Africa Needs a Playbook for Civic Participation
They say this is the age of Wakanda. They say Wakanda matters. They say Wakanda matters because it depicted superheroes that look like us; people we could aspire to be like, people who made us matter. They say Wakanda was the triumph of the black man, of the African.
I beg to slightly differ. At least from an African perspective.
Because from Mansa Musa to Steve Biko, Patrice Lumumba to Wangari Maathai, Ruben Um Nyobé to Winnie Madikizela, Thomas Sankara to Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, we have had real life superheroes who have made us matter, from whom we (can) draw inspiration. Because, what is the point of aspiring when we can’t conspire to bring triumph to ourselves through knowledge, ability and the feats of our heroes past?
I have come to realize that when Africans look into the future, we rarely see ourselves as actors. The reasons for that is for another article — although most of it lies in the fact that ours is a continent with the largest number of young people who are not very knowledgeable about matters of state and politics. We have complained that the media isn’t telling our stories. Now, even when it tells our stories, Africans are hardly positioned in the driver’s seat of their own stories. We are missing something.
It explains why so many Africans are abroad, it explains why Africans are trying to cross the Sahara and the Mediterranean in spite of record numbers of people who perish while trying. It explains why the best athletes keep disappearing when they find themselves in developed nations for international competitions. It explains why we are so disillusioned. It is a manifestation of our collective resignation.
We have gradually lost our sensitivities and our collective sense of humanity. We suffer, at times, from crab mentality. If we examine our societies keenly, we would accept a few hard truths: that, we do not have a culture of progress. We do not have a culture of excellence. We do not have a culture of maintenance. We do not have a culture of production. We do not have a culture of activism. We do not have a culture of knowledge acquisition. We do not have a culture of compassion. We do not have a culture of engagement and of civic participation. We do not have a culture of culture. Heck: We do not have a culture of ownership.
And that is why I am concerned about the future of our nations and our citizens. I am afraid that our children will inherit countries worse than the ones we grew up in and continue to struggle in. If we, as a people, cannot look into the future and see ourselves as the contributors of it, then we have a serious problem. If we do not know, how can we act? If we do not own, how can we contribute? We are good at coming up with all sorts of slogans and futuristic plans; ‘plan 2020, 2035 and 2050’, but we write the slogans and make the plans, the Chinese build the infrastructure and make the money while our children inherit the debt such disenfranchisement creates.
My angst about all of this and my idea of solutioneering (because one has to complain and construct) started with a tweet.
I had thought social hypnosis was broken in Cameroon until word made the rounds online that CAF, (the governing body of African Football) may be holding a meeting in September and top on their Agenda will be deciding whether to strip Cameroon of hosting the AFCON 2019 for unpreparedness. The online community began to buzz. As I followed conversations, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that majority of those throwing a fit that we may not host this AFCON after all weren’t so much as expressing the same outrage at the civil war that’s been brewing in their backyards for the last 2 years.
How could we?
How could we be more interested in football than the needless deaths of so many of our own? How can a mere sport (no matter how much it adds to the economy) make us care to the point of expressing displeasure at the potential of its not taking place yet we are silent at the cries of innocent blood being spilled by ruthless oppressors?
I steadied myself for the responses. And this one intrigued me:
Better than not caring then. Relief.
This got me thinking that it is important to deconstruct social justice and to frame it in a language that is more positive to all. In order to do this, there are a few questions we may have to answer:
How do you become an active citizen in Africa in the context and dynamics and current socio-political trends? What are the factors preventing Africans from being engaged active citizens? What stops people from dealing with issues that will impact a lifetime in favour of only addressing temporary non-priority issues? Who are we representing when we take on issues? Who’s fight is it? Where are we in Africa when it comes to fighting for each other? Why is it so difficult to collectively tackle a common enemy? etc etc…
There are so many reasons my small mind can think of and Rebecca Enonchong already provided much needed perspective, but I do believe that we are also a continent of nations with fragmented people on issues that are so polarized. For example, the African that has become ‘comfortable’ sees no need to be active — there is simply no incentive. Why should I fight for bread when I have bread? Also, there are many who want to speak up, to do something, but may not know how to. Call it lack of knowledge, call it intellectual laziness, call it fear, — whatever it is — it is there.
There is also the ‘us against them’ mentality where it’s the rich versus the poor, the elite versus the masses, the North versus the South, the women versus the men, the employed versus the unemployed, the francophones versus the anglophones, the ruling party versus the opposition, the youth versus the aged, the Christians versus the Muslims, the educated versus the illiterate, the urban versus the rural, the passive versus the active… and the list goes on.
As we pit ourselves against each other rather than for one another, the perpetrators of our collective misery feed fat from our divisions, distraction and confusion. Our differences are being used to manipulate us and instead of creating coalitions to agree on a common ideology embedded in the root of our divisions, we remain separated and work in silos which yield no dividend. We think we have different governance interests, yet at the core of our citizenship, our interest is the same: we deserve better than we are getting from those who govern us.
Activism has become active charity not active justice. Yet advocacy and activism belongs to the people, the very same people who are not backing the causes led by very few. It is the bedrock of the Office of the Citizen, a most powerful office in the land, to which we all belong, from which we owe our nations and ourselves the duty of civic responsibility. If we do not know what to say or do, then it is our duty to teach/learn what to say and do. Civics used to be taught in our curriculum in primary and secondary school, perhaps it is time for us to contextually apply a learning framework for all of us who belong to the Office of the Citizen. Imagine identifying the what, why, how and when to engage civically when issues arise in simple, practical ways to those who desperately need to know in order to act. Think of the impact this will make.
Kah Walla is right.
The weapons of active citizenship we have today are not the same as those that existed 30 years ago — today, we have the ability to engage remotely, even digitally — and in many cases, we do not need to run the streets to win our wars. Therefore it is critical that we begin to think of ways to ensure that the people the issues concern are concerned enough — but well equipped too — to respond in ways that make impact and subsequently empowers them to engage even more.
In the light of our floundering democracies from most parts of Africa, we cannot be seen not to care. I want an Office of the Citizen that equips its citizens to participate in the political process not one that tells them to. I want a social justice framework that looks into the future and makes Africans see themselves in it. And it doesn’t have to be fantasy. It doesn’t have to be Wakanda-like. It just has to have us in the driver’s seat taking charge of the outcomes we want.
To remain silent will be lethal. To do nothing is no longer an option. We must refuse to be passive citizens. We must become vigilant collectives of people looking out for each other. We must learn to articulate and stand for something, not always against something. To do this, we must empathize, organize and provide practical ways that will enable every single one of us act, engage and participate. And that — to me — is why a playbook for Civic Participation — specific to our local context — may help.
Who’s in?
