Posted on by Odi

Decolonisation of Thought

Over the course of 2015, and going into 2016, the decolonisation of the university has become a major topic of discussion amongst academics and activists alike. I must admit that I didn’t completely understand what ‘decolonising’ meant. Until recently, my understanding was superficial and many of the explanations I came across were from people I found to be self-interested and superficial. In other words, I wasn’t convinced that it’s important.

A shift in my thinking happened few weeks ago, when an old high school colleague posted a meme on social media, that on the surface seemed simply rude, originating from a neo-Nazi website. This was not the first time that this person posted something questionable but it was the first time I gave it any thought and made me question the origin of that type of thinking; even more so because the person in question is currently a university lecturer.

Few events have changed the course of human history as much as colonialism has. European values, knowledge systems and thought occupied and displaced the indigenous across the globe: Africa, North America, Australia… The practice of natural science research is heavily based on Western trains of thought – not as “impartial” as it claims to be. For example, Dorothy Roberts has written extensively on the way race has been used harmfully in determining medical treatments. Yet, our academic institutions remain steeped in colonial thought patterns. In a recent presentation at the University of Johannesburg Professor Siphamandla Zondi, termed such death of other knowledge systems as the “epistimicide”.

This brings us to why the decolonisation debate is so important.

It is not about erasing colonial-based knowledge systems but rather acknowledging that there are other ways of knowing. In the 21st century the world is faced with tremendous challenges that cannot be solved by individual researchers, and funding agencies encourage international collaborations to help solve these problems. But all these researchers remain steeped in western thoughts, in colonial approaches. Are we really making the biggest possible impact if we actively throw out what is left of indigenous knowledge systems instead of building on them? Or ignoring the source of some of the knowledge, as is seen with the ignoring of the input of Mesopotamian and Babylonian thought in the development of Greek science and technology. Greece is often understood as the basis of ‘modern’ western society.

Why are we so afraid, now, to admit that colonial thought patterns alone are not the only way to solve the world’s grand challenges?

It is critical that as academics we challenge and disrupt the current norms. How do we know which aspects of indigenous knowledge are helpful and which harmful, if we hardly acknowledge the existence of such systems? Can the bloody-minded individualism that characterises colonial thought really be applied fruitfully to a continent and its people, who live Ubuntu? If we only try to view our continent’s challenges in a narrow Eurocentric manner, we potentially miss out on solutions that are appropriate for our environment. And people like my former schoolmate keep on posting their narrow-minded ideals as the way things should be.

There is room for different ways of thinking and teaching. Decolonised teaching goes beyond teaching in indigenous languages and inclusion of non-European writers. Laila Boisselle notes that most often, indigenous forms of science are relational rather than ‘objective’. This means that for modern day use, we would need to relook at indigenous knowledge systems, often dismissed as folklore and ethno-philosophy, and find ways to incorporate them into the curriculum.

The pre-colonial empire of Benin, in modern day south west Nigeria, provides a perfect example of how much can be gained from non-Western sources, if it is not ignored. It was one of the most technologically sophisticated cities in existence, that even the first European visitors were astounded  at that advanced level of architectural and mathematical technology in use. Today, much of that knowledge is lost. However, in all societies, both the natural and social sciences, have much gain from indigenous knowledge.

On a practical level, this would mean not only developing and using, for instance isiZulu terminology in teaching, but, also re-engineering our curriculum to include our indigenous knowledge. How exactly this can be done successfully is still a matter to be worked out; however, it is completely necessary. Imagine the wealth of information that can be garnered in the culturally varied Southern Africa alone!

We live in an era where the Internet has radically changed access to contemporary information. But now we cannot afford to lose the patterns of thinking, and wealth of information that existed before Vasco De Gama, Pinto or Van Riebeeck ever crossed the sea.

Posted on by Odi · 2 Comments

A Social Scientist’s Lab

When I think of a laboratory, it conjures images of pipettes and burners with complex mathematical equations written on a board. My laboratory, however, as a political scientist, has little to do with Bunsen burners and more do with measuring political heat. Very few people, outside the social sciences, understand how social science research is conducted and often liken it to tea leaf reading.

Research in the social science, particularly in politics and international relations, is really dynamic. There is an adage that ‘a week is a long time in politics’. A political leader can move from a hero to a villain and back again within a few days. Because of this dynamism, the work of the social scientist is important because their job is not only to analyse current state of affairs but also pick up on issues that could be arising soon. The social scientist should be able to direct policymakers to areas that that need attention and draw in the expertise other disciplines to meet the societal need.

Conducting social sciences is further complicated by the plethora of techniques and approaches to draw from. A number of analysts prefer more traditional quantitative approaches that they ‘borrow’ from the natural sciences. Alternatively, they may decide to use more qualitative approaches. I fall in the school of thought that purely scientific approaches are not always appropriate to examine social issues. For instance, research into political psychology would require a more experimental approach to political science but examining government decision-making needs a more holistic view. If you think about it, statistics presents a state of affairs but can’t help you predict how a leader, or government would respond to that state of affairs. There are so many  structural and relational power dynamics that affect decision making that statistics can only be a part of the overall picture. The only way to fully understand, and to an extent predict, possible future scenarios, is to understand the internal and external environment that  guide governmental and political decision-making. This exploration has to make use of international legal instruments, historical decisions making and being able to read shifts in the social environment.

The political scientist also has to draw on important skills that can’t be taught in a lecture hall, such as relationship building and listening skills. Listening goes beyond hearing what is said but includes being able to pick up to what the speaker is truly trying to convey. Many times, as it is with politicians and bureaucrats. The words that they use often have dual meaning or are a signal of something larger. A gruesome example is from the 1994 Rwanda genocide, there was a lot of rhetoric in the media about cockroaches needing to be exterminated. Tapping into relationship networks and listening carefully helps social scientists do their jobs better which can help, in some instances, save lives.

So what does my dream political science and international relations ‘laboratory’ look like? Aesthetically, it would be a cross between Olivia Pope’s apartment and office on the hit TV Show Scandal; basically it would be the love-child of comfort and function. The bookshelves would contain archive material, policy documents, newspapers and transcripts of interviews with experts in my field as well as others related to my subject matter. The living room would have a smart TV that would allow me to access the Internet as well as be linked to news sites around the world. The beauty of a smart TV is that is also does away with the need for a phone because communication is possible via Internet call applications such as Skype. There would also be a blue-tooth enabled keyboard so that I can type from the comfort of my couch when I need to. The only non-negotiable item that I would like is a feature wall with a magnetic glass white board. I prefer glass to regular white boards because they are easier to keep clean and, importantly, they are difficult to photograph. I often use paper or a white board to sketch my ideas or plot out concept relationships so having a stylish whiteboard would be great. Though, I must mention that I recently discovered new mind-mapping software that actually helps with mapping out key ideas (I plan on writing a review once I have fully mastered the program).

Ultimately, I don’t believe that your best social, or political, analysis comes from solely from facts and figures but also requires a good amount of intuition … and a comfy chair to sit on whilst you write.