human nature. This has rendered the education alienated from African lived experiences and from meaningfully addressing challenges of the African situationality. Particularly, this has resulted in the marginalization of African epistemologies, metaphysics, and ethics among others as subaltern and an impediment to modern life anchored on Eurocentric understanding of human nature.

African Philosophy and Ubuntu The development of conventional African philosophy is largely traceable to reactionaries to the denigrations that Western philosophy made about African existence (Kayange, 2020). Such denigrations by European scholars and explorers were such as those that African people have no culture or philosophy, nor rational capacities, and were therefore primitive (Masolo, 1994). Colonialists and some European missionaries had the civilization of Africans as one of their main agendas which largely employed education as the tool for making Africans embrace the “civilized” ways of European life. For the most part, African thinkers were essentially committed to dismissing the denigration and its foundation. Much of modern African philosophy draws from the legacy of reaction against denigration by colonialism. The philosophy has generally been committed to amplifying, affirming, and celebrating indigenous African experiences as a source of a credible, though different, philosophy. As Kayange (2020: 2) observes, the pre-occupation with celebrating indigenous African experiences has arguably resulted in a reductionism of African philosophy, essentializing the priority of the community. there is need to further develop Ubuntu philosophy into a more comprehensive theory that does not surreptitiously elevate preferred ideals while summarily dismissing ‘other’ ideals. A further consequence is that applied philosophy branches such as philosophy of education that generally draw from and depend upon mainstream theories have lacked the theoretical building blocks to develop African philosophy of education theories. Recently, most African philosophy scholars have been proposing different sorts of African philosophy. This chapter attempts to sketch such a philosophy of education by particularly focusing on the implications of an Ubuntu conceptualization of human nature and ethics on the basic nature of education aims, curriculum, and pedagogy. It is worth clarifying that sub-Saharan African experiences are diverse. As such they cannot be reduced to a single ontological or ethical perspective. Furthermore, the claim that an Ubuntu philosophy is representative of largely most sub-Saharan societies needs to be understood in arguable general terms other than in essentialist terms. More so because there are different and sometimes contrasting Ubuntu theory versions. Making a case that education in Africa should be anchored in philosophical

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frameworks that center Ubuntu ideals should not be understood in puritan terms or terms exclusive of other non-African perspectives. No single society has selfsufficient, complete, and uncontestable ontological or ethical perspectives. It is imperative to be cognizant that cultural and philosophical hybridity are inevitable and necessary aspects of human life. However, the hybridity should still be responsive to (not necessarily dominated by) the historical context of denigration and marginalization. Such denigration and marginalization have partly resulted in the prevailing hegemony by the Eurocentric ontological and ethical perspectives across African education and public institutions.

Principles of Ubuntu The concept of education is one that is constructed by historical and political contexts (Standish, 2003). Education is grounded in particular philosophies. For education to be normatively acceptable and achieve the relevant social transformation, it must be founded on a philosophy of education that is connected to the ideological foundations of its ontological and moral thought context; relatable to the lived experiences of the people (Venter, 2004: 155). There is a significant difference between the value of society/community between the Eurocentric social contract person and that of Ubuntu philosophy. In much of Western philosophy, following the heritage of Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, and Immanuel Kant, the value of the society to the self is instrumental because of its ability to offer security and the minimum guaranteed grounds for expectation for cooperation as the major determinant for the possibility to pursue self-interest (Drucilla Cornell & Muvangua, 2012). In this context, social cooperation is valuable insofar as it is an enabler for actualization of self-interest. However, Ubuntu is in principle double-edged in that it prizes both individual self-determination and the social bond (Cornell & Muvangua, 2012). The social contract tradition from Hobbes to Rawls understands the individual as largely self-interested and in competition with the other over resources of nature which are the foundation of private property ownership. Such thought greatly shapes the prevailing neoliberal ideology that is definitive of modern life (Steger & Roy, 2010; Vázquez-Arroyo, 2008). However, Ubuntu conceives being human as being a unit in a world of intertwined existential and ethical relations and obligations (Cornell & Muvangua, 2012). As such the social bond one has with others is not only instrumental as an enabler of social cooperation. Rather, individual well-being is inextricably connected with the well-being of the other. Unlike the atomistic conception of the transcendent detached self of Western philosophy, in Ubuntu, relations with others and the subsequent other-regarding virtues the relations generated are neither abstract nor “merely contingent, voluntary and optional” (Gyekye, 2003: 353). While the centering of the community in Ubuntu is mostly regarded as a threat to individual agency, Kayange’s (2020: 7) auto-centric virtue theory of Ubuntu holds that in Ubuntu thought self-regarding and otherregarding virtues are equally cardinal because Ubuntu “is rooted in (i) the reciprocal

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value of an individual and the community as they define the ultimate human good, (ii) virtues of character (self-regarding and other-regarding virtues), and (iii) virtues of the intellect.” The Ubuntu ontology acknowledges both auto-centric and relational capacities as being cardinally constitutive of being human. Sometimes, exponents and opponents of Ubuntu tend to rank individual-centric and other-regarding virtues in a hierarchy, forcing Ubuntu to adopt the neo-Kantian binary approach of according primacy to either auto-centric virtues or communitarian ones. Such perspectives derive from a hangover neo-Kantian ideology. There should be no reason to rank these two virtues and be forced to value one over the other because they are distinct capacities that distinctively drive human action. The Ubuntu self-regarding dimension takes care of issues of self-preservation. This encompasses virtues for self-preservation and self-realization (Kayange, 2020). Self-realization is achieved through acquisition of certain traits of character (virtues) that are both self-regarding and other-regarding (Kayange, 2020: 7). Selfactualization is guided by phronesis, which is a set of intellectual virtues such as intelligence, knowledge, and techne (craft or art), all of which pertain to reason (Kayange, 2020: 7). Self-regarding virtues promote individual agency and selfawareness so that the individual optimally achieves self-determination (Kayange, 2020: 7). On the other hand, other-regarding virtues aim at the well-being of the other motivated by shared identity, goodwill, and mutual well-being (Kayange, 2020; Metz, 2007). Earlier versions of Ubuntu theories faced the criticism that Ubuntu thought prioritizes community well-being at the expense of the individual, who in Western thought is regarded as the ultimate unit of moral concern. However, according to Kayange (2020: 8), in Ubuntu theory, the principle of phronesis is the intellectual capacity to deliberate or calculate the right course of action that leads to human well-being in a particular situation. This deliberation is aimed at determining the kind of virtue (self-regarding or other-regarding virtue) that is required with reference to wellbeing in a particular context. The virtues of character and practical wisdom work together towards well-being (Kayange, 2020: 8). Phronesis is the intellectual capacity where through practical rational judgement the subject determines the appropriate course of action or character in a particular situation that will lead human well-being.

Thus Ubuntu does not undermine nor stifle human agency. This is because human action involves an intellectual deliberation to determine which sort of virtues (self-regarding or other-regarding virtue) are primary and appropriate in a given context to achieve humanness or human well-being (Kayange, 2020: 8). No particular kind of virtue is immutably set to always transcend the other type. Rather, moral action in a particular context depends on rationally determining how the two types of virtues should relate and which ones should be prioritized. Human action is expected in this sense, to spring out of human agency but in a context of human connectedness or humanness (Cornell & Van Marle, 2012; Ramose, 2003). Achievement of this type of moral balance largely depends on a kind of wisdom.

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It is worth highlighting that other-regarding virtues also serve mutual well-being. However, the mutuality is not reducible to a requirement that self-interest should merely measure up against some abstract static immutable moral law, as a form of negative duty to others to avoid violating their entitlements. In other words, the wellbeing of others is not served merely by the permissibility of my action. Rather, it is about exercising my agency in a framework that considers and cares for the condition of the other with whom there is an interconnectedness. In this sense, I sometimes cannot perform certain generally permissible actions merely because they are permissible. Regarding others would sometimes compel me to refrain from performing certain actions that I am entitled to, on the condition that they are practically insensitive to the condition of the other or to humanness. This is why determination of the morally appropriate action requires the self to engage in a rational deliberation to consider how concretely agency and humanness will be served by the action in a particular context. Some critics and exponents of Ubuntu alike would insinuate that the Ubuntu other-regarding virtues are motivated by a sense of mutual reciprocity where, for instance, I attend a funeral so that others attend to me when I am bereaved. Such reductionism of connectedness and humanness is problematic and undermines the very nature and motivation of the virtues of care that underlie such commitments. Care is not always driven by benefit (Held, 2006; MacIntyre, 2002; Taylor, 2003). In a strict sense, caregiving mostly involves some cost on the caregiver without any guarantee of reciprocal benefit in the future (Held, 2006; MacIntyre, 2002). Thus, in Ubuntu, concern and care for the other in the exercise of agency are driven by the recognition of the worthiness of humanness and the context-dependent obligations it places on the individual’s exercise of agency. In Ubuntu, humanness must be constantly endeavored at because it is “the sort of thing which has to be achieved, the sort of thing which individuals could fail [to achieve]” (Menkiti, 2004: 326). Humanness is beyond the individual merely possessing rational capacities for exercising agency. Humanness is rather about a moral balance one must achieve not by conforming to certain static immutable laws but rather through practical wisdom where one will reflect on a reasonable mode of consideration of both individual interests and the communal interest. Holding that in Ubuntu thought personhood is also relational does not entail that the self is a prisoner of community expectations and that the self cannot assume positions that are critical of dominant communal expectations and standards (Gyekye, 2003). On the contrary, Ubuntu entails respect for the exercise of individual agency which recognizes capacities for the individual to affirm, revise, or even reject shared values and conceptualizations of the common good (Gyekye, 2003: 358). A pursuit of self-interest that ignores and disregards the interests of others may be an expression of individual autonomy but fail to achieve the completeness of being human (Gyekye, 2003: 358). Thus the principle of Ubuntu is an articulation of “our inter-connectedness, our common humanity and the responsibility to each that flows from our connection” (Letseka, 2012). The harmony that Ubuntu centers is one that is grounded in a recognition of the common identity that humanity shares and is “grounded on good-will” (Metz, 2007: 338).

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Implications of Ubuntu on Education It has been shown in previous sections that Ubuntu values both agency and connectedness in a noncompetitive type of relation. Rather than understand its ideals as a choice between individual interest and the common good, in its true form Ubuntu is not reducible to such a choice. Rather, it is about exercising agency in a framework that also recognizes the well-being of the other. As such it is reasonable to expect an Ubuntu-inspired education to aim at capacitating the learner with tools that will on the one hand enhance self-actualization and freedom. On the other hand, the education should cultivate in students knowledge, skills, attitudes, and values that develop a sense of togetherness, concern, and care for others in a community. Community in this case can be both social-culturally, historically, and geographically immediate as well as the human community of the world. An Ubuntu education would promote self-actualization and pursuit of self-interest against a background that is concretely mindful of other-regarding virtues such as deliberation, togetherness, kindness, compassion, respect, and care (Murove, 2014: 37). Ubuntu education would aim at making students as members of particular societies and the wider human community to be mindful that being human is not conditioned upon detaching oneself from others. Rather, humanness requires the self to be practically and constantly taking into consideration the well-being of the other and whatever is an obstacle to the achievement of the other’s well-being. The worth of relations one has with others in a community is not grounded on the extrinsic support role the relations provide for one’s self-actualization. Rather, as the common African assertion states “I am because we are” or “we are therefore I am,” individual flourishing that is somehow built on the oppression of others or indifferent to the suffering and limitations of the other fails to achieve humanness. It is inconsistent with the fundamental maxim of interconnectedness where humanity shares aspirations for flourishing, such that the failure of the other to flourish should be a concern to me even though I am in no way part of its causative agents.

Ubuntu Education and Local Situatedness The homo economicus conception of human nature as primarily committed to maximizing rational choices that maximize economic self-interest as earlier shown is grounded in the liberal conceptualization of the self as being detached and autonomous. It is in this vein that since the industrial revolution, education has inhered and centered maximization of economic interest for the self, pushing out to the peripherals of relevance humanistic values (Oviawe, 2016). This centering of capitalist values understood as individual liberty values has resulted in humanistic interests being replaced by “market-driven, mechanistic and commercialist benchmarks for measuring educational success. As a result, education is seen as an investment that must yield economic returns” (Oviawe, 2016: 5–6). The nature of such an education is that it is futuristic. The education largely aims at what job roles the individual will assume once she or he successfully completes the educational

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processes. The education endeavors are reducible to a process of pursuit of selfinterests. Under such an approach, collective interests are assigned instrumental value. The assumption is that in the pursuit of self-interests, inevitably the individuals will serve just for extrinsic purposes, the collective interests. The learning endeavor is thus a competition to bring out the optimum best from the individual for self-accumulation and security. The “other” is in this light not a collaborating partner in ensuring the becoming of the self and humanness of the other as Ubuntu would demand. Rather the other is an adversary, who must be outpaced and outsmarted in the scramble for opportunities to be guaranteed of personal success. In principle, the ‘other’ is not merely excluded but his/her existence is generally denied or is inconsequential (Ramose, 2010). Guided by the principles of interconnectedness and humanness, an Ubuntuinspired education would require that among others education aims at care for humanity particularly for the other. Modern education in its essentialist conceptualization of human nature and human relations understands learners in generalized terms of equality rather than in terms of an equality that takes into consideration their constitutive concrete subjectivities. Such an understanding of students in generalized terms, a heritage of the social contract self however, de-problematizes the actual concrete obstacles that oppress others making it difficult for them to seize opportunities apparently equally availed to all, such as that education ostensibly avails to all. For modern education, conditions of equality are satisfied insofar as students come to the same school, sit before the same teachers are given the same amount of work. The differences that will emerge are attributable to personal choice. An Ubuntu-grounded education, however, after ensuring all these entitlements are met would go further to center care for and collaboration with the other among both students and teachers. Mindful of the fact that in as much as there are certain objective requirements and conditions necessary for education to successfully take place, what actually determines progress or lack thereof pertains to the subjective realm of being human. The obstacles pertaining to this realm however cannot be addressed by objective categories. Care for the other would require of the students to shed off the institutional adversarial attitude that renders the other invisible. Sharing common humanness would require one to reach out to the other, to understand what particularly limits the flourishing of the other, mindful of the fact that success of one in the midst of the failure of the other is normatively less meaningful. One consequence of the neoliberal conceptualization of human nature is that the state is required to delineate selected primary individual rights to enforce through the constitution for example. The state thus is compelled to “take a minimalist [as opposed to a maximalist] stance in the realization of these rights” (Thomas, 2008: 50). The net effect of such minimalist conceptualization of human rights is that the state has lesser or no compulsion to ensure that certain rights that ultimately determine one’s prospects for a desirable life are ignored, left to the devices of free market forces (Thomas, 2008: 50). The pivotal thing to note is that the lack of “constitutionalisation and justiciability of socioeconomic rights” (Thomas, 2008: 53) only cements prevailing injustices and marginalization of those for whom it is almost impossible to fairly compete with the rest.

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An education founded on Ubuntu conception of human nature would, for instance, ensure that access to education is not determined by one’s social-economic or historical background as is currently the case with the alienating modern education. Rather, access to secondary and higher education should be a basic right for every individual. Endeavors that privatize education and fundamental aspects of education would be intolerable under an Ubuntu education. This would be based on the premise that if every person aspires for self-actualization and has a role to ensure that public life achieves humanness, then no obstacle to the actualization of these human aspirations should be rationalized. Education cannot thus be understood as a good easily accessible by the privileged nor as a tool for consolidating personal gains in a context of exclusion and marginalization. Having education aims that cultivate a sense of care and collaboration with the other are not only a means of having successful education processes. Rather, this ought to be understood as a process of learning virtues that are paramount beyond the school. These virtues ought to underlie all human relations in the wider society. Humanness is not achieved only by epitomizing self-actualization. It must occur in a context of care and concern for the other. As highlighted earlier, the community to which one is interconnected is not restricted to the local or national community. The other-regarding virtues demand that that exercise of agency must not be to the detriment of the prospects of others flourishing. Global interconnectedness today than ever before vividly concretizes the reality of how humanity is interconnected. Today, it is imperative that education necessarily helps students value a sustainable use of the global environment for instance. The complexity of the different states of the world coming together and agree on terms aimed at having a healthy global environment is how deeply entrenched the competitive conception of the self-interest maximizing conception of human nature, geared towards maximization of profit underlies not only modern education but also global structures. Personal or national wealth is the primary consideration rather than having a sustainable global environment. A world whose education, domestic and global economic structures, politics and international relations are anchored in a human nature typified by adversarial competition and systematic extinguishing of the interests of the “other” is not suited to manage the global environment in a sustainable way. Owing to the social contract heritage, democracies today conceptualize the human subject in capitalist terms that reduce to either instrumental or market value the worth of the relations the subject has with others s/he is in a community with (Thomas, 2008: 42). Constitutions, economic and public policy are shaped by this philosophical ideology characterized by minimum government interventions in public well-being, liberalized markets, and privatization of institutions that provide public services (Steger & Roy, 2010; Thomas, 2008). Such practices are informed by a detached conceptualization of personhood and its attendant liberty that particularly privilege individual (economic) rights and private property ownership both of which necessarily relegate public well-being and common good to an extrinsic level. The global environment pays the ultimate cost for this. An Ubuntu education should aim at reimagining the value of human relations as having more than economic or mere

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extrinsic value. The condition of the other should be my concern. I may exercise my agency and achieve personal success. However, if I achieve it whilst being indifferent to the obstacles that adversely affect the well-being of the other, such success though an embodiment of self-actualization nevertheless fails to achieve humanness. In the name of being globally relevant and competitive, education today is modelled on the human nature conceptualization of a detached self that seeks to maximize economic self-interest. Ultimately this has led to a shift in the roles of the university where knowledge production no longer primarily aims at local consumption but rather achieving global competitiveness though at the cost of marginalization of local interests (Divala, 2016: 100). It is not uncommon to read the aims of universities articulated in their vision statements and mottos as aiming at being the leading and competitive university in the world. The result is that owing to such competitiveness university research agenda is almost exclusively driven by special interest-funding institutions (Divala, 2016; Giroux, 2010; Ramose, 2010; Zeleza, 2009; Zyngier, 2016). Another result is the exclusion of localness in research and epistemologies because of the ostensible lack of economic worth that attracts the interests of funders. An Ubuntu education would thus demand that sources of human connectedness that are mostly grounded in the people’s situatedness should necessarily be centered in education. This is because they are the sources of the concreteness of being human (Benhabib, 1992) as well as the framework for human relations.

Conclusion At a foundational level, all education is ultimately a pursuit of some aim. More particularly, the ontological and ethical conception of human nature largely determine the form of educational aims. Despite ethical ideals at a fundamental level being universal, different societies have different ontological and ethical perspectives through which they particularly actualize and enact the universal ideals. In African philosophy, the Ubuntu conception of being human conceives human nature as being both autonomous and relational. Out of this nature arise ethical obligations to ensure both individual well-being and others’ well-being. Otherregarding commitments and those of self-actualization, though directed at different subjects, have the same moral stringency. Educational aims founded on the Ubuntu ontological and ethical framework therefore require that at a minimum educational aims (which determine the form and substance of the curriculum, pedagogy and educational policy practice) should equally center self-interest as well as the interest of the other. It is crucial to bear cognizance that self and other-regarding virtues ought not to be considered in a hierarchical relationship. Each type has a particular end yet has the same moral stringency. While the deontological ethics of moral duties towards the other would in a sense be said to consider the well-being of the other, Ubuntu centering of the wellbeing of the other goes beyond the limitations of generally negative duties of deontological ethics one has towards the other. Instead, well-being of the other is constituted in possession of and acting according to other-regarding virtues such

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as those of concern, engagement, deliberation, togetherness, and care for the other. Looked at this way, Ubuntu educational aims seek to promote individual authenticity, autonomy, and self-actualization without necessarily competing with community interests. However, what an Ubuntu education demands is that exercise of individual agency in the pursuit of self-actualization should necessarily be contextualized by virtues of concern and care for the well-being of the other. An Ubuntu ethics goes beyond measuring against the moral permissibility of a particular exercise of agency based on some immutable abstract duties. On the other hand, Ubuntu exercise of agency is cognizant that the principles of connectedness and humanness entail that indifference to the condition of the other that one is in community with makes one fail achieve the completeness of being human in that I restrict being human to myself only. Sharing of humanness and connectedness with the other does not constitute in merely sharing certain rational capacities for agency. Sharing of humanness and connectedness pertain to my relation with the other, taking into account his/her concrete condition and how the condition affects his/her well-being which is just like mine. Thus the other-regarding virtues call for more than fulfilling certain general impersonal obligations towards the other. Rather the virtues demand deliberation in order to engage with the other so as to particularly determine their care needs. At a minimum an education with Ubuntu-inspired aims would thus require that the curriculum, pedagogy, and education policy equally centers such relational values.

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Imfundo, Ubulumko, Nomthetho: A South African Philosophy of Education Siseko H. Kumalo

The conqueror writes history, They came, they conquered and they wrote. Now you don’t expect people who came to invade us, To write the truth about us. They will always write negative things about us, And they have to do that because, They have to justify their invasion. (Miriam Makeba, 1969)

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Critically Reading Kai Horsthemke . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Contested Social Institution: From Rhetoric to Philosophy, as Training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Khangela Ubulumko: Duty as Ethics, Wisdom, and Responsibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Without Conclusion: Philosophizing About Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Education in South Africa has always been a contentious matter since the inception of colonization and coloniality, which is rooted in two competing conceptions of education. The first being colonial missionary education, framed as uplifting the Black/Indigenous “savage” from the pits of backward, retarded, and gradual life as detailed by Mudimbe in The Invention of Africa. The second being Indigenous modes of education (along with their role and function) as explicated by Gqoba in his Ingxoxo Enkulu Ngemfundo (A Great Debate on

S. H. Kumalo (*) Philosophy Department, University of Fort Hare, East London, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_25

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Education). These two competing conceptions continue to define the higher education landscape in the country, as decolonial agitation was substantiated by the student movements of #MustFall. The chapter begins by analyzing Gqoba’s treatment of education. This treatment contextualizes the contestation that defines a philosophy of education as articulated from a South African vantage-point. In the second move, it analyzes AC Jordan’s The Wrath of the Ancestors. Jordan’s novel reveals a textured and layered interplay between western conceptions of education – as they necessarily contend and compete with traditional/Indigenous ideas of education. The main objective is to discern (the aims of education), i.e., what a South African philosophy of education might entail in a context defined by colonial violence, contestation, and erasure. Keywords

WW Gqoba · AC Jordan · Philosophy of education · Coloniality · Imfundo

Introduction Beginning with an epigraph adapted from Miriam Makeba seeks to underscore the structure that the chapter will follow in developing a South African philosophy of education. Two things must be said about this, which – in disclaiming them – will hopefully aid in demonstrating the reasoning behind why there has been a delimitation to South Africa, as opposed to a broader conceptual analysis that attempts to style the chapter as one that applies itself to the issues of education as they relate to the continent. In the first respect, upon receiving the invitation from the editors of the collection to develop the work, there was an appeal to focus on the South African context, owing to the authors discussed. Second, the contextualizing commentary on Horsthemke will act as a rejoinder to the piece “African Philosophy and Education” – published in the Palgrave Handbook of African Philosophy (2017) edited by Adeshina Afoloyan and Toyin Falola. To focus on this piece, in the introductory remarks, is deliberate owing to the kinds of misreading(s) that the reader will find in Horsthemke’s chapter, while also demonstrating a continuation in the work developed by African Philosophy Handbook series across publishers. This comes as the work of Horsthemke appears in the Palgrave collection, while this chapter is published in the Sage collection. Horsthemke (2017: 683) gives the reader a useful inquiry, in his opening remarks, when he writes, “[at] the heart of these considerations resides the question whether there is a (set of) perspective(s), a body of thought, and/or a particular way of ‘doing’ philosophy of education that can be called ‘African’.” This is called a useful line of inquiry owing to the work that it inspires in terms of what is developed in this chapter, with each of the questions that he gives us being a useful point of inquiry for each section of the chapter, as it will develop. He proceeds to develop three questions that are poignant when he inquires (Horsthemke, 2017: 682) “Are there uniquely and

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distinctly African ways of philosophizing about education? Are there essentially or characteristically African ideas, arguments about and approaches to education? Are the component concepts, principles, and values of this philosophy sound?” Methodically, the last question is the one with which the analysis will begin with, by way of proving how it is that African concepts, principles, and values of philosophy are sound. This will act as a response to Horsthemke himself. The second section will take up the second question which considers an essentially or characteristically African idea about, arguments about, and approaches to education. The third section treats the first question about unique and distinct African ways of philosophizing about education. To treat the questions in the reverse seeks to demonstrate the point of a South African philosophy of education with more veracity. What follows is a close reading of Horsthemke (2017), demonstrating how his project can get the reader closer to an understanding of a philosophy of education – as it pertains to the continent and its variegated contexts, with South Africa as the chosen example. Importantly, the chapter does not draw from an ubuntu conception to frame education, as stated in Horsthemke’s own work as he reads and works alongside Waghid (2014), with such a move calling for critical responses, as both authors come to the philosophy of ubuntu without a clear linguistic conception of what is intended in the philosophy as it originates from its progenitor groups (cf. Kumalo, 2021b “Inkatha neButho: Linguistically Situating Ubuntu and its Theorisation”). Moreover, the reading of Horsthemke (2017), presented in this chapter, seeks to demonstrate the shortcomings of how Africans have been theorized, historically. Resultantly, the chapter draws from Miller (1990) as a method of demonstrating the point – as Miller does – of the importance of understanding a group, even appealing to Anthropology, where one attempts to think with a tradition that they are alien to. In such a critical reading, the chapter next holds Horsthemke to the same standards that Africans, Asians, and Indigenous communities are held to when working in western traditions. If such an exercise is foreign, this is itself instructive of how the category of Africa has been treated in the project of knowledge making, as a global enterprise. The critical reading of Horsthemke seeks to substantiate the point of taking seriously African thought – and its histories, insofar as Kumalo (2022) has already made the point of deferentially treating the categories of Blackness/Indigeneity.

Critically Reading Kai Horsthemke This line of inquiry, as it is inspired by Horsthemke, is premised on two things. First, in looking to think with and through William Wellington Gqoba and Archibald Campbell Jordan’s contributions, such a project is concerned with clarifying and answering the questions that were found in Horsthemke’s (2017) questions. Second, in the critical reading here, the analysis presented aims to demonstrate that while Horsthemke starts off well, in his analysis, he betrays the very same principles that he elects to apply himself to, by way of failing to answer these questions in

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systematic format. All the while, he curiously makes uncomfortable claims from a place that will generously be viewed as ignorance – for the chapter does not wish to suggest that he speaks from a place of intellectual arrogance that so many Europeans have always been accustomed to speaking from, in viewing their systems of thought as both universal and true. It ought to be noted that they come to make this judgment call on the premise of having established hegemonic modes of thinking, through the use of colonial violence, genocide, whereas in fact – when deeply interrogated – the reader will find the European speaks from a place of deep ethnocentrism than he wishes to acknowledge. And the reason why he will not acknowledge this position is premised on the reality that in said acknowledgment, he will also have to acknowledge his part in the continuance of a system of violence and epistemic injustice. Horsthemke (2017: 684) starts off well in his acknowledgment that “[given] the different historical, geographical, cultural, and social contexts and political circumstances of Africans and education on the African continent, it is reasonable to assume that philosophical priorities differ in accordance with these.” In endnote 1, he makes a useful qualifying statement (quoting from Siegel (2014) about the status of philosophy of education in relation to philosophy as discipline or what he calls “pure” or “proper” philosophy (Horsthemke, 2017: 684), when he further writes: (Horsthemke, 2017: 685 & 697) “Indeed, it would appear that philosophy of education has largely been abandoned by ‘general’ philosophers, especially in the last decades of the twentieth century. Philosophy students generally have no idea of philosophy of education, unlike other forms or areas within philosophical inquiry.” Such a qualifying statement follows on from the assertion that (Horsthemke, 2017: 684) “[part] of the explanation regarding the lack of consensus about the nature of philosophy of education must surely be that the borders between philosophy and other disciplines [. . .] have become increasingly porous,” a claim that is substantiated in his argument, which is demonstrative of his reasoned thinking – so far in the chapter. Moreover, it must be noted, as he does note (Horsthemke, 2017: 685) that “developing a theory of education does not necessarily amount to doing philosophy.” The real problem in his analysis arises when he attempts to make a distinction that he does not qualify sufficiently or back up with sound argumentation and evidence, specifically in relation to said distinction and its application to the role and function of philosophy of education vis-à-vis education on the continent. The qualification reads as follows, and the chapter will implore the reader to allow the latitude of quoting Horsthemke (2017: 688) at length, in this respect – so as to not be misread as misconstruing his argument: A further distinction might be made at this juncture between philosophy as “worldview” and philosophy as “critical activity”. Ethnic philosophy and, to a large extent, sage philosophy exemplify the former (the worldview in question being either divinely inspired, or by the ancestors, or by the tribal elders). [. . .] “ethnophilosophy. . .sees African philosophy as the collective worldview of specific African ethnic groups”, while “sage philosophy—comprises the thoughts of Africans who are not exposed to [w]estern-type education, but are well-versed in their own cultural backgrounds, and adopt a critical approach to the culture.”

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The thinking that is found in the work of Gqoba ([1885]/2015) and Jordan (1979) is demonstrative of said proclivity toward “critical activity,” which is cited in the quotation above here, for both writers apply themselves to the effects of colonial education on the African continent, specifically as missionary education has impacted the ontology – both existential and body/bodies of thought – of the Indigene in the context of South Africa. Both Gqoba and Jordan are not only critical but also highly aware of the changing world that they inhabit, and their awareness extended to the critical consciousness that their readership was also aware of these changes to the extent that the role of education played a crucial aspect in thinking about the successes and failures of the colonial mission on this part of the world. To claim, therefore, that theirs falls outside the purview of “critical activity” is not only misguided but speaks volumes of the racialized modes of thinking that seek to suggest that Africans lack rationality and systematic thought when it comes to matters concerning their lived realities, to the extent that such work can only be undertaken by the thinker of colonial euro-western descent. It is for this reason that Kumalo (2020) interrogates the implicit suggestion that knowledge is knowledge only insofar as it is developed by white scholars. This is to acknowledge the reality that Horsthemke (2017) is writing from a tradition, one that is critiqued by Achebe ([1977]/2019: 11) in its racialized histories that frame “Africa as setting and backdrop which eliminates the African as human factor. Africa as a metaphysical battlefield devoid of all recognizable humanity, into which the wandering European enters at his [sic, own] peril.” It is this history that would have us believe that “critical activity” is reserved for Europe and European descendants wherein the African is incapable of reason and coherent, cogent thought. For the reader who reads such a claim as subjecting Horsthemke to an unfair critique, such an individual is invited to engage with the work of Hegel, Hugh-Trevor Roper, and Placide Tempels whom have all been critiqued for their engagement with and treatment of African thought. In endnote 15, which appears at the conclusion of the passage quoted and examined above here, Horsthemke (2017: 698) notes that “Whether or not sage philosophy could be placed in the rubric of ‘critical activity’ is somewhat controversial.” To this end, the reader is not informed as to why such a placement would be controversial; merely, they are told of the orientations of Oruka’s (1998) concerns with respect to the distinction between ethnophilosophy and sage philosophy, which give the reader no idea as to the controversy alluded to in the previous claim. Moreover, Horsthemke takes it for granted that the philosophical traditions that have the capacity of producing knowledge that is to be regarded as true and valid, and not as relativistic or ethnocentric, are the traditions that emanate from Europe or the west. In choosing to formulate his argument in this way, he loses sight of his own, earlier claim in building up to this proposition wherein he suggests that (Horsthemke, 2017: 687) “significantly more than philosophy elsewhere, African philosophy has been marked indelibly by the colonial experience.” Inclined to be convinced by his project, this chapter is also informed by Kumalo’s (2022: 5) objection wherein he is critical of the treatment of Blackness/Indigeneity on the reasoning that considerations of Blackness/Indigeneity are only worthy of

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intellectual treatment after the arrival of colonialists on the continent. The thinking in this respect is aligned with the work of Christopher Miller (1990) in his Theories of Africans: Francophone Literature and Anthropology in Africa – in his demonstration of the point that Africans are themselves possessive of what Kumalo calls ontological legitimacy, prior to this moment. Moreover, this criticism affirms the critique found in Miller (1990: 50), in his objections to the notion propounded through “Hugh Trevor-Roper’s characterization of African history as the ‘unrewarding gyrations of barbarous tribes in picturesque but irrelevant corners of the globe.’” While it seems that he is aware of the challenges that afflict Africa, with respect to colonialism, it would also seem as though this awareness is selective insofar as it is serving a particular purpose of allowing him to reach certain conclusions in his argument, which denotes a jettisoning of the very same spirit of logic and truth to which he seems to be wedded when addressing African philosophers, whom he claims eschew this principle when advocating for communitarian thinking. To be sure, this chapter is in no way making a defensible or justificatory argument for communitarian thinking and philosophy, as the author is not exhaustively familiar with this tradition in order to mount such a defense. Rather, the objective lies in unearthing the dubious double standards that seem to be at play in the formulation of the argument that the reader will find in Horsthemke (2017). In this formulation, there is yet another conceptual move that aims at delegitimating the role of education as it is developed in Africa, by way of equating a philosophy of education with nationalist-ideological philosophy. To frame this move as delegitimating rests on the disqualification of said philosophy from the project of “critical activity” – a concept which is not sufficiently explained or detailed in Horsthemke’s chapter. The reader will find this disqualification in the figure that distinguishes between philosophy as particular/relative and philosophy as universal (Horsthemke, 2017: 689) wherein nationalist-ideological (political) philosophy is classed under the category of particular/relative activity, which is defined as (687) “marked—if not determined—by the colonial experience. The writings and documented speeches of politicians, statesmen, and prominent liberation movement personalities [. . .] constitute political philosophy that often also has a nationalistideological character.” The reader might inquire as to why this mode of thinking and writing seems problematic for the analysis developed here, and there is a simple response to this question, which has a three-pronged reply. First, Horsthemke writes as if he is aware of the conditions of the African continent with respect to the challenges that are a historical fact, but are not necessarily predicated on what can be conceptualized as a historical fact that was precipitated by an existential necessity – that being the fact of colonial imposition and incursion. Second, while styling himself as conscious of these realities, his work then takes on a form of mystification, wherein he reads the function of an African philosophy of education through Waghid (2014), who himself is not sufficiently familiar with the ethics of ubuntu, which ultimately creates a mode of ventriloquism that casts aspersions on the rationality, thinking, and the ontology of the Indigene/Black subject. Simply, there is a discomfort with the way his chapter

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reads African philosophy and a philosophy of education that can be derived from this, owing to how he is removed not only from context, but even in trying to read the context through the writings of the locals, there continues to be a misreading that perpetuates falsities and misconceptions. The suggestion, here, lies in a project of tracing how Waghid (2014) understands ubuntu, with much of the philosophy that has been developed in this area of scholarship divorcing the constitutive element of corrective/curative violence that allows for the governance of the polity. Colin Chasi’s Ubuntu for Warriors (2021: 181) aptly demonstrates this point, insofar as: . . .to the extent that South Africans have been lulled by discourses of ubuntu that deny the role of war or violence in peace making, the country and its societies and individuals have lost a wide span of interventions and engagements that arise between the paradise of harmony and the hell of nihilistic violence.

The third aspect, which explains the interest in such a reading seeks to demonstrate how such readings create strawman arguments that are intended to style African modes of thought as vacuous, in order to position euro-western traditions as the savior of/to such traditions. There is a sense in which there are incredible misrepresentations of how Africans think, which act to legitimate colonial violence that continues as coloniality in the contemporary age. It is no wonder then that Makeba (1969) contends that “they have to do that because, they have to justify their invasion.” Worst still is the proposition that seeks to muzzle Africans from writing about their own realities, to the extent that many senior intellectuals will caution students of philosophy from applying themselves, systematically to the conditions of the country, on the premise that this creates a parochialism of their work that will gate said students out of the international academy. Troubling, however, is the reality that non-Indigenous and non-South Africans will create careers from writing about the locals. Thus, one must inquire into the logics that underpin such modes of erasure and epistemic violence. In response to the objection that the reading found in this chapter, above here, fails to appreciate the context under which Horsthemke is writing, the response is as follows. As indicated, his work gives useful guiding questions with which to contend as one develops an African philosophy of education. In the same thought, one holds his writing to the scrutiny the reader holds anyone’s writing in any of the western traditions (insofar as these traditions have clearly outlined methodologies that are instructive on how the students of said traditions read, engage with, and write about Euro-American thought). This chapter, then, rests on the thinking that the reader will find in the writing of Ali A. Mazrui (1978: 23) when he suggests that “it is worth accepting this distinction between values, techniques and institutions when we are exploring what Africa has borrowed from the [west]. The modern school itself is an institution so borrowed.” This is to say that the analysis presented here does not seek to style or develop an exceptionalism argument that proposes a return to the past, or a precolonial figuring of the world that is not only illusive but also unobtainable, as the author will gladly concede to the reality that there are institutions inherited from the colonial encounter

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that continue to have bearing on the contemporary world. Additionally, the analysis does not seek to suggest that these inheritances are to be razed to the ground, as such an argument would be nonsensical. Instead, it is to appreciate that what the present moment calls for is a mode of theorizing and thinking that creates conditions of possibility that transcend colonial violence – allowing Africans the ability to write and speak about their realities without the impositions that muzzle and silence them, rendering the intellectuals of the continent as an audience, spellbound by the mysticisms of euro-western inventions. Moreover, and in keeping with this concession that is found in the thinking of Mazrui, the analysis presented here also concurs with the writing of Sabelo NdlovuGatsheni (2018: 2), wherein he argues that “Africans were always present (‘presence Africaine’). Africans were never absent. Africa was never a tabula rasa (Dark Continent). Africans always had their own valid, legitimate and useful knowledge and education systems.” Subsequently, “Epistemic justice is about liberation of reason itself from coloniality” (Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2018: 3) – reason as bound to coloniality is what the reader finds in the curious conceptual moves encountered in Horsthemke’s writing. However, this chapter is not a reply to Horsthemke, as that would require and constitute a wholly different project on its own. The use of his work, in introducing the thinking found here, seeks to clarify that there is a great deal of correction that is still required vis-à-vis the African subject with respect to the articulation and formulation of their Subjectivity, to tell their own stories and narrative, as legitimate and warranting sufficient attention that is not subjected to the ventriloquist moves seen in the misreading(s) of European thinking about Africa. To this end, the chapter proceeds to demonstrate how Africa was, indeed, present and not absent – how Africans have always had their own valid modes of knowing and education systems, a move that will be demonstrated using the South African context as a case of analysis. This is not to be read in a style that seeks to purport radical newness, rather it is to suggest and offer up, to the discourses of philosophy of education, how the experiences of a people of the Southernmost tip of the African continent can inform both the aims and function of education, in the twenty-first century.

A Contested Social Institution: From Rhetoric to Philosophy, as Training Focusing on the South African context will necessitate the use of material that is available in some of the languages of the region, and most importantly languages that the author is competent in. From this material, the chapter proceeds to extrapolate how a philosophy of education that is rooted in the thinking of the scholarship of the chosen interlocutors can be used to think about a model of education that values the ontology of Blackness/Indigeneity. Such a move does not seek to suggest that these thinkers are speaking on behalf of all the constitutive identities that make up the South African nation, rather it aims to demonstrate the historical realities of the arrival of the press and the impact that this had on the lives of those who are

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situated on the southernmost tip of the African continent. To be sure, the Lovedale Press was first established in 1823 – 3 years after the arrival of the British colonial settlers, whose arrival was memorialized – to this day – through the 1820 Settler’s Monument in Makhanda (formerly known as Grahamstown), Eastern Cape South Africa. This first iteration of the Press was set-up at the Missionary Station in Tyhume Valley, 5 km east of the University of Fort Hare, which was to become another one of South Africa and Africa’s proud and long-standing institutions serving the educational desires of the Indigenous populations of the country and the continent, producing leaders like Kenneth Kaunda, Nelson Mandela, Gatsha Buthelezi, and many more. In its initial phase, the Press was under the directorship of Rev. John Ross of the Glasgow Missionary Society and was unfortunately destroyed during the Frontier War of 1834–1835 being reestablished in 1839. This second initiative was also destroyed in 1846–1847 during the war of the Axe. An inference can be made viz the destruction of the Press in moments of the anticolonial clashes between the Indigenous communities and the colonial settlers, which is to say that in view of the threat that the written word was seen to pose to the preexisting life of the Indigene, prior to the establishment of a culture of letters, its destruction served the purpose of attempting to preserve this mode of life. Irrespective of these setbacks that saw the destruction of the Press previously, the final iteration came into being from 1861 and it was this Press that was to survive into the twentieth century, giving us the works of literati like Tiyo Soga’s Uhambo lo Mhambi (1867), SEK Mqhayi’s Ityala Lamawele (1914), and RRR Dhlomo’s An African Tragedy (1928) – which was the first novella written in English by a Black/Indigenous writer; after this title, the Press gave its readership the work of A.C. Jordan’s Ingqumbo Yeminyanya (1939) – the subject of analysis even in this chapter, in its English translation as The Wrath of the Ancestors – which in the 1990s was adapted as a television series for the South African public. The mentioned titles are but a small, widely known, selection of texts that the Press produced in the late nineteenth – moving into the twentieth century. Additionally, it might be useful to remind the reader that the chapter here deals with the second question as posed by Horsthemke (2017: 682) when he thinks through the existence of “essentially or characteristically African ideas, arguments about and approaches to education?” In a later move, still in this section, the analysis will tie this analysis back to the third question that he poses viz the soundness of the concepts that are treated as characteristically African. Moreover, such a move is intended to develop an African philosophy of education, using the questions that he poses, which he undermines through the development of his argument. The reader, who is inclined to read the ontology of Blackness/Indigeneity in ways that perpetuate what Sithole (2020) conceptualizes as the “anti-black world that must be destroyed,” will suggest that the opening remarks fall into the category of nationalist-ideological (political) philosophy, as described in the categorization in Horsthemke’s (2017) argument. Further still, it does not aid the defense of the chapter that the material drawn on to support the argument is knowledge that Horsthemke (2017: 687–688) disregards in his implicit castigation, when he writes that “the hermeneutic trend and artistic or literary trend” are “subsumed by [. . . and constitutive of] elements. . .identified previously [with] ethnic philosophy, sage

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philosophy, and political philosophy.” As to the impropriety of these categories of philosophy, the reader is not taken into the confidence of the writer – Horsthemke – and it is rather ours to conclude for ourselves why we should jettison these modes of philosophy/philosophizing. On these tenets alone, the reader who is inclined to agree with Horsthemke will find this chapter misplaced in such a volume and worthy of exclusion. However, such a thought is without justification, as has already been spelt out above. The chapter becomes worthy of exclusion on the precondition that the works chosen as the foundation of outlining such a philosophy of education are poetic and literary resources. To draw from such works is premised on the factuality of the exclusion of Blackness/Indigeneity from formal spaces of education since the late nineteenth century, with Opland (2015: 2) demonstrating the point historically when he recounts: Initially, under the principalship of William Govan, Lovedale offered its students, both black and white, a non-discriminatory academic education that included the study of Latin and Greek, geometry and mathematics – the standard Victorian education of the day. Gradually, however, the implications of this educational philosophy dawned on the Scottish missionaries, and Govan was replaced by James Stewart in 1870. Stewart introduced a differential system, with white pupils following an academic curriculum and black students pursuing vocational courses such as agriculture, wagonmaking and bookbinding.

The use of the literary sources as that which guides the opining on a South African philosophy of education – inasmuch as it is outlined from the perspective of Black/ Indigenous thinkers – is due to the fact that this was the option to which Black/ Indigenous intellectuals could turn once they were turned away from education – or rather, formal sites of knowledge production in the form of academic disciplines, i.e., Latin and Greek, Geometry and Mathematics, under the logics that informed whiteness. Importantly, this exclusionary logic was formalized under the nationalist Afrikaner – apartheid – government, through the Extension of Higher Education Act of 1959, which was preceded by the Bantu Education Act of 1953. Of equal importance to note are the educational system(s) that existed on the continent prior to the arrival of coloniality on the shores of the continent, systems that were different to the mis-portrayal that the reader will encounter in Horsthemke’s (2017: 690) writing when he writes that “In customary education, children were equipped ‘with the skills appropriate to their gender, in preparation for their distinctive roles in society.’” Mazrui (1978: 24) corrects this misrepresentation by detailing that “The missionary school as a principal medium for helping Africa towards a secular civilization was thus also the central medium for the propagation of a new concept of the devout [and gendered] society. The best schools in colonial Africa were often religious schools.” To describe these institutions as the best merely aims to highlight how some regard western modes of education as the best mode of education. Continuing in the spirit that this chapter is written in – however – in seeking not to pass judgment in favor or against certain modes of education, the objective, here, is merely to outline a philosophy of education from the historical accounts of those who developed a counter historical narrative. The aim is not to

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make a case of how viewing this mode of education as the best, or the discounting of other modes of thinking about education, is symptomatic of a form of epistemic racism that is underpinned by a colonial logic that is synonymous with violence. As indicated in the introductory remarks to this section, here, the interest is in dealing with the second question – concerning the inquiry into whether there exist (Horsthemke, 2017: 682) “characteristically/essentially African ideas, arguments about and approaches to education?” To be sure, he adds (Mazrui, 1978: 26) “This is why the early missionaries, who were also the founders of Africa’s early schools, were somewhat shocked at what they considered a rather loose sexual morality among the Africans.” In correcting the moral laxity, “The missions regarded the home environment as the greatest drawback, sufficiently bad in the estimation of the one missionary to describe the school as an attempt ‘to save the girls of Uganda’” (Mazrui, 1978: 26). Horsthemke (2017), insofar as he misreads and misunderstands the context that he is writing about to the extent of misrepresentation, does not account for the actual nature and form of education as it played itself out on the African continent, prior to the gendered impositions of the colonial metropole. This is troubling for a series of reasons, but the one most concerning is the reality of an intellectual undertaking that continues to perpetuate misrepresentations about the continent, and yet Horsthemke suggests that he is committed to a form of “critical activity” – in line with traditions of philosophical inquiry developed and upheld in the west. His very own argument and modes of reasoning seem to be refuting this point, and yet he chooses to see this – “critical activity,” as a form of formal/universal/ professional philosophy – as a component that is lacking only in African philosophy and by implication the function of an African philosophy of education. The hypocrisy is bewildering to say the least, but the conscious subject will inquire as to the alarm, for it is the nature of Europeans to “write lies about us” in according with the opening epigraph, for the reader will remember that “they have to do that because they have to justify their invasion.” But the chapter should not belabor the point; rather the focus should be a return to the question of the cultivation of “critical activity.” This can be found in the oral cultures of the region. Here, the tradition of storytelling becomes crucial, with Miller (1990: 70) detailing this so, “By speaking and writing in the European languages, the African intellectual makes herself incomprehensible to the majority of the people, who become an object in the intellectual discourse.” As such, it is useful to bear in mind that “The opposition between orality and literacy in [. . .] Africa is not, however, a clear distinction between, on the one hand, a purely authentic precolonial mode of expression preserved intact and, on the other hand, a fully westernised mode undifferentiated from European culture.” And this observation is made in view of the reality that (ibid.: 71) “The heat with which orality is debated among African intellectuals is explained by the ambivalence they feel toward the prestigious but lost autonomy of precolonial African society.” As such, and in answering the question of whether there are characteristically African styles of approaching education, let the argument appeal to the role of orature, oracy, and orality.

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In telling and retelling the (t)old stories, critical questions emerge for the hearer, for the task lies in discerning whether the story is logical, truthful, and subsequently worthy of being ascribed the quality of validity in informing us about/of morality and ethics. The iterative process becomes concerned with logic, truth, and validity once rhetorical mastery has been achieved, which is what informs the hearer of the embellishments, falsities, and/or truthfulness of the story at hand. The sophistication of philosophical exercise and the “rules of logic” emerge from the secondary aspect of considering prose insofar as one is already informed and aware of the rhetoric that gives us good prose – to the extent that it is recited from one generation to the next, giving us the (t)old stories, fables, and folklore from which the reader can derive a taxonomy of ethics that informs our morality. So what are Gyekye (1997) and Waghid (2014) getting at precisely? It is useful to remind the reader that the text concerning Gyekye (1997) mentioned here is his Tradition and Modernity: Philosophical Reflections on the African Experience, while the text of Waghid mentioned is his African Philosophy of Education Reconsidered: On Being Human. The folklore, fable, aphorism/axiom contains ethical and moral prescripts that are only discernible to the hearer if the hearer is familiarly trained in the function and course of discourse – through rhetoric – that Gyekye seems to be advocating for in his own work. This is to say that the audience only get invested in the secondary questions of logic, truth, and validity once they have established a foundational set of principles from which to work, principles that are establish(ed)-able owing to a mastery of the primary conceptual move, i.e., rhetoric. It is only possible to appreciate this fact, once one understands that the system under consideration is situated in the tradition of orature. Consider Gqoba’s ([1885]/2015: 96, 97) composition, in the form of Bed’ – Idlaba’s objection to how the land was governed, as a mode of demonstrating this point: Wa ziledi namanene Kanicinge kenodele: Ngelikete kut’wa apa, Ngaba bebeteta apa, Liyenziwa kuti aba Baluhlanga olumnyama, – Imibuzw’ endoyibuza, Iyakuba yemubalwa.

[And so, dear ladies and gentlemen,/ reflect and consider closely/ the discrimination mentioned/ by those who have spoken here,/ that’s applied to us alone,/ the nations of black people – / there are just a few questions that I would/ put to you.] Gqoba’s ([1885]/2015: 96, 97) composition is instructive – even prior to getting into the details of the fact of education, as institution. The function of education displays the contests that are inherently definitive of its nature, contextually, which is to say that prior to getting into an analysis that seeks to make judgment calls about how precolonial education differed to the form of the colonizer’s, there is rhetorical

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function at play that inaugurates systematic considerations about education. Simply, rhetoric inspires inquiry that facilitates reflexivity with respect to the function of education. To make such a claim is premised on the form that Gqoba deploys in his poetic composition, which is to say that he curates a debate between a series of speakers, who are to consider the function of education and its impacts on the Subjectivity of the Indigene in our context, with education here denoting the forms of education that were imported from the colonial metropoles. As a secondary, and derivative, consideration, it is useful to note that while the author is inclined to think that both Mazrui (1978) and Gqoba (1888) are rhetorically setting up debates, owing to how each of them critiques the impact that colonial education had on the continent, their treatment of this style of education in their writing and in their thinking is curious in how it attempts to placate the colonial master and their tools. An objection can be put against such a mode of reasoning, suggesting that the temporal specificities under which they were writing necessitated that they take on a reserved sense of criticism toward the settler. While this might be true, the author is inspired by another contemporary of theirs, and that is SEK Mqhayi, whose writing is unreserved when he considers the impacts of colonial settler identity in South Africa. The reader encounters a sense of guarded criticism, as both scholars are men of education, specifically – colonial education. Their thinking is informed by the prevailing cultures under which they both have been socialized to the extent that one can draw from Richard Rorty (1999) when he writes about “Education as Socialisation and as Individuation” wherein his analysis gives a better understanding of what is seen in Mazrui and Gqoba. What is highlighted, is a form of socialization that does not have the two scholars speaking critically about education – as imported from the west. This is different to the tone that has defined contemporary debates of education in Africa and South Africa since 2015. Insofar as they are critical, there is a sense in which their training, in the western style, has them somewhat apologetic for the problems that it has inaugurated. What is useful to note, however, is that with the changing centuries these apologetics are critiqued and questioned, seen in the changing tone from Gqoba in the nineteenth century to Mazrui in the twentieth century. Introducing and curating this debate – mentioned above – Gqoba ([1885]/2015: 84) suggests: “Kulamanene sizakukangela ingxoxo yawo, amadodana amatandatu ab’ ete kwase sikuleni, akanela kuti atomalalise ezifundweni zawo zodwa, aqeqesheka atamba, ati tsaka kwapela; akolisa ngento yonke kubafundisi bawo, kubazali, kwizihlobo, nakwintshaba zemfundo, nezemibedesho; sapumelela ngokutandekayo isiqamo sokufundiswa kwawo.” The translation of this quote reads as follows: Of the gentlemen whose debate we shall witness, six of the young men were not only successful in their studies at school, they were disciplined and tractable, and fully qualified; they gave satisfaction in every respect to their teachers, their parents and their friends, as well as to the enemies of education and prayer; the fruit of their studies evoked a loving response.

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Contrasting the views of those who revered the colonial position of education were another set of young men, who had also been socialized through the mode of education that came with the colonial settler to the continent. Theirs, however, was a different approach to education, in its criticality and abjuring attitude toward it, which is captured by Gqoba ([1885]/2015: 84, 85) in the following sentiments: Entlanganisweni apo kwakuko esinye isitandatu samadodana. Nawo ebe kwase mfundweni kuseloko wona ebete esawo isimilo, sapambanisa kanye kunesalawa matandatu okuqala. Ngab’ehlala lemihla, kuko ntwana ngantambo zihlala ziteteka ngawo, nokuba kukukótama, kukulibala akutunywa, kukukóhlisa, kukuhlala enesizatu sokuzilandula entweni zonke, nokuba zezijanina. Kukúpisa ngokungeva, kukwapúla imiteto, kukuma ezihanqeni izwe nezolo, kuteta izinto ezif’ amanqe. Ukuzincoma, ukugagamela izinto ezingawalingeneyo. Ukuhlal’ eziranela izinto, nazifundiswayo, nokuba kusekufundeni amashishini, nokuba kusezi klasini, nokuba kupina. Ahlala ezinto ezikangela ngeliso eligoso, enjalo nje enobunxámo ezintweni, etanda ukuti lemihla afundiswe into entsha nokuba ezokuqala akakaziqondi na. At this meeting, there were another six young men. They had also attended school, but they behaved quite differently, causing more trouble than the first six. They might have stayed in school for an equal length of time, but there was a string of conversation, whether for truancy, failing to deliver a message, cheating, or always finding excuses to avoid doing things, whatever they might be. They refused to listen, broke the rules, stood before the judge day after day, and talked a lot of nonsense. They praised themselves and exaggerated their worth. They were cynical about everything, even what they were taught, in craft lessons, in the classroom, wherever. They viewed everything askance and were always in a hurry to learn something new every day without grasping even the basic lessons.

The reader who is inattentive to the forms of writing that constitute such a compositional strategy will be quick to argue that Gqoba derides the approach that this second set of young men has to the debate on education, and the value that they attribute to the institution of education. Yet the attentive reader will note the interplay of the two worldviews that are under consideration, and their impact on the Indigene, is what the reader witnesses Gqoba attempting to relay to his audience. For Horsthemke (2017) to read Waghid (2014) and Gyekye (1997) in the ways that he does – as cited above – is demonstrative of such a misunderstanding, one that fails to appreciate the function of the mastery of rhetoric as an initial entry point into the secondary and more useful stance of philosophical criticality and inquiry. Moreover, the contribution that comes from Bed’ – Idlaba, which is cited above, comes from one whom had received training from the colonial missionary education system but, owing to his awareness of the world that existed prior to this system, seems to take a critical stance toward colonial education – critical in the sense of evaluative assessment, without prejudicial bias. Gqoba ([1885]/2015: 86, 87) makes this disclaimer about him: “Lomnumzana ungu Bédidlaba, waye eyindoda endala, efundileyo kunene; eb’ite kwase bukwenkweni yawafumana kunene amalungelo emfundo, iwenzelwa ngabantu bolunye uhlanga. . .” “This gentleman Ungrateful was an elderly man with a suitable education; from boyhood he had received the benefits of study at the hands of foreign people; he had been completely liberated from the bonds of darkness, of starting over and over again. . .” In view of the translation of the name, seen in the collection by Opland, Kuse, and Maseko (2015), I should stress

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that I follow in the recommendation and critique found in Kumalo’s (2021a: 166) work when he writes: My objection is predicated on the function of naming, in what can be understood as Black ontology (but what we can zero in on, as Xhosa ways of naming, in the case of Ityala Lamawele). . . .names are sacred and central, and their meaning ought not to be translated but can possibly be interpreted. [. . .] . . . . our names might be derived from our clan name’s praise poetry (which is a mode of encoding history by way of inflecting historical events with the names of those whose actions are worthy of being remembered). In this case, the name “Lucangwana” might have been given to the character as a way of recognising or informing his moral character within the broader scheme of his lineage and ancestry. To translate the name as “small door” (35) [as Hull 2020 does] misreads and ontologically obliterates the context in which said name is given, while side-stepping the complexity that is engineered by Mqhayi in his composition and writing of the dramatic novel.

This form of criticality found in the thinking of Bed’-Idlaba is further articulated in his concluding remarks, prior to commencing with the adjudication of the said debate, when he says: (Gqoba [1885]/2015: 88, 89) “Mna okwam nindibona nje sendincamile, ingaba nini kambe madodana, nani mtinjana wakowetu eningaba nisakolwa koko ningekabaqondi aba bantu kuba nisengabantwana.” “I’ve lost all hope. I don’t know: you might still be satisfied because you’re young and don’t know these people.” The people to whom he refers are the colonial missionaries, whose mode of organizing the world – in Bed’-Idlaba’s view – is not only discriminatory, but also highly prejudicial and the root cause of much of the contemporary problems that the reader will encounter today, owing to these curatorial decisions that were premised on violence and discrimination. As such, the reader is invited to consider the distinction that takes place when the Principalship of Lovedale College shifts from William Govan to James Stewart as detailed above. For, the fact that Bed’-Idlaba is named “Bed’-Idlaba” by Gqoba ([1885]/2015) – a name that is translated by the editors of the collection (Opland, Kuse, & Maseko, 2015) as Ungrateful – is itself instructive of the function of the rhetorical strategy at play. Such a name portrays the character as constituted by the quality of ingratitude owing to the criticality that he takes toward colonial missionary education. But the contribution that he brings to the conversation/debate is one that chides those who are critical of western missionary education. It would seem that the reader is pressed to think about a coeval(ness) that ought to be established between historical and a contemporary mode of education, something akin to the instruction that the reader finds in Ntsikana’s exemplar life that according to Hodgson (1986) and Opland (2015: 4) “was [. . .] able to be a Christian while remaining an African, and this was his legacy to his disciples.” The instruction, then, is for one to pay due deference to both systems of life and not privilege one above the other, and this is what one gets from Bed’-Idlaba’s contribution, a contribution that is predicated on rhetorical ingenuity to the extent that for the untrained reader, they will be unable to comprehend the complexity, parody, and irony that are engineered by Gqoba in the said composition. For, it must be remembered, as found in Zoë Wicomb’s imploration, that ([1993]/2019: 65) “we need a radical pedagogy, a level of literacy that will allow

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our children to read works of literature that will politicize them into an awareness not only of power, but also of the equivocal, the ambiguous, and the ironic that is always embedded in power.” The point here lies in demonstrating the function of rhetoric, in setting up a condition that leads to criticality and inquiry – as already stated above. This is to say that in answering the question, of whether there exists a characteristically African mode of education, here, the subtleties, discernible only to the eye that is trained in the way oracy and orature work, become apparent. The rhetorical format, if followed through thoroughly, demonstrates the tensions that exist within the institution of education as each party, Indigene and colonial settler, is attempting to influence which mode of education ought to prevail in the land. The criticality that the reader encounters in Bed’-Idlaba’s predisposition is articulated as follows in the poetic composition penned by Gqoba ([1885]/2015: 100, 101). Umonile yena kanye, Ngokusuke amuraule; Ngemfundwana encinane, Wonakele ugqibile. Ezigxeka ezindawo Zonke ezifundisayo; Yen’uyis’u Soligoso Uyakolwa zezo zenzo. Endaweni yokumyala Uyambonga emkutaza; Wancamisa ngakumbi ke Ukupatsha esangene. [. . .]

[With this superficial education/ his father made a mess of him,/ restraining and undercooking him,/ shattering him completely,/ slanging all the places/ where education’s offered;/his father Cockeye for his part/ is comfortable with such behaviour./ Instead of scolding him/ he offers him praise and encouragement;/ then he backs him even further/ with his idiotic contribution [. . .]] The critique continues in these terms, which in itself is meant to hold up the mirror of education to all who would question both its quality and usefulness – moreover a questioning that seeks to demonstrate the role of education insofar as the institution is meant to create, of individuals, virtuous people. There is an interesting interplay, however, in that such a virtuosity does not distinguish between those who are committed to the historical mode of life that existed prior to the colonial imposition of incursion, and those who embraced these modes of imposition. Neither system is privileged or denigrated. Both are reflected upon, with the question of which aids us in the process of cultivating human virtue. The reader, resultantly, finds a debate that is curated on the terms of which system of education is more superior, in that the debates range between what mode of life is created by the system of education found in each of the worldviews that characterize what the world was becoming. What Bed’-Idlaba is suggesting is the requisite need to think of education for the purposes for which it is intended, which brings up the aims of education. He draws out the principles that the process of education and educating ought to create of the individual, an upstanding and righteous being, whose mode of relationality with the world rests on said

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righteousness. It is for this reason that he is critical of the ways in which the missionaries are acting, for in their professed aims and objectives, this is their intention, which is unmatched by their actions, whereas the educational system that existed prior to the imposition of British colonial incursion aligned both action and deed with that which was intended or instructed. Mazrui (1978: 29) captures this disjuncture between the professed objectives versus the reality of what was happening as a result of colonial education thusly: “Most schools taught the virtues of obedience instead of the ethos of initiative; they taught the fear of God instead of love of country; they taught the evils of acquisition instead of the strategy of reconciling personal ambition with social obligation.” It is necessary for the colonialist to create such a condition, however, as a mode of enslaving the African subject with the kinds of education that they are subjecting them to. This mode of education is aligned with the aims of colonial incursion insofar as it creates a docile timidity that is unquestioning and uncritical, to the extent that said timidity continues – as exhibited by Africans – to have western scholars writing “lies about us, [. . .] because they have to justify their invasion.” In this respect, the institution under consideration can be both praised and critiqued within the same breath, which demonstrates something that was found in the writing and analysis developed by Mazisi Kunene (1992: 28) when he writes about the ways in which the individual is trained in this style of rhetoric by way of being both praised and critiqued using the concept of “ukubonga.” The ambiguity of the concept “[uku] bonga” aids in the process of relaying the thinking that ought to be discerned by the child in their formal skills acquisition that sharpens their faculties and how they come to understand the world. Such a way of seeing the world rests on the function of discourse within the traditions that abound on the African continent, which were largely orally based, prior to the introduction of the written form. Kunene (1992: 28) continues to stress the point thusly, “This type of educational training is regarded as successful only if the child ‘genius’ thoroughly learns the virtues of humility. As the Zulu saying goes: a person must learn from children and madmen.” For the reader must note, as Kunene (1992: 27) does, that “. . .language was not language but ‘Words’ – their meaning, their correlation to reality, and their prophetic and magical substance. Reality itself could not be ‘real’ until it had been named.” The function of language encountered in the thinking of Kunene demonstrates the importance rhetoric and the oral tradition in the South African context, which was itself a mode of training the individual insofar as they aspired to become an upstanding member of society. Moreover, this function of language underscores how Gqoba uses it with a similar understanding, that is to say that the theoretical articulations of Kunene are exemplified in the use of language encountered in the work of Gqoba. Consider Gqoba ([1885]/2015: 100, 101–102, 103) when he speaks as the character of Bed’-Idlaba still: Makavele az’ agxeke, Ot’ umntwana emusile Emfundweni iminyaka, Wanyinatwa, wagqityelwa,

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Wafunyanwa nangu MOYA Wezo nceba zo SOMANDLA ‘Ze wapuma ezizonda Nabazali sebelila

[You’re free to raise objections/ if you’ve sent your son to school/ for a substantial period of time,/ to be patched and properly trained/ permeated by the SPIRIT/ of the ALMIGHTY,/ and he then emerges dissatisfied,/ with his parents all in tears.] Central, to Bed’-Idlaba’s opining is a mode of thinking about education that takes seriously the virtues it is meant to inculcate in those who are its subjects. To return to Horsthemke (2017: 683), I will treat both the third and second questions first with respect to the analysis that has been presented to this point, when he asks “Are the component concepts, principles, and values of this philosophy sound?” The work of Gqoba ([1885]/2015) demonstrates two things with respect to this question. In the first instance, if the reader and the philosopher pursue truth, the reality shows up that the aspects ascribed to western/universal philosophy by Horsthemke, i.e., “critical activity,” are ascribed and appropriated on a curious foundation, while that which is left out of this schema as particular and relative is categorized as such without sufficient cause and justification. Gqoba, if one takes seriously his project as one that can give us the foundation of outlining an African conception of a philosophy of education that is locally situated, simply presses us to ask why it is that Horsthemke chooses to exclude African philosophy from the realm of critical activity, while demonstrating that he comes to make this comment without having sufficiently canvassed the developments that define African philosophy. In simple terms, there are conflations that happen with respect to how Horsthemke reads Gyekye (1997) and Waghid (2014) to the extent that his misreadings lead him to curious conclusions that have neither sound foundation nor logic. In the introductory section of this chapter, the disclaimer was given that these modes of writing would rather be seen as a form of ignorance as opposed to an exhibition of eurowestern arrogance on his part. While the analysis might do good to stick with this form of reading Horsthemke, it is also pressed to stress the point of epistemic hubris as found in the western tradition(s), insofar as they aim to read and determine all modes of thinking to the point of not being able to admit to the reality of being ignorant of certain realities. The secondary point on which Gqoba is informative, and which helps in answering the question that Horsthemke poses, demonstrates that if one follows the philosophy and its modes of inquiry on the basis of the philosophical underpinnings that determine it, and not a system whose logic is borrowed from elsewhere, such a treatment will reveal a system whose component concepts, principles, and values are both sound, while challenging the imposed thinking that is inherited from colonial thought. That is to say that if the reader follows the first conceptual move, which lies in an appreciation of the function of rhetoric, in the process of training – which itself already gives the reader an answer to the second question, concerning characteristically African modes of reasoning – then they will also understand how one moves from this initial conceptual framing into the second and more important

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philosophical mode of inquiry – giving the reader the philosophical. In moving from the first to the second conceptual stances, understanding these moves, as they are developed internally, means that there is no imposition of one mode of knowing from one part of the world into another, and while Horsthemke seems to be aware of this when he suggests that there will be differences in Africa, owing to the situational context, when conducting the evaluation it seems as though he is unable to transcend his own ethnocentric trappings. In this respect, one must appreciate that the contribution of this chapter begins to apply itself to the question of aims in education – specifically when thinking about aims in the context of a philosophy of education that is articulated from the southernmost tip of the African continent. In keeping with this line of reasoning, the chapter now turns to the second question found in Horsthemke’s (2017: 683) work, and which must be treated as a secondary question with respect to the work done in this chapter. That is the question concerning the reality of whether there are “essentially or characteristically African ideas, arguments about, and approaches to education.” In answering this question, the author will choose to turn to the work of AC Jordan when he writes The Wrath of the Ancestors. It must be said that the author will engage the text as it is translated into the English language and not in the original which is Ingqumbo Yeminyanya, which is to say that in this context, the author will not be making use of isiXhosa which is the original language in which the text was written.

Khangela Ubulumko: Duty as Ethics, Wisdom, and Responsibility To answer the question of whether there are characteristically unique ways of thinking about education on the African continent, and to be exact, in the South African context, it might be useful to begin the exploration of this question using Mazrui. He observes a critical aspect that has defined the characterization of education on the continent when he avers (Mazrui, 1978: 35) “Modern education in Africa has been charged, again and again, with being irrelevant to African conditions and incapable of preparing the young for ‘what they are to practice when they come to become men [sic].’” In the opening lines of the chapter that lead Mazrui (1978: 24) to this conclusion, he contends that “a profound incongruence lay at the heart of the imported education system in Africa. The wrong western values were being provided as an infrastructure for the set of western skills introduced. . .” It is under these observations that the notion of ubulumko comes into play in this analysis, which is a concept that can loosely be translated as wisdom. For the reality that there exists the disclaimer of an imported conception of education, this should tell us that there were modes of education that existed prior to the arrival of the colonial settler. As the arguments have already been recited about the problematic nature in which colonialism and contemporary coloniality style themselves as the only and correct ways of being in the world – seen even in the argument that is developed by Horsthemke – the analysis will not continue to recite this here. It is important to think about, however, the question of ubulumko as a mode of answering the second question found in the analysis that is developed by the

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good colleague Hosrthemke (2017). Primarily, the concept denotes wisdom, to the extent that ubulumko can be a quality that is possessed by those who have attended either the western form of education or those who are knowledgeable and skilled in their own epistemologies and ways of being in the world. To this end, let it be recalled (Kumalo, 2022) that in defining the concept of amaqaba (which denotes the plural of iqaba) the author writes: The concept of iqaba (which is singular for amaqaba) has two meanings. In its original sense, it means those who smear red ochre on their faces (ukuqaba imbola). This group of Black people clung to their systems of political organization, legal frameworks and a moral code that differed from the colonial settler. Mqhayi’s ([1917]/2015: 131) discussion of the lawsuit between a ‘white man and a slave’ demonstrates this point when he writes: “[pambi kokuba litethwe ityala u Mhlekazi uMaqoma uvakalise indawo ethi: ‘Ke apá ema-Xoseni, asinto ikóyo ikóboka, ke ngoko wosel’ esiti elityala alionge njenge tyala lamadoda amabini amangaleleneyo.’” [“Before the case proceeded, His Majesty Maqoma made this point: ‘Here in Xhosaland there is no such thing as a slave, so we would regard the case as one between two men who had made a bargain’”]. In its secondary meaning, which was as a result of this sect of society rejecting colonial modes of being and education, the concept became associated with those who were considered ‘illiterate’, in the colonial modes of education. Illiteracy as associated with amaqaba is predicated on their rejection of missionary colonial education, which was embraced by amagqobhoka (those who rejected pre-colonial epistemic frameworks) and became amakholwa. The popular and contemporary meaning of amaqaba has come to be associated with illiteracy and replaced the first (read original) meaning.

To suggest that this gives a mode of understanding the world that is uniquely African rests on the example that is used in the case of SEK Mqhayi detailing that there is no concept of a slave in African modes of being and understanding the world. Moreover, it should be stressed that under the systems of understanding and organizing the world, the world of amaqaba was able – without the aid of any other from any part of the world – to dispense justice, in the course of legal arbitration eNqileni – constitutive of the peers of both the plaintiff and the accused, to administer medicine to the sick, to code systems of ethical frameworks of existence, and to train younger populations in how to uphold a socially viable system of governance and coexistence. This reality that existed prior to colonial imposition gives the reader the interrelationality that defines the three categories that title this chapter, i.e., Imfundo, Ubulumko, and Nomthetho. This is to say that: Angeke uwazi umthetho ungena mfundo Angeke ulumke, ungena mfundo Angeke ufunde, ungalumkanga[You will not know the law without education/ You will not know wisdom without education/ You will not know education without wisdom].

In this framework, law and wisdom rest on an appreciation of education, while education rests on the cultivation of wisdom, which is to say that one only comes to appreciate the function of education, having applied themselves to the benefits that they derive from it. To be sure, this is not to suggest education as a western conception that is imported or more aptly imposed – owing to colonial incursion.

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Rather this is education insofar as it gave us a legal system, premised on an ethics of moral virtuosity, a system of education that is uniquely developed in the South African context. This education system was also that which cultivated systems of governance for the ruling elites, to the extent that there existed nations with principles of rulership and an underpinning ethics, seen in the case of the exposition that the reader will find in Chasi’s (2021) detailing of the function of Inkatha among the Zulu nation, a concept that is further expounded in Kumalo’s (2021b) exposition, which is encountered in his review essay of Chasi’s book. These concepts, owing to the human exchange that defines the colonial encounter, shift and change, to the extent that in the novel The Wrath of the Ancestors – Jordan (1979: 18) writes as follows: “Though Zanemvula had no formal education, he had a subtle mind and was progressive in outlook. [. . .] Dingindawo on the other hand, was always opposed to anything progressive, and surrounded himself with illiterate, ignorant men whose outlook was rooted in the past.” Progress as associated with those who are educated using the framework of the western style is instructive about the role that western education plays in the perception toward African systems of education – from the nineteenth century onward. To remark in this way acts as a rejoinder to the earlier matter raised in the chapter concerning African intellectuals and how they treated the category of education that existed prior to the one introduced by the colonial missionaries. While the earlier thinkers, as reports Opland (2015: 9), were not oppositional to the modes of living that existed in our contexts, for example, consider Soga’s reply to those who were suspicious of Christianity “[a reply that was] in harmony with Ntsikana’s philosophy: Soga does not denounce belief in the ancestors, but demonstrates how the Christian message might be accommodated, absorbed and assimilated into the Xhosa way of life. The two systems are not antithetical.” The second generation of intellectuals, however, seems to take on a derisive attitude, with the distinction being that the first generation of intellectuals was committed only to spreading the colonial missionary vision and not wholesale conversion, which for its part is instructive about the collaborations between native and settler in the creation of the contemporary conditions, against which one writes. To bring up the point of derision of custom, law, tradition, and beliefs – a matter that is so, to the extent that Gqoba in his 1885 address to the Lovedale Literary Society took on a derisive attitude – is premised on the attitudes that inform the writing of – even – Black/Indigenous intellectuals insofar as some were wedded to the colonial mission, even as they decried some of the conditions that were created by this mode of governance. It is this embracive attitude toward the colonialist and their vision of how the world ought to be not only governed but also curated that gives rise to the recession of the authority of a uniquely African idea about, argument about, and approaches to education. The Black/Indigenous intellectual, for their part and complicity in aiding coloniality, is also responsible for the death of uniquely African conceptions of education, but this must be understood against the backdrop of the lies that Makeba contends are told about Africans, in order to justify invasion. To be sure, there is an intricately complex mode of existence that requires our attention when treating the role of Black/Indigenous

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intellectuals in the colonial project, modes of being that I do not have the sufficient time and space to expound upon here. The point of bringing up Jordan’s treatment of this category of education, even as he does so under the guise of a fictional tale in the literary achievement that was Ingqumbo Yemnyanya – later translated into The Wrath of the Ancestors – is predicated on the fact of tensions that he demonstrates between the conception of education that was, and the reality of a changing world that was, embracing a western style of education. In the figure of the protagonist – Zwelinzima – we see a tussle between duty, duty being the requirement that he fulfill his role as the paramount Chief of the Mpondomise people, and his desire to be an educated man – educated in the western style. This matter vexes him to the point where he implores the Bishop and head of Fort Hare – in the story – for advice on the matter, to which the Bishop responds with a sense of council that tugs on the cords of duty: a moral sense of duty, ubulumko Remember that when your father made you cross so many noted rivers to find sanctuary at Sheshegu, he did this in order that your health might be restored and that you might learn and acquire that wisdom [ubulumko] necessary to a chief who must one day serve his people. Remember also, that your father’s wishes were fulfilled by those men to whose care he entrusted you. And now that the time has come for you to play your part, do you think it would be right for you to deny this duty by saying that you don’t even know this chief Zanemvula? (Jordan, 1979: 38)

The Bishop continues in a way that tells us something about the nature of the world that existed prior to the preponderance and hegemonic hold of the colonial worldview in our part of the world, when he says, (Jordan, 1979: 38) “My son, though I am a White man, I have lived among Africans for a long time and I have a deep respect for some of their customs. I know that among your people the wishes of the dead – especially a parent – are sacred.” Zwelinzima comes to seek out the Bishop’s advice owing to the tension that exists within him, with respect to his ambition for a western style of education, to the extent that Jordan (1979: 36) writes, “It gave him a pang to think he would never attain his ambition like other students, and all because, from the very day he was conceived in his mother’s womb, his destiny and duty had been shaped out for him.” In short, there are characteristically African ideas about, arguments about, and approaches to education, ideas that shift and change owing to the arrival of an educational system that styles itself as far more conducive to development than the one that prevailed prior to the arrival of the western form. In the case of Jordan’s depiction, this distinction is seen in the case of Zanemvula – Zwelinzima’s Father, who had an inclination toward the western style, while Dingindawo represents the African modality, with both culminating in the figure of Zwelinzima, in his ambition to be an educated Black/Indigenous being, an ambition that competes with his duty to his people. The competing nature of these modes of education is seen in the calamity that the reader encounters in the novel, with the root cause of the said calamity being at the heart of Zwelinzima’s ambition to bring about development for his people, while shunning the old ways of the past. What Zwelinzima fails to appreciate is the instruction seen in both Tiyo Soga and

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Ntsikana’s preaching and advice, a mode of existence that allows for both worldviews to coexist with one another, insofar as they are informative of each, specifically in the case of the Indigene. Subsequently, and in answering the question found in Horsthemke’s theorization, the answer is in the affirmative, which is to say that there are uniquely African (or in this instance, South African) ideas about, arguments about, and approaches to education, to the extent that the axiomatic phrase developed above arises, wherein: Angeke uwazi umthetho ungena mfundo Angeke ulumke, ungena mfundo Angeke ufunde, ungalumkanga

Without Conclusion: Philosophizing About Education As this analysis has been developed from the characteristically South African perspective, and in that respect without yet fully exhausting the contributions found in the writing and thinking of Black/Indigenous intellectuals, it would be unwise to conclusively conclude about a philosophy of education. There are three things to say as a way of inspiring further considerations and questions in this area of investigation, however. First, as the reader will recall in the first section of this chapter, rhetoric plays a crucial element in how the reader comes to think about the philosophical principles that inform an African conception of education. As spelt out, and systematically detailed above, the rhetorical aspect is the first entry point that subsequently leads into a secondary and more sophisticated aspect of philosophical principles and reasoning. However, as both Kunene (1992) and I have attempted to demonstrate, rhetoric is a crucial aspect that must be upheld as a mode of training that facilitates a deeper engagement at the philosophical level. One cannot get to the philosophical without the mastery of rhetoric, in our modes of training. Second, the axiomatic phrase that the reader finds developed, owing to the conception that the Indigene has toward education, is indicative of the interrelationality between education, wisdom, and the law. Put simply, these three components create a conception of education that is rooted in a unique and distinct [South] African way of philosophizing about education in that the moral character that is cultivated of the individual – giving the said individual a predisposition toward moral virtuosity – ought to account for how the individual relates to the self and the other, in line with an understanding of education as instructive of law, wisdom, and knowledge. Here, education has a foundational element in our context, which is that of the acquisition of practical skills that facilitate coexisting with others, but there is a secondary and deeper inclination toward education which is rooted in a deeply contemplative life, one that is always in pursuit of moral virtuosity insofar as such virtuosity aligns one with wisdom and the law. Lastly, there is a need to think critically about what is being said about education in the African context. While there might be some good intentioned commentators who are not familiar with African modes of being and understanding the world, who

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engage Africans through the written form, which for all intent and purposes is itself already limited owing to the reality of having to translate concepts from our mother tongue to the English language, which for many on the continent is not our mother tongue, there is a caution to stress about who gets to write about Africa and what it is that they say in so doing. As has already been argued, since the twentieth century, there is a danger in allowing people who know nothing about us to write about us, for their writing will always portray us in ways that contort our systems and ways of life, to fit a pregiven mode of seeing the world. Whether this happens by mistake, or whether it is intentional and aligned with the aims of always subjecting African Subjectivity to the gaze of western modes of seeing and knowing, there is a critical need to think about who writes about African experiences and what it is they say when writing about us. While this examination has ostensibly not been a prescriptive framework of a South African philosophy of education, as positing something akin to this would be a tad bit too ambitious, even for those who have been working in this area of scholarship far longer than I have, I have attempted to demonstrate how we think about education on the southernmost tip of the African continent, a preoccupation with thinking that distinguishes between the system of education that was imported, versus a system of education that is inherently born of this place of the world. Moreover, it is useful to note that in framing this chapter in this way, the objective lies in demonstrating what philosophy of education – as an area of scholarship – can glean from the axiomatic phrase that throws itself up, as a result of the analysis conducted here. Education as it is concerned with the human, and the way in which the human relates to other human beings in their surrounding environs, becomes a project of inculcating moral virtue within the subject of the Subject. Resultantly, education becomes a tool that attends to the problems of society and becomes a tool by which education practitioners heal society, as opposed to an instrument of individual acquisition and self-distinction. This is the orientation that a precolonial conception of education undertook to inculcate in its subject, in our context. An awareness of the law, as it is informed by wisdom and discernment, rests on the love of said wisdom and knowledge, through the process of education itself. This, it can be argued, is a South African philosophy of education, one that does not rest on the importations of western modernity.

References Achebe, C. (2019). Hopes and impediments: Selected essays. Penguin Books. Chasi, C. (2021). Ubuntu for warriors. African World Press. Dhlomo, R. R. R. (1928). An African tragedy. Lovedale Press. Gqoba, W. W. (1888). Ingxoxo Enkulu Ngemfundo: Umzekelo: A great debate on education: A parable. In J. Opland, W. Kuse, & P. Maseko (Eds.), William Wellington Gqoba: Isizwe Esinembali – Xhosa histories and poetry (1873–1888) (pp. 84–209). UKZN Press. Gqoba, W. W. (1885). The native tribes, their laws, customs and beliefs. In J. Opland, W. Kuse, & P. Maseko (Eds.), William Wellington Gqoba: Isizwe Esinembali – Xhosa histories and poetry (1873–1888) (pp. 210–231). UKZN Press.

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Gyekye, K. (1997). Tradition and modernity: Philosophical reflections on the African experience. Oxford University Press. Hodgson, J. (1986). Soga and Dukwana: the Christian struggle for liberation in mid 19th century South Africa. Journal of Religion in Africa, 16(3), 187–208. Horsthemke, K. (2017). African philosophy and education. In A. Afolayan & T. Falola (Eds.), The Palgrave handbook of African philosophy (pp. 683–701). Palgrave Macmillan. Jordan, A. C. (1979). The wrath of the ancestors. Lovedale Press. Kumalo, S. H. (2020). Curriculating from the black archive – Marginality as novelty. Critical Studies in Teaching and Learning, 8(1), 111–132. https://doi.org/10.14426/cristal.v8i1.252 Kumalo, S. H. (2021a). Distinguishing between ontology and decolonisation as praxis. Tydskirf vir Letterkunde, 58(1), 162–168. https://doi.org/10.17159/tl.v58i1.10361 Kumalo, S. H. (2021b). Inkatha neButho: Linguistically situating Ubuntu and its theorisation. International Journal of African Renaissance Studies – Multi, Inter- and Transdisciplinarity., 16, 169. https://doi.org/10.1080/18186874.2021.1993076 Kumalo, S. H. (2022). Amaqaba nama Gqobhoka?: Working through Colonial Derision of Black Ontology. Theoria, 69(173), 1–28. Kunene, M. (1992). Problem in African literature. Research in African Literature, 23(1), 27–44. Makeba, M. (1969). YLE Interview. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wONkMpbl7N8. Accessed on 21 June 2019. Mazrui, A. A. (1978). Political values and the educated class in Africa. Heinmann. Miller, C. L. (1990). Theories of Africans: Francophone literature and anthropology in Africa. University of Chicago Press. Mqhayi, S. E. K. (1914). Ityala Lamawele. Lovedale Press. Mqhayi, S. E. K. ([1917]/2009). U-Maqoma/Maqoma. In J. Opland (Ed.), Abantu Besizwe: Historical and biographical writings, 1902–1944 (pp. 123–144). Wits University Press. Ndlovu-Gatsheni, S. (2018). Epistemic freedom in Africa: Deprovincialization and decolonization. Routledge. Opland, J. (2015). Introduction. In J. Opland, W. Kuse, & P. Maseko (Eds.), William Wellington Gqoba: Isizwe Esinembali – Xhosa histories and poetry (1873–1888) (pp. 1–37). UKZN Press. Opland, J., Kuse, W., Maseko, P., (eds) (2015). William Wellington Gqoba: Isizwe Esinembali Xhosa HIstories and Poetry (1873–1888). Scottsville: UKZN Press. Oruka, O. (1998). Sage philosophy. In P. H. Coetzee & A. P. J. Roux (Eds.), Philosophy from Africa (1st ed.). Oxford University Press. Rorty, R. (1999). Education as Socialization and as Individuation. In his Philosophy and Social Hope (pp. 114–126). London, UK: Penguin Books Siegel, H. (2014). Philosophy of education and the tyranny of practice. Paper presented at the International conference on Bildungsphilosophie: Gegenstandsbereich-diszziplinare Zuordnung – bildungspolitische Bedeutung [Philosophy of education: Topics, disciplinary identity, and its relevance for educational policy], April 3–5, held at Katholische Universitat Eichstatt-Ingolstadt, Germany. Sithole, T. (2020). The black register. Polity Press. Soga, T. (1867). Uhambo lo Mhambi. Lovedale Press. Waghid, Y. (2014). African philosophy of education reconsidered: On being human. Routledge. Wicomb, Z. ([1993]/2018). Culture beyond culture? A South African dilemma. In A. van der Vlies (Ed.), Race, nation, translation: South African essays, 1990–2013 (pp. 58–65). Wits University Press.

Part XI Future Considerations

African Philosophy and the Question of the Future Bruce B. Janz

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Has African Philosophy Said About the Future? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Time and Temporality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Philosophy’s Contribution to the Future of Africa: Philosophy in Early National Postindependence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Are the Concepts in African Philosophy Connected to the Future? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Divination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Destiny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Future of the Individual After Death (Immortality, Reincarnation) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Environment and the Future . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Are Some Proposals for Moving into the Future, in Philosophy and Beyond? . . . . . . . . . Afropessimism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Africanfuturism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Renaissance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ubuntu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Is the Future of African Philosophy? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Does the Fact of Futurity Have to Say to How We Might Do Philosophy in Africa? Becoming-African . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

African philosophy has used the concept of the future in a wide range of ways, but these ways have not been surveyed. This chapter does that by considering five broad types of questions. The first is to ask about what African philosophy has said about the future. This will take us into a discussion of African theories of time, as well as into thinking about the places where African philosophy has contributed something to the question of Africa’s future, particularly in early B. B. Janz (*) University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8_46

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postindependence in various countries. The second question is about the concepts which necessitate some understanding of the future in African philosophy. These include divination, destiny, immortality, and the environment. The third question has to do with philosophy’s part in some proposals for Africa to move into the future. These include a brief look at Afropessimism, Afrofuturism and Africanfuturism, African Renaissance, and Ubuntu, inasmuch as they assume or advocate for a future. The fourth question has to do with proposals that philosophers have made for African philosophy’s own future as a discipline and as an intellectual component to African life. And finally, the fifth question has to do with how we might think of futurity as an integral component of philosophy itself, as part of “becoming-African.” How might the doing of philosophy be seen as facing the future, and how would that change the way it is engaged? Keywords

Future · Time · Divination · Destiny · Afrofuturism · Afropessimism · African Renaissance · Ubuntu

Introduction There are several challenges to thinking about the question of the future in African philosophy. For one, it is a concept that has had relatively little explicit and sustained attention in the field. Much attention has been focused on the past (i.e., recovering a “real” Africa buried under the edifices of colonialism) and the present (i.e., describing the nature of Africa now and addressing current challenges), while the future remains an implication of these, a moral and political outcome of past structures and present actions. Second, the concept is often embedded in a set of related concepts that might disguise its presence. And third, the “question of the future” is really several questions, each of which needs to be approached differently. The goal of this chapter will be to tease apart these questions and briefly explore some of the related concepts, in order to give a sense of what has been said about the future, and then, given the relative paucity of work on the concept currently, sketch out what might be said. This chapter moves through many concepts and texts in what follows, and the goal is not to discuss them in any detail, but rather to isolate how the concept of the future plays a role in that concept or text. The hope is that the cumulative effect of considering many appearances of the future in African philosophy will enable us to see the differences among them, and also the differences all of them have with the way the future is used or assumed in other traditions, particularly those in the West. The question of the future can be approached in at least five ways (there are certainly more questions we could ask, but we will use these as the doorways into the concept). The first is to ask about what African philosophy has said about the future. This requires a discussion of African theories of time, as well as thinking about the places where African philosophy has contributed something to the

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question of Africa’s future, particularly in early postindependence in various countries. The second question is about the concepts which necessitate some understanding of the future in African philosophy. These include divination, destiny, immortality, and the environment. The third question has to do with philosophy’s part in some proposals for Africa to move into the future. These include a brief look at Afropessimism, Afrofuturism and Africanfuturism, African Renaissance, and Ubuntu, inasmuch as they assume or advocate for a future. The fourth question has to do with proposals that philosophers have made for African philosophy’s own future as a discipline and as an intellectual component to African life. And finally, the fifth question has to do with how we might think of futurity as an integral component of philosophy itself, as part of “becoming-African.” How might doing philosophy require facing the future, and how would that change how philosophers engage in it? There is not a single approach to the future or understanding of it across philosophers working on African questions, even at the conceptual level. Concepts are not singular but multiple, and it is fair to say that any concept comes not as one thing but as linked and contrasted to other concepts. Every concept has an ecology. Every concept also has its own level of activation. In other words, it might make a major difference in the larger ecology to which it belongs, or very little difference. And, as soon as one starts exploring concepts we could keep going endlessly (see, for instance, the list of concepts in Critical Terms in Futures Studies, Paul, 2019, or a separate list in Future Theory: A Handbook to Critical Concepts, Waugh & Botha, 2021). An encounter between African philosophy and most of these concepts would be a rich one. In this chapter, though, the task will be to look at the work that already exists and the concepts that have already been engaged by African philosophy, in relation to the future.

What Has African Philosophy Said About the Future? Time and Temporality The place to start, in order to understand part of the ecology of the concept “future” in African philosophy, is with the major theories of time and temporality. Most influential is that of John Mbiti, as sketched out in African Religions and Philosophy (Mbiti, 1969). Mbiti presents his theory of time in the third chapter and uses it throughout the book as a lens to think about African experience and, ultimately, argue for the importance of Christianity. His evangelistic program aside, it is worth thinking about how Mbiti lands on his depiction of African temporality. He is best known for the pair of concepts, the Kiswahili words Sasa and Zamani, which delineate African time. These two concepts are meant to reflect spans of time, Sasa having a sense of “immediacy, nearness, and ‘now-ness’” (21), extending into the near future, while Zamani is “the graveyard of time, the period of termination, the dimension in which everything

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finds its halting point” (23). What is important in this model is that the future is relatively absent. This may well be because that is what Mbiti observed, both in talking with people and in analyzing language (and he takes pains to give examples from a variety of groups), but it is important to note that this model also reflects the Western image of time in Africa, at least from the Enlightenment well into the twentieth century. What distinguished Africans from Westerners, so they believed, was that Africans had little or no sense of the future, and therefore were not interested in long-term plans and built culture. It was part of the racist view that equated Africans with children, which implied that they needed a strong patriarchal presence in order to “grow up.” Mbiti’s initial work on a theory of time was in his doctoral dissertation, done at Cambridge University (Moreau, 1986: 40). His audience for that account was, in other words, the Western academy. This is important because it is easy to see it as a kind of response to some Western depictions of Africans as having little or no sense of the future, as living mainly in the present, or as having a cyclical view of time that does not progress. This kind of account can be seen as far back as Hegel’s account of Africa in the Philosophy of History that it has “no movement or development to exhibit” (Hegel, 1956: 99), or in Lucien Lévy-Bruhl’s connection of the “primitive” sense of the future as being linked to occult powers: Primitive mentality does not trouble to ascend or descend the series of conditions which are themselves conditioned. Their mentality, like ours, starts as a rule from the direct data afforded by the senses, but it immediately abandons what we call objective reality, in order to try and discover the mystic cause, the occult invisible power manifested by a change in the sense-impression. Very often, indeed, this occult power is indicated to it in advance by the preconnections between its representations. The lack of capacity to conceive of a future which is regularly arranged, and indifference to the search after secondary causes, are but two aspects of the same mental condition. (Lévy-Bruhl, 1923: 124)

Mbiti, in other words, could be seen as dignifying and nuancing but not essentially changing this view that Africans do not have a sense of the future. In the hands of Western scholars such as Hegel and Lévy-Bruhl (and there are many others who could be cited), this is a reason to see Africans as at best children in need of training, and at worst little better than animals who live only in and for the present. Mbiti’s goal is to give an account of time that dovetails with religion, and especially Christianity. So this sets the stage for the contemporary discussion of the future in Africa, the idea that Africans have a different sense of the future (or no sense at all) compared to the West. Mbiti grounds his case not in the dubious anthropology of the nineteenth and early twentieth century, but in personal observation and linguistics, but in doing so he sets in place a view of the future that remains in conversation with those racist depictions of time. This was not, of course, the last word on the subject. There have been many critics of Mbiti (e.g., Moreau, 1986; Masolo, 1994: 108–111; Gyekye, 1995: 169–177). There have been many other versions of African time (for one survey of these, unfortunately in an unpublished dissertation, see Kezilahabi, 1985: 113ff; for a summary, see Janz, 2022: 72–74). Some of these, for instance, Masolo and

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Gyekye, make a case that there is indeed a sense of the future in African culture and language. All of these might be thought about as a project of representation, in other words, a project of trying to accurately represent what actually exists within the thought structures of African people. This representational project is important, but it is far from the only way that the question of the future has become relevant in Africa or in African philosophy. Such representation can also be seen in many early postcolonial nationalist projects.

African Philosophy’s Contribution to the Future of Africa: Philosophy in Early National Postindependence To the extent that the theories of earlier national leaders in Africa can be seen as forms of philosophy (as Oruka suggests), another stance toward the future has played a part in African philosophy, this time less representationally (usually) and more aspirationally. In many cases, the rhetoric of building for the future is present. There may not be an explicit theory of time embedded in these projects, but there is a sense that with independence there can be a new day. When it comes to the question of the nature of the future, that early optimism often was predicated on the assumption that once the colonial powers had left governance in the hands of Africans, the Indigenous African spirit would take over and Africa would resume its development. The variations on state-level philosophies with implications about the future were vast, but there was relatively little philosophical focus on the question of the future itself. So, for example, in Kwame Nkrumah’s philosophy of Consciencism, the focus was on decolonization. Once that task had sufficiently taken hold, the door would be opened to a bright future, but that future was indeterminate. For Nkrumah, once the proper ideology was in place, it would “forge . . . a strong continuing link with our past and offer to it an assured bond with our future” (Nkrumah, 1970: 105). This assured bond is a matter of hope and trust, though, not one of knowledge or setting the causal conditions in the present that will guarantee a future. Another example is the first president of Tanzania, Julius Nyerere, who argued for a form of socialism called Ujamaa. He too focuses much more on decolonization than on the specific nature of what the future will look like once the colonial masters have lost their power and their structures have been dismantled. He does speak to the question of “What kind of society are we trying to build?” (Nyerere, 1968: 50ff). His answer to this question is simple: a socialist future. Putting it in these terms, though, is not utopian (at least, nor for Nyerere) – he is more interested in the steps that need to be taken to move the entire society toward egalitarianism. Much of that move, though, is tied up with overcoming the damage done by colonialism. Nyerere’s socialism is grounded in some fundamental principles which prioritize life together over individual advancement (hence, “ujamaa,” or familyhood). These are values which are worth having not just because they produce a desirable future, but because they work in the present. A third example is Kenneth Kaunda, first president of Zambia. His philosophy was one of African humanism. He addressed the question of a humanist’s view of the future

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(Kaunda, 1973: 130–135). He does not think that there is an inexorable movement of progress in history – the problem, as one might expect from a humanist, is with humans. Kaunda’s approach to the future stresses the clarification of intention and vision (“Man’s fundamental problem is an internal one”: 131). What is remarkable, in a section titled “The Humanist’s View of the Future,” is that there is very little specific vision or information about the future. Kaunda’s entire discussion is about the kinds of qualities that will bring about a positive (albeit vague) future. As with other early leaders, Kaunda also sees decolonization as an essential part of Africa moving into its own future, but the future also requires this individual transformation or evolution as well. In most cases, though, that early promise was not realized. And so, some decades after that, there might be disillusionment, unrest, or pessimism. This is in part a pessimism about the prospects in the future for Africa. Those might be because the hopes of dismantling colonial and racist assumptions have proven much more difficult than it first seemed. They might, on the other hand, come from a pessimism about the leaders Africans produced in the early years, and the prospects of anyone better coming along. If these figures who had the best intentions and the loftiest rhetoric could not bring Africa out of the hole that colonialism dug for it, could anyone? What is important to recognize in these nationalist projects is that they do not proceed from Mbiti’s seeming skepticism toward the future, nor do they assume that history is cyclical and that our job is to just keep the circle going. They are all decolonial projects, but they are also progressive in some sense, with an optimistic view that stretches beyond the next few months. Seeing decolonialization as the precondition to the future continues to be a strong thread in philosophy and politics in Africa (see Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2015, but many others as well). To the extent that philosophical theories of politics undergird these nationalist projects, the decolonial imperative foregrounds a more linear or progressivist (or perhaps antiregressivist) version of the future.

What Are the Concepts in African Philosophy Connected to the Future? Almost any concept could conceivably have an element of the future involved with it. For a few in African philosophy, though, the future seems integral to understanding the concept. And, for the purpose of this chapter, these concepts seem like they offer a perspective on how the future is thought, within African philosophy, and so are worth considering. While this chapter cannot go into any great depth with any of these, it can highlight the role that the future plays. These concepts are divination, destiny, and the future of the individual after death (e.g., immortality, reincarnation).

Divination Divination has been widely studied in anthropology but has been paid less attention in philosophy. One who has discussed it is Olúfémi Taiwo (2004), in his discussion

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of Ifá. He goes into significant detail about the procedure of divination, most of which is not relevant to our question of the future here. There are several aspects of interest, though. For one, Ifá is omniscient, and “not bound by the time-space constraints of human knowing” (305). There is, in other words, no future (or for that matter, no past) for Ifá. Everything is present. Therefore, any question of the future in this process will be in the hands of the humans, who are not omniscient. Since this is divination, people consult Ifá in order to know what to do. Between Ifá and the one coming for answers is the babaláwo. The questions brought to Ifá through this person vary, from general ones (the path of a newborn’s life, for instance) to much more specific ones (whether a prospective venture will turn out well, or what kinds of treatments there might be for an illness). There is a question about agency in this process. Is the future unwritten, and so, is the goal to get some direction on making decisions in order to make favorable outcomes as likely as possible? Or, on the other hand, is the future written but just unknown by humans? This is the classic problem of freedom and determinism, of course, but in the case of divination it takes on a somewhat different character. It is not just metaphysical, but rather it is narrative. In other words, the connection between Ifá and the babaláwo is a narrative one, and the connection between the babaláwo and the person bringing the question is also narrative. There is no sense that someone could ask “will this happen or will it not happen?” and expect to get a binary answer. In many divination systems, this convinces skeptics that there is no real prediction happening, and that divination is not to be trusted. But this takes a stand on the nature of the future, which is that there are discrete things that happen outside of our agency and we stand as observers wanting to know how things will turn out. Another stand would be that the future is not yet written, and that the omniscience of Ifá does not imply that a future will be predicted accurately. More likely the divination is meant to enable the supplicant to position themselves in the face of a future. Emmanuel Ofuasia gives some further context to Ifá divination (Ofuasia, 2019) by arguing for a kind of deconstruction happening in the divination process. He does not take up the question of the future in this context, but his portrayal of Ifá suggests a version of the future. The divination process is mediated by a corpus of knowledge recorded in 16 major and 240 minor chapters or cantos. Ofuasia walks the reader through one of the divination processes (the ikin) in which palm nuts are cast to produce a sign, and then the babaláwo recites the cantos and the seeker recognizes in one of them a situation or narrative that matches up with the question being asked. The issue about the future in all of this has to do with the nature of the insight on the part of the seeker about their future. There is a moral component to all this – it is not just about finding one’s own personal advantage in a competitive environment. Furthermore, as Ofuasia sees it, it is not about propositional knowledge about the future at all, but rather how one should act in the future. He argues that religions such as Christianity and Islam are competing propositional systems, whereas Ifá is not. It does not matter whether one believes in it or not: The divination can still occur. This, he argues, is different from a system in which belief ensures a particular kind of future.

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And so, there is a narrative basis to this vision, but there is also a kind of affect that divination is meant to produce. It is a way of facing the future; neither it is propositional knowledge about the future, nor is it a statement of faith in the future meant to produce a particular version of the future or to ensure one’s place in an upcoming cosmic order. The salient question about the future is, how do humans live well together in it? Ofuasia might not actually need deconstruction to make his case. Those who might need deconstruction are those who come to a system like Ifá with the assumption that the secrets of the future will be unlocked, esoteric knowledge will be revealed, and the individual will be able to control that which comes. Ifá itself never made the claim that it was going to provide that, but with a different understanding of the future, from other traditions, one might think that that is what is happening.

Destiny If this account of divination is correct, that has some implications for an account of destiny. Destiny might be thought as a collective future, or as an individual one. It might be thought narratively, that is, as a story in which one is a character that is being played out, or it might be thought as an end state or even a place, where one ends up. The question of the future again looms large here – depending on how one understands the concept, the idea of destiny will look quite different. For instance, in a determinist world, destiny is fixed. The metaphysics is settled, but the human ability to know the results of the causal connections into the future might not exist (see Okolo 1991 for more). Segun Gbadegesin (2004), working from the Yoruba context, poses a number of questions about the nature of destiny. He notes the points of tension over one’s stance toward the future in various versions of destiny. Is destiny, once known through divination, alterable? If someone is shown a destiny that is mostly unfavorable (it is never completely negative, he says), will an optimistic outlook allow that person to change it, or at least minimize the negative parts? And, how do the destinies of people who have close connections to each other relate to each other? These questions lead to others. If one is faced with two options about the future – that it is fixed or it is malleable – how could these coexist? Must there be only one, and the other is at best an illusion? Gbadegesin ends his chapter with the vexing question of how a belief in destiny can coexist with the fact that in practice, people do not give themselves over to resignation (322). They continue to strive for the life they want. This seems like a contradiction for a theory of destiny, but it is perhaps more a question about the nature of the future. (It is worth noting that these questions are not unique to the Yoruba context – Kwame Gyekye comes to some of the same conclusions for the Akan context, Gyekye, 1995: 104ff.) Barry Hallen (2001) echoes some of Gbadegesin’s approach to destiny. He takes up the question of those who are said to have “missed the road” or strayed from the path that their destiny has laid out for them (58ff). If one’s destiny is predestiny, that

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is, fixed in place, what would it mean to stray from a path that is fixed? And what does this mean for any question about the nature of the future in an African context? For Hallen, the crucial thing to remember is that the person’s path is embedded in the social world. If the reason that someone thinks they have strayed from the path is that there are misfortunes or difficult times, this could be not because the person has strayed, but because the path just has those times. But why are there misfortunes? Hallen reports that the onisegun have two kinds of explanations: first, that there is something wrong with the person, and second, that there are others who do not have the person’s best interests at heart (59–60). In the first case, the person simply has a bad destiny, but in the second there is a social element at work. In other words, the social world is not just a collective good to which the individual belongs. It is a complex space in which, even if there is an overall collective good, the destiny of individuals might be thrown off track by actions of others. The future, then, must be a complex space, even though there are also diviners who are able to help people understand their destinies.

The Future of the Individual After Death (Immortality, Reincarnation) One kind of question about destiny has to do with what happens after death. Some, such as A. F. Uduigwomen (1995), describe an African approach to immortality as being remembered as the “living-dead” by those still in this world, and as continuing their legacy through procreation (79). This is not, of course, what everyone means by immortality. This might be seen as a kind of social memory form of immortality – one is immortal through the sustained memory of one’s progeny and through the effect of one’s actions. Immortality for many means something else – either a personal conscious continuation of existence after death, or reincarnation (that is, a break in consciousness and memory but a continuation of oneself, however that is understood). The pressing concern in these versions of immortality might be about what they should do, or what their future is going to be like, or where they go after death. That is certainly part of the question of the future, but the issue is not so simple. But Uduigwomen’s approach does include one aspect of life after death that is important even in these more subjective versions of immortality, which is the idea of ancestors. Whereas in many Western accounts of the afterlife the focus is on an individual’s experience of bliss (or in the case of an unworthy life, damnation), ancestorhood raises the possibility that there is still a connection between the afterlife and this present one. This connection is always seen from the context of those still living – the ancestor embodies wisdom, either individually or as a collective presence that can guide people through the present life. Kwasi Wiredu (2010) gives a good example of this perspective of the living. In his description of ancestorhood, he does not speculate on what the future brings for those who are ancestors, just how they should be honored by those still living. He does contrast Western versions of the afterlife with African ones and establishes that traditional African ones generally do not have a sense that the afterlife comes with a

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day of judgment which ushers in the next phase, either some version of heaven or hell. This is relevant to the question of the future because in the African model, the future does not stand as an incentive for present action. There is no “be good or else you’ll go to hell” sense to the ancestors. It is, rather, the other way around – the future stands as a resource to the present, not a judge of it. One acts in the present not because of incentives from the future, but because the present is inherently difficult and unclear, and the living need all the help they can get to navigate it. As we have already seen in other versions of the future, this is an inherently social sense, rather than an individual one. The living person acts in a social world, and ancestors are part of that social world. The future is part of the present. One of the running issues between these three concepts that use the future as central is what in the West might be seen as the problem of free will and determinism. Whereas in the West this problem might be seen as having solutions that either affirm one or the other of these and see its opposite as an illusion or, on the other hand, mix them in some compatibilist manner, the approaches we see in the African context do not seem to take these routes. The reason for this is the presence of the community, or rather, the recognition that individual action does not simply emerge from inside a biological individual who is assumed to be prior to or beyond the relations with others, but instead that individual is embedded within a community from the beginning. Because of this, the future does not just consist of either the deterministic results of past and present action or is a blank canvas ready to be given form. Divination does not predict the future but gives a narrative about the future that assumes that any individual is always already embedded in a community, and that while there might be trends based on character and position in society, no narrative is set in stone.

The Environment and the Future There was a time in African philosophy when environmental questions were largely ignored. That, happily, has changed, starting with Odera Oruka’s attention to environmental questions (e.g., Oruka, 1994) and extending into much more work in recent years (e.g., Behrens, 2014; Kelbessa, 2014; Horsthemke, 2015; Chimakonam, 2018; Chemhuru, 2019). With this increased attention comes greater attention to the fate of future generations as well as the future of the planet. Questions about the future related to the environment revolve around whether it is a primarily human future that is of concern, and how the future can be engaged as a future, in all its uncertainty, rather than attempting to capture and control it. On the first question, we might think about the difficulty in moving from an ethical framework of community, which has often privileged human well-being, to one which includes the environment. Is Ubuntu capable of this move, for instance? Horsthemke (2015: 97–98) points out that Ukama, a concept from the Shona, already includes a relationship to the natural world along with (as Ubuntu does) other humans and ancestors, but that it might not be functionally very much better in helping us to understand how to live with nature facing the future. The strength of

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these extensions of African ethics may be that they leverage relationality further than a purely anthropocentric ethic might, but the limitation is that it is still difficult to know how we can make decisions when there is uncertainty. This author argued (Janz, 2018) that the missing part of the problem of how one might think about the environment as an element of the future is to see philosophy’s encounter with the environment as the encounter with nonphilosophy. Just as one does not solve the problem of philosophy’s engagement with the environment in the present by widening the moral circle, one does not solve the problem of philosophy’s engagement with the environment in the future by simply framing the future in terms of the needs of humans not yet born. That future is part of relationality in a wide variety of ways and resists being captured by philosophical rationality. In other words, African philosophy arguably has a powerful tool to think about the future and the environment, which is the relationality we already see in a wide range of places in Africa. Behrens (2014) works this out in part: “However much Western philosophers may have agonized and debated over whether we can have moral obligations to future generations, it is almost a non-question in African thought. Intergenerational moral accountability is intrinsic to African thought” (80). And, it is a short step to seeing interspecies and inter-life responsibility as intrinsic as well.

What Are Some Proposals for Moving into the Future, in Philosophy and Beyond? The question of the future might be one of how Africa or Africans might move into the future, and how philosophy might play a part in that. There are, of course, plenty of proposals for what Africans, either individually or collectively, ought to do. Those proposals might claim to be philosophical, or they might be political, literary, esthetic, religious, or something else. The point is that thinking about the future is not necessarily in itself philosophical. But philosophy lies in its questions, not its claims or texts, and so that means it is possible to question these proposals, using philosophical concepts, and see what might be created. Philosophy is not a label for something, or something we find as already formed, but it is something we do. It is the work of thinking through particular kinds of questioning about elements of the lifeworld. In this section, therefore, we will look at some representative proposals that are either directly about the future or have strong implications for the future and see what philosophical questions are raised by them. If there was space, it would be useful to look at visions of the African future that are in the past, to see what their philosophical assumptions and implications were. The easiest of these to analyze are not African at all but involve Africa as the subject in someone else’s imagination of the future. Much has already been done to describe the vision of the future implicit in the “civilizing mission” of colonialists and the eschatological tales of missionaries. More interesting, though, would be the visions of the future of Africans themselves. Contra Mbiti and also contra cyclical versions of time in which the future is seen as a repetition of the past, we can find ways of thinking about the future in the African past. The idea that non-Western cultures are

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unchanging and do not think about the future is just as likely to be the shadow of Western modernity as it is to be about anything within the cultures themselves. So, instead of asking whether there is a concept of the future in traditional Africa, it would be just as reasonable to assume there is (indeed, to recognize that philosophy as the establishment of a space of thought for becoming-human requires reflection on the future) and then ask how it is expressed, explored, and embodied. We will briefly consider some of these ways in what follows here.

Afropessimism Boulou Ebanda de B’béri and P. Eric Louw succinctly sketch out the perspectives on Afropessimism in their introduction to a special issue of Critical Arts (de B’béri & Louw, 2011). They see five ways of understanding it: (1) that Africa is “misrepresented by racists,” which requires Africans to attack these false portrayals; (2) that Africa is misrepresented by Western media, which requires that Africans need a rebranding with more positive images; (3) that Africa is in trouble due to being client states in neocolonial structures, which requires that new African leaders be found who can create better governance; (4) that Africa is badly run because Africans are incapable of governing themselves, which means that Africa should be recolonized; and finally (5) that Africa is hopeless and cannot be fixed because of Africa’s own ungovernability, and the rest of the world should leave them to themselves. The pessimism is, in other words, distributed over several very different targets. The pessimism might come from the continuing racism and colonialism that Africans have to deal with in various ways, or it might come from a kind of despair about the political and bureaucratic structures within the continent, thus laying the core problem at the feet of Africans themselves. Afropessimism might not have a specific disciplinary home, but it could be seen as raising disciplinary questions. For philosophy, one issue is that of affect. How do we face the future? Has facing the future been rendered impossible by the history of racism and colonialism against Africans? What right or justification do Africans have to face the future? One might imagine the opposite of Afropessimism, perhaps an attitude of bullishness toward Africa that one sees in statements like “Africa is the continent of the future” (Delapalme, 2019). This might be an assessment based on demographics (i.e., the relative youth of Africa as compared to other continents, and its subsequent growth rate). What justifies any affect toward the future in Africa? As Lewis Gordon points out (Gordon et al., 2017: 108), both optimism and pessimism are connected to nihilism. “Optimists expect intervention from beyond. Pessimists declare relief is not forthcoming. Neither takes responsibility for what is valued” (108). Gordon concludes from this that what is at stake is epistemic: “Facing the future, the question isn’t what will be or how do we know what will be but instead the realization that whatever is done will be that on which the future will depend. Rejecting optimism and pessimism, there is a supervening alternative: political commitment.” This commitment is, in a broad sense, what I am referring to here

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as affect. Facing the future means facing an unknown, and both pessimism and optimism suggest not only nihilism, but also some kind of established knowledge that supersedes our narratives about it. And the effect of facing the future is always an effect of narrative, a willingness to write what is not-yet, and in so doing bring it into being. This affect presents itself at all levels, from the large-scale collective and social to the individual ability to choose salient facts in the present that will help positively position the self in an uncertain future.

Africanfuturism Nnedi Okorafor makes a case for “Africanfuturism” rather than “Afrofuturism,” in order to prioritize visions of the future from the continent of Africa rather than from the diaspora (Okafor, 2019; Hodapp, 2021). Africanfuturism is “concerned with visions of the future, is interested in technology, leaves the earth, skews optimistic, is centered on and predominantly written by people of African descent (black people) and it is rooted first and foremost in Africa. It’s less concerned with ‘what could have been’ and more concerned with ‘what is and can/will be.’ It acknowledges, grapples with and carries ‘what has been’” (Okafor, 2019). She is not a philosopher, and as with Afrofuturism her vision is worked out aesthetically and literarily. Africanfuturism does, though, raise questions for African philosophy as to what kind of future can be imagined, and what kind of language, both literal and figurative, can be used to speak about that future. While Okarofor’s Africanfuturism specifically pushes back against the erasure or mythologization of Africa itself in Afrofuturism, it is the “future” part that we are interested in here. If the future in Afrofuturism is based in the identity of the actors, in Africanfuturism it is based in a sense of the authentic past. “Africanfuturism (being African-based) will tend to naturally have mystical elements (drawn or grown from actual African cultural beliefs/world views, not something merely made up)” (Okafor, 2019). Leaving to the side the question of whether an authentic African past must have mystical elements, it is worth noting here that whatever future is imagined will be an extension of the past. Even though Okarofor explicitly wants to prioritize Africa in the vision of the future, she is not imagining that this is exclusive of the diaspora. “Africanfuturism is rooted in Africa and then it branches out to embrace all blacks of the Diaspora, this includes the Caribbean, South American, North American, Asia, Europe, Australia. . .wherever we are. It’s global. Africanfuturism is not a wall, it’s a bridge.” So, the point is to recenter Africa in the imagination of the future, based on a sense of authenticity rooted in Africa’s past. For the artist, this gives some direction in the creative process while leaving it wide open for invention. For the philosopher, it raises the question of the libidinal. What kind of energy is directed at creating a future? Where does the desire actually lie, to create a future, and what are the implications of that desire? If Africanfuturism redirects that energy, not toward a general project of Blackness but toward a project of Africanness first, how does that move clarify and distill that energy and desire or, perhaps at the same time,

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constrain or pre-/proscribe its narratives? And, how does or how could this libidinal energy bring into reality a past and a present sufficient to support a future project?

African Renaissance Another potentially future-related way of thinking about Africa is African Renaissance. This is a conception of the future that had its heyday in the 1990s, after the fall of apartheid and the institution of the first free constitution in South Africa, peaked in about 2001, and since Thabo Mbeki’s government ended in 2008 has been used much more sparingly (see Google Ngram for data on the use of the term). Pieter Boele van Hensbroek traces the use of the term further back than the 1990s (van Hensbroek, 2001), in order to give it some context. He looks back to Edward Blyden and the promise of Liberian independence and ties it to Blyden’s proto-Afrocentrist thought. As such, he sees claims about African Renaissance as they appeared in the early years of the South African postapartheid state as grounded in a kind of culturalist logic, and it offers a future based on a kind of national consciousness, a position critiqued by Fanon in his essay “The Trials and Tribulations of National Consciousness” (Fanon, 2004: 97–144). So, the project of African Renaissance might be seen as one that looks back to a culturally fixed definition, and posits a future based on that. It is a renaissance, a rebirth, which implies a previous life that provides the standard for the new life to meet or surpass. It might, though, give us more than just a future based on the success of the past or based on fixing the problems of the past. Ineke van Kessel (2001) points out that Thabo Mbeki’s version of African Renaissance was quite different from the calls for nation-building from earlier eras, in that it was not based on some version of African uniqueness that leads to various forms of nationalism (47). His was a form of universalism, which at the same time was skeptical of Western-dominated forms of globalization. Mabogo More (2002) suggests something more interesting about this rebirth than Mbeki’s revised universalism. He argues that there is indeed a recovery of the past, but one which provides the basis for a future which can be a “return to the source.” This is not a neotraditionalism which supposes that if only Africa could be put back onto its traditional structures all would be well. A return to the source does not mean a denial of the present. It means that the emancipatory move of return is also the potentiality of creating a future not necessitated by the questions which come from elsewhere. It is, rather, a “genuine attempt to transcend Africa’s dark ages” (74). In this sense at least, it is much like the Western Renaissance, in that it recovers ancient wisdom, but resolutely looks to the future. Sylvia Wynter (2015) gives us one of the best models of this, as she makes the case for a version of the Renaissance that does not overcome the Dark Ages by putting into place what she calls “Man1,” the white “rational” male landowner as the new model of the future. That version of the renaissance set up barriers to creation, rather than enabling it. A true Renaissance that recovers the past does not simply set up a new model for the future that

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substitutes for the old one. It makes possible a becoming-African, a creative spirit finally freed to create itself (for more on this, see Janz, 2022: Chap. 1).

Ubuntu Most versions of Ubuntu are past-oriented, in the sense that they focus on the values and practices of community established in the past and passed down in tradition, and how they might direct, suggest, or authorize action in the present. The future, in this version of Ubuntu, is an effect of the past. Ubuntu is often invoked when a community has not held on to its tradition and in some sense lost its way. It is an expression of traditional wisdom, embedded in community, that might bring communities back from the distractions caused by colonialism and other non-African values. Put in these terms, the discussion of the future seems minimal and fairly uninteresting. But those are not the only terms we might think of Ubuntu in. It might instead be seen as a kind of narrative, one that not only leverages a version of tradition which might be seen as restrictive but which also opens up the tradition into a new set of possibilities. But as was seen earlier with the concept of the African Renaissance, this is not the only way that the future can relate to the past. The question of the future in Africa is addressed by Mogobe Ramose (1999) and others (e.g., Mangena, 2016; Janz, 2022) by seeing Ubuntu as a space of thought. Ramose’s specific way of addressing this is to speak of “Be-ing,” which he sees as the meeting of being and becoming. His version of Ubuntu is not just nostalgia for tradition, and because of this it is less susceptible to being captured by political or class interests. His inclusion of becoming makes the commitment to the future explicit, and it also provides a way of thinking about what it means to face that future as a human space. This does not mean that there is any specific future, or for that matter any specific political or social theory implied by Ramose’s version of Ubuntu. But his account of Ubuntu inherently recognizes that the future is unwritten, and that we are in the process of writing it through our decisions, both individual and collective. People in the present are not controlling it, despite what they think, and despite what colonial powers might have tried to convince Africans actually happened. The supposed control of the future that resulted in the “great civilizations” also resulted in rampant climate change, devastating world war, and rapacious capitalism that widened the wealth gap. Ubuntu, on the other hand, treats the future as something humans engage, and also react to.

What Is the Future of African Philosophy? The question of the future might be asked more specifically about African philosophy itself. In some cases, the question of the future is simply a way of outlining the difficulties of doing philosophy in Africa. For Moses Akin Makinde, for instance, the future is bleak because every supporting structure for philosophy has been compromised or withdrawn (Makinde, 1998). With almost a quarter century since

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the publication of Makinde’s eulogy, it is safe to say that things have turned out better than he might have feared. It is always difficult to predict the future. Others set forth an agenda for future research and an assessment of how present trends in research might extend into the future (e.g., Ekechi, 1987). Others still (e.g., Matolino, 2015) present a normative future, based on existing deficiencies in African philosophy and the efforts to correct them. Aga Agada asks the question “Is African Philosophy Progressing?” His answer is no, or at least not much. “African philosophy has failed to make remarkable progress or gain universal recognition in the four to five decades it has existed as a philosophical tradition for reasons ranging from poor attitude towards research, preference for Western philosophy on the part of African philosophical scholars, the seeming absence of original thinkers, among others” (Agada, 2013: 239–240). Agada returns to the question of the future of African philosophy, a couple of years later, and extends his earlier argument to narrate a future based on successes or failures of the past (Agada, 2015). In particular, he is skeptical of the ability of ethnophilosophy to provide a foundation for future philosophy. He sees Oruka’s sage philosophy as also unable to pave the way for a future in African philosophy, mostly on the basis that it has not to this point done so. He makes the case for Consolation philosophy, building on work by Segun Gbadegesin, because it builds on a concept of freedom. The question of the future at this point is about where the innovative scholars and key concepts will come from, so that the work in African philosophy in the future will not just be a rehash of the past. Freedom, therefore, is necessary for this to happen or, rather, is a necessary but perhaps not a sufficient condition for it. And so, Agada returns again to the question of the future, this time through the past (Agada, 2022a). In his contribution to his edited book on ethnophilosophy (Agada, 2022b), his view of ethnophilosophy is more positive. He sees ethnophilosophy as a wellspring of philosophical concepts and turns to Asouzu and Ramose for examples (for another turn to Ramose in a similar manner, see Janz, 2022). While the question of the future is implied rather than addressed here, it is clear that he sees this recovery of a source of concepts as the way that the future will be reached in African philosophy. Others likewise see ethnophilosophy as the key phenomenon that must be addressed in order to move into the future. Pascah Mungwini (2014) follows Sanya Osha in arguing that “postethnophilosophy” enables African philosophy to move out of the past preoccupation with the nature of African philosophy, to a space in which multiple forms of knowledge can coexist. Mungwini does not spend much time on what that future would look like, and so like Agada a revision of ethnophilosophy is the precondition to the future in African philosophy. He does expand on what this future might look like, though, in more recent work (Mungwini, 2022). In this work, he maintains his sense that the future will be a space of multiple forms of knowledge, but instead of postethnophilosophy he leverages Ubuntu, particularly Mogobe Ramose’s version of it, to ground an emancipatory philosophy that will make this space possible. These perspectives on the future of African philosophy raise a question about how one might think the future of philosophy at all. The overwhelming majority of African philosophers would, if asked about the future, most likely point to the

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importance of emancipatory, anticolonial, antiracist work, and they would be correct to do so. But this raises the question of how that work relates to the future. Is it that, once Africa is freed from its brutal past, individuals will then be free to engage in philosophy, in whatever way they see fit, and will then produce an array of ideas and theories about the world? Is it that freedom from that domination is in fact freedom to see, understand, and promote ideas from Africa itself, perhaps as embedded in the cultural and intellectual past, perhaps as produced by those who are authorized to speak from and about Africa, in whatever way we think that authorization should happen? If looking to the future means freeing thinkers to be individuals and act individually, there might simply be a version of liberalism, African-style, in which the marketplace of ideas has been cleared of impediments and encumbrances, and those engaging in market action can now do so freely. That kind of future cannot be written in any specificity, of course, because the market is a complex system, and therefore can only be predicted in a fairly short term. But perhaps the future is not thinkable only as a kind of release from the encumbrances of past colonialism and racism. It is possible, for instance, that one needs to theorize the future even if the hope of shedding the effects of these brutalities is slim. This is what we see in Achille Mbembe’s On the Postcolony (Mbembe, 2001: 2015). He asks what it means to live in the postcolony if that is a “space of proliferation that is not solely disorder, chance, and madness, but emerges from a sort of violent gust, with its languages, its beauty and ugliness, its ways of summing up the world” (Mbembe, 2001: 242). In that space, he agrees with Nietzsche that “We must first learn to enjoy as complete men” and that means “a way of living and existing in uncertainty, chance, irreality, even absurdity” (242). In other words, there is a sense of the future here that is not lived with the precondition of a solution to the problems of the past, even as it robustly supports the project of emancipation. Another way to think about the future in African philosophy, though, would be to see it as something that is directly shaped, rather than something for which we set the preconditions by clearing away the obstructions to its emergence. Such a future might be willed by fiat, based on what someone thinks that philosophy ought to be doing. Or, it might be indexed to nonphilosophical imperatives such as improving society, thus making some version of practicality a guiding principle for the future of philosophy (for more on this, see Oruka 1997; Matolino, 2018; Janz, 2009: especially Chap. 7). The point is this: It is one thing to describe, mourn, prognosticate, or recommend a future for African philosophy, and another thing entirely to reflect on the future as a concept, and think about how that concept relates to the practice of philosophy. That is what we turn to next.

What Does the Fact of Futurity Have to Say to How We Might Do Philosophy in Africa? Becoming-African Disciplines outside of philosophy have sometimes considered what it might be like to orient their work toward the future (e.g., in anthropology, see Pels, 2015, in African literature see Okoro, 2022, and in history see Koselleck, 2004). This is more

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than just speculation on what direction a discipline might or should take, or an attempt to extrapolate future directions from current trends. It is, rather, the question of how an orientation toward the future might shape the way a discipline produces knowledge. It is therefore an orientation toward the unknown, presuming that one is not committed to a deterministic universe in which the future is just a necessary result of the present, and this result is knowable by humans. Orientation to the future also assumes something about the nature of change. Fabien Eboussi-Boulaga (2000) takes up this question in relation to the assumption among some Westerners that no change happens in Africa, that is, that there is at best a cyclical system of repetition of life and practice, and change requires that people break out of that pattern. Eboussi-Boulaga mostly focuses on past change (how to deal with political or economic upheaval, for instance), but he does also give us a mechanism for thinking about the future, in the form of emergence (196ff). He uses insights from complexity theory in biology and dynamic systems in general to suggest a theory of change that is not linear, but in which emergence is the result of random interactions of networks. This emergence might be seen after the fact as a set of causal connections, but the history of causation cannot reliably be used to predict the future. He applies this to African life. African politics and plans for development proceed along modernist (i.e., linear causal) terms, which means that they fail to understand complexity. “We were content to fabricate slogans to extract a variable and to make of it the theme of an annual 5- or 10-year campaign. We have been worn out by this game, which continues” (204). He concludes: “Intuition and spontaneous good sense are not adapted to the situation that Africa faces. We must give them a formulation which reinvents them at the level of the problems of modern times and of a world which is simultaneously inexhaustibly diverse and yet singular” (212). Eboussi-Boulaga does not apply complexity to African philosophy as such, but he does make clear that for African philosophy to reflect on lived experience in Africa, it will have to think about change and causation using the tools of complexity. In a recent book, I have taken this a step further (Janz, 2022) by arguing that African philosophy itself is oriented toward a complex future, one that cannot be predicted from either the past or the present, but which must be grappled with both individually and collectively. This is less a question about how philosophers might understand the concept of the future, and more about how that concept might be relevant to what philosophers do. It might be supposed that the philosophical task is a timeless one, that the concepts we analyze have no location in place or time, and that philosophers are simply describing those concepts and making judgments about which ones are most likely to be true. Understood in these terms, though, philosophy is like a skill or a method wielded by a subject who is not affected by the activity of philosophy, at least not in the moment of philosophizing. The philosopher can stand back or stand above that which is analyzed, a transcendental observer and an acquirer of veridical propositions. This model of philosophy may well describe much of what happens when we philosophize, but what if it misses something? What if it misses the cognitive activity of philosophizing, the coming-to-know moment when we ourselves are

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the subject of inquiry? Philosophy has a place (Janz, 2009), or more accurately, it faces its place and responds to it. Does it also face its own temporality, in particular its futurity? What would that mean? This has the stance that we find in many places in the texts of African philosophers. It is not only in African philosophy, but also in the elements already identified in this chapter for seeing the future as part of a complex space, as the result of both individual decisions and communal knowledge, and as a striving for creation and fecundity rather than just a working out of first principles. If the future is important to philosophy itself, we move from describing and judging to creating, specifically creating concepts for becoming-African. And this is something we see throughout African philosophy. Even simply considering one concept, that of the future, has taken us from describing places where Africans have used it, to seeing that is at the center of doing philosophy in an African place.

Conclusion The goal of this chapter has been to put the concept of the future within its conceptual ecology in African philosophy and explore the ways it has been assumed or deployed by African philosophers. It does not have a single sense or a single use, but its varied senses have connecting threads. If it is possible to move from seeing it as a concept to be analyzed to thinking of it as an integral part of the act of philosophizing in Africa, it is possible to add a crucial dimension to philosophical thought. More than that, though, this chapter has been about how to think with concepts from a place and with a place. “The Future” can be an object of thought, defined and delineated by philosophers. It can be an assumption, part of the furniture of thought that is needed to activate other concepts but is not in itself worth reflection. It can be an agonistic space, the place of the not-yet, the unsettled and contested. And, it can be a space of thought, a concept that makes it possible to ask specific kinds of questions both by what it affords and what it does not afford. African philosophy, in all this, is not just a flavor or subfield that puts its own twist on this concept. It is a space of thought itself, able to raise its own questions and shape concepts in response to those questions. “The Future” as a concept is not a single same thing in every culture. It is, like any concept, a multiple. African philosophy brings the ability to ask the following questions that are left unasked elsewhere, or are seen as inconsequential: • Whereas the future for some in Western traditions might look like Blake’s Albion, the bright new day with new possibilities, the African question cannot afford the luxury of pretending that the past is gone and the future is in the hands of whoever has the power to shape it. • Whereas some might think that the future is individualized, and the fundamental question about the future is about my future, as we have seen here the future in African philosophy is a complex, shared space, and it makes no sense to ask about the future of the individual apart from the community.

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• Whereas some in the West might imagine a utopian distant future in which all the social ills of today have disappeared, the African question about the future cannot afford to ignore the difficult but necessary questions about how we live between now and then. • Whereas some might think that the future is simply caused by the past, the African question about the future includes mechanisms of individual and social deliberation that rarely posit such firm determinism. • And, whereas some in the West might suppose that the future is something to be controlled and dominated, those who themselves have been controlled and dominated throughout history can neither afford nor desire any such illusions. In other words, the specific place in which the question of the future is posed shapes the contour of the discussion and determines the kinds of conceptual ecology that concept lives in. This is philosophy-in-place. And of course, “the African question” is not just a single space of thought, even though there are questions that must be raised at the continental and diasporic level. There are futures, not just a future, as we recognize that everyone lives in multiple places at once. Indeed, those futures interact with each other as projects which sometimes work at cross purposes (e.g., a desired future of nation-building, which requires people to agree on some basic things and work toward shared goals, vs. a desired future for women or LGBT people or diverse ethnic groups, which require a diversity of possible futures which might impinge on that political project, at least in some peoples’ minds). Sometimes, though, the emergent properties of multiple futures do not end up as unproductive.

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Index

A Abortion, 169 Abstracted theory, 35 Abstraction, 34, 524 Acholi language, 272 Àddina, 445 Aesthetics, 285, 288, 289, 291 African communitarian epistemology (ACE), 224 knowledge in, 233–238 meaning and nature of, 231–233 testimony, oral tradition and knowledge acquisition in, 238–241 African cosmologies, 432, 438 African cultures, 19–21 African Endogenous Religions (AER) African modernity, 553 principal tenets of, 543–547 principle of cyclical /corporate harmony, 552 principle of vitalism, 550 African epistemology beliefs and customs, 203 epistemic injustice, 247 epistemic resistance, 248, 262, 263 future concern of, 216–218 hermeneutical injustice, 254–256 ignorance, 258–262 injustice/prejudicial marginalization, African knower, 256, 257 knowledge claims, 246 past discourse, 209–213 present focus, 213–216 testimonial injustice, 251–253 traditional belief systems, 204 African ethics, 9, 106–108, 110, 118 definition, 107, 111 and intercultural philosophy, 115–117 and religion, 112–115 Africanfuturism, 633–634

African humanism, 432, 434–436, 449, 450 African intelligentsia, 140 African knowledge systems, 7 African languages, 4, 443, 449, 451 African logic and African metaphysics, 273–276 trivalence in, 272–273 African mathematics, 206 African metaphysics, 498 African modernity, 553 African moral philosophy, 122–124 animal ethics, 135–136 character and achievement, 130–132 ethical humanism, 126–127 ethics of dignity, 127–130 partiality and impartiality, 133–135 theory of right action, 132–133 African phenomenology, 9, 510 Hountondji, P.J., 513 Masolo’s midway to phenomenology, 526 ontology, 9, 79 Serequeberhan, 512 African philosophy, 4–9, 202–204, 215, 286, 288, 289, 291 development, 381–384 history of, 6 postcolonial, 4 religion (see God’s existence, problem of evil) African philosophy, question of the future, 635–639 Africanfuturism, 633–634 African Renaissance, 634–635 Afropessimism, 632–633 destiny, 628–629 divination, 626–628 early national post-Independence, 625–626 environment and the future, 630–631 future of the individual after death (immortality, reincarnation), 629–630

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 E. Imafidon et al. (eds.), Handbook of African Philosophy, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25149-8

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644 African philosophy, question of the future (cont.) personhood, 183 time and temporality, 623–625 Ubuntu, 635 African physics, 206 African political ethics Botho/ubuntu, 291, 292 African Political Philosophy, 9, 285 definition, 285 African relational environmentalism, 174, 176 African Renaissance, 634–635 African research ethics, 145–146 classification, 146–147 risk assessment in, 147–150 sharing research benefits, 155–156 African Traditional Religion (ATR), 203, 342, 556, 558 African traditional societies, 398, 399 African women, 415, 420, 421, 423–426 Afro-communitarian argument, in eldercare eldercare robots, 98–101 human dignity, 94–98 Afro-communitarianism, 8, 32, 71–75 exclusion challenge, 36–39 criticism of, 33 hierarchical communing and participatory challenge, 41–42 moderate, 42 normativity of being and difference challenge, 39–41 personhood, 59–62 radical, 42 relational dwelling and autonomy, 42–44 theory-praxis gap, 34–36 values system, 62 Afro-personhood theories heteropatriarchy in, 397–400 normative conception, 394–396 ontological conception, 393, 394 race, 401–404 separating the theory from society, 404–408 Afropessimism, 632–633 Afrophone texts, 436 Agbala, 545 Ageism, 42 Age of Enlightenment, 246–250, 257 Akan conceptual scheme, 569 Akan ethics human rights and justice in Akan economic life, 340, 342 human rights and justice in Akan politics, 339 human rights and justice in Akan traditional legal system, 342

Index human rights and justice in religious life, 342 human rights and justice principles in traditio, 333 social life, 336–338 Akrasia, 343 Ala muo, 546 Al-Inkishafi, 433, 434, 437–439, 442, 443, 445, 447, 449, 451 Amadioha deity, 545 Amawamwa, 546 Ancestorhood, 41 Ancestoricism, 552 Ancestors, 151, 275–276 worship, 170 Ancestral revenge, 338 Ancestral world, 338 Androcentrism, 462 Anglo-Saxon tradition, 211 Animal, African Philosophy aesthetic and symbolic value, 464 animal sacrifice, 466 attitudes, 467 benefits, 460 conflicts of interests, 461 culture and customs, 465 epistemology, 460 human-animal relationships, 459 languages, 458 moral anthropocentrism, 461 moral knowledge, 466 non-human animals, 458 ontological hierarchy, 459 ontology and metaphysics, 459 paintings, 463 relationality, 458 research and laboratory animals, 465 rituals and ceremonies, 461 song and poetry, 463 spirits, 459 thought and practices, 458 traditions and cultural practices, 465 treatment, 459 Animal ethics, 124, 132, 135–136 Anocracy, 310, 318, 320, 321 Anormal values system, 50, 63–65 Anthropocentrism, 558 Appiah, K.A., 367, 371 Applied ethics, 117–118, 142 Artificial intelligence (AI) technologies, 9, 88, 89 Arusha Declaration, 442 Ashanti Empire, 342 Ashe, 204 Ashna, 545

Index Assistive robots, 89, 92 Auto-centric virtue theory, 584 Autonomy, 42–44 Ayittey, G., 379 Aymará logical system, 269 Azokwoyi, 547 B Balanced capabilities approach, 173 Bantu language, 116, 433 Bantu philosophy, 18, 209, 477, 550 Bewitchment, 151 Bill of Rights, 339 Bioethics, 141, 142, 145, 182 theories of autonomy in, 187–189 Biological determinism, 400 Bio-prospectors, 156 Bivalent logic, 267–268 Blackness/indigeneity, 390, 403, 597, 600, 601 Black tax, 164 Blackwomxn, 390, 391, 396, 397, 400–403, 407, 408 Bolelelwa, 297 Boolean logic, 267 Botho ethics, 291, 292, 294, 295, 298–301, 304 Botho politics, 294, 296 C Capabilities approach (CA), 88, 93, 172 Capitalism, 289 Care robots, 88, 89, 101 Co-authorship, 76, 78, 82 Cogito ergo sum, 401 Colonial existential epistemology, 416–418, 420, 424–426 Colonialism, 414, 415, 417, 418, 420–427 Coloniality, 599, 600, 602, 611 Coloniality of knowledge, 207, 209 Colonial language, 419 Colonization, 5, 6, 414–416, 418–424, 426 Common humanity, 391 Common Moral Position (CMP), 111 Common property, 336 Communal ethics, 553 Communalism, 14, 15, 17–21, 24, 28, 29, 338 Communalistic, 14, 17, 23, 28 societies, 338 system, 336 Communality, 500 Communal norms, 63 Communal participation and mutuality, 303 Communal responsibility, 182, 185 Communal spirit, 14–16, 18, 21, 24, 28

645 Communitarian epistemology, 230–231 Communitarianism, 432 Community, 15–26, 29 Community of fate, 77, 81 Communocracy, 294 Companion robots, 90, 92, 94 Conception of right, 335 Concept of time, 25–27 Conceptual decolonization, 521 Conceptual/epistemic decolonisation, 207 Consciousness, 418, 419 Consensual democracy, 298 Consolationist metaphysics, 572 Consolationist ontology, 570 Consolationist theodicy, 571 Contemporary cluster view, 492 Cosmological humanisms, 435, 436, 439 COVID-19, 332, 344 Creative energy, 476 Crisis of identity, 475, 481, 486, 488 Critical activity, 597–598, 603 Culture in Africa, 439 community, 186 epistemologies, 150 reorientation, 53 theory, 376–378 universals, 523 Cybercrimes, 351 Cyclical /Corporate Harmony, 550, 552 D Danda (ants), 304 Death and Dying, 438 ancestors, 170 nameless dead, 170 Decolonization, 415, 425–427, 625 Deep ecology, 177 Deified ancestors, 545 Democracy, 301, 330–333, 340, 343, 344, 380 Democratization, 330, 332, 333, 341 Dependency theory, 373–376 Destiny, 476, 477, 480, 487, 488, 628–629 Development, 330 African philosophy of, 381–384 cultural theory, 376–378 definition, 364 dependency or liberation theory, 373–376 modernization theory, 368–373 problem of, in Africa, 365–368 reconstructionist theory, 378–381 Difference, 39–41 Digital colonialism, 357 Digital freedom, 354–355

646 Digitalization, 349 Digital sovereignty, 351–354 Dignity, 88–101, 124, 125, 127–136, 392 Diop, Boubacar Boris, 439, 443–446, 450 Disaster-Avoidance Rationality, 337 Disjunctive moralism, 65 Distributive justice, 337 Divination, 146, 626–628 Divinities, 541, 543, 545–547, 549, 550 Doomi Golo, 444 Douglas, Thomas, 57 Dunia, 440 Dunia Uwanja wa Fujo, 441 Dunia Yao, 440 E Ecology through Ubuntu, 435 Economic activity, 27, 28 Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), 332 Economies of relationality, 71, 82 Edjo, 546 Education, 416, 420, 421, 425, 426 Egalitarianism, 397, 406, 407, 625 Eldercare robots, 89–94 Elderly care, 192 Emukpe deity, 549 Enlightenment, 248, 415, 416 Entitlements, 335 Environmental Philosophy African relational environmentalism, 174, 176 anthropocentric views, 174 climate change, 176 emerging infectious diseases, 177 environmental Philosophy, 166 Kantian ethics, 174 metaphysical animism, 177 sentient nonhuman animals, 175 solidarity, 177, 178 utilitarianism, 175 Epistemic de-superiorisation, 209 Epistemic injustice, 207, 209, 250, 256, 262, 297 Epistemic interface, 208, 212 Epistemic justification, 207, 208, 215, 216 Epistemic normativity, 217–219 Epistemological tyranny, 249, 263 Epistemology, 285, 288, 289, 291, 294 Epistemology of the internet, 202 Equalization scheme, 288 Erha, 546

Index Ethical decision-making, 143 Ethical humanism, 126–127 Ethical values, 335 Ethnocentrism, 38 Ethno-epistemology, 217 Ethnophilosophy, 636 Eurocentric, 434, 435, 437 hegemony, 250 theories, 260 Eurocentrism, 248, 260, 263 European Enlightenment, 434 Exclusion, 36–39 Existential epistemology, 414–417, 420, 421, 423–426 Existentialism, 474, 484, 485, 488 Existentiality of suffering, 483 External impediments, 333 Externalist theory, 215 Extrasensory perception (ESP), 215 Ezechitoke, 544 Ezumezu logi, 273 F Fair competition, 341 Feminist African existential epistemology, 420–422, 424, 426 Feminist ethics, 163 Formal education, 420 Formidable obstacles, 333 Fujo, 441, 452 Fundamental human right, 341 G Gabgyi people, 546, 547 Gender-neutrality, 390, 391, 396, 400, 401, 403, 406, 407 Generic Africanness, 418 Global Expansion of Thought (GET), 115 Global philosophy, 8 God, 541–546, 548, 549, 553 God’s existence, problem of evil African religious thinkers, 557, 559 conflict, 556, 557 divinity, 565 immanence, 560–562 Mackie’s scheme, 563 metaphysical, 566 Oladipo/Wiredu’s, challenge, 567–569 omnipotence, 562, 563, 566 pre-existing, 562 theodicy, 565, 568, 569, 571

Index transcendence, 560–562, 564, 565 transcendental/immanent conceptions, 557 transgression, 557 God’s purpose theory, 477, 492 African philosophers, 495 Akan, 495 anonymous traditional African philosophers, 495 cluster view, 502 communality, 501 destiny, 495–497 metaphysics, 495 relationality, 498 Gyekye, Kwame, 339 H Habitual intelligence, 211 Hermeneutical injustice, 254–257 Heteropatriarchy, 397–400 Hinduism, 542, 547, 548 Horsthemke, K., 595–600 Hountondji, P.J., 513 critique of Husserl’s universals, 518 phenomenology of language, 515 subjectivity problem, 513 universality of meaning, 517 and Wiredu’s approach, 520 Hountondji’s criticism, 227 Human communication, 522 Human dignity Afro-communitarian conceptions of, 94–98 balance condition, 173 capabilities approach, 172 communal/social nature, 171 Kant, 172 Human enhancement, 56 Human existence, 474–479, 481, 484 Humanism, 124–127, 130, 136 Humanness, 585, 586 Human relationships, 440 Human rights, 330–333, 335 in Akan ethic of social life, 336–339 and justice in Akan economic life, 340–342 and justice in Akan politics, 339, 340 and justice in Akan traditional legal system, 342 and justice in religious life of Akans, 342 protection, 349–350 traditional Akan ethics, 333–335, 344 Hunhu, 291 Hybridity, 488

647 I Ibuanyidanda, 303 Identity, 21–24, 28, 29 Igwebuike, 304 Imfundo, 612 Immanence, 560 Immortality, 629 Immunity principle, 335 Impartialism, 134 Imperialism, 369 Indigenous African communities, 15, 16, 20, 23, 24, 26, 27, 29 culture, 14, 21, 23, 24 epistemology, 224 societies, 14, 15, 28, 29 values, 462 Indigenous knowledge, 150 Indigenous languages, 419 Individual liberty, 182, 187, 189 Individual responsibility, 336 Individual rights, 336 Indo-European languages, 450 Informed consent, 182 In-group marginalization of Blackwomxn, 391, 397 Intertextual continuities, 439 Intragroup recognition, 406 Intrinsic dignity, 131, 132, 134, 136 Intuitive (or native) method, 212, 285 Isilwane (Book), 458 Islam, 541, 547 J Janus logic, 270–271 Jordan, A.C. education style, 614 Gqoba, W.W., 597 The Wrath of the Ancestors, 601, 611, 613 Jurisprudence, 335 Justice, 334 K Kafoo didi, 341 Kalu, K.A., 381 Kanga cloths, 440 Kant, Immanuel, 391–393, 396 Kaunda, Kenneth, 625 Kenyan politics, 38 Kezilahabi, Euphrase, 439, 441–443, 452 Kgosi ke kgosi ka batho, 294, 295, 304

648 Kgotla, 296, 297 Knowledge acquisition, 232 Kyadee ntu bi, 336 L Languages, 450, 475, 481 Law of excluded middle, 268 Law of identity, 267 Law of (principle of) non-contradiction, 268 Legal right, 334 Legitimisation, 150 Leys, C., 375 Liberal democracy, Africa, 331–333 Linguistic-cultural schemes, 227 Locke’s epistemology, 246 Love view, 492, 493 M Mackie’s scheme, 563 Manjaco people, 42 Marginalization, 416, 420, 421, 424, 426, 427 Masolo, D.A., 526 Maximal conception of personhood, 61 Maximizing Utility Principle, 337 Meaningful life, 478–481, 485 Meaninglessness of life, 474, 477, 482, 484 Meaning of life, 475, 476, 479, 480 communality, 500, 501 communal view, 492 death and, 482, 483 existentiality of suffering and, 483 relationality, 481, 482 Shona, 493 socio-cultural milestones, 493 theories of meaning, 492 vital force, 498, 500 Yoruba Cluster view, 502 Medical decision making, 166–167 Menkiti, Ifeanyi, 50, 60–62, 66 Mensah, J., 378 Metaphysical animism, 177 Metaphysics/ontology, 291 Micclleland, D., 370 Miller, C., 598 Minimal conception of personhood, 61 Mituki dimension, 26 Moderate anthropocentrism, 461 Modern Africa, 486–488 Modernization theory, 368–373 Monitoring robots, 90, 92 Monopolize, 154

Index Morality, 112 Moral enhancement, 56–58 neocolonialism, 150 partialism, 134 philosophy, 122–127, 132, 133, 135, 136 relationism, 168 zombies, 64, 65 Moral personhood, 15, 21, 24, 28, 29 abortion, 169 Akan ethics, 166 ancestors, 170 moral relationism, 172 normative component, 166 ontological component, 166 personhood, 169 rights, 171 Western bioethics, 167 Muntu, 18 N Nagona, 452 Nativised Africanness, 418 Natural cognitive mode, 214 Natural philosophy, 432, 450 Negative moralism, 65 Negative rights, 337 Negritude, 210 Neo-Marxist analysis of underdevelopment, 374 Neo-positivist perspective, 215 Nested relatedness, 300 Ngaka, 153 Nigeria, 348 19th-century philosophical primer, 437–439 Nonhuman, 432–439, 447, 449–452 Non-indigenous African languages, 4 Non-recognition of Blackwomxn’s personhood, 391, 396, 397, 408 No-party political system, 320 Normal values system, 50, 63–65 Normative personhood, 50, 62, 64–66, 130–132 Norm creation, 77, 78 Ntu, 204 The Nuremburg Code, 165 Nyama, 205 Nyasibwi, 546, 547 O Object-oriented ontology, 451 October Revolution, 322 Odo cult/religion, 543

Index Ofamfa-Matemasie epistemology, 209 Oghene, 545 Oladipo, O., 380 Omabe, 543 Omanhene, 342 Ongoing-ness, 299 Onisegun’s testimony, 238 Ontological personhood ethical humanism, 126–127 ethics of dignity, 127–130 Open anocracies, 321 Open-endedness, 299 Oppression, 416, 417, 423, 424 Osabu-Kle, D., 379 Ought-onomy, 193–194 P Participation, 41–42 patriarchal politics, 42 Peirce, C.S., 271–272 Personal autonomy in African socio-cultural contexts of healthcare, 191–192 value of, 189–191 Personal identity, 5 Personal ought-onomy, 193 Personhood theory, 16, 19–24, 28, 29, 50, 59–62, 183–187, 475, 479, 501 animal ethics, 135–136 character and achievement dignity, 130–132 ethical humanism, 126–127 ethics of dignity, 127–130 partiality and impartiality, 133–135 theory of right action, 132–133 Pessimism, 332 Phenomenology African, 510 analytical tradition, 510 definition, 510 intersectional modalities, 510 language, 515 Philosophy and an African Culture, 213 Philosophy of African endogenous religion, 540–543, 547, 548, 550, 551, 554 Philosophy of education, Ubuntu African philosophy, 583 auto-centric theory, 585 community, 587 connectedness/humanness, 591 educational aims, 578, 580, 582, 583, 590 human nature conceptions, 578–582

649 human nature conceptualization, 590 humanness, 586 interconnectedness/humanness, 588 neoliberal conceptualization, 588 other-regarding virtues, 586, 589 self-actualization virtues, 578 self-regarding virtues, 585 social context, 579 social contract tradition, 584 Philosophy of education, 595 role and function of, 596 status of, 596 with nationalist-ideological philosophy, 598 Platonic dichotomy, 423 Political culture, 332 Political ethics, 291, 292, 294–296, 301 Postcolonial African philosophy, 4 Postcolonial literature in African languages, 443 Posthumanism, 81 Post-modernist, 285 Post-Structural Adjustment Africa, 145 Power relations, 391, 397, 400, 402, 404, 405, 409 Pre-colonial political structures, 422 Predominant egoism, 336 Pre-given destiny, 495 Principle of connectivity, 551 Principle of regenerativity, 551 Principles in Akanland, 335 Processual personhood, 184 Psychological egoism, 336 Q Queen mother, 339 The question of method, 207, 216, 217 Qur’an, 440 Qur’anic law, 342 R Race, 401–404 Radical moral enhancement, 58 Rational choice theory, 337 Reciprocal rights and duties, 337 Reconstructionist theory, 378–381 Reflective perception, 523 Regulations, 141 Reincarnation, 629 Relational autonomy, 188 Relational dwelling, 43 Relational ethic, 110

650 Relationalism, 460 Relationality, 475, 481, 485, 488 Religion and African ethics, 112–115 Research integrity, 143 Responsible Conduct of Research, 141 Retributive justice, 338 Ritual murders, 343 Rituals of incorporation, 390, 398 Robots, 88–90, 93–95, 98 Afro-communitarian evaluation, 98–101 assistive, 89, 92 companion, 90, 92, 94 monitoring, 90, 92 Rwanda, 364 S Sagacity, 30 Sage philosophy, 29 Scientific validity, 152 Sesotho/Setswana, 435 Shared identity, 109, 110 Shared knowledge, 302 Shekwoyi, 544, 545 Shona culture, 117 Shona language, 114, 116 Simunye, 298 Sin, 548 Skepticism, 626 Slavery, 343 Social and political philosophy African heritage and legacy, 314, 315 African people, 325 African scholars, 311, 312 anocracy, 320–322 challenges, 310 civil disobedience, 311, 313, 314, 322, 323, 326 democracy, 310, 325 democracy in Africa, 318, 319 desuperiorisation, 316 heritage, 317 liberal philosophers, 324 philosophical field, 310 Pineda’s analysis, 323 structural racism, 313 Sudanese civilians, 324 Western philosophy, 316 Social equilibrium, 113 Social ethics, 117 Social robots, 70 humanity, uniqueness and, 78–82 nature of moral community, 76–78 relationality in afro-communitarianism, 71–75

Index Socio-cultural nature of religion, 542 South African Journal of Philosophy (SAJP), 492 Spirits, 546, 547, 552 Status dignity, 131, 132 Stigmatisation, 149 Structural marginalization, 145 Subjugation, 297, 414, 416, 423, 424, 427 Subordinate chiefs, 342 Sub-Saharan African bioethics, 162 ubuntu, 162 Suffering, 483–486 Sufi Islam, 433, 443, 445 Sufi Muslim, 439, 447 Sufism, 440, 442, 443 Supernatural path to knowledge, 214 Supreme Being, 340 Swahili, 433, 436, 437, 439–441, 443, 445, 448, 449, 451 T Techno-communal beings, 71 Technological enhancement, 62 Technologized moralism, 63, 64 Technologized personhood, 62–64 Technology governance challenges, 359 digital freedom, 355 and human rights, 348 Techno-relationality, 70 Temporality, 623 Tene period, 26 Testimonial injustice, 251, 252 Textual cultures, 432, 436, 437, 439, 449 Textually subliminal gaps, 390, 396 Textual traditions, 432, 433 Theism, 557, 560, 564, 566, 569, 572 Theocentrism, 558 Theodicy, 557–559, 565, 568, 569 Theory of right action, 132–133 Theory of ubuntu, 462 Theory-praxis gap, 34–36 Therisanyo, 297 Thingification, 512 “Third wave of African protests”, 322 Third World countries, 332 Tikologo, 435 Time, 623, 624 Tongue-neutral statements, 524 Tongue-relative statements, 524 Totemism, 177 Toxic relationality, 80, 82

Index

651

Traditional Akan, 335 Traditional Akan ethics, 333 Traditional legal system, 342 Traditional medicine, 149 Transcendental idealism, 234 Trans-cultural system of values, 406 Transformative suffering, 484 Transhumanism, 50–58 Tribalism, 38 Trivalent logic, 266 African, 272–273 Aymará system, 269 and bivalent logic, 267–268 Charles Sanders Peirce system, 271–272 Janus system, 270–271 Truth, 293, 294, 297, 298, 525 Tyranny, 297

Unanimitarian democracy, 298 UN Charter of human rights, 337 Underdevelopment, 290, 295, 369, 372–375 Unethical behaviour, 294 US Foreign Affairs Newsletter, 332 Utilitarianism, 108, 175

U Ubuntu, 16, 21, 40, 45, 124, 598, 635 definition, 163 ethics, 291–293, 298–301, 304 ‘an excellent African quality’, 163 feminist ethics, 163 normative component, 166 ontological component, 166 personhood, 164 Ubuntu and bioethics “African” bioethics, 162 autonomy, 165 challenges, 165 environmental philosophy, 166 human dignity, 166 moral personhood, 166 padiatrics and geriatrics, 178 strategy, 166 “Western” bioethics, 162, 164 Ubuntugogy, 292 Ubuntuism, 481, 488 Uhuru, 442 Ujamaa, 15, 21, 441, 442, 625 Umhlaba, 452 Umuntu Ngumuntu Ngabantu, 16

W Wellman, Carl, 334 We-ness, 300 Western counterparts, 335 Western ethics, 106, 111 Western ethos, 337 Western modernity, 542, 551 Western-oriented epistemology, 218 Wiredu, Akwasi, 339 Wolof, 436, 439, 443–448 Women in politics, 422 Wrangling’ over the price, 28 The Wrath of the Ancestors, 601, 611, 613 Wrong-making characteristics, 143

V Vaccines, 436 Venda philosophy, 16 Verhelst, T., 377 Vernaculars, 419 Vijiji vya Ujamaa, 441 Vital force theory, 475–478, 480, 492, 498, 500 Vitalism, 550

Y Yoruba belief system, 215 (Yoruba) Cluster view, 492, 502 Young, C., 378 Z Zhibaje, 547 Zuhdiyya, 437