Showing posts with label Economic Anthropology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Economic Anthropology. Show all posts

AFRICAN DEVELOPMENT: THE RELEVANCE AND IMPLICATIONS OF INDIGENOUSNESS

AFRICAN DEVELOPMENT: THE RELEVANCE AND IMPLICATIONS OF INDIGENOUSNESS

George J. Sefa Dei, Department of Sociology, OISE, University of Toronto

ABSTRACT
Locating indigenousness in the application of the cultural resource knowledge base of local peoples, this paper critically explores alternative ways of presenting the discourse and practice of African development. The paper examines the relevance and implications of indigenous knowledge; that is, knowledge associated with longterm occupancy of a place, for the process and objective of development in postcolonial Africa. The author calls for locally-defined development; that is, development that reflects the lived realities, and the cultural and political goals and aspirations of African peoples. It is a form of development rooted in indigenous peoples’ sense of moral and spiritual values, and the connections between the social and natural worlds. 

INTRODUCTION
In this paper, I examine indigenous cultural knowledge of African peoples as a counter-hegemonic knowledge to the conventional discourse on African development. My interest lies in the examination of African cultural resource knowledge as a form of epistemological recuperation for local peoples. It does not require any great sense of intellectual imagination or a stretched theoretical understanding of social reality to declare that international development, as is conventionally practised, has met with disappointment in Africa. The euphoria of international development is fast wearing thin, at least in the minds of many local peoples. The development obituary is about to be written, if not already composed (Sachs, 1992). The valorization of international development is justifiably replaced with pillorization. So-called development has come at a high human, ecological, political and ethical cost to Africans, literally putting to shame any assumption of innocence in the conventional development agenda and practice. Development, with an emphasis on materialization/materialism, has been uneven, uncertain and inequitable. Any economic gains have been spurious at best and channelled to the already wealthy segments of society. Meanwhile, the social, spiritual, emotional and psychological aspects of development remain largely unaddressed.

What has been institutionalized as development is economically unjustified (e.g., rising income and wealth disparities among local peoples), ecologically unsound (e.g., the problem of ecocide), and socially and morally bankrupt (e.g., economic agreements that work for a small minority of corporate capital interests). A striking feature of African urban social life is a disturbing spiritual and cultural decadence in the midst of political and economic disintegration in the face of an encroachment of global finance capital. The African poor are repeatedly being told to tighten their belts. But how can the poor tighten their belts when people do not have the luxury of a belt in the first place? Unfortunately, if these remarks appear to be a pessimistic rendition of African development it is indeed a situation that cannot be lost on the critical observer of the contemporary African scene. 

It is no exaggeration to say that the cultural resource base and knowledge of local peoples have been the least analyzed for their contributions to African development (see also Matowanyika, 1990; Warren, Slikkerveer and Brokensha, 1995). This paper calls for a shift in the development paradigm to examine what the indigenous African cultural knowledge base can offer in terms of an alternative approach to African development. Enthusing an alternative, African-centred development1 is bound to raise an array of complex and contentious theoretical, methodological and policy issues. In this discussion, I locate indigenousness in the context of the application of the local cultural resource information in developing a genuinely African-centred development. My discursive practice is to extend analytical debates about development by implicating the African indigenousness in both the objective and practice of social development. I argue for an alternative approach to African development, one which is anchored in a retrieval, revitalization or restoration of the indigenous African sense of shared, sustainable social values. It is contended that African peoples have to reclaim or reappropriate their cultural resource knowledge in order to appreciate the power of collective responsibility for social development. 

Indigenousness may be defined as knowledge consciousness arising locally and in association with long-term occupancy of a place. Indigenousness refers to the traditional2 norms and social values, as well as mental constructs which guide, organize and regulate African ways of living and making sense of their world. Indigenous knowledge differs from conventional knowledge because of an absence of colonial and imperial imposition. The notion of indigenousness highlights the power relations and dynamics embedded in the production, interrogation, validation and dissemination of global knowledge about international development. It also recognizes the multiple and collective origins of knowledge and affirms that the interpretation or analysis of social reality is subject to different and sometimes oppositional perspectives. 

There are different ways to think about and conceptualize the processes of knowledge production. What constitutes valid theoretical and empirical knowledge in development practice has today become a point of contention for many. Local peoples are forcefully articulating their concerns about the historical denigration and manipulation of the traditional cultural values of African peoples. They have asked why Euro-American values and norms are privileged in the development process without an acknowledgement of the value of indigenous African knowledge (see also Fals-Borda and Rahman, 1991, writing in a different context). In the process of questioning hitherto taken-for-granted assumptions about development, many indigenous and local peoples are attempting to reclaim and reinvigorate their marginalized knowledges. They are challenging common-sense views about international development. They are unpacking the institutional ideologies that tend to obscure and distort their social realities. The social vibrancy, political and cultural revival being exhibited, particularly in certain rural communities, provide a base for launching such criticisms.

Elsewhere, (Dei, 1993a) I have presented my thoughts about some of the theoretical and methodological issues concerning African development. I have argued that it is immoral for us to continue to articulate a development agenda in terms relevant to global capital and transnational corporate interest, at the same time that the daily needs of local peoples are not being met. Current processes of economic, political and cultural globalization have resulted in a crisis of knowledge about society, the crisis manifest in the contradictions and tensions of a competitive knowledge economy, the internationalization of labour, and the concomitant struggles over power-sharing among social groups. Globalization has also accelerated the flow of cultures across geographical, political, and cultural borders. The commodification of knowledge and culture across space and time has implications far beyond a maintenance of the integrity of local cultural production. As Ahmad (1995) shows, the developing world has to vigorously confront current insidious attempts at cultural, economic, and political recolonization. 

An alternative approach to African development must deal with the dilemmas and contradictions of globalization such as the devaluation and fragmentation of traditional values and beliefs, the erosion of spirituality, and the distortions in local, regional and national economies. There is some urgency for an appropriate social theory of development - a theory of development well-rooted in indigenous African worldviews. An approach to development must reclaim and tap local peoples’ world views in order to identify, generate and articulate new visions of social transformation. An understanding of local experiences provides the requisite building blocks for developing strategies for social and economic change. 

For the idea of development to have any credibility at all, it must speak to the social, cultural, economic, political, spiritual and cosmological aspects of local peoples’ lives, as well as to their specific needs and aspirations. Debates about “development” must be situated in appropriate social contexts that provide practical and social meaning to the actors as subjects, rather than as objects of development discourse. This is a critical perspective on development that argues that local communities should own and control the solutions to their own problems (see also Kankwenda, 1994). It is a critique of the North’s approach to development in the South and also of the sub-text that shapes conventional development practice (see also Heron, 1996). This critical perspective also recognizes that real and effective local community control (over the development process) is possible only if the development agenda seeks to centre indigenous knowledge systems in the search for solutions to human problems. This means articulating an alternative conception and praxis of development, one which does not reproduce the existing total local dependency on external (expert) advice, knowledge and resource. Local input must be from the grassroots and should tap the diverse views, opinions, resources and interests manifested in the cultural values and norms of local communities. 

African Indigenousness
To discuss the African indigenousness, it is important to acknowledge the ethnic and cultural diversity, as well as the historical contingencies and specificities of African peoples. I am also aware of the fact that some common elements in African indigenous knowledge systems can be found in diverse or variant forms among indigenous peoples in other parts of the world (see also Dia, 1991). Furthermore, indigenous knowledge systems and traditions contain sites and sources of cultural disempowerment for certain groups in society (e.g., women and ethnic/cultural minorities)[Machila, 1992: 18]. Cultural resource knowledge is not frozen in time and space. While I focus on some common underlying socio-cultural themes and values (see also Machila, 1992: 16), I also recognize that the actual practices associated with these social values may differ across space and time.

Understanding the social, natural, cultural, spiritual, individual and collective components of development requires an interrogation of Africa’s “...traditional knowledge and know-how, those which have precisely maintained our societies throughout the ages....” (Gueye, 1995: 10). The indigenous past is informative. The African past provides positive (solutionoriented) lessons about sustainable traditions of group mutuality, spirituality, selfhelp, communal bonding and social responsibility that can be appropriated to aid the search for an alternative approach to development. 

The African past speaks to sustainable traditions and social values that can be recovered and reconstituted for social development. Indigenousness does not engender ignorance or backwardness. On the contrary, it provides avenues for creativity and resourcefulness on the part of local peoples. As argued elsewhere (Dei, 1994a), the indigenous African sense of being human speaks about the wholeness of relationships, compassion, hospitality and generosity, in a world today which is fragmented, polarized and is destructive of people. The African humanness as a value system speaks to the importance of relating to, rather than mastery over nature and the environment. Many indigenous African cultural traditions emphasize and reward individual sensibilities and social consciousness. The indigenous African civilization was not simply a matter of technological advancement. It was one of social responsibility. 

Indigenous African social values privilege communal solidarity. Traditional social groupings, such as lineages, clans, age sets and grades, acted as corporate bodies, protecting the integrity of critical resources (e.g., land) which could not be divided without being destroyed. At times, such social groupings acted as a work force for tasks requiring larger labour pools than individual families could provide. The groups provided social comfort, identity and a sense of belonging to a community, particularly in times of stress and hardship. One function of such bodies was educating the youth, particularly the inculcation of communal values and a sense of collective commitment. Similarly, traditions of mutuality were exhibited by many indigenous forms of mutual self-help groups. Such indigenous self-help institutions included self-loaning bodies (credit associations) such as upatu among the Chagga of Tanzania (Bendera 1991:126-127), susu among the Akan of Ghana (Goody 1962), and the esusu among the Yoruba of Nigeria (Bascom 1952), and Krio of Sierra Leone. There were also the labour partnerships among many West African societies (e.g., nnoboa among the Akan of Ghana), a collective self-help group of age-mates and friends who assisted each other in farming, trading and marketing activities. In contemporary Africa, traces of such voluntary social groupings (serving as credit associations), continue to enhance community members’ limited economic resources for undertaking individual projects or activities. 

The indigenous African epistemological construct is that the rights of citizenship have matching obligations and responsibilities to the community in which one resides. This is the essence of collective responsibility. As Mbiti (1982) pointed out, Africans, historically, have been socialized to define themselves by their social obligations to the wider community. The responsibility of citizenry included providing communal forms of labour at any time when called upon by the traditional polity (e.g., road construction), as well as making compulsory financial and non-financial contributions to assist bereaved families in burying the dead. Death, burial, and bereavement are community affairs, and the close examination of the conduct of traditional funeral ceremonies illustrates both collective responsibility and information-sharing within traditional communities (see Rattray 1927, for Asante of Ghana; Herskovits 1967:352-402, for Fon of Benin; Skinner 1964:49-59 for Mossi of Burkina Faso; and Bascom 1969:65-69 for Yoruba of Nigeria). 

In the indigenous African world view, the mere accumulation of individual property/wealth did not necessarily accord status and prestige. For the wealthy to be accorded community reverence, social prestige and status, she or he must share such wealth with the rest of community (see Dei 1992; Dia, 1991: 11). Wealthy individuals who want name and status recognition have to demonstrate their social consciousness and responsibility by contributing to the society’s welfare. The indigenous African view is that the individual is supported by the family and the family by the community. The family is all of one’s kinsfolk while the community is an identification with both kin and non-kin. As O’Manique and Dotse (1991) point out, Africans reject the Hobbesian image of the competitive, isolated individual, living in fear of others and protected from them by the state or community. Thus, the concept of individual makes sense only within the concept of community (see also Karp 1986; Gyekye 1987; Mudimbe 1988). Individual identity emerges from communion with others (Osagie 1980). To the African indigenousness, the dichotomy is not between the individual and community, but between the competitive individual isolated from his/her community and the co-operative individual enriched by the community.
The African indigenousness cultivates respect for the authority of elderly persons (gerontocracy) for their wisdom, knowledge of community affairs and closeness to the ancestors (notion of spirituality). Many African people believe old age comes with wisdom and an understanding of the world. It was the duty of the aged to instruct the youth (in a socially responsible manner) and the latter’s duty to respect the knowledge of the elders (see Boateng 1980:111-8; Mbiti 1982:197). The African world view centred around an intimate understanding and appreciation of the relationship between humans, society and nature. Indigenous African cultures spiritualize the Universe and endow the forces that threatened people with supernatural powers (see Mbiti 1982; Peek 1991). Historically, this served to give moral and spiritual grounding to the African person. Humans as social learners, and knowledge production is the outcome of a dynamic, interactive and reflexive process involving individuals, social groups and nature.  
A Ghanaian Case Study 
In one contemporary Ghanaian village, there is evidence of how local people are utilizing their traditional cultural resource knowledge to empower themselves and to address economic hardships. I provide this case study to illustrate how a community is able to rely on its social values and norms to deal with problems of development. The town of Ayirebi is situated in the forest zones of southeastern Ghana, about 45 km from Akyem Oda and nearly 180 km north of the Ghanaian capital, Accra. The town was the subject of a longitudinal research project that began in 1982-83 with the examination of the adaptive responses of the peasant farmers to seasonal food supply cycles and other socioenvironmental stressors of drought, bush fires and population pressure in the early 1980s (see Dei 1986). 

In the early 1980s, the people of Ayirebi responded and adapted to domestic economic hardships by using their endogenous understandings of the intricate relationships between social and natural forces, as well as the interplay between domestic and international market pressures. There was a heavy reliance on the local environment to supply household needs as many households had to make do with the absence of imported food and other economic items. A detailed examination of the underlying basis for the apparent success of the local community to deal with the socio-environmental and economic crisis in 1982 and 1983, for example, showed that the assertion of local self-sufficiency in food and other basic economic requirements of the people can be expressed at four levels. 

First, there was a strong and viable subsistence farming economy that showed a great diversity of cropping on the part of the local farmers. Farming practices, such as mixed and sequential cropping, crop rotation and the use of local fertilisers (local manure and wood ashes), were part of the cultivation strategies designed to ensure that at least household food supply was maintained during periods of drought and food shortages. Additional food processing methods were devised for local staples (e.g., cassava) in order to sustain household food supply. Many households also experimented with semi-wood foods (e.g., wild yams) for cultivation purposes (see Dei, 1986, 1988).3

Secondly, many local households adopted hitherto little-used subsistence practices such as hunting and gathering of wild forest resources to supplement agricultural production. Bush animal protein and wild food plants were collected for household use and for sale at the local markets for income. The ability to fall back on wild forest products was, and still is, an important asset in African rural economies. Women, in particular, were observed using the surrounding environment to supplement household food supply. Forest products, such as snails, crabs, mushrooms and kola nuts were collected, together with edible and non-edible wild products, such as roots, fibres, leaves, bark, fruits, seeds, nuts, insects, molluscs, honey, sap and syrup (see Dei, 1986). These activities were not new economic inventions. However, what was remarkable, from the point of dealing with village economic hardship and ecological stress, was the intensity with which forest products were exploited to satisfy household needs. In the absence of imported soap and sugar, local households experimented with local products (e.g., using oil palm and wood ash to make local soap, and honey for sugar).

Thirdly, there was a pragmatic dependence on the local market and/or cash economy, including a resurgence of traditional handicrafts. Women farmers sold their produce after meeting basic household needs and then utilized their earnings to pay for their children’s education (e.g., fees, stationery, uniforms) and also to buy medication. Young men were engaged in basket weaving, adults in woodworking, raphia/bamboo making and other handicrafts to fetch additional income for both personal and household use. Many local farmers resisted attempts by government forces to sell their farm produce at ridiculously low (control) prices at urban markets. Those farmers who sold their produce through official channels ensured that they received imported scarce items such as soap, tinned foods, toiletries, medicine and textile clothing rather than hard cash. 

Lastly, there was a rebuilding and maintenance of strong social relations among town members. Community members redoubled their efforts to help needy individuals and households, as was evident when town migrants to Nigeria returned home after being deported from Nigeria in the early 1980s. Community leaders placed at the disposal of some households stool land for farming purposes. There was a strong sense of identification and connectedness to the community and several economic exchanges took place among family and community members, as well as between adjacent communities (see Dei, 1986). Town members also relied on remittances from family and close relatives in the cities and urban centres in exchange for local farm produce. Furthermore, individual farmers banded together to form farming co-operatives. During the drought of the early 1980s and through the 1990s, the local women were noted to be relying on long-established traditions of community solidarity to establish credit associations, working on traditional principles of group mutuality to help relieve the economic pain of households.

On the whole, research observations in the 1980s revealed that perhaps conclusions reached about the state of African economies, based solely on studies of the cities and their immediate surroundings, did not always give a true and accurate picture of the health of the local economy. As Posnansky (1984) pointed out, there is the lesson that the major economic changes taking place in much of Africa, at least in the early 1980s, tended to have relatively much less “...long-term deleterious effects on rural areas than they do on the urban and peri-urban areas with their expensive, import-dependent social-service infrastructure....”(p. 2163). 

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, there were follow-up studies to ascertain the degree and extent to which coping strategies were sustained long after the drought and severe national economic contraction of the early 1980s. Research documented the local responses to current state policies to revive the local economy through the promotion of cash cropping and an export-led development strategy. Although many of the economic activities and coping strategies observed in the early 1980s have stayed with the local people, in the late 1980s and early 1990s some households were observed to rely on individual rather than community and group solutions to social and economic problems (Dei, 1992). However, the shared sense of community belongingness and individual identification with the social and natural environments is still very much in place. Households are still living the contradictions and paradoxes of competing, and sometimes conflicting, interests between local, national and international forces. This is particularly exemplified in the current pressures that national and international market forces are placing on the community. For the community, one recourse to maintaining their social well-being is to develop a fit between some of the social and traditional values of community membership and the associated individual and social responsibilities of citizenship. Dei (1993b) has discussed community upholding of traditions of sustainable forestry. The study of local traditions of forest resource use reveals the community’s understanding of the linkage between indigenous cultural knowledge and sustainable development. 

Implications for African Development
The examination of African cultural resource information reveals a body of knowledge about community values, definitions of collective responsibility and social security arrangements, as well as practices of communal governance and health provision that are useful for developing social and ecological sustainability. In the remaining half of this discussion I will briefly touch on five significant and interrelated lessons of African indigenousness to further the cause of new and transformed development. The African indigenousness constitutes a body of generated, shared and applied knowledge for thoughtful and responsible action among local peoples. 

Firstly, development must take into account local understandings of the workings of culture, society, and nature. Devising an African-centred development would require knowledge of African realities and conditionalities. There is an inseparable relation between the material and the spiritual worlds of African peoples. As Gueye (1995) notes, there is a specific cultural understanding in African communities that is “....centred around a particular conception of the world which assigns the human being a specific role, around a certain representation of time and space which structures mentalities and behaviours....” (p. 11). Such knowledge is central to effective development practice. Development must be informed by local understandings of the complex linkages between natural, spiritual, social, cultural, political, and economic forces of society. Local peoples are agents in the construction of their own knowledge. 

Social development is a project about social and ecological unity of peoples and their habitats. Social unity entails mutual respect and justice for all. Ecological unity is ensuring responsible usage of land and natural resources in the interest of sustainability. African cosmology view humans as part of nature. Therefore, any development approach that affects natural environmental resources is bound to have consequences for social relations. An emancipative approach to development should be able to build on the ability of local peoples to generate and apply their own knowledges and cultural and social histories. This means an understanding of local conceptions of lived realities and how daily human experiences are sustained by community and individual networks and ties, political and ecological associations and other social support systems. 

Secondly, the emotional and spiritual well-being of the individual and the social group is the bedrock of any development process. Social transformation is only possible if it proceeds from a development of the inner self and spiritual values. A genuinely human-centred approach to development should examine African philosophies in terms of person, personhood, self, individual, community, environment, values and spirituality. Development is a complex relational process building on the African humanness and social responsibility, as well as communal and spiritual values. For example, the understanding of philosophical assumptions underlying local conceptions of land and material resource could provide significant lessons for developing strategies to promote natural and human resource management. There is a need for the development process in Africa to address diverse political, moral, spiritual and ethical concerns and to redefine both individual and corporate responsibilities to family, community, nation and global citizenry. Development must engender a spiritual awakening but not in the sense of subscription to a particular high moral order. An effective development framework is built on strong spiritual values oriented to the satisfaction of the needs, interests and aspirations of all peoples. There is lacking a sense of global moral outrage at the corporate rape of local wealth and resources in Africa. I am referring in particular to immoral and unethical dimensions of corporate pursuance of economic profits with little regard for the development of the African humanity and spirituality. Development must be human-centred, culturally affirming, and should seek to centre local group interests vis-à-vis private and corporate (transnational) interests.

Thirdly, development is a socialization of knowledge. The notion of development must be invoked in the name of the common good. For example, an alternative approach to genuine development in Africa must reassess existing definitions of property and individual ownership or rights to social goods and services. The colonial and post-colonial imposition of Western-style property rights continues to be a critical challenge facing African development, as governments and civil societies attempt to find a fit between the values of indigenousness and modernity. In an era of Africa’s full integration into the global capital market, the philosophy of individual ownership and privatization has served to govern the state’s new approach to communal/national property [commons] and definitions of obligations. The commodification and privatization of social knowledge and wealth have served to alienate and disenfranchise many Africans. Development must seek to appropriate long-standing traditions of mutuality and sustainability to meet local needs and aspirations. 

Fourthly, social development means matching individual rights of group membership with corresponding social responsibilities. This is democratic development and has implications for social justice and political democracy in contemporary Africa. Those accorded the right and privilege to lead and govern have a responsibility to deliver to the people, otherwise leaders lose their legitimacy and credibility. The allocation and use of political power in communities must promote sustainable forms of local representation, accountability, transparency and good governance. Unfortunately, this is the dilemma and paradox of the modern state in Africa, as national governments shed their responsibilities to their citizenry while succumbing to the whims and caprices of the international financial community. The redefinition of state obligations and responsibilities to a large citizenry continues to have deleterious consequences for the least advantaged in society (e.g., women, ethnic minorities and children). The commitment to privatization and private property rights has led to a neglect of the provision of social service infrastructures. By allowing private, and transnational corporate greed to dictate what should constitute social development, the emphasis now is on rights, rather than responsibilities. While customary relations to property and social goods ensured elements of social differentiation among groups, individuals and communities, such differentiation was not as marked as is evident today. In the African indigenousness, ownership of property is an abstract phenomenon. Property is not a thing but a relation between peoples. Property entails rights and responsibilities and embedded in the idea of property is the shared notion of what is right for the community and the common good.

Lastly, the idea of linkages/connections, powerfully entrenched in indigenousness, speak to the importance of mutual interdependence. This linkage extends beyond the local community. There is a need to connect issues locally, nationally and internationally. Locally, the issues of poverty cut across class, gender, racial and ethnic lines. Internationally, social development concerns of Africans in the Continent and those in the Diaspora converge a great deal. Similarly, the South and the North are inextricably linked in many ways, least of which is asymmetrical power relations. There is a broad spectrum of converging interests around social and economic development issues. Therefore, progressive social movements in the North must continually collaborate with forces in the South who are engaged in similar struggles over social and corporate injustice and the yoke of colonialism and [foreign] domination. These movements must find workable grounds to address common problems. For example, we cannot deal with the cancer of global racism if the related issues of structural economic poverty, capitalist patriarchy and sexual exploitation are not simultaneously addressed. 

CONCLUSION
The key question is whether development can happen at the level of ideas alone. Thoughts, ideas and ideals are conditioned by material relations of production. Human agency is a consequence of material and ideological understanding of the social and natural worlds. The eventual success of African governments’ efforts to address the complexity of economic problems and issues facing their societies will depend to a great extent on how the nation state and the international development community are prepared to learn from, and to tap into, the creativity and resourcefulness of diverse local groups. As part of any process of national economic reconstruction, development practitioners will have to examine the accumulated knowledge and the varied strategies utilized by local women, for example, to survive periods of economic expansion and contraction. These provide important lessons in the search for local development alternatives. Development ought to focus on knowledge appropriate to local conditions. The processes and principles that local peoples have for years utilized to interpret, explain and understand their social and natural worlds is valuable for effective development. We need to critically examine conventional development knowledge for what it includes and for what it leaves out (see also Kithinji, 1996). Within African contexts, there is a paradox and contradiction in the development process: on the one hand is the continuing transnational/corporate appropriation of local knowledge at the same time as Africa experiences a negation and erasure of its cultural forms of knowledge representation (see also Rugumayo, 1992: 13).

As it stands now, conventional approaches to development have not helped local peoples to articulate their daily experiences to the outside world (Kankwenda, 1994). As I have argued elsewhere (Dei, 1994b), there is a disturbing failure to recognize that local peoples do theorize in their communities as part of community life, that they not only articulate, but also, interpret their experiences. Local peoples have culturally constructed ways of reflecting on their daily lives. They can give their own accounts of what is happening to them and what their needs are, as well as what they are doing, can do, and intend to do about these issues. 

In the African scene, there are countless examples of so-called development projects that continually undermined local peoples’ abilities to control their own lives. These programs have made local peoples objects of exploitative patriarchal economic systems. Local peoples, for the most part, conceptualized development in the sense of belonging to a community and connecting with other people in a way that makes possible the satisfaction of mutual interests.

Development practitioners and experts should be able to tease out the specific nature of the linkage between indigenous knowledge and local community participation in the development process. We must involve local peoples in all stages of the conception, planning, implementation and evaluation of development activities. Local knowledge systems contain invaluable explications of the workings of ecosystems, and the sustainability of ecologically sound economic production strategies. 

A basic challenge is for development theoreticians and practitioners to complement the search for general solutions to human problems, with some local specificities. To talk about local specificities is to speak about the African indigenousness. The integration of localized, empirical research with theoretical, generalized studies demands that international development researchers begin to accord some importance, not only to country-specific research, but also to research studies that explore local-level understanding and perceptions of human problems and local strategies to problem-solving. 

While community or locality studies by themselves are insufficient to offer a comprehensive understanding of society, they nevertheless provide relevant data needed to ground our theoretical discussions of international development in the everyday lived experiences of people. Such studies provide opportunities for well-meaning development practitioners to hear what people at the grassroots have to say, what their everyday experiences are, and how they make sense of their worlds.

NOTES

1. By African-centred development, I am referring to development adapted to the African condition. This means the African sense of understanding development, by appropriating the process and objective of development to ensure that locally defined needs and aspirations are possible and sustainable through self-actualization.

2. In the context of this discussion I use the terms traditional and indigenous interchangeably. As pointed elsewhere, (Dei, 1993b), the term traditional denotes a continuity of cultural values from past experiences that shape the present, e.g, how indigenous peoples have accommodated their new form of post-colonial experience. African scholars like Muteshi (1996) make a distinction between the traditional and the indigenous when arguing that the indigenous past offers a means of staking out a position as an African that is outside of the identity that has been, and continues to be, constructed in Western/Euro-American ideology. In the broader sense of this paper, indigenous is defined as arising locally, primarily from long-term residents in a given community (see also Fals Borda, 1980; Warren, Slikkerveer and Brokensha, 1995). 

3. Local communities in Africa have knowledge of local varieties of food crops, wild plants and food planting cycles that can be harnessed to assist in the formulation of alternative development. The sustainability of these local economic practices has stood the test of time (see Bean, 1992 in another context). For example, local farmers in Sierra Leone have intimate knowledge of planting requirements and yield of local rice varieties. Such knowledge is invaluable in any plan to increase rice production and needs to be taken into account if a change in rice variety is to be advocated (see also Richards, 1985 in another context). 


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ANTHROPOLOGY IN A POST-COLONIAL AFRICA THE SURVIVAL DEBATE

ANTHROPOLOGY IN A POST-COLONIAL AFRICA THE SURVIVAL DEBATE

By Paul Nchoji Nkwi

Introduction
African anthropologists grew up in societies that were either colonized or recently decolonized. Westerners initially controlled the production of anthropological knowledge and the result was functionalist studies. These studies were explicitly ahistorical and often myopic about colonialism. After the colonial period, the new nations of Africa dismissed anthropology both as a cultivation of primitivism and as an apologetic for colonialism. As all states do, the new nations rewarded knowledge production that served state goals, and anthropology simply did not figure into those goals during the early post-colonial period. While new nations were appearing in Africa, anthropology in Europe and North America remained mostly committed to the dispassionate study of cultures, looking on knowledge production as tainted if done on behalf of government or for policy purposes. African anthropologists were trapped in a terrible Catch-22: the more, they practiced anthropology by the standards of the former colonial powers, the more their governments regarded them as worthless, or worse; the more they worked to develop an anthropology that served the needs of the state, the more their knowledge production was dismissed by European and North American centers of anthropology. 

There were three possible solutions for these scholars: 1) declare anthropology dead and try to legitimate themselves as social historians within Africa; 2) export themselves to the USA and Europe, the way many Third World scholars of all disciplines have exported themselves; 3) change the content of anthropology and search out the information required by their governments. The first solution was defeatist and unappealing to most scholars. The second was appealing, but anthropologists were not needed in the West to the same extent that, say, chemists and engineers were, and there were thus few opportunities for migration. The third option raised a serious question: would involvement in policy research harm anthropology or make something better of it? In the end, the choice was made for African anthropologists by government funding for research and university posts. Anthropologists would, in fact, serve the research and teaching needs of the state.

This chapter examines the ways in which African anthropologists have developed knowledge within a particular set of state needs and within a particular set of power relations. The paper focuses on a particular effort, the Pan African Association of Anthropologists. Today, the Pan African Anthropological Association (PAAA) is a professional organization accepted by a once hostile community of social scientists. This has dramatically affected the applied dimensions of anthropological knowledge and the way anthropology has been taught and practiced. The chapter begins with an overview of the anthropology of sub-Saharan Africa and then offers a history of the PAAA. The development of the organization took place at a time when Western-trained African anthropologists were renegotiating their place in the discipline, both in Africa and internationally. The dilemma faced by African anthropologists—to carry out investigations according to internationally held canons of scientific practice while keeping faithful to the demand for immediately useful research at home—mirrors that of all Third World academics; but the dilemma for African anthropologists is an extreme case because of the discipline’s well-documented history as the handmaiden of colonialism.


Africa’s Place in the World System
From the beginning of colonial rule, anthropology in Africa—as the study of human cultures and peoples—largely reflected the outsiders’ view of the continent. It would take many decades for Africans to articulate a view of themselves in relation to that outside world. When anthropology emerged as a discipline in the 1860s, Africa was not part of the world economic system. Of course, it had been four hundred years earlier, but by the mid-nineteenth century scholars in Europe had long forgotten this and saw Africa only as a backwater. It soon would be part of the world system again. The slave trade had led to the creation of European stations on the African coast for the recruitment of human capital. And, by the late 19th century, despite the abolition of slavery in most of the world, European nations jockeyed for position and access to the human and other resources of the continent. The treaty of Berlin, in 1878, granted any “civilized state” occupying a coastal African region, the right to claim the hinterland. This could only be achieved, however, by occupation (cf. Graniage 1969: 199), and so the scramble for Africa was on, with a massive outpouring of explorers, travelers and missionaries who would shape future anthropological work on the continent. Just eight years later, in 1885, the jurisdictional disputes between rival European countries over Africa were settled with the recognition of territorial claims (Sklar, 1985:1). Africa had become an integral part of the world economic system as a supplier of basic resources. 

The establishment of the Journal “Présence Africaine” in the 1940s was a reaction among African and African-American intellectuals against what they saw as a failure to recognize adequately Africa’s role in world history. Basil Davidson showed consistently that sub-Saharan African history was, in fact, an integral and important part of world history (1959). This reaction later developed into what came to be known as Pan-Africanism, which was to be a powerful influence on many of Africa’s early post-colonial leaders and intellectuals.

English-speaking anthropologists dominated anthropology during the colonial period, partly I think, because of the philosophical doctrine of empiricism, which fostered greater respect for local culture. Whatever the cause, English-speaking anthropologists served colonial administrators whose directive was to rule through local personnel and this, in the jargon of post-modernism, produced multi-vocality and gave anthropologists the opportunity to assert themselves more creatively. The emergence of anthropology as a discipline in the university system in Great Britain during the period between the two World Wars led, in 1925, to the creation of a state-sponsored research institute, the International Institute of African Languages and Culture (IIALC). This institute (later known as the International African Institute or IAI) encouraged the collection of massive amounts of ethnographic data on Africa and further consolidated the discipline. 

The Institute established the Journal Africa in 1928 and, in 1938, under Lord Hailey, published The African Survey. It inspired monographs on African politics (African Political Systems 1940, edited by Meyer Fortes, and Tribes Without Rulers 1958, edited by John Middleton, David Tait, and Laura Bohannan), cosmology and religion (African Worlds 1954, edited by Daryll Forde), witchcraft (Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa 1963, edited by John Middleton and E.H. Winter), and kinship (African Systems of Kinships and Marriage, 1956, edited by A.R. Radcliffe-Brown and Daryll Forde). Other English-speaking anthropologists of the period included E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Victor Turner, Audrey Richards, and Mary Douglas, all of whom contributed to what Leinhardt (1975), called the early theoretical capital of the generation that came into academic seniority after the Second World War. By the time that Beattie and Middleton edited Spirit Mediumship and Society in Africa (1969), social anthropology had captured the imaginations of black Africans who were turning to the discipline for answers to questions about making development schemes successful in culturally heterogeneous societies. In the 1930s, Jomo Kenyatta from Kenya would study under Malinowksi, his Facing Mount Kenya was published in 1938. Kofi Busia from Ghana (1962) and Cheik Anta Diop from Senegal (1974), who had emerged as defenders of the right of Africans to be part of world history, were also deeply committed to anthropology. 

The emergence of African ethnology in France was to await the return of Georges Balandier (1966), Jacques Lombard (1967) and others to the university system. Balandier, one of the leading French political anthropologists, would influence a whole generation of French anthropologists but also drew a lot of inspiration from Great Britain. He trained a whole new group of French anthropologists including Claude Meillassoux (1968), Marc Augé (1985), Jean Copans (1990) and others.

However, the development of anthropology in France was largely the work of two key government sponsored institutes: Institut Francaise pour l’Afrique Noire (IFAN)) and Organisation de Recherche Scientifique et Technique d’Outre Mer (ORSTOM). IFAN was established principally to document, for comparative purposes, the customs and traditions of African “ethnic nations.” ORSTOM, on the other hand, had a broad mandate allowing it to conduct more comprehensive studies in all French colonies, including Africa, by focusing on social, human, mineral, health and geological research. The creative work of ORSTOM would, like its British counterpart, also generate massive amounts of ethnographic data. 

Under Claude Meillassoux, Marxist anthropology would again capture the imagination of Africanists across the world. As an ideology, not just as a theory of history, it was more sympathetic to the fight against capitalists and the imperial project of the west, than was the empiricist tradition of Great Britain. French anthropologists would leave their anthropological ghetto as French speaking scholars and explore the rest of the continent. To their great surprise, they found a totally different intellectual and academic outlook. And, of course, there was the huge language barrier between French and British anthropologists. As we will see, the PAAA would, from its beginning in 1989, take this issue on directly and make a conscious effort to deal with it. 

Ironically, despite their use of anthropologists in the colonial enterprise, officials at the British colonial office were profoundly suspicious of anthropologists, especially those who came from the practical school of anthropology headed by Bronislaw Malinowski. Some colonial administrators accused anthropologists of peddling “tribalism.” Nonetheless, under intense pressure from nationalists, Africanist anthropologists from the West withdrew from studies on the continent during the 1960s. They correctly feared that the post-colonial African leaders would endorse neither the old colonial policies of governance, nor those scholars who had supported those policies.  


New Nation States and the University system
At independence, each new nation created its own institution of higher learning with a curriculum based on that of the European universities. It was assumed that the transfer of scientific knowledge was crucial for development and there was also an urgent need for trained manpower, especially in the civil service. For example, at independence one African nation had about 16 university graduates of whom 12 were priests and four were laymen. This was a need that was understood and supported by international donors, and among the first objectives of the new universities was to produce that manpower. Little attention was paid to the study of African cultures in the new university curricula. African faculty with overseas training were recruited to teach alongside, and gradually replace, expatriates. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, the returning graduates were guaranteed salaries, housing, and even transportation.

The applied dimensions of the discipline would suffer a setback, however, as nationalist movements turned to modernization theory to transform Africa into what they hoped would be an economic power. These nationalist movements continued to regard anthropology as a tool of colonial subjugation and as a discipline of no relevance for the new and modernizing Africa (Nkwi 2000: 21). African and Africanist anthropologists found it difficult to practice their profession openly. At Makerere University in Kampala, for example, the British had established the Institute of Cultural Anthropology (ICA) to promote ethnographic research. This once flourishing institute disappeared into the sociology department (Crossman and Devisch 1999: 117).  

Caught between a desire to break with the colonialist past and a desire to attain economic and social progress equivalent to that in the former colonial powers, some Marxist-oriented African leaders plunged into an ill-conceived economic development model called «African socialism,” or “communalism.” The model was an odd mixture of statist and classical development economics. Although many of these leaders claimed African roots for their political ideology, few relied on anthropology to provide the basis for such an ideology. Many spoke of African culture without comprehending what that might mean in practice. Two UNESCO conferences (one in Monrovia in 1979 and another in Yaoundé in 1984) called for the teaching of African languages and cultures, but this simply never happened in most countries. Anthropology could have provided the material for such a curriculum, but the discipline was not taken seriously, carrying the stigma, as it did, of its ties to the colonial past (Crossman P & Devisch, 1999:117, cf Sawadogo 1995).
The first call for a university for West Africa came from three 19th century black intellectuals: Dr. James Africanus Beale Horton (1835–1883), Edward Blyden (1832–1912), and Rev. James Johnson (1839–1917). Blyden, for example, called for an indigenous university that would “release Africa from the grip of the despotic mind and restore cultural self-respect among Africans” and Johnson called for “an institution that would leave undisturbed our peculiarities” (Wanderia, 1978:39-40, cf Odumosu, 1973).

A century later, while opening the Institute of African Studies at the University of Ghana-Legon, Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, the then president of Ghana, invited African scholars to study Africa in all of its complexities and diversity, in order to stimulate respect for the idea of African unity. The study of African cultures and people was not to be limited to conventional and regional boundaries. Nkrumah urged that all investigations “must inevitably lead towards the exploration of the connections between musical forms, the dances, the literature, the plastic arts, the philosophical and religious beliefs, the systems of government, the patterns of trade and economic organization that have been developed here in Ghana and in the cultures of other African peoples and other regions of Africa” (Rays, 1958:10, cf Hagan, 1989). In his book Africa Must Unite (Nkrumah 1963), culture is also a dominant theme. Anthropological studies would be part of the essential programs of the Institute.
As it turned out, if African socialism did not work then neither did the main opposing strategy for development. With profound respect for the scientific principles behind the hugely successful Marshall Plan in post-War Europe, African planners swallowed development theories that targeted investment in industrial development and human capital. Most African leaders in the early decades after independence followed a pattern of industry-first investment; the development of so-called urban growth poles (see Eicher ad Staatz 1986), all mixed with overbearing state involvement in the management of the economy. 

The policies adopted in the 1960s and 1970s permitted the State to intervene at all levels, controlling market forces by providing credit and setting prices for commodities. The construction of the postcolonial State saw the disarticulation of economic, cultural, and ethnic differences, and the endorsement of the arbitrary colonial borders. Economic failure and criticism of State policies would lead to the Structural Adjustment Programs (SAP) of the 1980s. Those programs demanded the separation of the state from the market economy, reducing public expenditure, and empowering the private sector (Coussy, 1991:123-139). These adjustments were the price of continued international loans and other supports, but were detrimental to the masses who would become poorer and poorer. During the 1990s, the new buzzword was “poverty alleviation”— referring to the poverty that had been created during the 1980s by the poorly executed SAPs of the international financial institutions.

These vitriolic attacks on the discipline retarded its progress as the “rejectionist syndrome” drove some of our social science colleagues to extremes. In 1991, Ife Amadiume, an African sociologist, recommended abolishing anthropology and turning it into “African social history and sociology of history” (Mafeje, 1997:22). As the criticism intensified in the 1970s three trends emerged. First, anthropology took cover within African Studies programs. Centers of African Studies emerged in many American universities, and analogous Institutes of African Studies flourished in most English-speaking African universities. Within those institutes, anthropology per se was taught and practiced. Second, the role of Marxist intellectuals in fighting imperialism and colonialism led to the emergence of Marxist anthropology. Marxism, as a philosophy, served as an intellectual cover for many European anthropologists desiring to continue doing anthropology in Africa without being accused by nationalist movements of being part of the colonial apparatus. Being a Marxist anthropologist was politically correct at the time. Third, anthropology was labeled as one of the branches of sociology and was taught within the nascent departments of sociology in African universities.

In South Africa, anthropology continued to function as a formal discipline at the universities of Cape Town, Witswatersrand, as well as at Rhodes and Natal universities. These institutions, however, provided little support to departments of anthropology at the so-called “bush-colleges” (i.e. Transkei, Unitra, Durban-Westville, Venda, the North, and so on) (cf. Svawda 1998). These “bush-colleges” had been established under the apartheid system to provide education to Blacks and the so-called Colored. The voelkerkunde tradition, the ideological ingredient of the apartheid system, continued at the Universities of Pretoria, Port Elisabeth, Stellenboesch and Bloemfontein. In 1996 the voelkerkunde tradition attempted to legitimate itself by joining the PAAA during the Association’s seventh annual conference in Pretoria. They were not admitted because of the tradition’s association with past racism. In 2000, however, the two traditions merged (Bogopa, 2000:2).

Despite the stigma of its colonialist past, many Africanists from Western universities continued to study anthropology after independence. The Rhodes Livingstone Institute continued to enhance the anthropology of Africa, while the Manchester School, with Africanists like Clyde Mitchell (1969), continued to publish on African anthropological issues. Other Africanists such as Elisabeth Colson (1971), Mary Douglas (1963), Audrey Richards (1969), and Ronald Cohen (1971) worked intensively for decades even after independence. Kofi Busia, the Ghanian who studied anthropology and established the Department of sociology at the University of Ghana-Legon, would even head the department of anthropology at Leiden University in the Netherlands. Jomo Kenyatta, a student of Malinowski, would use his anthropological skills to construct the mau mau movement to claim power in Kenya. Leading African anthropologists like Adam Kuper (1987), John Comaroff and Brian du Toit (1974), Archie Mafeje, and Maxwell Owusu (1970), left their countries in search of more conducive environments for serious anthropological work, while others like Kwesi Prah (1993), Godwin Nukunya (1969), Harris Memel-Fotê (1980) and Théophile Obenga (1985), remained in Africa to do research and teach anthropology.

In Francophone Africa, as OSRTOM’s influence began to diminish, institutes of human sciences were established outside of the university system. Within the universities, courses on marriage, kinship, African political and social institutions, and others with anthropological content were taught in departments of sociology; the teachers who taught these courses preferred to be called sociologists. This period coincided with the establishment of professional African studies associations in the U.S. and Canada and journals like the Journal of African Studies in 1974. French anthropological research continued in non-university settings, not only in ORSTOM, but also in the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS), the Musée de l’Homme, and the École Pratiques des Hautes Études (EPHE). This continued even after independence, perpetuating the colonial legacy of these institutions (cf Copans, 1990:32-36). During the 1960s and 1970s, however, the University of Paris X-Nanterre was the only one out of seventy six French institutions that offered anthropology at the undergraduate level (Copans 1990: 66-70). 
 These timid efforts within the French University system gained more impetus, however, under Georges Balandier and Pierre Alexandre. They established the Center for International Relations, (this was later known as the Centre d’Etudes et de Recherches Internationales, or the Center for Studies and International Research) with a specific focus on Africa; and Marcel Merle and Albert Mabileau set up the Centre for the Study of Black Africa (Centre d’Etudes d’Afrique Noire) in Bordeau. After independence ORSTOM forged a new relationship with new institutes of human sciences throughout the former colonies, and it also continued to work under a new umbrella called the Institut de Récherche pour le Développement (IRD). In fact, in French speaking Africa ORSTOM remained, until the 1980s, the only credible institution with the resources to conduct serious anthropological work (that included archeology, linguistics, ethnology, and social anthropology). Even in countries such as Cameroon, where the Social Sciences Institute in the Ministry of Scientific Research collapsed during the Structural Adjustment Programs, ORSTOM continued its research work, though it did so without involving senior local scholars. Despite the slowdown of knowledge production and the reduction in scholarship, the anthropology of Africa continued to contribute to the development of comparative ethnological theory and to the academic debates of the 1960s and 1970s.



Policy Shifts and Years of Awakening
By the end of the 1970s, mounting evidence showed stagnation or decline in per capita growth rates in Africa. The failure of modernization theory to transform nascent modern African economies led development agencies to rethink their policies. The World Bank committed major resources to developing the "poorest of the poor”, which was basically an open admission that macro-level policies had failed to achieve their set objectives. As the micro-level approach became a real alternative, some argued for the need for input by anthropologists. This was based on the theory that these field-working scholars were in the best position to understand how, for example, food markets work in Africa as well as who the participants were (Reeves 1989: 86 – 111). 
In Development from Below, illustrated through a series of case studies, David Pitt (1976) and others showed how development projects failed specifically when the people for whom the projects were intended to help did not participate in either the design or the implementation of those projects. Anthropologists with knowledge of local cultures would have argued for exactly that kind of input—though this might not have been enough to stave off failure. By the 1980s, the demand for anthropological input had strengthened. This had an impact on the small community of African anthropologists who were still operating underground in departments of sociology. These scholars consulted with NGOs and other bilateral and multi-lateral agencies regarding the design of development projects, but they had little involvement in the implementation process.  
 Another major policy shift involved the training of applied scientists for rural development. If the emphasis at independence was to produce a critical mass of people to run the post-colonial administration, by the early 1980s, the focus had shifted to improving agricultural production and the living standards of the rural poor. This required training Africans in agronomy, animal science, veterinary medicine, soil science, rural economics, rural sociology, and the emerging field of development anthropology. The Land Grant university system had worked agricultural miracles in the United States and the US government launched a massive program to help build and staff entire agricultural universities in Africa, based on that Land Grant model. Science and extension would be the key to a new Green Revolution. The Agricultural University of Dschang in Cameroon was one of the beneficiaries of such a policy. However, despite the training of over 40 faculty members, the country-wide agricultural extension model envisioned in the design of the university never occurred. 
Another major impetus for engagement by anthropologists in development programs was the Alma Ata (in Kazakhstan) conference of 1978 on health care. The Declaration of Alma Ata called for a new emphasis on primary health care and on the participation of locals in the design and management of health systems. This shift from hospital-centered to people-centered health care gave medical anthropologists a window of opportunity. The Bamako Initiative —Africa’s interpretation of the Alma-Ata declaration —called for “health for all in the year 2000” and this further opened opportunities for medical anthropologists.1
 Another major policy shift took place at the joint conference of the Economic Commission for Africa (ECA/UN) and the Organization of African Unity (OAU) held in 1984 in Arusha, Tanzania. This conference brought together experts to address the failure of Africa to produce economic and social prosperity after two decades of massive foreign assistance. In the final document, the ECA and OAU acknowledged that the beneficiaries of development had been marginalized in the process. The document failed, however, to acknowledge that the social sciences had also been left out of the process. Michael Cernea (1985) would also indicate the importance of culture and people-centered approach in his writings. Of course, the failure to achieve prosperity in Africa was not only the result of leaving social science out of development; corruption and ethnic violence both had significant roles to play. 


The Cameroon Case
Through a process of slow and deliberate infiltration into the policy-making process, anthropology has come to be recognized in the intellectual circles of my own country, Cameroon. Anthropologists in Cameroon have been engaged with the State in several capacities. First, as employees of the State—civil servants—the duty of university professors has been to teach the subjects we are assigned. Second, some social scientists have become part of the State’s policy-making apparatus as members of government ministries, as deans of faculties, or even as the chancellors or vice chancellors of a university. 
 Cameroon became a German protectorate in 1884. For 32 years, until 1916, pacification operations to quell uprisings by ethnic groups that refused to recognize German sovereignty were conducted in the area. During this time, scanty ethnographic work was conducted (Nkwi 1989). When the combined forces of British and French troops defeated the Germans in 1915, Cameroon was split into two parts and administered under the League of Nations. France administered almost two thirds of the original German territory, while Britain took over the rest of the territory that bordered on Nigeria and administered it from Lagos. ORSTOM and CNRS worked in the French speaking part of Cameroon, collecting and analyzing ethnographic data. The creation of Études Camérounaise by these French institutions offered an opportunity to all scholars to publish their findings in a unique journal. Some of the well-known anthropologists who worked during this period include Claude Tardits (1960) and Phillipe Laburthe-Tolra (1985) from France and Peter Geshiere (1983,1984) from the University of Leiden. 
 Between 1916–1960, while OSRTOM and CNRS conducted anthropological surveys in French Cameroon, anthropologists from Oxford and the University College of London focused on collecting ethnographic material to give the British colonial administration a better picture of the ethnic diversity of the so-called British Cameroons. Phyllis Kaberry from London (1952), Sally Chilver (1968) and Edwin Ardener (1958, 1966) from Oxford would spend their young lives building the basis of future anthropological work in English Cameroon. A younger generation of anthropologists, including myself, would be inspired by the massive amount of ethnographic data accumulated and sometimes published in the Journal Nigerian Fields. This generation would include Philip Burnham (1996), Michael Rowlands, Jean Pierre Warnier (1993) and Richard Fardon (1990).
 In 1973 the government of Cameroon decided to reorganize the research that had remained largely in the hands of French scholars. Of the seven institutes created, one institute was reserved for the social and human sciences. Within this institute a department of anthropology was established and the first head of the institute was an anthropologist. The Institute of Human Sciences remained in existence until 1993 when the government shut it down and moved the researchers to various ministries. The reasons for its closure were largely political. With the push for democracy of the 1990s, as well as the political engagement of many of the institute’s researchers, the government came under criticism for its mismanagement and for the growing economic crisis. At least ten anthropologists accepted transfers to various government departments, while others refused to accede to government pressure and instead joined various opposition parties.
Earlier, in 1962, the Federal University of Cameroon had been established. Within its Faculty of Social and Human Sciences, there was a department of sociology and it was headed by a French anthropologist. As such, anthropological research and teaching continued at the university for years, although the courses were referred to as sociology. It must be said that the emerging state of Cameroon was not hostile to anthropology, for it continued to invite and deliver research clearance to researchers from Europe, America and Asia (especially Japan).
I joined the Department of Sociology in 1976. Being the first from the English-speaking part of Cameroon, my first assignments were to assist and counsel English-speaking students as well as to teach basic courses in anthropology. Two other colleagues, who were trained in France in general ethnology, taught courses in the department as well as in the Faculty of Law and Economics. 2 While I identified myself with anthropology, they continued to call themselves sociologists. Then came the crisis of 1978. The university administration convened a meeting of the heads of departments within the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences. As acting head of the department, I attended the meeting, chaired by the Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor. The Dean of the Faculty, a historian, presented a report on reforms in the faculty that implied that sociology, and anthropology would be phased out from the university curriculum. After a series of meetings involving the departmental staff, university authorities, and the government the Minister of Education called off the reforms. Strict instructions were given to the Dean to maintain sociology and anthropology in the curriculum, but the reforms were put in place nonetheless. Sociology and anthropology would be taught as part of philosophy, but no BA degrees were awarded. 
When the first continent-wide conference of African anthropologists was held in 1989, the Ministry supported it and provided resources. To highlight the importance of anthropology as a teaching subject, the Minister of Higher Education asked the Chancellor of the University of Yaoundé to open the conference in the name of the Cameroon government. In welcoming the 35 African anthropologists from 21 universities, the Chancellor called on anthropologists to take their rightful place in the development arena and to show what the “discipline can do to solve some of the problems Africa was facing.” From 1993 on we rebuilt the discipline, designing courses for the Bachelor’s, Master’s and Ph.D. degrees in anthropology. Prior to this, the Bachelor’s degree was not offered in anthropology. Just eight students declared anthropology as their major in the 1993-1994 academic year, but the number grew to over one hundred just a decade later. In the 2002-2003 academic year, there were 525 students majoring in anthropology, not to mention the same number of students taking it as their minor. 
During this period, I witnessed the increased involvement of the social sciences in health, agriculture, animal, environmental, and population research programs funded by the government. There were several reasons for this. First, the proliferation of development programs increased the demand for social science input in general, and for anthropology in particular. Second, the university reforms that took place in the 1980s across Africa offered an opportunity for the enhancement of sociology and anthropology teaching programs. For example, in 1985 the University of Nairobi established a full department of anthropology within the Institute of African studies; and the University of Yaoundé started a full degree program in anthropology in 1993, giving students access to both undergraduate and graduate degrees in anthropology.
Kilbride (1994:10) notes that Kenyan anthropologists were “struggling to resurrect anthropology from the ash heap of its colonial associations by advocating anthropology in diverse public and private forums.” By 1994, he said, Kenyan anthropology was flourishing “at universities and institutes with research on such issues as overpopulation, polygyny, the status of women, AIDS and sexuality, tourism and children’s health.” Anthropology had to rediscover itself both as an academic discipline as well as a discipline that could help to solve problems. Anthropologists had to show that they were not peddlers of tribalism but that they sought to expand the horizons of human knowledge and to adapt to new areas and the challenges of development (Montero 2002:8)
 At the University of Yaoundé, anthropology and sociology remained- for historical reasons- in one department, but awarded separate degrees at both the undergraduate and graduate levels. With increased resources and the desire to evolve independently, sociology and anthropology went their separate ways. Anthropology expanded its teaching and research and attracted an increasing number of students. The increased demand for consulting work provided visibility for anthropologists. This in turn pressured them to assert their identity and to highlight the dual academic and applied approaches of the discipline. Application was seen by many of us as the best option for the discipline to claim its lost glory. Given the strong market for professionals in both national and international development work, I argued that anthropology was a social science discipline ripe for professionalization. Many of us in academia who were already active in consulting knew exactly what was necessary. Targeting critical areas such as general health, reproductive health, population growth, the environment, and agricultural development led to the design of courses in medical anthropology, development anthropology, and environmental impact assessment. Today, the University of Yaoundé-I has one of the most active and dynamic departments of anthropology in Central Africa, attracting students from the entire region. This department played a vital role in the creation of the Pan African Anthropological Association. 


THE PAAA
The formation of the PAAA was one of a series of events in the late 1980s and early 1990s that helped integrate anthropology into the discourse of development in Africa. 
First, was the establishment of CASA, the Council on Sociology and Anthropology in Africa, by CODESRIA, (the Council for the Development of Economic and Social Research in Africa) in 1987. UNESCO’s Regional Bureau for Social Sciences in Dakar, known by its French acronym, BREDA, endorsed the initiative and provided initial resources to establish the association. In 1988 CASA held its first conference in Abidjan, bringing senior sociologists and anthropologists together for the first time. The government of Ivory Coast, under then President Felix Houphouët Boigny, provided substantial financial support for the consolidation of the association, but CASA failed to market itself to anthropologists and sociologists across the continent.
The second event was a spontaneous meeting of African anthropologists during the Twelfth International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences (ICAES) in Zagreb in 1988. The ICAES is the meeting of the International Union of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, it has been held every five years since 1934. In 1986 Lake Nyos in Cameroon exploded, killing over 1800 people. I was studying the disaster and was invited by the Center for Environmental Studies at the University of Leiden, Netherlands to present a paper at the ICAES on how anthropologists, in collaboration with colleagues from other disciplines, approached the study of disaster mitigation (Nkwi 1992).
After my presentation, which was attended by a few African colleagues, I ran into George Hagan and Albert Awedoba, from Ghana, while they were having coffee with Adam Kuper. Kuper was the then newly elected president of the European Association of Social Anthropology (EASA) and he encouraged the three of us —Hagan, Awedoba and me —to establish an African anthropological association. A chance meeting with H. Russell Bernard from the University of Florida, Gainesville, who was attending the same conference, would also contribute to the PAAA’s training programs. 
 The third important event was a workshop organized in 1991 by CODESRIA in Dakar to review the status of anthropology in Africa. It was an attempt to reassert CODESRIA’s determination to revive or establish professional associations. This workshop brought together a small group of established anthropologists from different theoretical and ideological persuasions. Most participants were keenly aware of the fast-paced globalization of science that was underway and were convinced of the need for greater collaboration between anthropology and other social sciences. For example, during that meeting, I argued that the emphasis should be placed on the reorganization of the discipline rather than on the “deconstruction” of ethnography and Abdalla Bujra argued for a constructive engagement of anthropology in the development enterprise. 
 Fourth, and most important, was the increasing engagement of the discipline in applied work generally. While anthropologists must continue to produce knowledge as their primary objective, they cannot remain indifferent to the problems faced by local communities every day. How many anthropologists confront their governments for failing to improve the quality of life of the people? How many produce ethnographies as their Ph.D. theses, obtain their degrees, and promote their careers, while remaining indifferent to the plight of people whom they studied? What use is anthropology if we do not listen to the people and assist them in finding lasting solutions to their daily problems? Anthropology must and can find ways to survive as a useful discipline without sacrificing scholarship. 
 It is against this background that a group of African anthropologists sought the assistance of the Wenner Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research to establish the Pan African Anthropological Association. A few of the Africans who attended the 1988 ICAES got together at that congress and formed a steering committee to organize a meeting of African anthropologists. We sent a letter to vice-chancellors of African universities asking them to identify anthropologists who might attend the conference. Thirty-five participants from 21 universities across Africa attended the first conference held in September 1989. It was organized around the theme “Teaching and Practice of Anthropology in Africa.” Approximately eighty percent of the participants had been trained as anthropologists; the remaining twenty percent were from sociology, education and philosophy. Some participants described the conference as a unique occasion for anthropologists to emerge from their “academic bunkers” and practice the discipline openly and with a sense of purpose and pride. 
 Since 1989, the PAAA has organized twelve annual conferences and a series of training workshops for junior anthropologists. The association has also worked hard to bring the discipline closer to other social sciences. The future of anthropology depends, we feel, on how well the discipline integrates with the other social sciences. For anthropology to attract funds it must take on, and bring a unique perspective to, research problems that are common to other social sciences. 
 The establishment of the PAAA was guided by four motivating needs: a) the need to break professional isolation; b) the need to improve teaching and training programs; c) the need to improve research capacity and enhance publication possibilities; and, d) the need to increase opportunities for African anthropologists to participate in the growing market for consultants and for their effective participation in multi-disciplinary development teams. All of these desires were captured in the constitution adopted at the end of the first PAAA conference. 
 While the PAAA has helped revive anthropology on the continent, Africanists in Europe and the USA have also been reorganizing themselves, seeking greater visibility in the world of scholarship in general. In 1991, the French scholars established the Association Euro-Africaine pour l’Anthropologie du Changement Social et du Dévelopment (APAD), mobilizing Africanists in Europe to share information on the anthropology of change. In the USA in the early 1990s, Africanist anthropologists began to lobby for the establishment of an Africanist branch of the American Anthropological Association (AAA) (Catell, 1996). Their efforts were rebuffed at first, but eventually, the Association for Africanist Anthropology (AfAA) was established within the AAA. Leaders of both initiatives, the AfAA and the APAD, declared that they would work with African anthropologists for the promotion and enhancement of the discipline on the continent. 
 Unfortunately, after more than a decade, neither the AfAA nor the APAD have initiated constructive engagement with the PAAA, the only continent-wide professional association of anthropologists in Africa. While the PAAA has made substantial progress, the problems of running an international organization in Africa are daunting. The constituent national bases of professional anthropologists remain weak, due to lack of resources at the local level. The PAAA counts over 550 colleagues among its members, but few can pay their dues regularly because of the low salaries in African universities. In addition, members cannot finance their own way to meetings. Participants in the PAAA’s annual conference expect the organizers to pay all expenses and this is not likely to change for some time. On the other hand, few of our Africanist colleagues in anthropology from wealthier parts of the world—including Africans who have migrated to greener pastures—attend the PAAA’s annual conference. In fact, only one American colleague, Maxwell Owusu (University of Michigan), has consistently attended the PAAA conferences since 1996. 


THE CONSTRUCTIVE ENGAGEMENT OF PAAA 
To assert its presence within the African social science community, the PAAA focused on the training of young professionals and on networking activities. We emphasized applied anthropology as the focus of academic work in order to rehabilitate a discipline that had been discredited in the post-colonial era. Many colleagues of my generation in Africa stood against those in the West who maligned applied anthropology. The West invented anthropology to study the “Other” and it defined the canons. But in developing economies, where resources are scarce, science has to be either useful or be gone. Under these conditions-- when the so-called “other” comes to study itself-- disdain for applied anthropology perforce dissipates. 
As Kottak describes it, the ivory-tower approach demands that anthropologists “should avoid practical matters and concentrate on research, publication and teaching” (1997:254). Most African anthropologists, however, follow what Kottak calls the “schizoid approach.” This demands that anthropologists “should provide information for policy formulation but should not be part of the implementation process” in order to keep personal value judgments separate from scientific work (ibid). Advocacy, however, calls for greater engagement of anthropologists in designing policies that promote wellbeing or that protect people from harmful development schemes. This approach motivates a large number of African students who want to be part of the anthropological enterprise without being castigated for not doing anthropology. 
Precisely because the applied option dominates anthropology in Africa, the need to stay current in method and theory remains critical. During the first PAAA conference in 1989, many participants argued that addressing important human issues, such as the need for health care, the spread of famine, rapid population growth, environmental degradation, discrimination and violence against women, poverty, and ethnic violence would enhance the discipline’s tarnished image. These problems, which affect the most vulnerable members of our African communities, could not be addressed without appropriate training in method and theory. Every brand of anthropology—interpretivist and materialist, qualitative and quantitative, applied and basic—must aim for excellence of scholarship. This was the vision for the PAAA’s training program. The program seeks to increase the skills of our youngest members so that they can compete successfully with colleagues everywhere for grants, publications in prestigious journals, consulting work and academic jobs.
 The association established professional networks for the exchange of information and experiences in dealing with basic human suffering and problems. These networks organized training workshops for acquiring skills in writing proposals, in publishing the results of research, and in the use of software for data analysis. By addressing contemporary problems, the networks became a vehicle for the exchange of ideas and experiences. This, in turn, enhanced the teaching and practice of anthropology.3
If the discipline were to survive and make itself visible, the PAAA had to understand the internal logics of other sciences. Their participation in team efforts had to be more than just a token, with an anthropologist drafted into a project simply to fulfill a funding condition. Anthropologists had to offer something of intellectual and practical value. The workshops also attracted other social scientists, enhancing and promoting interdisciplinary collaboration. Over the years, African anthropologists have worked closely with environmental biologists, organic chemists, economists, demographers, health providers, and others. This experience showed that multi-disciplinary work is mutually enriching since each discipline draws on its unique insights to attain a common goal. Another area of concern was the lack of good libraries in African universities. Most institutions cannot even afford new books, let alone expand their library space. All participants in the PAAA workshops received basic training in computing, if they had none, or upgrading of their computer skills, if they already had some. It was our conviction that acquiring such skills would empower young scholars to access libraries abroad electronically and keep them abreast of the latest developments in anthropology. Libraries in African universities can concentrate on the collection of materials that are unavailable elsewhere – the kind of materials that scholars everywhere require for research on African cultures and societies. 
 One of the problems identified during the first conference was the lack of refereed anthropology journals. In 1992, we established the journal African Anthropology that became The African Anthropologist in 1994. This journal is a forum for African scholars and Africanists around the world to debate, exchange ideas, and contribute to the social science discourse on issues of importance to the continent. Articles on development issues have dominated the journal, now in its tenth volume. Almost all articles submitted for publication focus on practical issues associated with health, agriculture, politics, the environment, ethnicity and ethnic conflicts. These articles are often the byproducts of consulting work in which African anthropologists are increasingly involved. As part of its efforts to increase the quality of articles, the PAAA includes writing clinics in its training programs. 
While many of the activities of the PAAA have been successful, others have not. One of the most glaring failures has been our inability to incorporate the growing number of African anthropologists who work full-time outside of academia. The link between this large group of applied anthropologists and those teaching continues to be very weak. And, despite their growing numbers, only a few non-academic anthropologists have either joined or have chosen to participate in PAAA programs or publications. Although a similar problem plagues the mainline anthropology associations in Europe and North America, the implications of this non-participation are more serious in Africa, given its profound impact on training and employment.


AFRICANISTS AND THEIR RESPONSIBILITIES
This article has attempted to tell the PAAA's story from the perspective of an African who was affected strongly by the resurgence of African anthropology and sociology. My motivation for writing this article has been to provide some insights into how a North-South partnership can be fostered and reinforced. 
The European and American traditions of the discipline are distinct and the discipline surely deserves an African twist as well. It is time for the social sciences, including anthropology, across Africa to regroup and to face the challenges that confront us as a continent and as part of the human family: Disease, hunger, HIV/AIDS, ethnic wars, poverty … We need to look for answers to these scourges. It will be salutary for Africans to bring their own particular perspectives to all the social sciences, including anthropology; but in science, as Bernard (2000:6) says, anything that is true in London or Paris is also true in Nairobi and Dakar. There is a visceral reaction among many intellectuals in the social sciences today against a scientific, or positivist perspective. It is particularly strong in anthropology, but African anthropologists, at least in some circles today, are rejecting this anti-science perspective and taking a leadership role in anthropology and development.  
 Although most Northern academics acknowledge the critical importance of working with colleagues from Africa, this has occurred only on a case-by-case basis with the Northern anthropologist almost always taking the lead. That is, their African academic colleagues are seen as key contacts for getting research clearance and background knowledge, without which the northern colleagues could not function. However, it is indeed rare indeed that the cash resources brought in by a Northern academic are shared appropriately with their southern partner or partner institutions.  
 Almost every day one or another of us in Africa is confronted with the myopic bellyaching of some First World anthropologists about the harsh conditions under which they work in their own country—their lack of funding for graduate assistants, their lack of funding for attending international meetings, and so on—with little reference to the conditions under which their African-based colleagues labor. These small, subtle indignities mirror deeper inequities that are only partially mitigated by the fat per diems that one may occasionally earn by attending a five-day conference in northern Europe or the US. The $600-1000 that one may save by eating crackers in one's room rather than dining out is cold comfort when one returns to the everyday realities of a $350 per month salary, five children, and ne’er-do well relatives who depend on you.  
 African academics don't want a handout; they want opportunities to work and earn their way. These opportunities exist and can be expanded and strengthened to benefit all of the parties involved, including the First World anthropologists who collaborate with them. To bring this about requires a series of small but doable changes in the formal academic training programs, grant administration procedures, and grant requirements to promote better partnership arrangements. These changes will need to be made in both African and Northern universities as well as in the professional associations. Strengthening the ability of Africans to organize and develop their own professional associations is a way to address all of these issues at once. Truly professional associations will link Northern and African anthropologists in a single intellectual, publishing, and teaching endeavor on a more equal footing.


Notes

1 As a local anthropologist, on several occasions I was called upon to participate in multidisciplinary team research bringing anthropological insights to bear on health issues. For example, in early 2000, an outbreak of cholera in Madagascar killed over a thousand people within a few months. The WHO regional headquarters in Harare, asked me to join a team of medical experts in Madagascar and evaluate the epidemic. The team, comprising two public health specialists, a physician, an epidemiologist, and an anthropologist spent four weeks visiting the affected areas, talking to health officials, the military, local people and politicians. At the end of the visit, after examining the ethnographic information and talking to officials about their prevention strategies, I produced a model that took into account the role of culture in the epidemic, and we recommended a drastic review of prevention strategies taking into account cultural inputs. 

2 Pierre Titi and Joseph Mboui. The latter became a full professor after obtaining his doctorat d’état. He later became dean, then adviser to the the Prime Minister and ended his career as a Minister of National Education, after serving as permanent secretary. He is now Member of Parliament along with two other anthropologists.

3. As a matter of record, from 1992–1999, the PAAA trained 153 mid-career anthropologists in workshops supported by donations from the Carnegie Corporation ($200,000), the Wenner Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research ($100,000), the World Bank ($15,000), UNFPA ($35,000) and UNESCO ($30,000). These trainees belonged to the following networks: the Network of African Medical Anthropologists (NAMA), the Network of African Population Anthropologists (NAPA), the Network of African Women Anthropologists (NAWA), the Network of African Environmental Anthropologists (NAEA), the Network of African Students in Anthropology (NASA), and ETHNO-NET AFRICA. This last network grew out of a meeting in Nairobi in 1995, sponsored by the UNESCO-MOST programme on the social problems facing the continent. The ETHNO-NET was designed as a network of African social scientists who can work together to collect data and who can serve as an advance warning system for ethnic conflicts.