African Philosophy of Education Reconsidered

On being human

Yusef Waghid

• Éditeur: Routledge
• Année: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781135969691
• Édition: 1
• Sujet: Éducation
• Sous-sujet: Éducation générale

Much of the literature on the African philosophy of education juxtaposes two philosophical strands as mutually exclusive entities; traditional ethnophilosophy on the one hand, and 'scientific African philosophy on the other. While traditional ethnophilosophy is associated with the cultural artefacts, narratives, folklore and music of Africa's peop

1 In defence of a communitarian view of African philosophy of education

Introduction

In this chapter I examine what constitutes African philosophy of education, focusing on African thought and practices. Primarily I shall examine how African ethnophilosophy of education differs from a scientific African philosophy of education, before arguing in defence of a communitarian, reasonable and culture-dependent view of African philosophy of education. Concomitant with the aforementioned view of philosophy of education, I argue that criticisms of an African philosophy of education should not be taken lightly. Hence, analytically I also address some of the objections to and concerns about the use of the concept that some people might have and show that an African philosophy of education can be considered as a plausible concept, at least in the analytical sense. This brings me to a discussion of African ethnophilosophy of education.

African ethnophilosophy of education

Taking my cue from Burbules and Abowitz (2008: 268), philosophy of education can be considered as a practice, that is ‘a socially established, cooperative human activity that has normative standards that govern its activity, and which is adapted to local contexts and innovations over time’. This ‘situated’ notion of philosophy of education departs from two dominant and dichotomous views: First, the view that embraces a ‘commitment to timeless standards of argument and reason, and its recurring attention to fundamental questions of truth, value and meaning that establish continuity across philosophers from before Socrates to the present day'; and second, the radically historicised view that integrates the expression of worldviews within a particular cultural and historical context, always partisan and implicated in social dynamics of power, and merely contingent in its ability to persuade or compel’ (Burbules and Abowitz, 2008: 268). Before I make a case for a communitarian, reasonable and culture-dependent view of African philosophy of education that can be considered as a ‘situated’ philosophy of education in order to ‘illuminate the significant educational dimensions underlying major philosophical problems’ (Burbules and Abowitz, 2008: 273), I shall examine how African ethnophilosophy of education connects with aspects of the afore-mentioned two dominant views.

It seems as if African ethnophilosophy of education is concerned with the history, culture, language and traditions of Africa's peoples, including evidences offered through a reference to indigenous folklore, proverbs, oral narratives, artefacts, wise sayings of sages, and superstitions (Appiah, 2000: 123–124). This approach to African ethnophilosophy conceives philosophy of education as an engagement with ‘communal thought … [as] opposed to seeing [and examining it] as a body of logically argued thoughts of individuals’ (Bodunrin, 1981: 161). Thus, from the myths, folktales, beliefs, proverbs and languages, ethnophilosophy envisages to (re)construct a quintessential African approach to education (Seller, 1984: 21). A prominent proponent of an African ethnophilosophy of education is Oruka (1990). Although he was emphatic in his earlier manuscripts that African philosophy of education could not be equated with ethnophilosophy of education, he later became more accepting of the concept and concedes that it (that is ethnophilosophy) occupies a significant place in African philosophy of education. While Oruka (2002) distinguishes ethnophilosophy from philosophic sagacity, the thoughts and words of men and women who are considered to be the wise ones within African communities are constitutive of what an ethnophilosophic practice entails. This is because examining cultural artefacts, narratives and the wisdom of age-old beliefs is in fact an activity of an ethnocentric nature – one that occurs through participation, observation and description. Considering that African ethnophilosophy of education is attentive, on the one hand, to truth, culture and the meanings of African people's thoughts and practices and, on the other hand, to the historical and cultural worldviews of often authoritarian persons (such as the sages), African ethnophilosophy of education has an inherent connection with metaphysical value judgements that are invariably couched in the discourse of philosophic activity, albeit in a complex and ambiguous way. For instance, African sages do reflect on and offer reasons for and arguments on the nature of the person, freedom of the will, immortality, and how to live one's life. Yet, at times, sages justify their reasons in relation to authoritarian traditional thought such as an appeal to ‘what our ancestors said’ or ‘to gods and all sorts of spirits’ (Appiah, 2000: 127). It is an appellation to superstition that brings African ethnophilosophy of education into conflict with the rigour of reason and argumentation (Wiredu, 1980: 41), that is, the critical and reflective nature of philosophy of education itself. What the latter point reveals is not a rejection of African ethnophilosophy of education per se, as concepts such as life, meaning, person, mind, reality, reason, understanding, truth, good and justice are central to the canon of such a philosophy of education. In fact, the uncritical treatment of African ethnophilosophy of education would undermine the activities of analysis, exposition and critique – all considered as critical to philosophy of education. Therefore, Wiredu (1980) – an Anglophone philosopher from Ghana – and Hountondji (1983) – a francophone philosopher from Benin – have emerged as two vehement critics of an African ethnophilosophy of education. In continuing, I will now offer an analysis of their criticisms.

For Wiredu (1980: ix), African ethnophilosophy of education considers traditional modes of thought as too restrictive in the sense that African ethnophilosophers (I would argue, of education) are too unreflective and unwilling to borrow and refine methods of Western philosophical analysis that can be applied to the conceptual problems of African life. This criticism of African ethnophilosophy of education is corroborated by Kaphagawani (2000: 91), who asserts that ‘Ethnophilosophy [of education] has come under a lot of criticism. It has been charged with conflating philosophy, mysticism, and religion, and hence paying lip-service to reason and critical analysis’. I agree with Wiredu (and Kaphagawani, for that matter) to the extent that African ethnophilosophy of education cannot be blind to philosophical methods of reflection and argumentation that have proved to be so successful in Western philosophy. It does not make sense to ignore the ideas of, say, Kant, Hegel, Wittgenstein or Dewey in order to think differently about education on the African continent and to assume that geographic positioning alone can resolve major problems that beset African communities. To have a disdain for Hegelian thought just because Hegel did not live on the African continent and that his ideas therefore might be inappropriate to Africa would be tantamount to depriving ourselves of gaining insights into the ways others not from Africa conceived of the world and its problems, as well as the of ways in which the latter have been addressed, instead of remaining philosophically naïve. In fact, to adopt a disdainful attitude towards the views of those, who are not African, would be undermining of an African philosophy itself – since it would imply that any contribution from the African continent cannot have any bearing beyond Africa. And yet, Africa has the most to gain, since, as Appiah (2000: 118) notes – there is too little written about Africa that is philosophically serious, and refers to such a deliberate rejection of others' views as mere ‘carping’. It is for this reason that Wiredu (1980) made a sustained assault on the preservation of traditional thought and practices that are not subjected to critical scrutiny through others' value systems. This does not mean that one must simply project Western philosophical thinking onto indigenous ways of knowing and doing. Rather, for African ethnophilosophy of education to be considered as philosophical, it also must reflect a willingness to engage with the methods and claims of other traditions, albeit of a Western kind. In this regard, Wiredu (1980: 10) posits: ‘[the concern of] … a contemporary African philosopher's conception of African (ethno)philosophy is whether it enables him to engage fruitfully in the activity of modern (Western) philosophising with an African conscience’.

Hountondji's (1983: 104) objection to African ethnophilosophy of education is premised on the view that such a philosophy not only belongs to entire communities, but that it exists mostly in oral tradition. The fact that such a philosophy is considered the proprietorship of communities makes the issue about negotiating and compromising on beliefs and traditions almost impracticable, as is the case with several indigenous communities failing to relinquish their adherence to superstitious beliefs and their insistence on using mainly traditional herbal remedies, often at the expense of curative Western medicines. However, what is somewhat disconcerting about Hountondji's assertion in connection with ‘orality’ being considered as a necessary condition for the existence of philosophy and philosophy of education is the view that the oral tradition does not contribute to African philosophy of education's status as an exact ‘science’. According to him, ‘African philosophy … [of education is] a set of texts, specifically the set of texts written by Africans themselves and described as philosophical by their authors themselves’ (Hountondji, 1983: 33). Of course, written texts afford people an opportunity to systematically engage with the coherent forms of argumentation and they might respond more insightfully and critically to the authored pieces of writing. However, even an existing piece of authorship does not necessarily secure sophisticated articulation or persuasive argumentation, as is often the case with several written journal articles and books on, say, the subject of ethnophilosophy itself. However, texts do offer readers opportunities to engage with the ideas of others through sustained efforts of criticism, reflection and evaluation which might not always be possible if one just listens to the oral narratives of others. And while Hountondji might be right to question African ethnophilosophy of education's abundant reliance on ‘orality’, to claim that ‘orality’ is unacceptable and inconsistent with the demands of ‘science’ is to assume a too radical position. Because if Africa's peoples were to begin to construct solutions for Africa's political, cultural and economic problems on the basis of talking to one another and learning to talk back (instead of just reading and communicating through texts), it might just be the catalyst required by Africans to deliberate in and about a common language of understanding. While I am not dismissive of Hountondji's critique, I find his position somewhat too exuberant and overzealous in the quest to solve major philosophical problems with an educational impetus on the African continent. I now turn my attention to a discussion of scientific African philosophy of education.

Scientific African philosophy of education

A major theoretical statement on what constitutes a scientific African philosophy of education is related to the seminal thoughts of Hountondji (2002: 84) – a vociferous critic of African ethnophilosophy. He considers repetitive stories recounted from generation to generation as unsophisticated constructions of human speech, and hence in contradistinction with the methodology of philosophy itself. He argues that philosophy is a ‘strict science’ aimed at ‘challenging, explaining, interpreting with a view to transforming’ (Hountondji, 2002: 91). And, contrary to such a view, he avers that African ethnophilosophy of education is uncreative in that it enables one to indulge ‘lazily [in] seeking refuge … behind the thought[s] of the ancestors’ (Hountondji, 2002: 128). He warns against ‘the temptation of a reductive, unilateral, and overly simplifying reading of cultures, and especially, of the worldviews of the African continent’ (Hountondji, 2002: 81). His valorisation of ‘science’ seeks to situate African philosophy of education as a legitimate form of methodological inquiry with the same aims as those of any other philosophy in the world, within the geographical context of its authors (Hountondji, 2002: 126). In short, African philosophy of education is that form of methodological inquiry that relies on rational justification and interpretive argumentation with the intent to bring about a critical transformation of African thought and practice. In the main, his task, as he puts it, was to establish the legitimacy of an intellectual project that was both authentically African and authentically philosophical (Appiah in Hountondji, 2002: xiii).

Moreover, Hountondji connects his thesis of a scientific African philosophy of education to progressive ‘structures of dialogue and argument without which no science (that is African philosophy of education) is possible’ (Hountondji, 2002: 73). It seems as if, for Hountondji, ‘structures of dialogue and argument’ are constitutive of what a scientific representation of African philosophy of education shows. Conversely any misrecognition or non-commitment to ‘structures of dialogue and argumentation’ would distort any credible, scientific African philosophy of education. But before I explore how Hountondji's scientific acclaim of African philosophy of education relates to some of the methodological concerns of two of the dominant views of philosophy of education, as alluded to in the beginning of this chapter, I first need to take issue with Hountondji, whose call for a scientific African philosophy of education to be connected to ‘structures of dialogue and argument’ seems somewhat ambiguous in relation to his critique of African ethnophilosophy of education.

Considering that philosophy takes into account the narratives and life experiences of Africans, whose ‘structures of dialogue and argumentation’ invariably involve listening to the voices of others (no matter how ill-informed), then it follows that ‘structures of dialogue and argumentation’ cannot simply dismiss oral tradition and cultural narratives – unless Hountondji assumes that ‘structures of dialogue and argumentation’ relate only to offering persuasive arguments through a rational articulation of points of view. But then rational argumentation and persuasion are not necessarily related to eloquence and philosophical justification alone. To my mind, listening to what the other has to say, albeit unimportant or inarticulate justifications, brings to the fore the voices of people who would otherwise have been muted or marginalised. For instance, the view of an African sage (ondudu) or his followers, offered in conversation, should not necessarily be dismissed as irrelevant to the dialogue just because it may possibly not be expressed eloquently. What makes a dialogue a conversation is that people are willing to listen to one another's ideas without putting them down or dismissing their subjective views as being unworthy of consideration. A dialogue becomes a legitimate conversation when points of view are expressed in a way that allows the other to offer his or her rejoinder, no matter how ill-informed. In view of this, Hountondji's critique of African ethnophilosophy of education does not hold water, since it reflects the moral standpoints and cultural justifications of people whose exclusion from dialogue would nullify legitimate conversation among people. Hountondji himself values the importance of listening to others as an ‘advantage of facilitating dialogue and moderating, on occasion, the excessive passion of the most aggressive opponents’ (Hountondji, 2002: 81). This perhaps is why he claims that his earlier critique of African ethnophilosophy of education and rejection of collective thought through dialogue were ‘a bit excessive’ (Hountondji, 2002: 128).

Similarly, listening to the stories of others does not mean that one uncritically accepts everything someone else has to say. Dialogue also means that one challenges and questions the points of view of others, if these points of view might not seem to be valid within the matrix of one's understanding, or if one has not been convinced of the legitimacy of the articulations of the other person. Hountondji (2002: 139) acknowledges the importance of criticising the views of others in the sense that ‘higher-level formulation’ requires that one does not passively accept the viewpoints of others or ‘the questions that others ask themselves or ask us from their own preoccupations’ – a practice he refers to as conscious rationality (Hountondji, 2002: 255). His contention is that rationality is not given in advance. Instead, it needs to be developed ‘in a spirit of solidarity and sharing … so that the germs of ignorance and poverty will be eliminated forever from planet earth’ (Hountondji, 2002: 258). To my mind, Hountondji paradoxically advocates a notion of dialogue and argumentation that does not necessarily have to exclude the stories of others – that is to say, he makes a claim for some of the methodological aspects of African ethnophilosophy that he seemingly finds irrelevant to the discourse of scientific African philosophy of education.

The argument that a scientific African philosophy of education invokes and advocates rational deliberation and argumentation can be connected to the dominant view of philosophy of education as a mode of inquiry, because scientific African philosophy of education wants to retain a sense of distanced objectivity through a commitment to timeless standards of dialogical argument and reason and, of course, its recurring attention to fundamental questions of truth, value and meaning – as if the voices of others in the oral tradition are forms of untruth and of insignificant value and meaning. Perhaps, inherent in Houtondji's depiction of ‘higher-level formulation’ is a misconceived analogy with sophisticated articulation, and therefore, truthful meaning. Hountondji's obsession with framing scientific African philosophy of education along the constraints of ‘dialogue and argumentation’ seems to be at variance with the other hegemonic view of philosophy of education as a radically historicised account of philosophy that acknowledges and articulates the worldviews of Africans within their particular cultural and historical contexts. Surely discounting the oral stories of people is tantamount to disconnecting them from their cultural and historical contexts. Therefore it seems as if Hountondji's valorisation of scientific African philosophy of education is actually a recommitment to the view of philosophy as a form of distanced objectivity – a ‘view from nowhere’ that does not recognise people (with their imperfections and corporeal conditions) to be real, material agents of the practice of philosophy of education. In this way, it seems as if Hountondji wants to establish and maintain African philosophy of education as a pure and immaterial ‘science’. On the contrary, African philosophy of education (like any philosophy of education) cannot be dehistoricised, because, in their attempts to address recurrent human problems and concerns, all practices happen over time, and these practices cannot be divorced from the people who lay claim to them. Likewise, African philosophy of education cannot be disconnected from the cultural beliefs, norms and oral traditions of people, as human concerns, although not transcendental and always universal, are certainly culturally situated. To avoid undermining ‘dialogue and argumentation’, and because an African philosophy of education cannot be distanced from historically and culturally embedded human activity, I want to suggest an alternative view of African philosophy of education. Such a view draws on both aspects of the dichotomous views of philosophy of education – one that is decidedly not just a form of distanced objectivity, and one that does not overwhelmingly rely on the conventions of people's beliefs and values. Rather, I want to offer a view of African philosophy of education grounded in both reason and culture in order to illuminate the educational dimensions of major philosophical problems on the African continent in a different way. It is to such a discussion that I now turn my attention.

Towards a communitarian, reasonable and culture-dependent view of African philosophy of education

An African philosophy of education that is communitarian has in mind two practices: first, that what people do is as a result of engagement, and not just as a result of participating communally, as if acting in community implies that people just meet without any serious sharing of ideas and even taking one another's points of view into systematic controversy. Claiming that an African philosophy of education should have a communitarian affiliation implies that one recognises that such a philosophy creates opportunities for human engagement. Second, to engage with one another in a communitarian spirit requires that one actually recognises the other persons with whom one engages to have a legitimate voice that should be heard. Put differently, communitarianism implies that one has a due regard for what the other has to say and actually listens while the other is talking. By implication, for an African philosophy of education to be communitarian, it has in mind people engaging with one another while simultaneously affording one another the time and communal space to be heard, in the form of listening to what others have to say and to engender talking back. What follows from such a communitarian argument is that conditions would be established for people to be reasonably and culturally engaged. Communitarianism can be traced back to the seminal thoughts of three political philosophers: Michael Sandel (1982), Michael Walzer (1983) and Charles Taylor (1989). Sandel (1982) coined the term ‘encumbered selves’ to argue that individuals act according to a complex web of responsibilities to others and convictions imparted through communities – in other words, people rarely act in their own self-interests. Walzer (1983) posits that people have an inclination to establish political identities that arise from historical situations wherein they see themselves as members of tribes and cultures. Taylor (1989) emphasises the dialogical positioning of human selves and argues that humans can enjoy shared, common goods as opposed to goods that are merely convergent individual goods. Together, these three views constitute the basis of communitarian thinking that offers a critique of the abstract, atomistic, and individualist aspirations of people associated with parochial liberalist thought. Thus, ontologically speaking, communitarianism accentuates the communal and/or relational nature of human selves, which, in turn, advocates for a recovery of the primacy of community in social relations among people. Although not de...