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An essay on African philosophical thought
The Akan conceptual scheme
 Ofamfa, symbol of critical examination

Matemasie, symbol of wisdom and insight

An essay on African
philosophical thought
The Akan conceptual scheme

Revised edition

KWAME GYEKYE

Thomas J. Bata Library

TRENT UNIVERSITY
PETERBOROUGH, ONTARIO

TEMPLE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Philadelphia
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tb> 5^9\C| \

First published 1987 © Cambridge University Press

Revised edition published 1995

Temple University Press, Philadelphia 19122
Copyright © 1995 by Kwame Gyekye

Printed in the United States of America

© The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the National!
Standard for Information Sciences — Permanence of Paper for Printed Materials,,
ANSI Z39.48-1984

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Gyekye, Kwame.
An essay on African philosophical thought : the Akan conceptual
scheme / Kwame Gyekye. — Rev. ed.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and indexes.
ISBN 1-56639-383-3 (cloth). — ISBN 1-56639-380-9 (pbk.)
1. Philosophy, Akan. 2. Ghana—Intellectual life. I. Title.
B5619.G4G84 1995
199'.667—dc20 95-34827
For Dedo
 Contents

Preface to the revised edition page ix

Acknowledgments to the revised edition xxxiii
Preface to the first edition xxxv
Acknowledgments to the first edition xxxix
Guide to the pronunciation of Akan words xli

I The question of philosophy in African culture 1

1 On the denial of traditional thought as philosophy 3
2 Philosophy and culture 13
2.1. Sources of African philosophical thought 13
2.2. Collective and individual thought 24
2.3. Language and philosophical thought 29
2.4. On defining African philosophy: some
proposals 32
3 Methodological problems 44
3.1. False impressions about the unwritten
character of African traditional philosophy 44
3.2. Difficulties besetting the study of African
traditional philosophy 51

II The Akan conceptual scheme 59

4 The Akan conception of philosophy 61
5 Concepts of being and causality 68
5.1. God and the other categories of being 68
5.2. Causality 76
6 The concept of a person 85
6.1. Okra (soul) 85
6.2. Sunsum (spirit) 88
6.3. Relation of okra and sunsum 94
 Contents
6.4. Relation of okra (soul) and honam (body) 99
6.5. Akan psychology and Freud 102
6.6. Conclusion
7 Destiny, free will, and responsibility 104
7.1. Basis of belief in destiny 104
7.2. Nature of the concept 108
7.3. Causality, fate, free will, and responsibility 119
7.4. The problem of evil 123
8 Foundations of ethics 129
8.1. Religion and morality in Akan thought 129
8.2. The social and humanistic basis of Akan
morality 143
9 Ethics and character 147
9.1. The Akan word for “ethics” 147
9.2. The centrality of chzra.cter(suban) in Akan
ethics 148
10 The individual and the social order 154
10.1. Communalism as a social theory 154
10.2. The tensions of individualism 158
11 Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language 163
11.1. The mind-body problem 163
11.2. Time 169
11.3. Existence, predication, and identity 177
11.4. The ontological argument 180
11.5. Subject and predicate 181
11.6. Conclusions 185

III Toward an African philosophy 187

12 On the idea of African philosophy 189

12.1. The need not to generalize 190
12.2. Common features in African cultures 191
12.3. The community of cultural elements and
ideas 195
12.4. Conclusion: the legitimacy of talking
of African philosophy 210

Notes 213

Select bibliography 239

Name index 247

Subject index 250

viii
 Preface to the revised edition

The purpose of this book is fourfold: to stress the fact of the

universal character of the intellectual activity called philosophy -
of the propensity of some individuals in all human cultures to re¬
flect deeply and critically about fundamental questions of human
experience; to point out that philosophy is essentially a cultural
phenomenon; to argue the legitimacy or appropriateness of the
idea of African philosophy and attempt a definition of (modern)
African philosophy; and to demonstrate that there were sages or
thinkers in Africa’s cultural past who gave reflective attention to
matters of human existence at the fundamental level, and, as part
of the demonstration, to critically explore the philosophical ideas
of the Akan traditional thinkers (of Ghana).
Since this book was first published in hardcover in 1987, there
have been several reviews. In this preface to the revised edition, I
do not intend to respond directly to those reviews and will there¬
fore not refer to them, even though a number of them were fa¬
vorable and full of praises for the effort. Neither do I intend to re¬
spond to criticisms of some of the positions or approaches taken in
the book — criticisms some of which reveal an incurable addiction
to, or inebriation with, the way the philosophical enterprise
emerged and has been prosecuted in the West. Nor will I respond
to the contrary views expressed by others in relation to my own,
except where those views derive from clear misunderstanding or
misstatement of my position. I would like, rather, to use this op¬
portunity to clarify or amplify a couple of positions previously
taken by me regarding what would count as (modern) African phi¬
losophy, to say something about what is called ethnophilosophy,
and to express some views on the ‘invention of Africa idea.

IX
 Preface to the revised edition
Before I move on to these important matters, however, I wish
to refer to my view on African ontology. It now appears to me that
I was less than clear on what I said in the second paragraph on p.
197. There is a need for revision. The third sentence in that para¬
graph should read: “This distinction is projected onto the level of be¬
ing. . . And, a few lines down, the word “homogenous” in the
sentence “Reality in African thought appears to be homogenous”
should read “heterogenous” to remove any ambivalence on my
part. This revision agrees with what I say in Chapter 5, Section 1.

1. On the nature of African philosophy

The question of what would, or should, count as a genuine
African philosophy has exercised the minds of contemporary
African philosophers, including myself. I have reason to believe
that that kind of question would not arise for Chinese, Japanese, or
Indian philosophers who have had long traditions of (mostly) writ¬
ten philosophy linked to their cultural and historical experiences.
The question has, however, arisen for contemporary African
philosophers for two main reasons. First, the lack of an indigenous
written philosophical tradition in Africa (with the exception of
Ethiopian and ancient Egyptian philosophy) meant that there was
no existing tradition of written philosophy not only to guide their
perceptions of the nature of African philosophy, but also to con¬
stitute a coherent and viable conceptual and normative framework
that they could explore and develop. Second, having received their
philosophical training mostly in Western countries, such as Britain,
France, and the United States, or based largely on the education
systems of these countries, contemporary African philosophers are
more likely than not — in fact predisposed — to be greatly influenced
by that training in their conceptions of the nature of African phi¬
losophy: to think, for instance, that a philosophical heritage must
be a written one, and that, in the absence of an indigenous written
philosophical heritage, what they can - and must - do is simply to
take over the entire corpus of a philosophical tradition developed
in some other cultures and contribute to the appreciation of that
tradition in the hope that some day it will become their own. Even
though I very much appreciate the historical phenomenon of cul¬
tural borrowing, including the borrowing of ideas (see Section 3
below), nevertheless, I do not think that the entire complex of the
philosophical tradition of one cultural group can or should emerge

x
 Preface to the revised edition

in that way — that is, by simply taking over a whole philosophical

tradition of another cultural group.
There is no good reason to suppose that the lack of written
sources implies the absence of philosophical thinking. Yet, the lack
of an indigenous written philosophical heritage most probably led
some contemporary African philosophers to maintain that African
philosophy “is still in the making” or “is yet to come” (see p. 8).
Such a view of course implies a rejection of philosophy as a com¬
ponent of African traditional thought, and, in consequence, of
African traditional philosophical thought as part of the history of
philosophical thought in Africa. It was as a part of my critical re¬
sponse to such a view that I made the statement on p. 12 that seems
to suggest, rather unwittingly on my part, that a necessary condi¬
tion for a modem African philosophy is that it be connected to the
traditional. I need to clarify that statement, as it may give a wrong
impression of my conception of a modem African philosophy. (I
was alerted to this possible interpretation of my position through
correspondence with Kwasi Wiredu.)
I maintain that a history of philosophical thought in Africa will
have to include the philosophical productions of past African tra¬
ditional thinkers (or sages). A good deal of evidence is emerging -
based on ancient sources such as Herodotus, Aristotle, Diodorus,
and Strabo - to indicate that the civilization of ancient Egypt was
African. Four renowned histonans of Africa affirm that Egypt was
“the first African civilization” (Curtin et al., p. 44). In addition, the
late erudite Senegalese scholar Cheikh Anta Diop demonstrated
with conviction that ancient Egyptians were an African people,
and thus, their civilization was African. If the ancient Egyptian civ¬
ilization was indeed African, then ancient Egyptian philosophical
thought - a well documented intellectual component of that civi¬
lization - can be said to be African. This conclusion provides
African philosophical thought with a very long tradition (on this
topic see also Theophile Obenga, Edward P. Philip, Henry Olela,
and Lancinay Keita), even though there does not appear to be a
continuity in the historical trajectory of that ancient thought with
subsequent African thought. The influence of the former on the
latter is yet to be fully explored and assessed.
In terms of the philosophical output of African thinkers, then, it
can be said that what ‘is still in the making’ is modern African phi¬
losophy - the philosophy that is being produced by contemporary
African philosophers. By “connection to the traditional, I was

xi
 Preface to the revised edition

only calling for some analytic attention to be paid also to the tradi¬
tional thought categories, values, outlooks, and so on, as a way of
affirming an existing African philosophical tradition, some features
or elements of which may be considered worthy of further philo¬
sophical pursuit.
Thus, I did not mean by “connection” that modern African phi¬
losophy must be tethered to African traditional thought - that
every piece of philosophical work by the modem African philoso¬
pher should involve inquiry into, or reference to, the traditional.
Such a view would be inconsistent with my emphasis on the need
to perceive philosophy as a conceptual response to human prob¬
lems at different epochs (see pp. 39, 40, 42). The kinds of prob¬
lems that philosophy grapples with are not invariant; they may — in
fact some of them often do — vary from time to time. It follows,
then, that some of the modem philosophical concepts or issues
might not have occurred to the traditional thinkers. This is the rea¬
son why I maintained that the philosophical output of contempo¬
rary African philosophers — or a great part of it — “must reflect the
contemporary African situation” (p. 40). Thus, the first sentence
on p. 12 should read: “The history of philosophical thought in
Africa requires that, while addressing concepts and issues of mod¬
ern life, modern African philosophers must also give analytic and
critical attention to concepts or ideas of traditional philosophy.”
The assumption here, of course, is that very little, if any, attention
has been given to the critical analysis and interpretation of the tra¬
ditional conceptions of things.
In light of the foregoing remarks, it must be clear that at the ini¬
tial stage of development, my argument focused on history - his¬
tory of philosophical thought in Africa — rather than on establish¬
ing elaborate criteria of what would count as a genuine African
philosophy, criteria that are addressed later in the book. In terms
of the criteria or conditions for a genuine African philosophy, my
substantive position has been that a modern African philosophy
must be linked to - take its rise from - African cultural and histor¬
ical experience. Just as the African experience can be said to be a
many-sided experience, so African culture, like the cultures of
other peoples, can be said to have incorporated elements from
other (alien) sources. Thus, when I speak of African culture (or cul¬
tures), I have in mind the complex of ideas, beliefs, values, out¬
looks, habits, practices, and institutions that can justifiably be said
to have been endogenously created as well as those that can be said

xii
 Preface to the revised edition

to have been inherited or appropriated exogenously; the latter,

however, having in time gained footing in the indigenous cul¬
ture — having, thus, taken root in the entire way of life and thought
of the African people.
A sufficient condition for considering what was originally an
alien (nonAfrican) cultural value as now part of the system of the
cultural values of another people will be constituted by a synergy
of certain factors or circumstances. One important factor is that an
alien cultural value would have lost, in the fullness of time, its ‘ali¬
enness’ from the point of view of its recipients, for it would have
for a considerable length of time been flowing down the indige¬
nous cultural stream along with the endogenous elements of the
culture. Another factor is that the alien cultural value would have
been so fully incorporated into the culture of the recipients that it
would have profoundly and thoroughly shaped the life and thought
of the indigenous culture for generations. Another important fac¬
tor is that, as far as subsequent generations are concerned, the ques¬
tion about the origin or paternity of that (alien) cultural value
would have become meaningless and irrelevant: for them, the ap¬
propriated cultural value is simply a part of their cultural heritage.
Yet another factor is that the impact of the inherited cultural value
is felt, directly or indirectly, by a wider section of the recipient so¬
ciety, not just among its elites.
This last factor is terribly important if an inherited cultural value
or practice is to be an aspect of that society’s culture. Let me give
a concrete example. During the colonial days in Ghana, British (or,
European) music and dance forms such as waltz, slow fox-trot, and
quick-step were played at dance halls side by side with the en¬
dogenous Ghanaian music and dance such as high-life. At most
dances when music for a quick-step dance, for instance, was
played, only a few people - usually some elites and ‘been-to’s’
(those who had been to Britain) — would take to the dance floor.
Whenever the Ghanaian high-life music was played, however, the
floor was filled to capacity. It was clear that very few of the Ghana¬
ians appreciated and enjoyed the British dance music. It is not sur¬
prising that such imported or adopted forms of music and dance
have, to all intents and purposes, disappeared from dance halls in
Ghana today. For an appropriated cultural value or practice to take
root in its new cultural environment, it must, as it were, become
the property of a very large section of that environment. That is to
say, it must in time be appreciated, enjoyed, and participated in by

xiii
 Preface to the revised edition

most members of the society, otherwise it will remain a thin ve¬

neer and peter out sooner rather than later.
The requirement that the impact of an inherited cultural value
be widely felt in the recipient society should, in my view, apply
also to the intellectual or philosophical culture of that society, even
though one is here referring specifically to a society’s group of
philosophers rather than the entire membership of the society as
such. If a set of philosophical ideas clearly of an alien origin is to
become part of the philosophical heritage of a recipient society,
then an enduring interest should be shown in it by a wider section
of its philosophers. That set of originally alien ideas should not re¬
main an attraction for only an individual philosopher; its worth
should be recognized by a large section of the society’s philoso¬
phers for it to gain an appreciated status in the philosophical cul¬
ture of the society. I strongly suspect that if an African philosopher
isolates his philosophical thought or analysis from its cultural con¬
text - his reflections bearing no immediate relation to the values,
sentiments, experiences, and issues of that context — his philo¬
sophical works will most probably remain a lonely voice in the
wilderness, as he will hardly have any impact on the intellectual and
philosophical climate of his society. It is known that a handful of
American philosophers, for instance, have for a long time shown
interest in, and have been writing about, some ideas in Indian
philosophical thought; but it is also known that the philosophical
exertions of these American philosophers enamored of the philo¬
sophical thought of India have hardly made any notable entry into
the citadel of ideas that resiliently concern and influence American
philosophers and their society.
I argue that philosophy is a universal intellectual activity that has
been pursued by peoples of all cultures and that the propensity to
raise fundamental questions about human experience can be found
in peoples belonging to different cultures, even though the answers
may be different, despite our common humanity, and may not all
be equally compelling. Yet, our common humanity, which in¬
clines human beings to adopt similar (or near similar) responses to
experiences of various kinds, tends to lead thinkers to be exercised
about fairly similar questions or puzzles and to reflect on them in
search of answers or explanations. The human capacity to wonder
is not only boundless but also universal. The context of our won¬
der is of course human experience: We wonder about the nature
of the universe and our place in it, about who or what we are, the

xiv
 Preface to the revised edition

existence of some ultimate being, the nature of the good life, and
about many other aspects of our experience that are beyond our
ken and are, thus, not immediately rationally explicable to us.
Wonder leads some individuals in various cultures to raise funda¬
mental questions and, in this way, to engage in philosophical re¬
flections.
The limitations of human intelligence — which limit what hu¬
mans can possibly know — and the enigmas of human life can lead
thinkers from different cultural backgrounds to raise similar ques¬
tions about whether human beings have destiny, whether the hu¬
man person is entirely physical (corporeal) or is constituted in part
by some nonphysical (mental, spintual) substance, and so on. I
claim that a number of such intellectual or conceptual issues are
bound to be raised by thinkers from different cultures. Thus, I try
to show through interpretive analysis that, against the background
of their own culture and experience, Akan traditional thinkers
have raised questions about the origin of the world, the existence
of an ultimate being, the nature of the human person, causality, hu¬
man destiny, and so forth (see Part II), and have produced some
thoughts on these matters - matters that cannot in any way be said
to be unique to the Akan expenence of humanity and of the world.
However, I do not claim, by any means, that the conceptual
matters taken up in Akan traditional thought are distinctive of that
thought and that they do not appear in the systems of thought of
other peoples or cultures. That would not only be an extravagant
claim, but would simply be false. On the contrary, I do emphasize
the nonuniqueness of concepts in Akan philosophical thought.
Yet, D. A. Masolo totally misunderstands my point. He mistakenly
interprets what I take to be elements of the Akan conceptual
scheme as uniquely Akan. After listing some of the matters on
which the Akan thinkers also reflected, Masolo adds: “However,
one sees little that is fundamentally Akan or African in the listed
items beyond linguistic variances of conceptual expression
(p. 192). I attribute no such uniqueness (this is how I understand
Masolo’s term “fundamentally”) to the elements of the Akan con¬
ceptual scheme. I say on p. 10: ‘ When I claim that philosophical
activity is universal, I mean simply that thinkers from different cul¬
tures or philosophical traditions ask similar philosophical questions
and think deeply about them. And, in the concluding pages, I
make the following observation: “I do not claim that the features
of the African life and thought I have presented are peculiarly

xv
 Preface to the revised edition

African. . . . But this observation is harmless in itself, and does not

detract from the need to explore ideas from the African perspective.
African philosophical systems will not be unique. . . . African per¬
spectives on these ideas may be similar to those of others; never¬
theless, they are worth examining within the African conceptual
crucible” (pp. 210-11; emphasis not in the original). Thus, I make
no claim to uniqueness for the concepts or issues discussed in Akan
or African philosophy. (Incidentally, a couple of those who wrote
reviews of the book also misunderstood me on this point.)
If there are features of human culture that can be said to belong
uniquely to the culture of a single group of people, those features
would be very few indeed. The reason is this: If one were to make
profound, extensive, and sustained investigations into the cultural
systems of different peoples — such as social structures — one would
find on the cultural landscape of one people reverberations of fea¬
tures of the cultural forms of another people. One explanation of
this phenomenon - that is, the replication of cultural features — is
the historical fact of cultural borrowing where there is evidence of
contact, direct or indirect. Another explanation is that the conver¬
gence of ideas nurtured and held by people from different cul¬
tures - concerning various aspects of human life — can give rise to
cultural commonahties even where there has been no enduring
cultural contact.

2. On ethnophilosophy
I did not use the term “ethnophilosophy” in the book be¬
cause I did not fully understand its real meaning, even though I re¬
ferred critically to some features of the conception of African phi¬
losophy held by Paulin Hountondji, who claims to have “coined”
it (1983, p. 34). In a more recent publication (Mosley, 1995, p.
175), however, Hountondji acknowledges that the term had been
employed almost three decades earlier by Kwame Nkrumah - later
to become the president of Ghana — in the formulation of his doc¬
toral thesis undertaken (but uncompleted) at the University of
Pennsylvania. But he does not indicate clearly whether Nkrumah
used the term in the same sense as he does. I suspect that “ethno¬
philosophy is used to refer, at least in part, to collective thought
(Hountondji, 1983, pp. 60—61, 173—74, et passim), the latter itself
being a vague and bizarre notion. Thus, my criticisms of collective
thought (pp. 24—29) will also apply to ethnophilosophy. Even

xvi
 Preface to the revised edition

though the term was used by Hountondji and Marcien Towa to

characterize the work of Placide Tempels and Alexis Kagame, its
use also reflects the attitudes of Hountondji and Towa toward the
philosophical status of African traditional thought. These attitudes
derive from two basic - albeit false — assumptions that have earned
it the label of “ethnophilosophy” or “collective thought.” One as¬
sumption is the alleged communal subscription to a ‘monolithic’
set of ideas or beliefs, and hence to ‘unanimism’. The other is the
alleged lack of individualist elements in traditional philosophical
thought. This (second) assumption implies that African philosoph¬
ical thought in the traditional setting was the work of a collectiv¬
ity, of a whole tribe (ethnos), thinking together — thinking with one
mind. These assumptions have led some scholars to suppose that
African thought is a system of ideas or beliefs produced and unan¬
imously adhered to by an ethnos, and that it was this amorphous
ethno-thought that Tempels and Kagame were studying. How¬
ever, the two assumptions are in fact groundless in terms of both
the production of philosophical ideas and the subscription to those
ideas by members of a society.
It is undoubtedly the preliterate cultural milieu from which
African traditional philosophical thought emerged that lies at the
bottom of those assumptions. Owing to the lack of texts produced
by specific individuals, the term ‘ethnos’ has come to be applied to
the intellectual enterprises of a preliterate culture: thus, ethnomu-
sicology, ethnophilosophy, and so on. The assumption is that these
cultural productions, whose specific authors or creators are indis-
criminable from the collectivity due to the absence of written ev¬
idence of specific authorship, are therefore the work of the whole
collectivity. To study the music of a preliterate - for example, an
African - cultural group, then, is to engage in ‘ethnomusicology’;
similarly, to critically assess the philosophical thought of a particu¬
lar African people is to do ‘ethnophilosophy’. On the other hand,
to study the intellectual or musical productions of a particular lit¬
erate culture is to do philosophy or musicology.
It is not necessary or appropriate, however, to describe a
scholar’s study of the thought of a particular people as ethnophi-
losophy. We do not describe a scholar’s study of the philosophic
thought of the ancient Greek people as ethnophilosophy. Even
though the scholar would be studying the philosophic thought of
a particular people — namely, the ancient Greeks (or the Athenians)
- we would not say that she is therefore engaged in ethnophiloso-

xvii
 Preface to the revised edition

phy (or, that her work is to be described as ethnophilosophical).

The main reason why the term “ethnophilosophy” is not applied
to the study of the philosophic thought of the Athenians is because
of the identifiability of the individual thinkers who produced that
philosophic thought. To talk about their thought, therefore, is not
to engage in ethnophilosophy: It is simply to talk about their
(philosophic) thought; that’s all. In short, to talk about the thought
of a particular people cannot appropriately be described as ethno¬
philosophy.
It is pretty clear that in the characterization of the study of the
philosophic thought of a particular people, whether as ethnophi¬
losophy or not, literacy or the existence of texts is regarded as cru¬
cial, perhaps also as canonical. Thus, Hountondji’s main reason for
rejecting what he refers to as “ethnophilosophy” is that it has no
textual sources and therefore no textual support, and so cannot
lend itself to the kind of reliable, or less whimsical, interpretation
as Hegelianism, for instance, can or would (Hountondji, p. 42).
And, in his view, the lack of philosophical texts leads scholars such
as Tempels to speak as though unanimism prevailed in the intel¬
lectual or philosophical orientations of a cultural group. Such
scholars, according to Hountondji, erroneously presented African
philosophy as a “collective system of thought, common to all
Africans, or at least to all members severally, past, present and fu¬
ture, of such-and-such an African ethnic group” (ibid. pp. 55—56;
see also pp. 51—52).
Hountondji might be taken, then, to have implicitly alluded to
the existence of (some) individuahst elements in traditional thought,
both in terms of its production and its acceptance. Yet, he denies
any individuahst elements in African traditional philosophical
thought (ibid. pp. 53, 63). His denial may be taken as implying a
belief in the collective and unanimist character of that thought,
hence his use of the term ‘ethnos’. Even though the assumption
about unanimism would, in my view, be false, its falsity does not —
should not - in any way detract from the existence of philosophi¬
cal thought in the traditional setting of Africa. If Tempels’ work or
methodology led to the impression that traditional philosophy in
Africa was collectively produced and unanimously adhered to, it
does not follow that that impression was necessarily correct. But to
reject his approach or methodology is not to reject the existence of
traditional philosophical thought, as Hountondji does — that would
be a clear case of throwing away the baby with the bathwater.

xvih
 Preface to the revised edition

I totally reject the characterization of African traditional philos¬

ophy as an ethnophilosophy. (See my criticisms of “collective
thought,” pp. 24—29.) The reason for the firm position I have taken
on this issue is conceptual: thought (Akan: adwen) can only be an ac¬
tivity of individual intellects. Thus, the philosophical thought or
ideas of a group of people can only have resulted from the reflec¬
tive enterprises of certain individuals whose name identities have,
due to a lack of records, fallen into oblivion. The individualist el¬
ements that Hountondji and others would like to use as a paradigm
of genuine philosophical thinking are not, in my opinion, absent
from the thought of African people in the traditional setting. As to
his view of unanimism held as concomitant to the so-called
ethnophilosophy (ibid. p. 174), it cannot be correct because it is
inconceivable that all the individual persons in a community would
share the same ideas or beliefs, even though the ideas of some in¬
dividuals may attract the adherence of a number of other individ¬
uals in the community.
Mudimbe does not seem to be comfortable with the notion of
ethnophilosophy either. He does not directly and critically con¬
front the employment of that notion, but does not pejoratively use
it to characterize African traditional philosophy either. He would
rather talk in terms of a Weltanschauung (a world-view) than of
ethnophilosophy, “using the term in its etymological value: eth-
nos-philosophia or Weltanschauung of a community” (1983, p.
149, note 7). It is possible, I think, for a world-view to be the re¬
sult of a critical reflection on a people’s experience of the world,
and, to the extent that this is so, a Weltanschauung could embody a
philosophy.
Those who characterize the study of African traditional philos¬
ophy as ethnophilosophy suppose that they are rejecting the exis¬
tence of philosophy in the traditional setting of Africa because of
the collective and unanimist elements it is supposed to contain.
But, as we have seen, we can reject ethnophilosophy - we can say
that there is no such thing as ethnophilosophy, while strongly af¬
firming the existence of philosophy in that setting, a philosophy
that was produced by some (now) unidentifiable individuals.
Let me say something, parenthetically, to support the view that
the lack of literacy is at the base of the characterization of cultural
or intellectual productions of preliterate cultures as “ethno-so-and-
so.” In present day Ghana, for instance, we know by name those
individual creators of endogenous music forms, such as Kaikaiku,

xix
 Preface to the revised edition
Kwabena Onyina, Kwaw Mensah, and Koo Nimo, to mention a
few of the most famous musicians and guitarists. Their contribu¬
tions to Ghanaian music are well known. Owing to the fact that
their compositions are being recorded in their names and they are
being studied by students of Ghanaian music, future generations
will be able to identify them as the individual creators of Ghanaian
music forms. Even though a large section of Ghanaian society par¬
ticipates in the appreciation and enjoyment of their music, the cre¬
ation of that music is not by any means the work of a collectivity,
an ethnos; it is the creation of individual artists. If these individual
creators lived in the sixteenth or seventeenth century when
“Ghanaian” society was preliterate, their individual contributions
would not have been recorded as productions of some specific in¬
dividuals, but would have in time descended into the pool of com¬
munal or collective artistic productions; the individuality of their
creations would have sunk into eternal oblivion. What can be said
with regard to the emergence of a dance or music form can also be
said with regard to a philosophical idea or argument: both are pro¬
ductions of individual intellects.
As part of the research toward the publication of this book, I
traveled to towns and villages in Ghana in search of traditional
sages. Every place I went, I would invariably be directed to one or
two individuals known to the townsfolk as those interested in the
kinds of “discussions or problems or ideas you are interested in,”
as some chief or elder would put it. On no occasion was I directed
to a group or a collectivity! The chief or elder (whom I would see
on arrival) realized that only a few individuals — a few “Socrateses”
if you will — in the town were capable, interested, and willing to
engage in discussions of the “difficult questions” I was interested
in. Thus, thought is indeed a production ab initio of an individual
intellect. It would be true to say, therefore, that the creators of cul¬
tural products of any human culture are not the collectivities; they
are invariably individual intellectuals: artists, thinkers, and others
endowed with particular capacities, talents, and visions, notwith¬
standing the social context of an individual’s production. It may be
true that in respect to the productions of scientists, technologists
and herbalists, two or more individuals may sometimes pool their
•resources or talents for the purpose of achieving a certain goal.
Such professional collaborations, however, hardly have parallels in
philosophical productions.
I said that it would be false to suppose that all members of a so-

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ciety — in this case of an ethnos — would unanimously adhere to the

same corpus of philosophical ideas or beliefs, as those who charac¬
terize the study of traditional philosophy as “ethnophilosophy” also
imply. The reason is that communal living does not absolutely
obliterate individual religious, philosophical, moral, or political be¬
liefs and convictions. Even though there is no such thing as
ideational unanimism (I use ‘ideation’ to refer to ideas, beliefs, con¬
victions, and values), nevertheless, we can still assume that the sta¬
ble and continuous functioning of society requires a general or
wide acceptance of some set of ideas and beliefs. This set of ideas
constitutes itself into what may be called a public conception of
things, or public philosophy. There are reasons behind such con¬
ceptions. (It is the reasons behind conceptions that may lead to the
application of the word ‘philosophy’ in a broad sense.) And, if we
talked of public philosophy or even of a Weltanschauung instead of
“ethnophilosophy,” we would probably make some headway in
our conviction that some set of basic ideas can be said to be shared
by most people in a society, even though this will not lead to una¬
nimism as such. The notion of a public philosophy is a plausible
and defensible one.
Writing about African philosophical speculation a little over
three decades ago, W. E. Abraham rightly distinguished between
two species of that activity: a public and a private philosophy. He
considered public philosophy to involve “tracing out the theoret¬
ical foundations of the traditional society, ... a laying-bare of the
communal mind” (p. 104). Even though I am in sympathy with
Abraham’s distinction, I object to his confining the application of
public philosophy to “the traditional society.” The reason is that
the satisfactory functioning of a society, “traditional” or “modern,”
requires that it have or evolve some basic set of ideas and values to
underpin and give meaning to its ways of life and thought. What
Abraham refers to as “the communal mind” may in some impre¬
cise sense be said to be a feature of any society: traditional, mod¬
ern, literate, or preliterate (see p. 27 for my understanding of the
term ‘mind’ in such phrases as “the Oriental mind”). A public phi¬
losophy will refer to a corpus of basic ideas and beliefs, an under¬
lying layer of values, perceptions, outlooks, feelings, fundamental
convictions and truths shared by a large section of a society. It is to
be contrasted with a private philosophy, the ideas or convictions
of which will be confined to the individual.
I take it that Hountondji will object to the characterization of

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some shared ideation as philosophy not only because they are
shared, but because they are, in his view, not articulated by iden¬
tifiable individuals. But this wouldn’t do. It would be unreasonable
to deny that a number of philosophers and others can share - or be
convinced by - a set of ideas. What will be the purpose of philo¬
sophical arguments if they are not aimed at convincing others of
the truths purported to be embodied in, or borne by, those argu¬
ments? And what prevents any individual - philosopher or non¬
philosopher - from being convinced or attracted by some philo¬
sophical argument, and thus eventually coming to share in those
truths or ideas? How do what are referred to as philosophical
‘schools’ or philosophical traditions such as Platonism or neo-Pla-
tonism, Kantianism or neo-Kantianism emerge if the ideas of such
philosophical systems are not shared by some individual philoso¬
phers and others? The exploration of these questions will indicate
the absurdity of the view that if a set of ideas is shared, then it can¬
not be a philosophy! Also, it goes without saying that ideas are al¬
ways produced and articulated by individuals, identifiable in liter¬
ate cultures, unidentifiable in preliterate cultures. It is possible, of
course, for two or more individuals to articulate one and the same
idea; yet, the articulation as such is the function of an individual
intellect.
The manner of the production or emergence of a public philos¬
ophy is not easy to decipher. It seems that both the public and in¬
dividual members play some role in its emergence. Thus, a public
philosophy is, in part, the production of the intellectual exertions
of certain individuals that gain currency among the wider society
and becomes influential in that society, animating its life and
thought. I use the phrase ‘in part’ advisedly: I believe that part of
the makings of a public philosophy comprises the values of a soci¬
ety. These values — moral, social, and political — can hardly be said
to be the production of an individual. It seems that they emerge to
fulfill the goals and aspirations of a society in its search for harmo¬
nious and cooperative living. In this way, they may be said to have
been evolved by the society. A public philosophy, thus, eventuates
both from the dynamic impact on the society of the intellectual ac¬
tivities of some individuals and the society’s perception of its own
needs, interests, and goals.
The foregoing definition of public philosophy makes it distin¬
guishable from “ethnophilosophy”: The latter, as we understand it
from Hountondji and his cohorts, is supposed to be an attribute

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only of the thought system of a preliterate society; but the former,
in my view, is to be found in every human society, literate or pre¬
literate, traditional or modern. African traditional societies, like
other societies, produced public philosophies regarding general
principles of life, principles that themselves have reasons behind
them. To the extent that “ethnophilosophy” is viewed by its in¬
ventors, Hountondji and others, as the production solely of an eth¬
nos and as implying unanimism on the part of the members of the
ethnos, it is distinguishable from a public philosophy.

3. The ‘invention’ of Africa

If there is a continent whose people and cultures have been
denigrated and, thus, received much less appreciation by scholars
and others, that continent is Africa. In the nineteenth century, it
was said that Africa was a “geographical expression,” a mere name
or sound applied to some well defined land mass inhabited by a
conglomerate of peoples so fundamentally different from one an¬
other that their cultures bore no relation one to the other. The im¬
plication here was that it was in order to facilitate the classification
and definition of places on the globe that the term ‘Africa’ was
adopted, not that there were people on that continent who could
be described as Africans as such. That was the beginning of the Eu¬
ropean invention of Africa. Today, more than a century later, the
denial of any cultural unity in Africa is maintained to the hilt by a
number of scholars. And, the current term bandied about by some
of them is ‘invention’: thus, the invention of Africa. The first chap¬
ter of Kwame Anthony Appiah’s In My Father’s House is headed
“The Invention of Africa,” and the title of V. Y. Mudimbe’s book
is The Invention of Africa (1988).
I must point out, however, that the two scholars do not use ‘in¬
vention’ in exactly the same sense. Mudimbe uses the term to re¬
fer to “European constructs” of Africa (ibid. p. 1), referring to the
negative theories constructed by Europeans about Africa and
Africans (ibid. p. 71 et passim). In his most recent book, he opines
that “Africa ... is represented in Western scholarship by ‘fantasies’
and ‘constructs’ made up by scholars and writers since Greek
times” (1994, p. xv). Mudimbe uses the tenn ‘invention’ to refer
to how particular Europeans coming to the continent as colonial¬
ists, researchers, and missionaries constructed certain views about
Africa and its peoples for their own purposes, using their own cat-

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egories and conceptual schemes to interpret and understand the
values, outlooks, and practices of the Africans. The European in¬
vention of Africa resulted in fantasies and fictions being created
about Africa. Whereas, Mudimbe says, “there are natural features,
cultural characteristics, and, probably, values that contribute to the
reality of Africa as a continent and its civilizations as constituting a
totality different from those of, say, Asia and Europe” (1994, p. xv;
emphasis mine).
I do not have any trouble with Mudimbe’s use of the word ‘in¬
vention’. The exaggerated diversity of African cultures is, to my
mind, a consequence of the European invention of Africa. Ap-
piah’s use of ‘invention’ appears somewhat different. He is not
oblivious to the European images of Africa constructed over the
past centuries; yet, for him the invention of Africa has resulted sub¬
stantially from the intellectual activities of African and African-de¬
scended scholars, most of whom constructed an image of Africa as
a culturally unified continent where there was (or is), in his view,
nothing but a total cultural disunity. Thus, for Appiah, an African
world is therefore a myth (ibid, chapter 4 et passim). Any assertion
about some form of cultural unity in Africa is merely imaginary: to
make any such assertion is to engage oneself in ‘inventing’ Africa.
In the final analysis, however, the term is used by Mudimbe and
Appiah to refer to the same thing, namely, that which is false or
unreal, the falsity or unreality stemming from European construc¬
tions in one case, or from constructions of African intellectuals in
the other.
In such phrases as ‘the invention of Africa,’ ‘the invention of tra¬
dition,’ and ‘the invention of ethnicity,’ invention means imagin¬
ing something to be real when it is not — a false construction. Thus,
what is said to be invented is in fact made up, as in a fiction. In The
Invention of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawn and Terence
Ranger, an invented tradition is contrasted with “real” or “gen¬
uine” tradition (pp. 2, 8). To say, then, that Africa is invented
means not that the continent called ‘Africa’ is not part of the globe
or that it is a geographic fiction, but that the cultures of the nu¬
merous groups of people who inhabit that continent are so radi¬
cally diverse that, given cultural heterogeneity, neither the people
nor their cultures can really be grouped under the generic term
African’. In terms of the view of Africa as invented, they can only
be grouped under their various ethnic names - Akan, Yoruba,
Igbo, Gikuyu, Luo, Ewe, Mende, Shona, and so on — or even un-

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der sub-ethnic names such as Asante and Fanti. The multiplicity of

ethnic groups in Africa can only spawn a multiplicity of cultures
having nothing, or very little, in common. According to that view,
the term ‘African’ used to cover the multiple cultures of Africa can¬
not be appropriate or genuine; it is a term used to refer to that
which is invented and therefore not really the case. (But it must be
noted, parenthetically, that other uses of‘invention’ do not suggest
falsity or fictionality. For instance, in the statement “The French
revolution invented the nation-state and the modern institution of
national citizenship,” what is meant is not that the institutions of
the nation-state and national citizenship are false or imaginary, but
that the revolution gave rise to the creation of those institutions.)
It must also be noted, however, that the notion of the cultural
disunity of Africa is not at all new. Several Western scholars have
for decades been harping on the diversities of the cultures of Africa,
without showing any awareness of — rather, preferring to ignore —
the existence of underlying affinities or similarities between those
cultures. Yet, there are many other scholars, including both West¬
ern and African anthropologists, who do acknowledge the com¬
mon features among the cultures of Africa, while not ignoring the
diversities of those cultures (see pp. 191—210). Most of these schol¬
ars have done field investigations in Africa for years, if not decades,
and their observations and analyses are likely to be more penetrat¬
ing and reliable than those of the tourist and the casual observer.
In a recent publication on the African frontier and the common
cultural patterns that emerged therefrom, anthropologist Igor
Kopytoff makes no bones in his assertions about “ancestral pan-
African culture patterns” (p. 9), “the existence of certain pan-
African cultural principles” (p. 15), “the existence in African soci¬
eties of this common pan-African cultural base” (p. 15), and
“pan-African cultural unity” (p. 76). He asserts that pan-African
cultural principles “exist on the same level of generality as do cer¬
tain European or Western cultural principles” (p. 15; emphasis
mine).
Kopytoff attributes the existence of common African cultural
patterns, “the African cultural ecumene” (pp. 10, 15), to several in-
cubational factors. One factor, part of Africa’s pre-history, is the
concentration of the African ancestral population some thousands
of years ago in the then fertile Saharan-Sahelian region of the
northern half of the continent. Deemed the ancestral “hearth” of
African culture, it was “a region of persistent cultural interaction

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and exchange” (p. 10). In the wake of the desiccation of the Saha-
ran-Sahelian belt, a population tide crept slowly southward, out of
the expanding Saharan desert into the savannas and, in the course
of time, into the equatorial forest zone. Most of sub-Saharan
Africa, says Kopytoff, “has been occupied and culturally dominated
by populations deriving from this Neolithic Saharan-Sahelian cul¬
tural ecumene” (p. 10).
The segmentation and fission in African social groups led to sub¬
groups disengaging themselves from existing groups and constitut¬
ing themselves into another cultural group, “bringing with them a
basically similar kit of cultural and ideological resources” (Kopy¬
toff, p. 10). Hence, the remarkable significance of the book’s sub¬
title: The reproduction of traditional African societies. According to
Kopytoff, studies do “support the commonplace observation that
African social groups — be they kin groups, villages, cult groups,
chieftaincies, or kingdoms — show consistently a tendency to fis¬
sion and segment. As a result, the formation of new social groups
as offshoots of old ones has been a constant theme in the histories
of African societies — histories filled with the movement of the dis¬
gruntled, the victimized, the exiled, the refugees, the losers in in¬
ternecine struggles, the adventurous, and the ambitious” (ibid. p.
18; see also p. 24). Other factors equally relevant to the cultural
shaping of African societies include “diffusion, similarities through
convergence, and a functional relationship among cultural fea¬
tures” (p. 15).
In the wake of the effects of these factors, “[i]t is [thus] not sur¬
prising,” Kopytoff maintains, “that Sub-Saharan Africa should ex¬
hibit to such a striking degree a fundamental cultural unity” (p. 10).
However, he gives due recognition to the fact of “cultural diver¬
gences within the African cultural continuities” (p. 76; emphasis in
original). Such historically well-grounded observations may, nev¬
ertheless, be received with a grain of salt by dyed-in-the-wool
skeptics. Yet, those observations made by Kopytoff and other con¬
tributors to his book prove false the assumption that the plethora
of‘ethnic groups’ in Africa necessarily implies an extraordinary di¬
versity in the cultures of the African peoples. One has to recog¬
nize — like Kopytoff - that autonomous, segmented sub-groups
would in the course of their cultural life evolve cultural values and
practices that can be expected to have diverged from those of other
groups. This fact, however, would not necessarily obliterate un¬
derlying commonalities among the cultures.

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The existence of such commonalities was also acknowledged by

Philip Curtin and his co-authors in their assertion that, “despite the
difference,” the cultures that flourished in Africa “all have grown
from humble and very similar origins, and underneath all the vari¬
ation common themes can still be discerned, themes and patterns that
go back to the hallowed past. The unity, then, derives from the
roots, for these African cultures have grown up in the surroundings
where they flourished for thousands and thousands of years” (p. 1;
emphasis mine).
It would be methodologically aberrant, unscientific, and intel¬
lectually facile to just shrug off the conclusions of these elaborate
empirical investigations of the cultures of African peoples.
Appiah denies any cultural unity among African peoples, join¬
ing the strident and long-running chorus in harping on the diver¬
sities of African cultures. Yet, the statements he makes in present¬
ing his views push him, perhaps unwittingly, into a position of
ambivalence, if not outright inconsistency. Appiah says, on the one
hand, that “the peoples of Africa have a good deal less culturally in
common than is usually assumed” (p. 17); that “nothing should be
more striking for someone without preconceptions than the extra¬
ordinary diversity of Africa’s peoples and its cultures” (p. 24, em¬
phasis mine); and that “we cannot accept ... the presupposition
that there is, even at quite a high level of abstraction, an African
world view” (p. 82; emphasis in the original). On the other hand,
he also says that “some of the common features that there are in many
of the traditional conceptual worlds of Africa plainly persist in the
thinking of most Africans. . . . They provide the basis for a common
set of African philosophical problems” (p. 103; emphasis mine ex¬
cept for “are”). I wonder whether one can consistently speak of
“common features” of a group of cultures and stress the “diversi¬
ties” among those cultures at the same time. (Incidentally the ex¬
istence of common features in African cultures that can be used as
a basis and justification for talking in terms of‘African philosophy’
constitutes the burden of Chapter 12 in my book.)
Also, can Appiah say, “Most Africans, now, whether converted
to Islam or Christianity or not, still share the beliefs of their ances¬
tors in an ontology of invisible beings (p. 134; emphasis mine),
and at the same time absolutely deny “a metaphysical unity
to African conceptions” (p. 81) or “an African worldview”? Note,
also, his claim that “there is some truth in this view that Crummell
and Blyden shared: in a sense, there truly were ‘no atheists and

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agnostics in Africa’ ” (p. 23). Appiah’s statement plainly implies

that Africans share a common theological or metaphysical per¬
spective and, hence, that the notion of an African religious or
metaphysical world - or an African worldview - cannot therefore
be a myth.
In his disagreement with Hountondji over the type of conclu¬
sion the latter draws from his (that is, Hountondji’s) critique of
ethnophilosophy, Appiah implies “the possibility that there are
specially African topics and concepts that deserve philosophical
study” (p. 106; emphasis mine). In other words, Appiah objects to
Hountondji’s rejection of that possibility. But why, or how, are the
“topics and concepts” African, one may ask, rather than Asante,
Fanti, Yoruba, Igbo, or Luo given Appiah’s schema of culture in
Africa?
Appiah’s conception of tradition, which is a consequence of his
views on the extraordinary diversity of the cultures of Africa, is also
flawed. A discussion of the notion of ‘cultural borrowing’ will
demonstrate the point. It can hardly be doubted, I think, that cul¬
tural borrowing is an outstanding historical phenomenon in the de¬
velopment of all human cultures. (I am aware of course that in
some cases people of one culture come to take up values and prac¬
tices of another culture by having those cultural values imposed on
them. But this fact is really and ultimately irrelevant regarding the
makings of a tradition.) And, given this historical fact, it would be
true to say that, in the wake of historical encounters between dif¬
ferent peoples of the world and the cultural borrowing that results
from them, the tradition (or cultural heritage) of any people con¬
sists of some elements that must have been appropriated from other
cultures or traditions and that have in time become part of their
tradition. Given this historically justifiable assumption, I find it dif¬
ficult to endorse Appiah’s skepticisms regarding the possibility of
identifying some precolonial system of ideas or values of a partic¬
ular African people as (part of) their tradition. Appiah writes: “[T]he
Fanti live on the coast of modem Ghana, and this case allows us to
focus on the question whether, in cultures that have exchanged
goods, people, and ideas with each other and with Europe (or, in
East Africa, with the Middle and Far East) for many centuries, it
makes sense to insist on the possibility of identifying some pre¬
colonial system of ideas as the Fanti tradition” (p. 99; emphasis in
the original).
In light of the phenomenon of cultural borrowing, to identify an

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idea or value as part of the cultural tradition of a people does not

imply that it was necessarily originated by those people; neither
does it imply that a particular set of ideas or values is distinctive of
a people, that it uniquely belongs to the tradition of that people.
The use of the definite article (“the”) in this connection does not
by any means imply necessarily that the elements of a people’s tra¬
dition are all autochthonous in their genesis. But, as discussed in
Section 1 above, those originally alien elements, appropriated and
maintained by another people over several centuries, can now be
said to have become a part of their tradition: hence, the justifiabil¬
ity of such utterances as “the Chinese tradition,” “the European tra¬
dition,” and so forth. In all such utterances the definite article im¬
plies no uniqueness or distinctiveness; neither does it in all cases
imply a specifically identifiable origin. The eminent American so¬
cial scientist, Edward Shils, states: “The laying open of Africa to
explorers and colonizers was followed by the bringing back to Eu¬
rope of works of African art which were assimilated into and
changed greatly the tradition of European painting and sculpture”
(p. 260; emphasis mine). Shils’ view about the contribution of
African art to European art can be collaborated from other sources.
And, despite the acknowledged origin in Africa of some elements
of European art, the utterance “the tradition of European painting
and sculpture” makes sense to Shils, just as it does to me.
If cultural borrowing (or cultural exchanges) resulted in the im¬
possibility of identifying a tradition as the tradition of a particular
people, then, no group of people on earth (save the first genera¬
tions of the ancestors of the human race) could ever have a tradi¬
tion that can really be said to be theirs as such. Note that exchange
involves give-and-take. In light of the phenomenon of cultural
borrowing, all traditions have widespread roots. It would make
sense to identify some precolonial ideas as belonging to, as having
become part of, the tradition of some African people (say, the Fanti
or the Luo), if those ideas are known to have gained root in the
way of life and thought of those African people. I think this inter¬
pretation would redeem the intelligibility as well as consistency of
Appiah’s reference to “our own traditions” (p. 103), even though
I am not sure which traditions he has in mind by his use of “our”:
Asante, Fanti, Akan, Ghanaian, or African? (It must be noted, in¬
cidentally, that Asante is not a cultural oasis in Ghana; it is cultur¬
ally related to other sub-groups of the Akan people, such as the
Akim, Fanti, Akuapem, Bono, and others, including, yes, non-

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Akan groups. Thus, it is not a culturally independent ‘kingdom’ in

Ghana.)
Since Appiah is concerned about cultural, political, ideological,
and intellectual problems of Africa - a fact that is evident from the
subtitle of his book - one would not err in saying that “House” in
the main title refers to Africa. If this is so, one of the things Appiah
may be interpreted as saying, parodying a famous biblical utterance,
is this: “In my father’s House, there are many cultural mansions,”
as was pointed out by Odia Ofeimun in a brilliant review of the
book. And, if the many cultural mansions are in the same House -
the one House of the father - then we can legitimately expect them
to be closely affiliated one to the other at least in some important
respects. Just as there are, generally speaking, affinal relationships
between individuals in a house - that is, in a lineal or ancestral
house - so there will (have to) be some relationships among the
contiguous cultures populating the African cultural landscape. Ap¬
piah, however, exerts a great deal of intellectual energy in point¬
ing out the mosaic character of those cultural mansions, ignoring
the affinal threads visible in the cultural tapestry of the African peo¬
ples. These threads include religious outlooks or attitudes (which
Appiah himself refers to when he admits that there truly were no
atheists and agnostics in Africa), communal social structures, and
other common features (see pp. 191—210 in this book).
It is clear that Appiah is philosophically and morally committed
to the ideas or values of universality and humanity, for he speaks
of “our one world,” and “one race” (p. 27 et passim). That com¬
mitment can — and should — be appreciated. I appreciate and share
it; most members of the human family appreciate it as well. But,
having said this, I must add that the way Appiah wishes to prose¬
cute his agenda is less than satisfactory. How can universality in
terms of the human culture be achieved if one denies — or takes an
attitude of ambivalence toward — some form of unity or degree of
similarity among contiguous cultures? Those of Africa have for
centuries experienced interpenetration through exchanges and
borrowing of ideas, institutions, art, and technology. If throughout
the centuries some aspects of contiguous cultures cannot be ac¬
knowledged to have coalesced, despite movements of people and
ideas, then the universality he envisages for human culture will be
a myth. To achieve universality in some explicit way requires rec¬
ognizing palpable identical features in contiguous cultures, the
identities being the result of one culture appropriating elements of

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the other because of the worth of the latter. (In today’s world
united by dense networks of transportation and communication,
contiguity is not necessary for cultural sharing; but this was not so
in the world of previous centuries.) The dynamics of human in¬
teractions plainly disclosed to us by the history of the development
of human cultures can hardly be disregarded.
The generally ambivalent attitude toward the question of simi¬
larities or identities in the cultures of Africa evinced, wittingly or
unwittingly, by some scholars seems to suggest that unqualified
statements about Africa’s cultural unity on the one hand, and its
cultural diversity on the other hand, would simply be exaggera¬
tions. It seems to me that the truth lies somewhere in the middle:
While there are diversities in the cultures of Africa, there are also
some similarities; however, by “similarities” I do not mean that
African peoples lead absolutely unified cultural lives.
I also realize, of course, that common cultural features, whether
perceived by me or Appiah or someone else, do not amount to cul¬
tural unity (whatever cultural unity is or means in conceptual as
well as concrete and practical terms); but they do not argue total
cultural diversity either. It requires only a little reflection to see that
the notion, or actual existence, of common features leads in a direc¬
tion toward the coalescence of cultures, rather than in a direction
toward absolute divergence. Yet, the existence of common cultural
features does not imply the existence of a unified cultural fife
among a people. But what is this notion of a unified cultural life?
And, do people in any given cultural milieu five an absolutely uni¬
fied cultural life? Given the fact that culture encompasses the en¬
tire life of a people and that some aspects of culture are a response
to environmental or even climatic conditions, the second question
will have to be answered in the negative.
I would like to make a distinction, however, between a strong
and a weak sense of the idea of a unified cultural life (or cultural
unity). The strong sense of the idea would imply that in literally all
aspects of their cultural life, people in a given cultural environment
live the same way: eat the same food, wear the same dress, share the
same tastes, have common religious, political, and moral beliefs,
think, act, and react in the same way, and so on. Thus, in terms of
the strong sense, if people speak the same language but do not share
common political beliefs, they cannot be said to live a culturally
unified life; similarly, people who speak the same language, eat the
same food, and wear the same dress cannot be said to live a cul-

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turaily unified life if their religious beliefs, for instance, are differ¬
ent; and so on. Therefore, in terms of the strong sense of the idea,
then, it is impossible to expect people of any culture to live a to¬
tally unified cultural life. In short, there is no such thing as a purely
or absolutely unified cultural life.
On the other hand, the weak sense of that notion would be de¬
fensible both conceptually and empirically. It does not imply or
suggest a monolithic cultural life for a people who live in what may
be described as a shared cultural environment. Rather, it allows for
the expression of individual or group sentiments, preferences,
tastes, and different ways of responding to local or particular expe¬
riences. Social stratification, occupational differences, and differ¬
ences in individual talents, endowments, desires, and aesthetic per¬
ceptions insistently constrain the homogenization of particular
forms of cultural life even in the same cultural milieu. To say this,
however, is of course not to deny that people belonging to the
same cultural environment would generally share certain cultural
values - a proposition that logically derives from the notions of cul¬
ture and community. It is this weak sense of the notion of a uni¬
fied cultural life that can be defended in a discourse on the cultural
life of a people.
If there is some truth - as I think there is — regarding the under¬
lying identities among the various cultures of Africa, then it would
not only be a groundless exaggeration to see only extraordinary di¬
versity in those cultures, but it would also make such a notion as
‘the myth of an African world’ inappropriate and an implausible
characterization of the African cultural landscape. Such a conclu¬
sion would also pave the way for us to talk intelligibly and legiti¬
mately of African philosophy.

XXXll
 Acknowledgments
to the revised edition

The preface to the revised edition was written in January and

February of 1995 when I was a Visiting Professor in the depart¬
ments of Philosophy and African-American Studies at Temple
University in the spring semester, 1995. I wish to record my pro¬
found appreciation and gratitude to Carolyn T. Adams, Dean of
the College of Arts and Sciences, who offered me the appointment,
and to Molefi Asante and David Welker, chairpersons, respec¬
tively, of the Department of African-American Studies and the De¬
partment of Philosophy, who welcomed me to their departments
and helped to make my stay at Temple most worthwhile both in
terms of teaching and research.
I am deeply indebted to Lucius Outlaw, Jr., of the Department
of Philosophy at Haverford College, who read the preface and gen¬
erously offered elaborate and helpful comments that I found ex¬
tremely useful in clarifying my own position. In expressing my in¬
debtedness to him, I do not imply by any means that he shares all
the views I have expressed here.

Philadelphia Kwame Gyekye

xxxiii
 Preface to the first edition

In recent years, with the growth in interest in the philosophi¬

cal thought of African peoples, philosophers - both African and
non-African - have begun to ask such questions as “Is there
African philosophy?” and “What is African philosophy?” The
questions clearly refer to the indigenous philosophical thought of
African peoples and, given the dearth of written philosophical
classics - of a doxographic tradition - in Africa’s historical past
generally, such questions can be regarded as apt and legitimate.
However, believing, as I do, that the lack of written philosophical
literature does not by any means imply the absence of philosophical
thinking or philosophical ideas, and that philosophy of some kind is
behind or involved in the thought and action of every people, every
culture, in my view, produces a philosophy. But as a result of the
lack of writing in Africa’s historical past, the indigenous philo¬
sophical output of African thinkers, in the traditional setting, has
remained part of their oral traditions and has come to be expressed
also in religious and sociopolitical beliefs and institutions. It has
therefore seemed to me that the best and most seminal approach to
dealing with the question of philosophy in African culture is by
way of analytical elucidation and interpretation and critical evalua¬
tion of concepts and beliefs in traditional thought. Philosophical
concepts, ideas, and propositions can be found embedded in
African proverbs, linguistic expressions, myths and folktales, reli¬
gious beliefs and rituals, customs and traditions of the people, in
their art symbols, and in their sociopolitical institutions.
What the interested philosopher needs to do is to sort out in a
more sophisticated and systematic way the philosophical elements

xxxv
 Preface to the first edition

of African thought on various fundamental questions about human

life, conduct, and experience and to provide the necessary concep¬
tual or theoretical trimming for those elements. This is what I have
attempted to do in Part II, which analyzes the philosophical
thought of the traditional thinkers among the Akan, the largest
ethnic group in Ghana.
Let me say something from the outset about the term ‘African”
in the title of this book. Despite the fact that the majority of this
book is given to a discussion of concepts, beliefs, and propositions
in Akan philosophical thought, I believe the appearance of the term
there is justified. A basic position I have taken here is that
philosophy is a cultural phenomenon, that philosophical thought is
grounded in a cultural experience. It is the underlying cultural unity
or identity of the various individual thinkers that justifies the
reference to varieties of thought as wholes, such as Western or
European or Oriental philosophy. That is, even though the individ¬
ual thinkers who produced what is known as Western philosophy
are from different European or Western nations, we nonetheless
refer to such body of philosophical ideas as Western philosophy (in
addition to, say, French, German, or British philosophy). The real
reason for this is surely the common cultural experience and
orientation of those individual thinkers.
I have been at pains to present facts and arguments, in Chapter 2
and in my concluding Chapter 12, to show that common features
or underlying similarities are palpably discernible in the cultures
and thought systems of African peoples. This underlying cultural
identity, experience, and orientation should provide justification for
referring to the philosophical ideas spawned by thinkers from
various African nations or communities as African, if only the
organizing concepts and categories of their philosophical investiga¬
tions are extracted from the African cultural and historical experi¬
ence. Yet to refer to the philosophical ideas of some African thinker
as “African” does not mean at all that these ideas are necessarily
held by all Africans, thinkers and nonthinkers. Thus, I do not
intend the term “African” in the title of the book to mean that the
philosophical ideas and doctrines of some Akan wise men exam¬
ined here are necessarily held by all Africans (they are not even held
by all Akans); neither do I intend it to mean that those ideas and
doctrines are to be generalized for all Africans. However, I want to
emphasize that for me a philosophical doctrine does not have to be
shared by all Africans for it to be African; it need only be the

xxxvi
 Preface to the first edition

product of the rational, reflective exertions of an African thinker,

aimed at giving analytical attention or response to basic conceptual
issues in African cultural experience.
Research for the publication of the book was begun some years
ago - in fact a little over a decade ago. Drafts of about two-thirds
of the chapters were written during the academic year of 1977-8,
when I spent my sabbatical year at the University of Florida,
Gainesville, as a Visiting Associate Professor of Philosophy. Before
that, however, I had published some few papers on African philoso¬
phy which have found their way into this book:
1. “A Critical Review Article on John Mbiti’s African Religions
and Philosophy,” Second Order, An African Journal of Philosophy,
January 1975. A great part of this article appears in section
11.2, but in an expanded form.
2. “Philosophical Relevance of Akan Proverbs,” Second Order, An
African Journal of Philosophy, July 1975. The article is repro¬
duced, with minor changes, in section 2.1.
3. “Akan Concept of a Person,” International Philosophical Quar¬
terly, September 1978. This article has greatly been expanded
as Chapter 6.
4. “Akan Language and the Materialist Thesis: A Short Essay on
the Relation Between Philosophy and Language,” Studies in
Language, International Journal Sponsored by the Foundations
of Language, Vol. 1, No. 2, 1977. This article has been
reproduced, with some changes, in section 11.1.
5. “An African Conception of Philosophy (Wisdom),” Studia
Africana, Vol. 2, March 1978. A great part of the material of
this article has been reproduced, but greatly expanded, as
Chapter 4.
Chapter 12 is based on a paper I presented at a weekend
symposium held at the University of Bristol in England in Septem¬
ber 1978 under the auspices of the International Cultural Founda¬
tion of New York. Portions of this book have been presented in
public lectures and seminars in some colleges and universities in the
United States.

xxxvu
 Acknowledgments
to the first edition

I would like, first of all, to express my gratitude to the

University of Ghana’s Research Committee, which granted me
some financial assistance and thus enabled me to embark on the
research for the publication of this book. I owe a great debt of
gratitude also to the West African Aggrey Society (a Learned
Society, itself originally funded by the Hazen Foundation of New
Haven, Connecticut) for a huge financial grant I received for the
research.
I must express my gratitude and appreciation to some individuals
acknowledged in Akan communities in Ghana not only as wise
men in their own right but also as the gurus of traditional wisdom.
These individual wise men were most willing to put at my disposal,
through interviews and discussions, not only their profound
knowledge of Akan culture, lore, and tradition, but also their own
thoughts and ideas. They readily and generously received me in
their homes on all occasions, some of which were not, I know, very
convenient for them. Among them I would like to make special
mention of the following: the late Mr. J. A. Annobil of Cape Coast;
Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe and Nana Boafo-Ansah, both of Akro-
pong-Akuapem; Okyeame Akuffo Boafo (“State Linguist” during
the first Republic of Ghana and for sometime Instructor in Akan
Language and Culture at the University of Ghana); Mr. A. A.
Opoku (formerly of the Ghana Broadcasting Corporation); the late
Nana Ofori Atta III, Omanhene of Akim-Abuakwa; the late
Opanin Twum Barima of Kibi, the late Nana Osei Bonsu of
Kumasi, a well-known carver; and the late Okyeame Yaw Bireku of
Akim-Achiasi (the author’s hometown).

xxxix
 Acknowledgments to the first edition

In bringing this book to its present form, I have benefited

tremendously from the suggestions and comments of a few people
who read it in draft. I thank my colleague, Professor Kwasi Wiredu,
who read earlier versions of some of the chapters with great care
and made elaborate comments from which I benefited a great deal. I
wish to record my indebtedness to Dr. Richard A. Wright of the
Department of Philosophy, University of Toledo, Ohio, who read
Chapters 4-8 and whose suggestions and queries helped me a great
deal to eliminate some errors and clarify my own position. Dr.
Ellen S. Haring, then Chairperson of the Department of Philoso¬
phy, University of Florida, Gainesville, made helpful suggestions
for improvement on Chapters 1 and 2. Sir Peter Strawson read
Chapter 11, and I found his comments delightful. I salute the two
anonymous referees selected by Cambridge University Press whose
penetrating and trenchant comments, queries, and suggestions I
found extremely helpful. I am deeply indebted to Mr. Jonathan
Sinclair-Wilson, Philosophy Editor at the Press, from whose edito¬
rial assistance and skills the book has benefited immensely. I should
record my gratitude and deep appreciation to my students in the
University of Ghana and some colleges and universities in the
United States to whom a number of chapters were presented in
lectures and seminars and whose intelligent questions compelled
me to clarify and amplify my own position. Any shortcomings and
defects that might remain in this book, however, are the result of
my own limitations.
My gratitude is extended also to Mr. Daniel Teye Korboe, an
Administrative Assistant, and Mr. Emmanuel N. Okwei, Senior
Administrative Assistant, both of the Department of Philosophy,
who patiently produced the typescript.
Last, but not least, I should express my gratitude to my dear wife,
Dedo, who most efficiently looked after the house and my three
daughters - Maame, Asantewa, and Nana Abena Nyarkua - while I
was away (and not infrequently) on research trips, and who
accompanied me on a few of these trips. This book is gratefully
dedicated to her.

Legon, Ghana Kwame Gyekye

xl
 Guide to the pronunciation of
Akan words

Since the book contains a number of Akan words, I consider

it appropriate to provide the reader with a guide to their pronun¬
ciation. Even though Akan is my native language, in preparing this
pronunciation guide on Akan words I consulted, on some technical
matters, J. G. Christaller, Dictionary of the Asante and Fante Language
called Tshi (Twi), Second Edition (revised and enlarged), Basel, Basel
Evangelical Missionary Society, 1933, pp. xvi-xix. Note that
Asante and Fante are dialects of the Akan language.

Vowels

a as in sat
e as in prey
e as in let
o as in robe
5 as in rob
u as in flu

The vowels e and 5 are open vowels and require the widest
opening of the mouth.
The vowels are as a rule short; lengthening is indicated by
doubling the letter, as in daa (everyday) and afeboo (eternally,
forever).
Also as a rule, each vowel is pronounced separately even when it is
joined to (or followed by) another vowel. Thus, there are no true
(monosyllabic) diphthongs. For instance, nkrabea (destiny, fate) is

xli
 Guide to the pronunciation of Akan words

pronounced in three syllables: nkrabea. Other instances of joined

but separately pronounced vowels are ae, ei, oi, and ui.

Consonants
When they stand alone, consonants in Akan are generally
pronounced as they are in English. However, unlike the Akan
vowels, joined consonants are digraphic, that is, pronounced as one
syllable. (Examples of English digraphs include ph in “phone” and
gh in “enough!')
ky as in child or church
gy softer than ky and close to the English j; my name, Gyekye, is
thus pronounced Je che
hy like the English sh\ thus hyebea (destiny) is pronounced
shebea
ny a palatalized n, as in Onyame (God, Supreme Being)
kw It is difficult to find a suitably equivalent syllable in English
for this diagraph: In pronouncing it the mouth is made to
protrude (thus, Kwame is pronounced as Quamay) but the u
after the Q is hardly sounded
nk like ng in sing; thus in nkra be a (destiny)
The diagraphs tw, dw, and hw are palatolabial sounds,
tw like chw pronounced simultaneously
dw like dy simultaneously pronounced with w, as in dwen, to
think. In most cases dw passes into the English j; thus Dwoda
(Monday) sounds like jo da, and Adwoa (a female born on
Monday) is pronounced Ajoa (as it is in fact spelled by some
Akan speakers)
hw In pronouncing this digraph the mouth is formed as for
whistling.

xlii
I
The question of philosophy in
African culture
 1
On the denial of traditional
thought as philosophy

Scholars, including philosophers, tend to squirm a little at the

mention of African philosophy, though they do not do so at the
mention of African art, music, history, anthropology, or religion.
Whereas the latter cluster of disciplines has been - and is still being
- cultivated or pursued by scholars, both African and non-African,
in the various Centers or Institutes of African Studies around the
world, African philosophy as such is relegated to limbo, and its
existence doubted. Philosophy is thus assumed to be a special relish
of the peoples of the West and the East.
There are, I think, two main reasons for the resilient skepticism
regarding the existence of African philosophy. The first, which I
shall examine in due course, is the lack of writing in Africa s
historical past, which led in turn to the absence of a doxographic
tradition, a tradition of recorded opinions. The second reason is
that African traditional’ thought is not always accepted as philoso¬
phy. Perhaps the best-known argument to that effect has been put
forward by Robin Horton,2 who has urged a distinction between
philosophy and traditional (African) thought - a distinction that I
regard as spurious because it imphes that there is no philosophical
component to traditional thought. Such a distinction stems, I
believe, from the failure to see that “thought” is a generic or
comprehensive concept under which religious, social, political,
scientific, and philosophical thought, as well as other kinds, may be
subsumed as species. Arguments are required to demonstrate that
philosophy is not a species of thought in the case of African
thought; but at the same time the confines of African thought must
be delineated and reasons given for the inclusion of certain species

3
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

of thought in African thought. In an attempt to deny the existence

of philosophy as a species of African thought, Horton asserts that
the traditional cultures did not develop logic and epistemology, and
“since Logic and Epistemology together make up the core of what
we call Philosophy, we can say that the traditional cultures have
never felt the need to develop Philosophy.”3 In a much earlier and
well-known paper, Horton had defined philosophy thus: “And by
Philosophy, I mean thinking directed to answering the question:
‘On what ground can we ever claim to know anything about the
world?’ ”4 This definition is at best a definition of epistemology - a
branch of philosophy - not of philosophy itself!
As Horton’s characterization of philosophy in terms of episte¬
mology is the peg on which he hangs his denial of the existence of
the philosophical component of traditional African thought, it
deserves some consideration. In raising objections to Horton’s
definition and his view of what constitutes the core of philosophy,
my hope is to find a more comprehensive, plausible, and attractive
characterization of philosophy. The characterization I would en¬
dorse (stated in a number of places in this book) stems from a close
examination of the nature and purpose of the intellectual activities
of thinkers or sages from various cultures and societies of the
world. That examination reveals, undoubtedly in my view, that
philosophy is essentially a rational, critical, and systematic inquiry
into the fundamental ideas underlying human thought, experience,
and conduct - an inquiry whose subject matter includes epistemo¬
logical concepts and categories, which Horton mistakenly singles
out as constituting the main concerns of philosophy.
Several objections may be raised to Horton’s thesis; but as a
preliminary to my first objection, it may be asked whether he
intends his assertion to be regarded as a statement of fact about the
history of Western philosophy. If so, his thesis is highly disputable
and should not have been presented as unqualifiedly true. On this
matter one can contrast the views of several other philosophers.
Abel concludes the introduction to his book with the words: “Let
us begin our inquiry with the traditional core of philosophy, namely,
metaphysics.’” Sontag maintains that “Philosophy, insofar as it is the
search for first principles or the basic assumptions implicit in any
question, is metaphysics.”6 For this reason, “Every philosopher
should be a metaphysician in that he should pay critical attention to
his questions and to their assumed first principles. . . ,”7 In addition,
Taylor asserts that “metaphysics is a foundation of philosophy, and

4
 1. Denial of traditional thought as philosophy

not its capstone. One’s philosophical thinking, if long pursued,

tends to resolve itself into basic problems of metaphysics.”8 Me¬
taphysics, then, as fundamental to every other branch of philoso¬
phy, must constitute the core of (Western) philosophy.9 Moreover,
in a recent interview, Quine, whose works have mainly been in the
fields of logic and epistemology, identified ontological problems as
the main or most important questions of philosophy.
Ontology (the theory of being or existence) is part of metaphy¬
sics, and it is metaphysics that, in my view, constitutes the core of
Western philosophy. This conviction is suggested by the fact that
what are often regarded as the perennial problems of philosophy
are mostly metaphysical in character. This observation does not
imply by any means that logic and epistemology are not important
branches of philosophy. Metaphysics often involves epistemology,
and no thinker would deny the vital importance of logic, though it
is interesting to note that Aristotle, the founder of formal logic in
the Western tradition, regarded it as an organon (instrument) of
philosophy, not as part of it. Nevertheless, the place held now by
logic in the Western tradition seems to date only from the middle of
the nineteenth century.
Second, it is not clear whether Horton intends his assertion to be
confined to European (or Western) philosophy, to the exclusion of
Islamic, Indian, Chinese, and other kinds, or to be all-inclusive,
embracing other non-Western philosophies as well. If the former, it
is a mistaken view as I have just demonstrated; if the latter - that is,
if he intends the reference of “what we call Philosophy to include
other, non-Western, philosophies - it is equally mistaken, for
metaphysics (including mysticism) and ethics constitute the core of
Islamic philosophy and of Oriental philosophies in general. “Indian
Philosophy,” wrote A. C. Ewing, “is traditionally more connected
than English with the search for the good life in a religious
sense. . . All this means that what constitutes the core of one
philosophical tradition does not necessarily constitute the core of
another; how a particular subject (or set of subjects) becomes or
turns out to be the core of a philosophical tradition is a complex
question to unravel. Indeed, what philosophy is itself has been a
bone of contention among philosophers.
Third, African traditional thought did develop some epistemol¬
ogy, at least of a rudimentary kind. Concepts such as truth,
“mode of reasoning,” “skepticism,” “explanation, and so on,
appear in Akan thought,12 and the linguistic expressions, proverbs.
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

and the general metaphysic of African peoples are replete with

epistemological ideas and positions (see section 12.3.2). Paranormal
cognition, for instance, is an important feature of African episte¬
mology. (The fact that this mode of knowing does not occur, or
occurs only marginally, in Western epistemology is irrelevant.)
These African epistemological ideas and propositions, like other
areas of African thought in general, were developed in a preliterate
environment. As Busia noted: “The African has not offered learned
and divergent disputations to the world in writing, but in his
expression in conduct of awe, and reverence for nature, no less than
in his use of natural resources, he demonstrates his own epistemol-
> j 13
°gy-
I would concede, however, that there, is not much evidence
(“documented” in the proverbs, for instance) to demonstrate that
epistemological ideas or proposals were developed to any high
degree in African traditional thought comparable to that obtained
in, say, post-Socratic Greek thought or post-Renaissance Western
thought. The position is analogous to that of pre-Socratic Greek
philosophical thought, which, of course, is known to have devel¬
oped great metaphysical systems, but which appears to have paid
inadequate attention to the analysis of epistemological concepts as
such. Thus, writing on the history of epistemology in the Western
tradition, D. W. Hamlyn observed: “The pre-Socratic philosophers,
the first philosophers in the Western tradition, did not give any
fundamental attention to this branch of philosophy, for they were
primarily concerned with the nature and possibility of change.
They took it for granted that knowledge of nature was
possible. . . .” He added: “It was Plato, however, who can be said to
be the real originator of epistemology, for he attempted to deal
with the basic questions . . . ,”14 that is, of epistemology.
As for the development of logic, by which Horton means formal
logic, or as he puts it, “the general rules by which we can
distinguish good arguments from bad ones,”15 nothing much can be
said in favor of African thought. A formal system of logic is hardly
to be expected in a preliterate culture, even though beliefs in that
culture can be accepted as rational and logical. However, the lack of
the development of formal systems of logic in African thought -
despite its “eminently rational and logical character,” to quote
Horton 6 - cannot be considered a sufficient reason for eliminating
philosophy as a component of African thought, any more than the
lack of formalized logic in ancient Greek philosophy before Aristotle

6
 1. Denial of traditional thought as philosophy

meant that philosophy did not exist in its completeness in ancient

Greece.
Pre-Socratic thought was, of course, rationally developed; so was
African traditional thought. Horton in fact admits that African
thought was eminently rational and logical. One important crite¬
rion of rationality is consistency, a notion that is evidenced in, for
instance, the Akan proverb (referred to in section 2.1), “there are no
crossroads in the ear” - meaning that one cannot accept truth and
falsehood at the same time: a formulation of the principle of
noncontradiction. A system of thought that is rational and focuses
attention on fundamental questions about human life and experi¬
ence can justifiably be considered philosophical, even though it
may not have given adequate attention to the analysis of epistemo¬
logical concepts.
It is pretty clear that epistemology and logic (in the sense of
formal logic) did not constitute the core of pre-Socratic thought.
And yet no one, to my knowledge, has ever denied the title of
“philosophy” to pre-Socratic thought. On the contrary, pre-
Socratic thought has become the foundation of the Western philo¬
sophical tradition. The obvious conclusion, then, is that to define
the philosophical enterprise in terms principally of epistemology
and formal logic, as Horton does, is to present it in overly narrow
terms. Such narrow terms have, I have shown, no historical warrant
even within the Western tradition itself, and ignore important facts
in the philosophical traditions of other cultures.
When Wittgenstein and others say that the main task of philoso¬
phy is the analysis or elucidation of concepts, they refer to concepts
of all kinds: concepts in metaphysics, ethics, epistemology, politics,
aesthetics, economics, religion, science, and so on. Philosophers
belonging to a given culture or era or tradition select those
concepts or clusters of concepts that, for one reason or another,
matter to them most and that therefore are brought to the fore in
their analysis. The choice of concepts to be attended to may be
determined by culture, history, intentions, hopes or fears, or by a
combination of these factors. But what is clear is that the “chosen
race” of concepts in time comes to make up the core of the
philosophy of a particular group and, thus, of a particular philo¬
sophical tradition.
I have claimed that metaphysics is the core of (Western) philoso¬
phy. Metaphysics lies at the heart of African thought, for the
sources do indicate that African peoples, like others, have given

7
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

reflective attention to such fundamental matters as being, God, the

nature of the person, destiny, evil, causality, free will, and so on (see
Chapters 5 to 7 and section 12.3.1). Horton thought in fact that
“most African traditional worldviews are logically developed to a
high degree.”17
The reflective impulse is also manifested in African religious
thought. It is generally accepted that Africans are religious people,
in the sense that they possess elaborate systems of religious beliefs
and practices. Some of these are philosophical in that they deal with
such fundamental questions as the meaning of life, the origins of all
things, death, and related questions. In religion we seek answers to
questions of ultimate existence; philosophy also is concerned with
similar questions of ultimate existence.
To deny African peoples philosophical thought is to imply that
they are unable to reflect on or conceptualize their experience,
whereas the proverbs that, as I shall argue below, can be used with
other materials as a source of African philosophical ideas are the
undeniable results of reflection on their experience in the world.
Philosophy proceeds from the facts of experience. In short, African
thought, if it is thought at all, must encompass philosophy. It is this
philosophy that must be distilled from the comprehensive thought
of the community, and it is this philosophy that stands in need of
elaboration, clarification, and interpretation. I cannot, therefore,
accept the suggestion that the term “African philosophy” should
be reserved for “that needful enterprise,” the fashioning of “phil¬
osophies based upon contemporary experience with its many-
sidedness.” The author of this suggestion, Wiredu, thinks that
African philosophy “is still in the making.”18 This view has been
repeated by Bodunrin, who maintains that “an African philosophi¬
cal tradition is yet in the making.”'8 Yet Bodunrin at the same time
admits that conscious philosophical reflection did take place in
traditional Africa. “It is unlikely,” he asserts, “that such conscious
reflection did not take place in traditional Africa; it is however left
to research to show to what extent it has. That it has cannot be
denied a priori!'20
The same position is taken also by Hountondji, who urges us to
admit “that our African philosophy is yet to come!' African philoso¬
phy, “like . . . African culture in general,” he says “is before us, not
behind us and must be created today by decisive action.” But then
he adds, curiously, that “this creation will not be effected ex nihilo,
that it will necessarily embrace the heritage of the past and will

8
 ?. Denial of traditional thought as philosophy

therefore rather be a recreationThese statements are as bizarre and

perplexing as they are incompatible. If African philosophy is
“before us,” if it is “yet to come,” then we cannot recreate it, for it
makes no sense to speak of recreating that which is in the future.
However, if we can in fact recreate African philosophy - an action
that cannot be “effected ex nihilo,” then it follows surely that not all
of it is before us or yet to come! Thus, Hountondji is forced by the
logic of his own statements to affirm the reality of the African
traditional philosophy that he denies because, according to him, it is
a collective philosophy and therefore a myth.22 Also, if by “heri¬
tage” Hountondji means African heritage, then he cannot talk of
our heritage of the past and at the same time assert that “African
culture in general is before us, not behind us.” The culture of a
people comprises the people’s beliefs, values, mentalities, institu¬
tions, habits, ways of life, and so on. Are these constituents of
African culture “before us” yet to be created? Of course not. If, on
the other hand, he means the European heritage, then he is greatly
mistaken, for we cannot create (or re-create) African philosophy -
certainly not all aspects of it - out of the European heritage: If we
could, it would not, to my mind, be African philosophy (see
sections 2.4 and 12.4).
Further, the denial of the philosophical component of African
thought cannot really be accepted. The reason is that philoso¬
phy, as an intellectual activity, is universal; it cannot be assumed
to be confined to the peoples of the West and the East. Philoso¬
phy of some kind is involved in the thought and action of every
people and constitutes the intellectual sheet anchor of their life
in its totality. It is not given to humanity to make itself
immortal; but it is certainly given to humanity to philosophize.
We cannot but philosophize, that is, pose fundamental questions,
and reflect on fundamental aspects, of human life, conduct, and
experience (see section 2.4). In other words, although peoples of
the world live in different cultural environments, there is never¬
theless a common ground of shared human experiences, and
hence there certainly are some basic questions relating to their
existence on this planet that may commonly be asked by them, V
questions that are bound to exercise their minds as humans. Such
questions, I believe, may be universal, transcending cultural and
historical frontiers, even though the philosophical doctrines and
propositions put forward in answer to them may in fact be very
dissimilar and divergent.23 Moreover, answers to philosophical

9
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

questions provided by thinkers from different cultures may

differ in quality, sophistication, and persuasiveness.
For this reason, it should not surprise anyone to discover that a
number of problems raised in philosophy elsewhere have been
raised also in African thought, and that some of the doctrines
found in Western philosophy, for instance, can be found also in
African thought. As an example: Long before any Akan thinker
read Plato, St. Augustine, or Descartes, and long before the Bible
was introduced to the Akan people, some of the thinkers among
them had, on my analytical interpretation of the sources, consid¬
ered a person to be composed of two basic substances, a spiritual
one that they called okra (soul) and a physical one that they called
nipadua or honam (body, flesh) (see sections 6.1 and 6.2).
When I claim that philosophical activity is universal, I mean
simply that thinkers from different cultures or philosophical
traditions ask similar philosophical questions and think deeply
about them. It is in terms of the philosophical attitude, of the
propensity to raise questions relating to the fundamental princi¬
ples underlying human experience and conduct, and not in terms
of the uniformity of doctrinal positions, that philosophy can
be said to be universal. This approach to certain fundamental
questions about human experience is, in my view, the common
denominator of all philosophical activities or doctrines.
It is therefore legitimate to make the assumption that every
culture produces a philosophy, or, put differently, that there is a
philosophical component to a culture’s thought system. Because
the philosophies of some cultures have been written down for
centuries and as a result of the dissemination of the written
word, it has been possible over time for those philosophies to be
interpreted, elucidated, refined, and extensively developed both
vertically and horizontally. The philosophies of some other
cultures, notably those of Africa, have not met with such
fortune, and have consequently remained part of the oral tradi¬
tion.
Thus, in Africa philosophical ideas are not to be found in
documents,"^ for traditional African philosophy is not a written
philosophy, although this does not mean that it cannot be written
down. Such ideas were embodied in proverbs, aphorisms, or
fragments (as such pithy philosophical sayings are called in the
context of pre-Socratic Greek philosophy). Yet this fact does not in
any way imply the nonexistence of African philosophy. Socrates

10
 1. Denial of traditional thought as philosophy

did not write anything, although he inherited a written culture; but

we know, thanks to Plato, that he philosophized. (This indicates that
even as a discipline philosophy need not be a literary activity,
despite all that can be said in favor of literacy.) In India, “the
Upanishads, which are imbued with philosophy . . . were not
written down for centuries.”"5 An eminent Indian philosopher
wrote: “The Vedas were handed down from mouth to mouth from
a period of unknown antiquity . . . When the Vedas were com¬
posed, there was probably no system of writing prevalent in
India.’“6 (The Vedas constitute the religious and philosophical
classics of India; the Upanishads form the concluding portions of
the Vedas. Another Indian philosopher also wrote that written
“Indian philosophy can be considered to be a series of footnotes to
the Upanishads.”"7) Buddha “wrote no book, but taught orally.”28
Thus, traditional African philosophy is none the worse for the
absence of written philosophical literature, for the absence of
written philosophical literature does not in any way imply the
absence of philosophical thinking or philosophical ideas.
Now, if the arguments so far advanced are valid, then it is indeed
a mistake to maintain that the term “African philosophy” should be
used to cover only the philosophy, that is, the written philosophy,
that is being produced by contemporary African philosophers. For
philosophy, whether in the sense of a worldview or in the sense of
discipline - that is, in the sense of systematic critical thought about
the problems covered in philosophy as worldview - is discoverable
in African traditional thought. And my concern in Part II of this
book, which is specifically on Akan thought, is to provide a
systematic analysis and exposition of some aspects of that thought.
I am not creating that thought as such; although an elaborate
interpretation may - and sometimes must - involve the inter¬
preter’s own insight, this is not so far-reaching as to blur or tilt the
essential orientations of that system. The difference between inter¬
pretative analysis of African thought and that of, say, Aristotle or
al-Farabl, lies mainly in the fact that whereas the sources of the
former are unwritten, the sources of the latter are, of course,
written. This fact makes it much easier to investigate the latter than
the former. Nevertheless, both kinds of system are interpretable and
analyzable. Thus, I conclude, with regard to African thought, that
what is “still in the making,” in my opinion, is modem African
philosophy. Consequently, a distinction must be made between
traditional African philosophy and modern African philosophy:

11
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

The latter, to be African, and have a basis in African culture and

experience, must have a connection with the former, the traditional.
The sources of traditional African philosophical ideas are the
subject of the next chapter.

12
 2
Philosophy and culture

2.1. Sources of
African philosophical thought
African philosophical thought is expressed both in the oral
literature and in the thoughts and actions of the people. Thus, a
great deal of philosophical material is embedded in the proverbs,
myths and folktales, folk songs, rituals, beliefs, customs, and
traditions of the people, in their art symbols and in their sociopolit¬
ical institutions and practices. In this connection, let me refer to the
views of several scholars, including philosophers, who have noted
some African cultural forms as expressive of philosophy. Wrote
Herskovits:

In a culture as highly organized as that of Dahomey, . . . there

was no lack of opportunity for the development of a complex
philosophy of the Universe. The upper-class Dahomean does
not need to restrict himself to describing concrete instances
when discussing the larger concepts underlying his everyday
religious practice, he is not at a loss when questions of the
nature of the world as a whole, or abstract principles such as
justice, or destiny, or accident are asked him.1

Parrinder wrote: ‘Art is a means of expressing a basic philosophy of

life. . . .”2 Abraham observed that “As the Akans could not write,
they expressed their philosophicoreligious ideas through art. . . .”
Fagg adverted to the religious and philosophical basis and content
of African art.4 The philosophical content of African art emanates

13
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

from its well-known symbolic character. Also, art is one of the

areas of African cultural tradition where the critical impulse of the
African mind comes to the fore (see section 3.1).
Religious beliefs and practices in their complexities constitute an
important source of African philosophical thought. Observed
Idowu:

The religion of the Yoruba . . . finds vehicles in myths, folk¬

tales, proverbs and sayings, and is the basis of philosophy. As
there are no written records of the ancient past of the people,
all that has been preserved of their myths, philosophy, litur¬
gies, songs and sayings, has come to us by word of mouth
from generation to generation.5

Mbiti’s view was, “As with proverbs, the collection and study of
religious songs is very scanty, and yet this is another rich area
where one expects to find repositories of traditional beliefs, ideas,
wisdom and feelings.”6 Busia wrote that “Akan drum language is
full of riddles that conceal reflective thought and philosophy,”7 and
that “Funeral dirges philosophize on human life and death.”8 But
philosophy in traditional Africa is also expressed or reflected in
social values and has never confined itself to pure conceptualiza¬
tions. For instance, the humanistic strand in Akan philosophic
thought is expressed in the compassionate concern that people in an
Akan community feel for their fellow man, in the social institution
of the clan (abusua) with its web of kinship ties, and in other social
relationships.
Africans, like other peoples, are endowed with mythopoeic
imagination, and the continent abounds in myths and tales which,
in the African setting, as certainly in others, are important as
vehicles for abstract thought. Idowu observed that . . Odu myths
enshrine the theological and philosophical thoughts of the
Yoruba . . ”9 The folktales, Rattray noted, “mirror more or less
accurately the ideas of the people and their general outlook upon
life, conduct and morals.”11' We can discern elements of speculative
thought in the myths. One myth, briefly discussed in section 7.2.2,
reveals or presents the position of the Akan thinkers on destiny,
human choice, and free will. Another Akan myth conceives of the
Supreme Being (Onyame: God) as withdrawing himself from
human beings in consequence of the ungenerous act of an old
woman who used to strike heaven (sky), the abode of the Supreme
Being, with her pestle while preparing a meal. The Supreme Being

14
 2. Philosophy and culture

was, prior to her action, supposed to be very near to our physical

world. The myth presents the notion of transcendence, a notion
that entails the rejection of pantheism, which is the idea that
equates God (Onyame) with the sum of all things.
To get at the full philosophical import of myths, however,
requires detailed examination. The myths can be said to be imagi¬
native representations of religious or philosophical (metaphysical)
ideas or propositions; they presuppose conceptual analysis and
conceal philosophical arguments or conclusions. Parmanides, Plato,
and other philosophers have resorted to myths in order to present
thought. Of Plato, Stewart wrote: “Myth. . .is an essential element
of Plato’s philosophical style and his philosophy cannot be under¬
stood apart from it.’’" A serious philosophical attention to African
myths will, I believe, yield fruitful result. Such philosophical
questions as the meaning and purpose of life, the origin of the
world, God, human destiny, death, and other issues are the subject
of myths.
Proverbs or aphorisms, like myths, can be utilized as a source of
philosophical thought in Africa. “It is in proverbs,” according to
Mbiti, “that we find the remains of the oldest forms of African
religious and philosophical wisdom.”12 I wish, however, to discuss
the philosophical features of African proverbs as found in the Akan
tradition. But my remarks may well apply to the proverbs as they
feature in the traditions of other African peoples.
In 1879 J. G. Christaller, a German scholar and missionary who
collected over three thousand Akan proverbs,'3 wrote in the preface
of his work:

May this collection [that is, of proverbs] give a new stimulus

to the diligent gathering of folklore and to the increasing
cultivation of native literature. May those Africans who are
enjoying the benefit of a Christian education make the best of
this privilege, but let them not despise the sparks of truth
entrusted to and preserved by their own people and let them
not forget that by entering into their way of thinking and by
acknowledging what is good and expounding what is wrong
they will gain the more access to the hearts and minds of their
less favored countrymen.

R. S. Rattray, a British anthropologist in the employ of the colonial

administration of the Gold Coast (now Ghana) in the early decades
of this century, had this to say about the proverbs:

15
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

The few words [of the Author’s Note] the present writer has
felt it duty bound to say, lest the reader, astonished at the
words of wisdom which are to follow, refuse to credit that a
“savage” or “primitive” people could possibly have possessed
the rude philosophers, theologians, moralists, naturalists and even it
will be seen philologists, which many of these proverbs prove them to
have had among them.'4

In the recent literature on Akan - and for that matter African -

proverbs, however, attention has generally been directed to the
literary and the rhetorical aspects or roles of the proverbs.15 Several
writers16 have also pointed out the significance of the proverbs for
Akan axiology, that is, its system of values. But to my knowledge
no serious attention has been given to explaining or pointing out
the relevance of these proverbs to a general philosophy, although
the rhetorical role of the proverb seems, I believe, to derive from
some philosophical truth that may be embedded in it of which
truth the maker or user of the proverb intends to persuade the
listener(s). Nor has there been any real attempt to weave appropri¬
ate proverbs together in order to construct a coherent ethics or
moral philosophy of the Akans. Of course, philosophers like
Danquah17 and Abraham18 have made adroit philosophical use of
Akan proverbs, and in doing so have already assumed the philo¬
sophical relevance of the proverbs. One fundamental task, however,
must be accomplished: the dehneation of the proverbs’ philosophi¬
cal features and explanation of why they can and ought to be
utilized as a source of Akan philosophical ideas, alongside the
myths, folktales, beliefs, and customs of the Akan people. I attempt
that task in the paragraphs that follow.
Let us start by looking at the Akan word for proverb, ebe (pi.
mme). The word, as I learned in the course of my field research, is
linked etymologically with the word for palm tree, abe (pi. mme).'9 It
turns out that there is an affinity between the characteristic features
of the palm tree (abe) and those of the proverb (ebe). Products like
palm oil, palm wine, broom, palm-kernel oil, and soap can be
derived from the palm tree. The point to note is that these products
all result from processes such as distillation. The palm-kernel oil or
the palm wine is not immediately obvious to the eye as the juice of
the orange is, for instance; they lie deep in the palm tree. In the
same way, when someone says something that is not immediately
understandable, the Akans say wabu ebe, “he has created or uttered a

16
 2. Philosophy and culture

proverb.” In such a case one must go deeply into the statement in

order to get at its meaning. The meaning of a proverb is thus not
obvious or direct; it is profound, not superficial, the distillate of the
reflective process. A Socratic philosophic statement such as “Virtue
is knowledge” or “No one willingly does wrong” is certainly the
result of an elaborate, perhaps also complex, reflective process.
[Incidentally, I should make it clear that I am not concerned with
establishing general criteria for distinguishing between those terse
or pithy sayings in the language that are regarded as proverbs and
those that are not so regarded. It must suffice that there are some
pithy sayings in the Akan language that are regarded by the users of
the language as proverbs (mme).]
Some writers have described African proverbs as “situational.”
Mbiti says: “[But] proverbs in particular deserve a separate treat¬
ment since their philosophical content is mainly situational!’20 Wil¬
liam Bascom says: “Proverbs, which are the most important type of
aphorism in Africa, have a deeper meaning than is stated literally, a
meaning which can be understood only through the analysis of the
social situations to which they are appropriate.”"1 And Ruth Finnegan
writes: “A knowledge of the situations in which proverbs are cited
may also be an essential part of understanding their implications.”22
These writers suggest that the meaning of African proverbs cannot
be properly grasped except by reference to certain social situations
from which the proverbs arose. This may be true for four reasons.
First, some of the things referred to in the proverbs may be local
and so may be the characteristics that are attributed to them. For
instance, regarding the proverb obi nton ne akokobere kwa (“One does
not sell his hen without reason”), one might ask what is so
important about the hen. Second, some of the proverbs are the
conclusions of some local folktales. For instance, the proverb
woamma wo yonko antwa nkron a, wo nso wonntwa du (“If you do not let
your neighbor have nine, you will not have ten”) is the conclusion
of a folktale in which the egoistic behavior of Ananse (the Spider)
brings him to a miserable state. This proverb, and others like it, is a
repudiation of ethical egoism, the doctrine that everyone ought to
pursue his own interests to the total disregard of those of others.
Third, some of the proverbs derive from the customs and beliefs of
the people and from certain events in their history. Fourth, one
needs to know the rhetorical context in which a proverb is used in
order to work out its meaning. Proverbs are, in this respect, like
metaphors.

17
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

The characterization of the proverb as “situational has an

important implication for the nature of Akan philosophy. That
implication is embodied in the Akan proverb asern mmae a abebu
mma (“If the occasion has not arisen, the proverb does not come”),
or its positive equivalent asem ba a na abebu ba (“When the occasion
arises, it calls for a proverb”). The key word here is the ambiguous
asem. In these proverbs it may be rendered as “situation,” “occa¬
sion,” “circumstance,” “event,” “happening,” “experience.” On this
showing, proverbs must have arisen out of the experiences of the
people. They must be the result of reflection on their experiences in
the world, telescoped for us in language. The terseness of the
proverb indicates that it is a summary of complex ideas that are
condensed so that they are memorable in an environment that knew
no writing.
But if the proverbs are distilled from experience and in turn
form one of the sources of Akan philosophical ideas, then the
Akan philosophical system may be characterized at least partly as
empiricist, not rationalist. Abraham’s view that “Because moral¬
ity was [so] based on metaphysical beliefs, the ethics of the Akan
was rationalistic”23 is implausible. If by “rationalistic” he meant
that for the Akan thinkers moral ideas and ideals derive from
reason or mind independently of experience, then he is mistaken.
Morality for the Akan originates from society and its experi¬
ences; it is the result of a social awareness and need; morality for
them is essentially a social phenomenon (see Chapter 8). The
experiential nature of the proverbs is the important implication
in the description of the proverbs as “situational,” although this
point may not have loomed large in the minds of the writers who
used the words “situational” or “situation” in connection with
the proverbs.
Elliptical and enthymematic in expression, these pithy sayings
are pregnant with philosophical significance. Their character
may in fact be likened to the Socratic maxims - which were
given elaborate rational discussions and justification in the
writings of Plato and Aristotle. An Akan proverb like nkrabea
nyinaa nse (“Each destiny is unlike any other”) or obi nnye yiye
nnya bone (“The pursuit of beneficence brings no evil on him
who pursues it”), in its cryptic character is as analogous to the
Socratic maxim “No one willingly does wrong” or “Virtue is
knowledge,” as it is to any of the sayings of the Chinese
philosopher Confucius (551-479 B.C.):

18
 2. Philosophy and culture

If you set your mind on humanity, you will be free

from evil.
If one’s acts are motivated by profit, he will have
many enemies.
He who learns but does not think is lost, he who
thinks but does not learn is in danger.
A good man does not worry about not being
known by others but rather worries about not
knowing them.'4

These examples indicate that a philosophical claim or doctrine can

be stated in as few words as the author thinks fit, knowing that
amplification and clarification may always be supplied later. There¬
fore, it would be inconsistent to regard as philosophical the
statement “every event has a cause” found in, say, Aristotle or
Leibniz and refuse to regard as philosophical the Akan proverb
“everything has its ‘because of’ ” (i.e., every action or event has a
reason or cause), or to take the statement “what is was to be” to be
philosophical and not the Akan saying “what is fated to prosper or
succeed cannot be otherwise.”
One essential difference, however, between the Socratic (or the
Confucian) and the Akan case is that whereas we usually know the
author of the former type of maxim, we do not know who in an
Akan community created a particular proverb. Lacking a tradition
of recorded opinions, we cannot generally trace the individual
origin of a particular proverb.2’ Nevertheless, a proverb must have
been originated by someone. On the other hand, however, the
proverbs, like the maxims, can be explained rationally by the
anyansafo (sages, philosophers) of the Akan community who, in
fact, were the originators of the proverbs because it is they who
engage in reflective thinking.
The proverbs are about God, the world, the nature and destiny of
man, social and political hfe, moral principals, pleasure, happiness,
and so on. Thus, they are not only about Akan values but touch the
various branches of philosophy. Let me now illustrate this briefly.
The proverbs nsbn nyinaa ne Nyame [translated by Danquah as
“God is the justification (end cause) of all things”] and asase tere na
Onyame ne panyin (“The earth is wide but God is the chief”)
perhaps indicate the ontological principle that God is the ultimate
being. From the proverb nnipa nyinaa ye Onyame mma, obi nnye asase
ba (“All men are children of God, no one is a child of the earth”), we

19
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

infer the Akan conception of humans as theomorphic beings,

having in their nature an aspect of God; this is what they call okra,
soul. This proverb has moral overtones, for there must be some¬
thing intrinsically valuable in God for everyone to claim to be His
child. Man, being a child of God, would also be intrinsically
valuable, and as such he is an end in himself and must not be used as
a means to an end — a sidelight into Akan humanism. The latter
doctrine is attested also in the proverb onipa ne asem: mefre sika a, sika
annye so, mefre ntama a, ntama annye so, onipa ne asem, that is, “It is
man that counts: I call upon gold, it answers not; I call upon
drapery, it answers not. It is man that counts.”
The following cluster of proverbs onipa nnye ahe na ne ho ahyia ne
ho [“Man is not a palm tree that he should be complete (or self-
sufficient)”]; onipa na oma onipa ye yie [“The prosperity (well-being)
of man depends upon man”]; and wo nsa nifa hohorow benkum, na
benkum nso hohorow nifa (“The right arm washes the left arm, and the
left arm also washes the right arm”) - all of these indicate the social
character of Akan ethics and the view that the good of all
determines the good of each. Seek the good of the community and
you seek your own good. Seek your own good and you seek your
own destruction. Mutual aid, interdependence, is a moral obliga¬
tion.
As mentioned earlier in passing, the ethical doctrine of egoism is
repudiated in Akan moral philosophy, as attested also in the
proverbs wutiatia obi de so hwehwe wo de a wunhu (“Trampling on
another’s right to seek your own, ends in disappointment”) and
Obiako di ewo a etoa ne yam (“If one eats the honey alone, it plagues
one’s stomach”).
Akan notions of fatalism and predestination are expressed in such
proverbs as Onyame nkrabea nni kwatibea (“There is no bypass to
God s destiny ), Onyankopon nkum wo na odasani kum wo a wunwu da
( Unless you die ot God, let living man kill you, and you will not
perish”); asem a Onyame de asie no, oteasefo nnan no (“The order God
has settled, living man cannot subvert”); and yekra wo tuo a wunnwu
agyan ano (“If you were destined to die by the gun, you would not
die by the arrow”).
Finally, &e proverb aso mu nni nkwanta (“There are no crossroads
in the ear ) indicates that one cannot accept truth and falsehood at
the same time - a formulation of the principle of noncontradiction
which asserts that no statement can be both true and false.
Examples might be multiplied.

20
 2. Philosophy and culture

Concepts like God, human nature, fate (destiny), egoism, the

social contract, and others that are referred to in Akan proverbs of
course figure prominently in Western, and perhaps also in Oriental,
philosophy. One need not suppose, however, that the philosophical
ideas expressed or implied in the proverbs were not original to the
Akan thinkers, for the Akan thinkers, not being literate in European
languages, could hardly have borrowed those ideas from European
sources.
If Akan proverbs were of philosophical interest only if they could
be used to produce a philosophical system different from that of the
West or the East, one might ask, Why should the Akan philosophi¬
cal system be necessarily different from any other? If my remarks
regarding the possibility of doctrinal affinities in world philoso¬
phies are reasonable, then we cannot maintain that the philosophi¬
cal system of one people must necessarily be different in all respects
from that of another people. From the Akan proverbs already cited
and the philosophical ideas that they embody, on some philosophi¬
cal questions the answers of the Akan thinkers may well be similar
to those of thinkers of the West or the East, but on others they may
be different. It may be concluded, then, that if one found in the
Akan philosophical system analogues of, say, Western philosophical
problems and doctrines, and one then jumped to the conclusion
that Western conceptual schemes have been imposed on the Akans,
or that certain inarticulate and “woolly” African thoughts have
been forced into Western or foreign conceptual pigeonholes in
order to win them some “respectability,” one would be mistaken.
Akan proverbs are the wise sayings of individuals with acute
speculative intellects. They become philosophically interesting
when one sees them as attempts to raise and answer questions
relating to the assumptions underlying commonly held beliefs and
to make a synthetic interpretation of human experience. As already
noted, Akan proverbs, like other African proverbs, generally do not
have identifiable authors, though this fact does not detract from the
value of the ideas they contain. In the history of Western philoso¬
phy, for instance, not all the authors of philosophical ideas are
known; some have remained anonymous/6 In some cases, the
authenticity of the authorship of particular philosophical treatises
has been challenged by scholars.27 The authenticity of some of the
fragments themselves (which, as a source of knowledge of early
Greek philosophy are, I believe, analogous to African proverbs) has
been questioned.28 Some scholars have argued that the Categories

21
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

was not the authentic work of Aristotle but that of a pupil."9

Whoever the author, there is no denying that the ontological
doctrine adumbrated in this treatise has been very influential and
has been the point of departure in many subsequent explorations. In
Islamic philosophy, also, we come across the same phenomena:
anonymous authorship, false attributions, controversies over au¬
thorships.30 The author of a philosophical treatise known as Theol¬
ogy of Aristotle, which was in fact a modified version of the Enneads
of Plotinus and had a significant influence on Islamic thought, was
unknown. The authorship of a very important philosophical Arabic
treatise known as Fusus al-Hikma (“Bezels of Wisdom”) has been in
dispute. The treatise was long believed to be the work of al-Farabl
(d. A.D. 950). Georr,31 however, argued that it was composed by a
pupil of al-Farabl, whereas32 Pines argued that it was the work of
Avicenna (d. A.D. 1037). The significance of the treatise lies in the
fact that it enunciated the distinction between essence and existence
for the first time in the history of philosophy. Gilson describes the
distinction as an “epoch-making distinction ... it marks a date in
the history of metaphysics.”33 All this indicates that attention is to
be rightly given more to ideas than to their authors, who themselves
must have been subject to various diffuse influences. In the African
or Akan case, therefore, attention must be paid to the ideas
embodied in the proverbs, myths, and fables, the anonymity of
their authors notwithstanding.
Two concluding observations: There was a period of proverbs or
aphorisms in the history of Indian philosophy. We learn that the
first attempts at systematic thinking in India “were presented in the
form of aphorisms, which are pithy and often incomplete sentences,
easy to remember at a time when writing was not in vogue and
knowledge was transmitted orally from father to son and from
teacher to pupil.”34 The difference between the African and the
Indian cases is that whereas, with the introduction of writing into
Indian culture, the aphorisms were explicated, this did not happen
with the introduction of writing into African culture. Regarding
the Indian aphorisms, Raju observed: “But the aphorisms, being
pithy and incomplete, themselves required an explanation. And this
was furnished in the form of commentaries in which different
commentators introduced their own ideas and doctrines to supply
missing links in thought.”33 The writing of philosophical commen¬
taries on the proverbs not only enlarged the meaning and under¬
standing of the proverbs, but also led to the emergence of iden-

22
 2. Philosophy and culture

tifiable individuals to whom specific philosophical propositions or

doctrines could be attributed.
My second observation is this: The primary sources of knowl¬
edge and study of the philosophical thought of the early thinkers in
ancient Greece are “fragments.” These fragments, some of which
are disjointed, are the words of the early Greek philosophers
themselves that have survived in citations or quotations. “By a
fragment,” wrote G.S. Kirk, who has done much work on pre-
Socratic philosophy, “is meant an authentic quotation of an au¬
thor’s own words.”36 With regard to the fragments of Heraclitus (fl.
500 B.C.), Kirk observed:

It is possible that Heraclitus wrote no book, in our sense of

the word. The fragments, or many of them, have the appear¬
ance of being isolated statements. ... In or perhaps shortly after
Heraclitus’ lifetime a collection of these sayings was made,
conceivably by a pupil . . . Originally Heraclitus’ utterances
had been oral and so were put into an easily memorable formf

Some of the sayings attributed to Heraclitus are, according to

Guthrie, “a random collection.”38 On the nature of the fragments,
another scholar has observed: “Since the fragments that survive . . .
consist mostly of single sentences, we have little or no direct evidence
as to how the various ideas in it were assembled, but their pithiness
and profundity are still unmistakable.”39 The fragments were, thus,
a collection of sayings (Greek: gnomai, sayings, aphorisms, maxims)
and, because of their philosophical content or relevance, surviving
fragments were utilized by later thinkers engaged in the reconstruc¬
tion and resurrection of early Greek philosophy.
Here are some examples of the fragments attributed to Heraclitus:4

Much learning does not teach understanding.

Unless you expect the unexpectable you will never find
truth, for it is hard to discover and hard to attain.
Everything flows and nothing abides.
You cannot step twice into the same river, for other
waters are continually following on.

Thus many of the surviving fragments are cryptic, elliptical, and

pithy, not unlike African proverbs and maxims. The use of prov¬
erbs, aphorisms, or sayings to formulate a philosophical proposi¬
tion or doctrine was therefore not a method peculiar to African
thinkers in the past. That method, as we have seen, was employed

23
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

by the forebears of Western and Indian philosophy. It would be

inconsistent, therefore, to recognize the fragments as embodying
our earliest intimations of Greek philosophy, and then to refuse to
accept (some) African proverbs and sayings as a source of knowl¬
edge of African traditional philosophy.

2.2. Collective and individual thought

African traditional philosophical thought has been described
by several scholars as “collective,” either because it is supposed to
be the production of all or most of the members of the community,
or because it is supposed to be accepted by the whole community;
whereas when we talk of Greek philosophy we usually mean the
philosophical ideas of individual thinkers, and the same goes for
German philosophy, British philosophy, Islamic philosophy, and all
other kinds. In Africa’s historical past, there has been an absence of
the latter kind of philosophers, that is, known and identifiable
individual thinkers who stand out and can claim to have originated
specific philosophical doctrines and to whom we can trace such
doctrines. But surely it was individual wise men who created
African “collective” philosophy. A particular thought or idea is, as
regards its genesis, the product of an individual mind. And although
it is logically possible for two or more individuals to think the same
thought or to have the same idea at the same time, nevertheless the
production of the thought as such is the work of the mind of each
of the individuals concerned. It is always an individual’s idea or
thought or proposition that is accepted and gains currency among
other people; at this stage, however, it is erroneously assumed to be
the “collective” thought of the people. “Collective” thought, then,
is a misnomer. There is, strictly speaking, no such thing as
“collective” thought, if this means that ideas result from the
intellectual production of a whole collectivity. What has come to be
described as “collective” thought is nothing but the ideas of
individual wise people; individual ideas that, due to the lack of

> doxographic tradition in Africa, became part of the pool of com¬

munal thought, resulting in the obliteration of the differences
among these ideas, and in the impression that traditional thought
was a monolithic system that does not allow for divergent ideas.
Yet, as productions of individual intellects, we can reasonably
conceive these ideas (or some of them) to be varied and divergent.

24
 2. Philosophy and culture

In the light of the foregoing, I completely reject Hountondji’s

characterization of African traditional philosophy as a myth simply
because, as he sees it, it is a collective philosophy,41 which he takes
to mean a philosophy that is “common to all Africans,” that to
which “all Africans are supposed to adhere.”42 He vehemently
opposes such labels as “Yoruba philosophy,” “Dogon philosophy,”
and “Akan philosophy,”41 as well as the “Yoruba concept of a
person” and the “Negro-African philosophy of existence,”44 be¬
cause it is implicitly assumed - wrongly, he would say - that all the
people of a community or a nation adhere to those conceptions.
Such an assumption, according to Hountondji, is a myth, “the
myth of unanimity,” the myth of “consensus.”45 But Hountondji is
unwarranted in asserting that the phrase “Akan concept of a
person” means implicitly or explicitly that all Akans accept or agree
with the concept. In Chapter 3.1, I argue the meaningfulness and
appropriateness of such phrases, which Hountondji finds so repug¬
nant.
Some people, like Hountondji, wish to denigrate, if not ignore,
the relevance and impact of the culture on the reflections of the
individual thinker. Believing, as they do, that philosophizing is a
wholly individualistic affair, they fail to recognize that the thinker
perforce operates on the diffuse and inchoate ideas of the cultural
milieu. We obviously cannot divorce the philosophy of an individ¬
ual thinker from the ideas current among the people, for the
philosophy of the individual thinker is rooted in the beliefs and
assumptions of the culture. It is precisely because a philosophy has
- and must have - its roots or basis in the culture of a people that
we are justified in referring to the philosophical ideas of Socrates,
Plato, and Aristotle as Greek philosophy; of Locke, Berkeley, and
Hume as British philosophy; of some unnamable individual wise
men in Akan society as Akan philosophy; and so on. How can we
possibly refer to the ideas of the above-mentioned philosophers as
Greek or British if those ideas did not have a basis in the culture,
traditions, and mentalities of the societies that nurtured them, or if
those ideas were palpably antithetical to the Greek or British
cultural ethos? These questions are important, and I intend to
examine them more closely. The relationship between philosophy
and culture is the pivot on which my thesis regarding the nature of
African philosophy turns.
I believe that philosophy is the product of a culture. It would
certainly be instructive and rewarding to examine the philosophical

25
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

doctrines of individual thinkers in the West and East against their

cultural background. Given the limitations of space, a couple of
cases, must suffice. We begin with Thales, an acknowledged
forerunner in the Western philosophical tradition. Thales (fl. 585
B.C.) was one of the Ionian (Greek) philosophers who have been
credited with making a breakthrough in Western man’s conception
of natural phenomena, which hitherto was given to explaining
them in mythological and supernatural terms. The three Western
philosophical forebears (Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximenes)
are known to have explained natural phenomena in rational and
scientific terms. They are, thus, said to have succeeded in effecting a
transition from mythos to logos. Their main concern, however, was to
look for the ultimate principle (arche) of all things. Thales, it is said,
found this principle in water: All things originated from water. We
learn from Aristotle that the notion of the origin of all things from
water was common in the mythological traditions of the Greeks
and the peoples with whom they came in contact. In Greek
mythology Ocean was the father of all things.46 Similarly, the
Ionian notions that the universe is animated (empsychon) and that the
cosmic processes somehow parallel the vital activity of which men
are conscious in their own living have a long background in
prehistory.47 Cornford, a great scholar of ancient Greek philosophy,
was of the opinion that “the minds of the Ionian philosophers were
not pure intelligences, absolutely vacant and presenting to the
external world the placard ‘To be let unfurnished.’ ”48 (That is,
stated positively, the minds of the Ionian philosophers were already
furnished with the ideas, beliefs, thoughts of their society.) After
adverting to Anaximander’s concept of the unlimited (apeiron),
Cornford added that he did not think that the concept was
originated by Anaximander. He consequently observed: “It may
mean that the image, or concept, or belief is part of our social tradition,
which we have been taught and remember. The authoritative
character is due to the sanction of the collective mind of our group.
This applies to our moral ideas and beliefs.”49 In his inaugural
lecture in Cambridge University in 1931, Cornford observed that
philosophical discussion in any given epoch is determined by a set
of tacit assumptions, which are “ that groundwork of current conceptions
shared by all men of any given culture and never mentioned because it is
taken for granted as obvious.”50 Russell intended, in his history of
philosophy, “to exhibit each philosopher, as far as truth permits, as
an outcome of his milieu, a man in whom were crystallized and

26
 2. Philosophy and culture

concentrated thoughts and feelings which in a vague and diffused

form, were common to the community of which he was a part.”51 In
the preface of another edition of this same book he wrote: “My
purpose is to exhibit philosophy as an integral part of social and
political life: not as the isolated speculations of remarkable individuals ,”52
Consequently, he was led to observe that “Aristotle’s opinions on
moral questions are always such as were conventional in his day.”53
Aristotle in his ethical investigations takes as his starting point the
current views about happiness or virtue: “It is enough if we take
the most common opinions and those that seem reasonable.”54
In his theorizing about the nature of the soul, Aristotle begins by
maintaining the indivisible unity of the soul and body, and so
appears to be setting himself against the mainstream of Greek
psychology, which saw the soul and the body as distinct entities.
But realizing that the logic of his position implies the mortality of
the soul on the disintegration of the body - a position that flies in
the face of Greek traditional views - he introduces a concept called
the Active Intellect [nous poeitikos], which is part of the soul and
which he says is eternal and immortal55 - a position that was
consonant with tradition. Indeed, the identity between goodness
and happiness in Greek moral thought dates from the times of
Homer. Thus, a scholar of Aristotle’s ethics, Hardie, remarked that
“Aristotle in the EN [the Nicomachean Ethics] is at least in part an
interpreter of Greek experience . . .” as well as “an acute and wise
commentator on the human situation.”56 In sum, then, one may
observe that Greek philosophy grew out of the minds of the people
and was in fact a component of Hellenic culture.
In modern philosophy how can we explain the persistence of
rationalism among continental philosophers on the one hand, and
of empiricism among British philosophers on the other hand, if not
by reference, respectively, to “the European mind” and “the British
mind?” How can we explain the preponderance and the resilience
of the spiritual (religious) element in Oriental philosophies if not by
reference to “the Oriental mind” and traditions? In such contexts
“mind” refers to the characteristic mentalities, the habits and
tendencies of thought produced by actions, and the impressions
resulting from experience. So understood, “mind” is the product of
certain unconscious social or cultural influences and experiences
that to a great extent determine, or at least influence, the intellectual
bent of an individual thinker.
All this means that we cannot completely and absolutely separate

27
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

the philosophy of an individual thinker from that of the people and

the age. On the contrary, there is an intimate, perhaps organic,
relationship between an individual thinker and the general beliefs
and thoughts of the community. So-called folk ideas and beliefs
constitute the warp and woof of the intellectual fabric of the
individual philosopher, whose importance lies in an ability to make
coherent, through criticism, the diffuse ideas, beliefs, and feelings
of the community. Individual thinkers are heirs to a whole appa¬
ratus of concepts and categories within which they work out their
thought. They inherit the very language they use to express their
ideas, and thus from the outset the bent of their thought is
influenced. This conceptual scheme may be modified over time
through the critical activities of individual thinkers. But these
critical efforts are themselves engendered and made possible by a
given conceptual scheme. Such critical efforts are generally aimed at
refining or trimming a conceptual system, not at subverting that
system root and branch. Thus, although Aristotle set out to
demolish Plato’s Theory of Forms - the hub of Plato’s philosophi¬
cal system - and therefore to deal a blow at Greek rationalism, he
came in the end to establish a system that was to all intents and
purposes analogous to the Platonic.
I shall now suggest an answer to a question that bothers some
scholars who, seeking a uniformity or universality in approaches
to philosophizing, are skeptical about proverbs as a source of
African philosophical thought because they do not find parallels
in other philosophical traditions. (The roles of the proverbs in the
history of Indian philosophy and the fragments of early Greek
philosophy to which I have already referred, are closed books to
them.) Okere, for instance, has asked the question (to which he
anticipates a negative answer), “Do European proverbs qualify
too as European philosophy?”57 This question can easily be
resolved within the context of the relationship between the
general ideas of the people in a community and the philosophy of
an individual thinker who shares a cultural and traditional back¬
ground with them. If it is true that there is a close relationship
between the ideas of a given culture and the philosophy of an
individual thinker who belongs to that culture, then the proverbs,
insofar as they contain some of the ideas of the people, surely
form part of the philosophical heritage of that people, be they
Africans, Europeans, Indians, or what have you. Inasmuch as
European proverbs, as I demonstrated earlier, constitute one of

28
 2. Philosophy and culture

the sources of the European community’s stock of ideas, which the

individual thinker uses and shapes, they may be said to be
embodied in European philosophies - even though one cannot
now lay his finger on a particular proverb and show how it was
philosophically used by a Locke, a Hume, or a Hegel.
One of the conclusions of the foregoing discussion is that we can
legitimately and intelligibly speak of Akan or Yoruba philosophy.
Such a philosophy was, to be sure, the production of individual wise
people in the Akan or Yoruba community, whose thoughts were
influenced by the ideas and beliefs of the community. What the
modern African philosopher can, and ought to, do is to explicate,
interpret, and sort out in a sophisticated way the conceptions of
such individual wise persons, with a view to making those concep¬
tions more presentable to the contemporary philosophical palate.
The general ideas, some of which may be inchoate, that should
form the basis of an analytical interpretation, already exist, as do
the languages that are vestibules to the conceptual world.

2.3. Language and philosophical thought

A number of philosophers have come to the realization that
language, as a vehicle of concepts, not only embodies a philosophi¬
cal point of view, but also influences philosophical thought. This
observation implies that the lines of thought of a thinker are, at
least to some extent, determined by the structure and other
characteristics of his or her language, such as the grammatical
categories and vocabulary. Thus, it is admitted by students of
Aristotle’s philosophy that though his doctrine of the categories
was ontological and logical and not linguistic, it derived from a
consideration of linguistic facts.58 Thus, it has been suggested that
“If Aristotle had spoken Chinese or Dacotan, he would have had to
adopt an entirely different logic or at any rate an entirely different
theory of categories.’”’ Sandman has observed:

It is more than probable that certain basic features of Aristo¬

tle’s logic were suggested to him by grammatical distinctions,
and it is doubtful whether the “substance-accidence” relation
would have been given the place of honor in logical theory by
a philosopher speaking a language for which the contrast
between the noun and the verb was less significant than in
Greek.60

29
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

Perhaps one of the areas of philosophy in which one can most

clearly discern the influence of language is ontology. In the Republic
(596a), Plato says: “Whenever a number of individuals have a
common name, we assume them to have also a corresponding Idea
(or Form).” His point here is that the fact that we are able to apply
one predicate expression to a number of different individuals
implies that there is (or exists) an entity, that is, a common property,
named by the predicate expression in which each of the individuals
participates (to use Platonic terminology): If x is red and y is red
and z is red, then there must be something, “redness,” which they
all have or participate in. We find Aristotle also arguing as follows:

And so one might even raise the question whether the words
“to walk,” “to be healthy,” “to sit” imply that each of these
things is existent, and similarly in any other case of this sort;
for none of them is either self-subsistent or capable of being
separated from substance, but rather, if anything, it is that
which walks or sits or is healthy that is an existent thing. Now
these are seen to be more real because there is something
definite which underlies them which is implied in such a
predicate; for we never use the word “good” or “sitting”
without implying this.M

Aristotle is saying that because in our normal linguistic activities,

which are based on grammatical structures, we say “Kwame is
walking,” “Kwame is healthy,” “Kwame is sitting,” and so on,
therefore there must be some entity, Kwame, who is the doer of all
these actions or in whom qualities like “health” and “goodness”
inhere, and without whom the actions and quahties (that is, objects
designated by predicate expressions) would not be. From this
Aristotle concludes that entities designated by singular subject
expressions, such as Kwame, have an independent sort of existence,
whereas the referents of predicate expressions depend for their
existence on their subjects (or substances, to use Aristotelian
terminology). Substances then are more basic ontologically than
the designata of predicate expressions.
Scholars of Greek ethics point out that Greek moral thought is
essentially teleological, rather than deontological. That is to say,
that an action is considered morally good and commendable insofar
as it is conducive to the attainment of some purpose or end (Greek:
telos) and that the notion of “duty for duty’s sake” or of “rightness”
as an intrinsic characteristic of a particular action is alien to Greek

30
 2. Philosophy and culture

moral thought. The teleological thrust of Greek moral thought has

been found to be connected with Greek moral language. “For in the
Greek language there is really no word that means ‘ought’ or ‘right’
in the sense in which we (that is, English language speakers) use
them to imply the idea of moral obligation. The chief moral term
upon which they would naturally start their investigations is the
word Agathos, which we translate as ‘good.’ ”62 But the Greek
word agathos - good - as applied to a person means that the person
performs that which fulfills or attains his end or purpose success¬
fully;61 not one who is generous, kind, compassionate, considerate
of the needs of others, and so on, as the notion is conceived in other
moral philosophies.
J. L. Austin observed that “when we examine what we should
use in what situations, we are looking again not merely at words
. . . but also at the realities we use the words to talk about: we are using a
sharpened awareness of words to sharpen our perception of, though
not as the final arbiter of, the phenomena.”64 In Africa Alexis
Kagame, who has examined the concept of being among the
Rwanda-Burundis, has shown that Bantu metaphysical categories
are based on grammatical categories of the Bantu language.65 Mbiti
informs us that in the East African languages there are no concrete
expressions to convey the idea of a distant future. From this he
infers a two-dimensional conception of time, with a long past and a
present.66 (An examination of the Akan language of time, however,
leads to a different conclusion: see section 11.2.) Thus, it is pretty
clear that linguistic structures and characteristics influence - and
may in fact determine - the construction of moral and metaphysical
doctrines. It may therefore be said that language does not merely
suggest, but may also embody, philosophical perspectives. For it
seems that every language implies or suggests a vision of the world.
Consequently, in Part II of this book, which is devoted specifically
to the analyses of concepts in Akan thought, I have made extensive
use of the Akan language and its linguistic structure.
If ontologies or philosophies are thus influenced by the structures
and characteristics of languages, then they must be relativistic.
Some philosophers think that philosophical problems or theses are
language-oriented and depend on language for their plausibility or
vahdity. This means that philosophical theses are strongly influ¬
enced by the characteristics of the languages in which they are
formulated, and that no meaningful and profound analysis or
comprehension of the theses can be achieved without adequate

31
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

attention to the structures and characteristics of those languages. I

do, however, argue in section 11.1 that, whereas language may
embody a philosophical insight, the question of whether or not a
particular philosophical problem or thesis is language-oriented
cannot be determined on a priori grounds, antecedent to the actual
examination of that problem or thesis formulated in one language
within the context of the characteristics of another language.
Logic, the most exact branch of philosophy, may even be
influenced or determined by language. The problem that has
exercised the minds of philosophers and logicians is: Do logical
laws derive from language rules or are they language-neutral and
therefore independent of the particular language in which they are
formulated? What is the relationship between logic and the gram¬
matical rules of a language?
This problem, which is still being discussed by philosophers of
logic, engaged medieval Islamic philosophers and logicians as well.
Some of them held that the Greek logic that had come to them in
translation was established on the basis of the Greek language and
its grammatical rules. Inasmuch as these rules are different from
those of the Arabic language, Greek logic therefore could not be
“imposed” upon the Arabic-speaking peoples.67 An opportunity
exists for the African philosophical logician and philosophical
linguist to investigate the grammatical structure of an African
language in order to see what light it can throw on logical theories.

2.4. On defining African

philosophy: some proposals
In Chapter 1, I responded to Wiredu’s assertion that African
Philosophy “is still in the making” by saying that what is still in the
making is modern African philosophy, which is to be distinguished
from traditional African philosophy. I consider Part II of this book
as subsumed under traditional African philosophical thought, the
indigenous philosophical thought of the Akan people that has been
handed down from generation to generation. By modern African
philosophy, I refer to the philosophy that is being produced by
contemporary African philosophers, but which reflects, or has a basis
in African experience, thought categories, and cultural values. This
being so, the distinction between traditional and modern African
philosophy cannot be hard and fast. For some of the elements or
categories of traditional thought, because of their outstanding

32
 2. Philosophy and culture

qualities, their persistent influence, or their inseparability from the

cultural life and thought of the people, will naturally find their way
into the modern African philosophical syllabus.
At the second Congress of Negro Writers and Artists held in
Rome in 1959, the Commission on Philosophy passed the follow¬
ing resolution:

Considering the dominant part played by philosophic reflec¬

tion in the elaboration of culture, considering that until now
the West has claimed a monopoly of philosophic reflection, so
that philosophic enterprise no longer seems conceivable out¬
side the framework of the categories forged by the West,
considering that the philosophic effort of traditional Africa
has always been reflected in vital attitudes and has never had
purely conceptual aims, the Commission declares:
(1) that for the African philosopher, philosophy can never consist of
reducing the African reality to Western systems;
(2) that the African philosopher must base his inquiries upon
the fundamental certainty that the Western philosophic
approach is not the only possible one; and therefore,
(a) urges that the African philosopher should learn from
the traditions, tales, myths and proverbs of his people, so as to
draw from them the laws of a true African wisdom
complementary to the other forms of human wisdom and
to bring out the specific categories of African thought.
(b) calls upon the African philosopher, faced by the
totalitarian or egocentric philosophers of the West, to divest
himself of a possible inferiority complex, which might prevent
him from starting from his African being to judge the
foreign contribution. . . .68

I consider this resolution to be significant. It underlines the idea

that modern African philosophers must base themselves in the
cultural life and experience of the community. While reflecting
modern circumstances, such philosophical activity may commit
itself to refining aspects of traditional thought in the light of
modern knowledge and experience.
The cultural or social basis (or relevance) of the philosophical
enterprise seems to indicate that if a philosophy produced by a
modern African has no basis in the culture and experience of
African peoples, then it cannot appropriately claim to be an African
philosophy, even though it was created by an African philosopher.

33
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

Thus, the philosophical works of the eminent Ghanaian thinker

Anton Wilhelm Amo,64 who distinguished himself by his philo¬
sophical acumen in Germany in the eighteenth century, cannot be
regarded as African philosophy. It is obviously an oddity that the
thought of an African philosopher cannot count as African phil¬
osophy. Yet, given the reality or relevance of the cultural element
involved in philosophizing, this oddity cannot be dispelled, but
stares us in the face. Wiredu has argued that African thought, which
is traditional - an expression that, for Wiredu, means (as far as
Africa is concerned) “pre-scientific” and “non-scientific” - should
not be compared with Western thought, which is scientific.70 It
should instead be compared with Western folk thought. But
Wiredu allows a comparison between Western philosophy and “the
philosophy that Africans are producing today.”71 But it is indisput¬
ably true that a very great part of the philosophy being produced by
African philosophers today is based on Western categories, con¬
cepts, mentalities, and experience, and is therefore most appropri¬
ately regarded as a contribution to the study and understanding of
Western philosophy.
According to Wiredu, because the ancestors of the modern
African philosopher “left him no heritage of philosophical writ¬
ings,” therefore the modern African philosopher “must of necessity
study the written philosophies of other lands. ... In this way it can
be hoped that a tradition of philosophy as a discursive discipline
will eventually come to be established in Africa which future
Africans and others too can utilize.”7’ Thus, Wiredu advocates that,
because of the lack of philosophical writings in Africa’s historical
past, Western or other foreign concepts and categories should be
made the points of departure for (modern) African philosophy.
Having immersed themselves in Western and other philosophies,
African thinkers would then be in the position to establish in Africa
a tradition of philosophy as a discipline. But Western philosophy
was itself brewed in a cultural soup whose ingredients were the
mentalities, experiences, and the folk thought and folkways of
Western peoples. Toward the end of his paper referred to in the
preceding paragraph, however, Wiredu, surprisingly, urges the
African philosopher to “pay more attention” to “his own back¬
ground of folk thought.”73 It is not clear what role, in Wiredu’s
scheme, the examination of African folk thought can play in the
building up of a tradition of philosophy that is to be based on the
categories of Western philosophy.

34
 2. Philosophy and culture

Even though Bodunrin sees the desirability of African philoso¬

phers setting their works in an African context, he says that this
need not be so. Consequently, he asserts: “Thus, if African philoso¬
phers were to engage in debates on Plato’s epistemology . . . their
works would qualify as African philosophy.”'4 This position Bon-
dunrin presents as that of a school of philosophy in Africa.75 The
position, I take it, is generally that African philosophy of the
“professional” type “which is only just beginning”76 can develop
through participation in controversies on the philosophical works
of individual Western philosophers. I disagree, for two main
reasons. First, such participation would merely serve to enlarge our
understanding of the work of those Western philosophers; they
would be contributions - perhaps excellent ones - to the apprecia¬
tion of those philosophies, and cannot properly claim to be part of
an African philosophy. It is well known, for example, that some
American philosophers study - and thus contribute to the develop¬
ment of - Indian or Chinese philosophy, but they do not consider
such contributions as part of American or Western philosophy.
American students of philosophy would be surprised if Confucian¬
ism and the Upanishads were presented to them as part of the
American philosophical heritage, even though this does not detract
from the fact that non-American (non-Western) philosophies could
enrich American or Western philosophical outlook or experience.
Second, Bodunrin’s position on the nature and content of African
philosophy is a case, in my opinion, of putting the cart before the
horse. In attempting to establish an African philosophical tradition
one should rather start one’s investigations from the beliefs,
thought, and linguistic categories of African peoples. It is interest-
mgfto note that in adverting to the philosophical approaches of
Socrates and the beginnings of Greek philosophy in general,
Bodunrin sees that Greek philosophy was born through “a criticism
of traditional cultural beliefs,”71 that is, the cultural beliefs of the
Greeks. Why cannot an authentic (modern) African philosophy be
born in the same way, that is, through the analysis and critical
evaluation of African cultural beliefs and experiences?
I now turn briefly to the prescriptions of Hountondji for the
nature of African philosophy, which I find even more misguided
because, unlike Wiredu and Bodunrin, Hountondji states them
without qualification. Having discounted African traditional phi¬
losophy as philosophy on the grounds that it is a collective activity
- wrongly assumed to be common to all the people - whereas

35
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

philosophy is an individual enterprise, Hountondji then presents

what he calls “a new concept of African philosophy.”78 This “new
concept” must be made to “include all the research into Western
philosophy carried out by Africans.”71 He opines that “the African
philosophers who think in terms of Plato or Marx and confidently
take over the theoretical heritage of Western philosophy, assimilat¬
ing and transcending it, are producing authentic African work.”
He describes this as “a radically new definition of African philoso¬
phy, the criterion now being the geographical origin of the authors
rather than an alleged specificity of content.”81
This to me is a tissue of errors, to which much of my criticism of
Wiredu and Bodunrin also applies. The so-called new concept of
African philosophy may be “radically new,” but it is equally
radically false and radically unacceptable. If a philosopher geo¬
graphically located in Africa spends his or her lifetime studying and
researching into Western philosophy, that work, according to
Hountondji, will count as authentic African philosophy. This
geographical criterion will not do. An American or British philoso¬
pher, geographically located in the United States or Great Britain,
who spends a lifetime studying and researching into Chinese or
Indian philosophy would never imagine that he or she is producing
an authentic American or British work. So far as he or she is
concerned, the contribution is being made to Chinese or Indian
philosophy, not directly to American or British philosophy. The
reason is not that Chinese or Indian philosophy is inferior to British
or American philosophy, but that the categories, assumptions,
values, and mentalities upon which the former is based are different
(at least in some respects) from those of the latter. Again, if a British
philosopher teaching a course on ancient Greek philosophy in
London assigns my published articles on Plato and Aristotle to
students, he or she would not be assigning articles on African
philosophy, even though the articles were written by an African
geographically located in Africa. The reason the British philoso¬
pher would assign my articles for a course in Greek philosophy is
that he or she believes them to help in the understanding of issues in
Greek philosophy, that they make some contribution to the knowl¬
edge of Greek philosophy.
In sum, then, much of what Hountondji is urging modern
African philosophers to do is, in my view, merely to contribute to the
study of Western philosophy, forgetting the history and the con¬
stituents (elements) of this philosophy. Yet the philosophy of a

36
 2. Philosophy and culture

people is invariably a tradition. But a tradition requires that its

elements (or most of them) be intimately related to the mentalities
and cultural ethos of the people who possess the tradition, that
these elements be related among themselves in a meaningful way,
that they endure and be sustained, and that they be the subject of
continuous pruning and refinement. (Note that I do not rule out the
possibility of alien elements enriching a tradition, but such a
tradition must already be standing on its own feet, as it were.)
Now, how can a tradition of African philosophy be established
when modern African philosophers are immersed in contributing
to Western philosophy? Is the African tradition in philosophy to be
built by employing the concepts and categories of Western thought
as the subject matter of African philosophical debates? And for all
time? I submit that a respectable tradition of philosophy in Africa
will be established only when modern African philosophers engage
on the field, primarily, of African conceptual schemes, only when
African philosophical arguments are presented with concepts and
categories derived from African thought and experience as the
elements of philosophical activity. This prescription is suggested by
a knowledge of the history of philosophy in other cultures of the
world. Acquaintance with that history shows the difficulty of
basing African philosophy purely on the Western tradition of
philosophy.
Islamic culture might perhaps be offered as an example in which
the origins of philosophy were related to the philosophical writings
of other lands. It is not, however, a satisfactory example if consid¬
ered closely.
Philosophical thought in Islam is sometimes considered as having
been based on foreign - in this case Greek-Hellenistic - concepts
and categories.82 The Arabs, having received Greek philosophy and
science in translation in and after the ninth century A.D., studied
them thoroughly and made commentaries on them. In time, Islamic
philosophy emerged, whose categories and concepts, according to
the story, were wholly, or almost wholly Greek (or better, Greek -
Hellenistic). But this account of the beginnings of philosophy in
Islam is not accurate. For, before A.D. 800, after which date
translations of the Greek-Hellenistic scientific and philosophical
works into Arabic began to be made, some philosophical thinking
had been going on among the Muslim philosophical theologians
(Mutakallimm) through their reflections on the doctrines of the
Koran. The Koran, like other scriptures, contains some doctrines

37
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

that appear to be inconsistent and therefore puzzling to the philo¬

sophically inclined mind. For instance, although asserting the
absolute unity of God, it also speaks of divine attributes without
making clear the logical relation between God and those attributes;
although affirming divine causality and creation, it also speaks of
human free will, and so on.8’ Such conflicting or puzzling doctrines
produced both philosophical and theological debates.
The first group of scholars to raise philosophical issues arising
out of Koranic doctrines were the Mutazilites, who were the first
Muslim rationalists, for they considered reason as the criterion of
knowledge. The earliest form of philosophical speculation in Islam
was thus occasioned by an attempt to make the religious doctrines
of the Koran internally coherent, an attempt that did not wait upon
translations of the Greek philosophical works into Arabic. A rider
that must be added here, however, is that Greek philosophical
doctrines and debates were certainly of great relevance and assist¬
ance in the formulation and discussion of the philosophical prob¬
lems that arose in Islam. Greek logic in particular was consciously
and consistently pursued by Muslim scholars, who generally re¬
garded logic as an organon (Arabic: ala) to be used against the
onslaughts of unorthodox thinkers. Logic was also found to be
valuable in technical controversy.84
Now Western scholars of the history of philosophy in Islam
allege that Islamic philosophy declined after the twelfth century
A.D., that is, after the death of Averroes (d. 1198). This claim is far
from the truth. What really happened was that after that time
Greek-Hellenistic philosophy began to peter out. That is to say, it
was the purely Greek-Hellenistic philosophical elements in the
Islamic philosophical enterprise (except for logic) that began to
decline after the twelfth century. Thenceforth Islamic philosophy
took a more metaphysical and mystical turn, an orientation that
was congruent with the ethos of Eastern cultures. It was the
concepts, categories, and mental outlooks rooted in Islamic culture
and tradition that guided the pursuit and cultivation of Greek-
Hellenistic philosophy. The elements or doctrines of the ancient
Greek thinkers that endured in Islamic philosophy after the medie¬
val period were those consonant with an Oriental Weltanschauung.
The reference to Islamic experience indicates that philosophy, if it
is to endure, must have a basis in the culture, experiences, and
mentalities of the people who produce it. That is, philosophical
reflection should start from such elements; its organizing principles

38
 2. Philosophy and culture

and categories must be extracted from them. Given the dynamic

nature of culture and experience, however, philosophy cannot
afford to ossify. For this reason, and in view of the relevance of
philosophy to the affairs of men and society, it must be considered
as a conceptual response to basic human problems at different epochs.
However, it does not mean that because philosophy must grapple
with fundamental human problems posed by new situations, earlier
philosophical doctrines and answers must necessarily be rejected.
Their continuity and endurance will depend on a number of factors:
the fundamental nature of such doctrines and the values embodied
in them, the extent to which they harmonize with the ethos of a
culture in a given era, the strength of the hold they exercise on the
life of the people. With this as a background, let us now turn to a
dicussion of the content of an African philosophy.
The philosophical enterprise is connected ultimately with the
search for the wisdom needed to form the basis for a satisfactory
way of life. We know the historical role of philosophy in human
affairs: Philosophy responds at the conceptual level to the funda¬
mental problems posed at any given epoch. African societies in
the past half century have certainly been grappling with a variety
of problems, most of which are the results of colonialism,
imperialism, and industrialism. Solving such problems and recon¬
structing African societies in the postcolonial era will certainly
require profound investigation into fundamental ideas and general
principles. This is where philosophy becomes of immense rele¬
vance. It is the task of modern African philosophers not only to
deal with the consequences of colonialism on African society and
culture, but also to face squarely the challenges of industrialization
and modernization. In doing so, they might take their cue from
the philosophical activities of nineteenth-century European phi¬
losophers like Marx, Hegel, and Saint-Simon, and from their
responses to the consequences of the French Revolution. I am not
referring to the specific doctrines and solutions such philosophers
put forward, but to the way they responded to the circumstances
of their societies. They philosophized with the contemporary
situation in mind; they gave conceptual interpretation to con¬
temporary experience. Scholars of Plato’s thought would ac¬
knowledge that the Republic was a commentary on contemporary
Athenian sociopolitical experience, just as Aristotle’s Nicomachean
Ethics was at least in part an interpretation of Greek experience. It
has been said of the American philosopher John Dewey that

39
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

“many of his own writings were attempts to apply critical

intelligence to the moral and cultural issues of his day'.'K
In like manner modern African philosophers must try to provide
conceptual responses to the problems confronting contemporary
African societies; their philosophical output or a great part of it - if
it is to be African - must reflect the contemporary African
situation. They could operate with immediate profit and practical
relevance in social, moral, legal, and pohtical philosophy. For
instance, the past two decades have seen a great deal of pohtical
instability in a number of African countries, leading to military
takeovers of the reins of government. It is appropriate for African
philosophers to investigate the fundamental questions relating to
African pohtical life and institutions, such as: How can the legiti¬
macy of military governments be established? Can the one-party
system of government be justified on the basis of fundamental
moral or pohtical principles? What ideology should Africa evolve
or adopt as a basis for socioeconomic development, and what is the
philosophical basis for such an ideology? Is there any moral
justification for political violence, revolution, and guerilla war?
What moral problems are generated by development and moderni¬
zation, and by the transfer of technology? What connection, if any,
exists between moral standards and economic conditions? These are
some of the questions that must engage the attention of the modern
African pohtical and moral philosopher. Similarly, fundamental
questions about the structure and objectives of the African systems
of law and education should be examined by the African legal and
educational philosopher. Of course questions such as these are, and
can be, asked by philosophers of other, non-African societies. But I
believe that the proposals put forward by African philosophers in
answer to them may in fact be different from those of non-African
philosophers. The important thing is that African philosophers
would be responding conceptually to a contemporary situation of
their societies. By means of their ideas and arguments, African
philosophers engaged in such relevant investigations can influence
the general climate of opinion and, consequently, public policy.
But modern African philosophers cannot afford to neglect the
concepts and values in traditional African life and thought, which
after all constitute the background of the modern African cultural
experience. They should therefore critically examine such con¬
cepts and values as humanism, communalism, altruism, consen¬
sus, and others as they function in African sociopolitical life and

40
 2. Philosophy and culture

thought. Other subjects for investigation are the language of

African morals, the relation between logic and language (using
African languages), and such epistemological concepts as truth,
knowing, and paranormal cognition. The reason for urging exam¬
ination of concepts in traditional African thought is not only that
very little, if any, work has been done in this area, but also that
this is the only way to avoid a wholesale and indiscriminate
condemnation of African values. Wiredu, for instance, has said
that “. . . traditional conceptions of things just cannot provide an
adequate basis for contemporary philosophy.”86 This kind of
judgment, even if it may contain some truth, is, in my view, too
sweeping and premature. For the “traditional conceptions” of
things have not been given adequate philosophical formulation,
articulation, and analysis by modern African philosophers, and
therefore we do not know to what extent they can and cannot be
accommodated by the ethos of contemporary culture, and to what
extent and how they should be modified. Only when this task of
analysis and elucidation has been carried out shall we discover
which aspects of the “traditional conceptions” - and there are
surely some of them - should be salvaged and which should be
jettisoned.
In my opinion the social, nonindividualistic character of tradi¬
tional African ethics, the traditional African conceptions of the
value of man and the relationships between people in a society, and
the sense of community and solidarity, mutual social responsibility
- these are in harmony with the contemporary cultural ethos and
can provide an adequate basis for a contemporary social and moral
philosophy. Wiredu in fact admires the nonreligious, nonsuperna-
turalistic conceptions of African morality “from which the modern
Westerner may well have something to learn.”87 “I believe,” he
wrote, “that this freedom from supernaturalism in our traditional
ethic is an aspect of our culture which we ought to cherish and protect
from countervailing influences from abroad.”88 Further, he con¬
siders the nature of consensus as conceived in Akan traditional
thought to be a political virtue:

A much commended trait of our traditional culture is its

infinite capacity for the pursuit of consensus and reconcilia¬
tion. An urgent task facing us today is to find ways of
translating this virtue into institutional forms in our national
life. In view of the changes and chances of our recent past, this

41
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

is a task to which all of us should address ourselves. Our

culture may yet save usf

If our (African) culture may yet save us, then it must readily be
admitted that it can, at least in some ways, provide an adequate
basis for a contemporary philosophy.
My conclusion is that modern African philosophy must not -
and cannot - dispense with a full-fledged inquiry into concepts in
African traditional philosophy. Such an inquiry would provide an
adequate basis for making judgments about African cultural values
and their relevance for the contemporary world. Moreover, I
believe most of the traditional concepts and values have, generally
speaking, not relaxed their grip on modern African life and
thought. Thus, a modern African philosophy would comprise the
conceptual responses to the problems and circumstances of modern
African societies as well as interpretation, criticism, and clarifica¬
tion of concepts in African traditional thought. The latter is
necessary in order to provide continuity in philosophical orienta¬
tion, at any rate in respect of some core philosophical concepts and
values.
In thus delineating the content of a modern African philosophy, I
am not by any means suggesting that the modern African philoso¬
pher should not pay attention to the philosophies produced by
non-African cultures. I have already observed that there are univer¬
sal human experiences, ideas, values, sentiments, ideals. It therefore
makes sense to study and know the philosophical output of other
cultures, for such study may help deepen the understanding of our
own. But the fact still remains that the forms of such (alien)
philosophies were hammered out on the anvil of the cultural and
historical experience of other peoples. I suggest therefore that the
starting points, the organizing concepts and categories of modern African
philosophy be extracted from the cultural, linguistic, and historical back¬
ground of African peoples, if that philosophy is to have relevance and
meaning for the people, if it is to enrich their fives.90
In this connection the history of philosophy in Islam is relevant. I
pointed out that it was the Greek-Hellenistic elements in Islamic
philosophy that really declined after the twelfth century A.D.
Thereafter the metaphysical and religious ethos of Near Eastern
culture reasserted itself and determined the direction of philosophi¬
cal development. The significance of the new orientation of Islamic
philosophy for our present purposes is that unless a philosophy

42
 2. Philosophy and culture

interacts with the mentalities and core values of a people, it will not
endure but will sooner or later atrophy. After attending the Indian
Congress of Philosophy in 1951, A. C. Ewing made the following
noteworthy remarks:

. . . Indian philosophy is traditionally more connected than

English with the search for the good life in a religious sense. . . .
India remains a great stronghold of metaphysical idealism,
based on epistemology, mystical experience, and the idea that
a study of the nature of the self discloses that it is identical
with the supreme principle of reality. . . .
It is a commonplace that the Indians are a very religious people,
and the connection between philosophy and religion fostered
by Hinduism and the fact that Indian philosophers are on the
whole much more interested in the problems raised by the philosophy of
religion than in those raised by the philosophy of science helps
to account for their immunity to naturalism and positivism.

Thus, in spite of India’s long contact with Westernism in all its

facets, the core values - the religious values - of Indian life and
thought were still in the ascendant among the factors influencing
the direction of Indian philosophical reflection. In the case of
Africa, any abiding philosophy will have to take cognizance of core
values such as, in my view, humanism and communalism.
I end this section by asserting that philosophy is essentially a
cultural phenomenon; it is part of the cultural experience and
tradition of a people. And it will pay African philosophers, al¬
though latecomers, to examine closely how the philosophical
enterprise began and was developed elsewhere. I hope that I have
not left the impression that African philosophy will be a unique
system or a wmdowless monad, only that it will have some
characteristics of its own.

43
 3
Methodological problems

3.1. False impressions

about the unwritten character
of African traditional philosophy
There exists a number of false impressions of African tradi¬
tional philosophy created by, or resulting from, the lack of writing
in Africa’s historical past. First and foremost is of course the denial,
by some scholars, of the existence of philosophy in African culture
on account of the lack of written philosophical material. Thus, a
few years ago when I suggested to a colleague that some study
should be made of African traditional philosophy, he immediately
asked, “Does it exist? Where are the philosophical texts?” When I
asked him, “Is philosophy to be found only in written texts?” he
answered in the negative.
Second, the lack of written records has led most scholars to
believe that African traditional thought is rigidly monolithic,
offering no divergent positions and therefore no alternative me¬
taphysics. Horton, for instance, says: “To me the most important
thing about the traditional cultures is that, in each, there is a single,
over-arching world-view which reigns without competition;
which has, as it were, a monopoly of people’s cognitive preoccupa¬
tions.”1 He supposes that traditional cultures lack “the multiplicity
of world-views competing for man’s cognitive allegiance.”2 His
perception of the distinction between traditional and scientifically
oriented cultures leads him, thus, to describe the former as “closed”
and the latter as “open.”1 Recently Derek Gjertsen objected to

44
 3. Methodological problems

Horton’s characterization of the distinction between traditional and

scientifically oriented cultures. Gjertsen denied that traditional
thought lacked the awareness of alternatives and that the theoretical
tenets of traditional society are accepted absolutely and unques-
tioningly/ Three decades ago the anthropologist Daryll Forde
observed:

It is not to be assumed that the views and attitudes of a people

concerning the duties of men among themselves and their
relations to the universe are necessarily all of one piece. Anthro¬
pological studies of many cultures have shown that even in
small and comparatively isolated societies, where differences
of wealth, rank and power are small, there need be no complete
integration of belief and doctrine, still less the domination of conduct in
all spheres by a single system of beliefs or basic ideas?

That is, Forde completely rejects the characterization of African

thought as collective - a characterization endorsed by Horton and
Hountondji, among others - to which every person in African
society adhered.
In his most recent article already referred to, Horton appears to
stick to his guns with regard to what he had earlier considered as
the lack of awareness of alternative theoretical frameworks among
the thinkers of the traditional society. He now reexpresses this
earlier view as the “lack of inter-theoretic competition in the
traditional setting.”6 However, the two expressions - “lack of inter-
theoretic competition” and “lack of awareness of theoretical alter¬
natives” (or “alternative theoretical frameworks”) - are by no
means equivalent and cannot logically be substituted for one
another. Neither does the new phrasing make his position clearer
and more plausible. Implicit in it is, in fact, a rejection of the earlier
one, for the new formulation constitutes a recognition of the exist¬
ence and awareness of theoretical alternatives in the traditional
thought system, notwithstanding the qualification that those alter¬
natives were (allegedly) not competing among themselves. Horton
thus appears to have shifted the emphasis from the existence or
nonexistence of alternative theoretical frameworks to the competi¬
tion, or the lack of it, among (some existing) alternatives. One must
acknowledge the existence of alternatives before deciding whether
or not they were competing. From my point of view, the fact of the
existence of alternatives (which Horton now recognizes implicitly
or explicitly) is extremely important. Given the plurality of theo-

45
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

retical or doctrinal frameworks, it is hardly conceivable that inter-

theoretic competition of some kind never occurred.
The belief about the monolithic character of African traditional
thought undoubtedly stems from its characterization as collective.
This characterization, which is implausible and erroneous, in turn
arises from the lack of doxographic tradition in past African
culture. But, as I have already remarked, thought, wherever it is
produced, is always the production of an individual, not of a group.
This is inherent in the notion of thought itself. Given this fact, I
wonder how some scholars ever concluded that African thought
was collective. Was it because a number of people were supposed to
believe in the same idea, or because only one particular idea was
supposed to have filtered through to us from the diffuse and
indistinct unwritten traditional sources? Those who assert that
African thought is collective fail to indicate how it was ever
produced or could have been produced. Its existence appears to be
assumed: A communal society can produce only communal (collec¬
tive) thought. Because the communal society, it is alleged, does
many (if not all) things together, it must therefore also “think”
together and think the same thought. This kind of reasoning
assumes that individuality is completely absorbed in the communal
apparatus - a position I argue against later in this book. To put it
bluntly, it is as if decades or centuries ago, most (if not all) the
people in an African society met together to deliberate on their
conception of, say, the soul.
It is obvious that scholars like Horton and Hountondji see a
logical parallel between collective thought on the one hand and
collective decision making on the other hand. But no such parallel
exists. The reason is that although every member of a group,
council, or cabinet participates in making a collective decision (and
agrees to be bound by it), or shares in the exercise of a collective
power, it is not the case that every member of a society participates
in the creation of thought, for thought is the creation of individuals,
identifiable in some cultures, unidentifiable in others. Yet, despite
their individual origins, there is justification for considering such
individual thoughts as, for instance, Greek or Akan without
assuming that every Greek or Akan necessarily and unquestion-
ingly adhered to it.
The justification is provided by the relationship that exists
between the thought of an individual thinker and his or her culture.
Given this relationship, it makes sense, contrary to Hountondji’s

46
 3. Methodological problems

views, to speak of Dogon or Akan or Yoruba or African philoso¬

phy. And, on this showing, the phrase “Yoruba concept of the
person” is as legitimate and sensible as the phrase “Ionian concept
of archeThe former should not be taken to imply that there is (or
was) only one conception of a person held in Yoruba philosophy, or
that the concept has one and the same designatum for all. It merely
means, in the African case, that the author is interpreting and
elucidating a conception of a person produced or put forward
originally by an individual Yoruba thinker on the basis of ideas that
have survived in proverbs and other sources of Yoruba philosophy.
That same conception of a person may have been held, perhaps
independently, by other Yoruba thinkers. I say “perhaps indepen¬
dently” to allow for the possibility that these others may only have
been persuaded by the originator of the idea. But this does not
foreclose the possibility of another modern thinker giving a differ¬
ent analytical interpretation of the same concept on the basis of
ideas based on the same kind of sources. Thus, using a set of ideas
from Akan traditional sources, Kwasi Wiredu sees the Akan as
holding a conception of the person that is not as rigidly dualistic as
it appears in my analysis (in Chapter 6) and that borders on some
form of materialism.
Different, sometimes incompatible, ideas surely coexist in Afri¬
can thought systems. This has been noted by some earlier research¬
ers (mainly anthropologists and sociologists). Nevertheless almost
all of them presented the thought of the ethnic group they were
studying as a unity. In this they considered only one set of ideas and
beliefs that in their view were probably held by the “majority” of the
people they used as “informants,” thus ignoring other ideas as “out
of the ordinary.” Even so, there is evidence to indicate the existence
of a degree of plurality of thought and of intellectual disagreement
in the traditional setting.
In Akan thought, for instance, Rattray noted different ideas of the
sunsum (“spirit”) of a person with some of his informants saying
that the sunsum and the okra (soul) are the same, and others
disagreeing. He noted the “sometimes contradictory” nature of
“all these quotations,”8 referring to the statements of his informants.
Meyerowitz, too, remarked different “versions” of the sunsum.9 In
the course of my own field research I have encountered varying
views on the nature of the sunsum and its relation to the okra (soul)
(see section 6.3). I admit that all these different notions may be
regarded as forms of a single basic idea - that there is an immaterial

47
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

aspect of the human being, and therefore that they do not illustrate
Horton’s criterion or conception of “alternative world-views” - of
the person, in this case. But the position of Nana Boafo-Ansah, a
traditional elder, on the nature of a person and the existence of
spiritual entities sets him apart from others. For in a discussion we
had with him he denied the existence of okra (soul) and the sunsum
(“spirit”), and showed himself no mean materialist in a metaphysi¬
cal environment that is apparently charged with spiritualism. Nana
Boafo-Ansah thought that Onyame (Supreme Being, God), the
ancestors, and the abosom (lesser spirits) were all “figments of the
imagination,” onipa n’adwen (that is man’s mind, mental construct),
as he put it. He thus denied the entitative interpretation of the
sunsum in an expression such as “his sunsum is weighty,” which is
one Akan way of saying that a person “has a strong personality.”
For him the word sunsum merely denotes qualities such as dyna¬
mism, commanding presence, etc. Nana Boafo-Ansah’s denial of
the existence of spiritual entities would be taken as an isolated case
by one who wants to insist on the alleged monolithic character of
traditional thought. On the contrary, however, his position may be
shared by others if only one had spent more time in the field and
had talked with more of the traditional elders.
Different interpretations of the concept of destiny (nkrabea)
probably reflect different conceptions of destiny held by Akan
thinkers (see sections 7.2.1 and 7.2.2). There is a conception of
single destiny as well as one of double destiny. Some believe that
destiny can be changed; others hold that it is unalterable. People
disagree about the source of a person’s destiny, with one claiming
that destiny is divinely imposed, another that it is self-determined.
And so it goes.
The evidence I have adduced here to show the plurality of world
views in Akan thought is limited and therefore inadequate. Never¬
theless, it does indicate the existence of a variety of conceptions in
Akan traditional thought, if not the existence of philosophical
schools or sects as such. It does suggest, however, that Horton’s
view of the “single over-arching world-view” as the important
characteristic of traditional thought may be false.
Let me pose a question about some doctrines in the history of
Western philosophy: How fundamentally different were the views on
the soul (or person) held in Greek philosophy in particular and
Western philosophy generally up to the seventeenth century A.D.?
The conception of man and the world held by the pre-Socratics

48
 3. Methodological problems

through Plato, Middle Platonism, through Plotinus and Neoplaton¬

ism, St. Augustine and the Church Fathers, St. Thomas Aquinas and
the Scholastics and through Descartes, was basically a single concep¬
tion: dualism. There were isolated cases of antidualism, but generally
dualism reigned supreme. Greek ethics was of a single kind: teleol¬
ogy. Yet no one has pointed out that Western metaphysical thought
during that period lacked a really alternative metaphysics.
The third impression about African traditional thought is that it
is not critical. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, critical
means “being given to passing judgment upon something with
respect to its merits or faults; fault-finding; involving or exercising
careful judgment or observation.” Critical thinking, thus, involves
judgment of something’s value and truth. It is of course possible to
think critically without noting one’s thoughts in writing. Thus,
even though Socrates wrote nothing, we know or believe, thanks to
Plato, that he engaged in critical thinking. But without Plato this
fact - that Socrates’ thought was critical - would not have come
down to us'. Instead, we would have bald, isolated, and perhaps
philosophically profound and interesting statements. In spite of
Plato, we do not know whether we have Socrates’ own words and
how he actually argued. In the Akan, or the African case in general,
there were no Platos to write down the various arguments sur¬
rounding (or, leading to) a particular proverb or conclusion, let
alone provide a rational discussion of it in writing. Consequently,
there would be no such knowledge of the criticism that took place
in the evolution of traditional thought, such as can be found in
written discourse.
The critical attitude or element in African traditional thought is
demonstrable in some of the sources of African philosophical
thought discussed in the previous chapter. The critical element is
manifested clearly as well in African art. “Among the Akan,” wrote
Warren and Andrews, “there are individuals who, owing to their
artistic knowledge and experience, are consulted to evaluate art
pieces and to make aesthetic judgments about them. Some of these
critics are elected to formal positions; others enjoy informal recogni¬
tion by virtue of their wisdom and long experience.”" Criteria for
evaluation become established. Thompson remarks: “There exists
in Subsaharan Africa, locked in the minds of kings, priests and
commoners, a reservoir of artistic criticism. Whenever tapped, this
source lends clarity to our understanding of the arts of tropical
Africa.” He observed that “Yoruba art critics are experts of strong

49
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

mind and articulate voice who measure in words the quality of

works of art.”12 Thus, judging and evaluating, essential to the
critical attitude, were consciously pursued in African arts and
aesthetics. On what grounds can one reasonably say that these
manifestations of the critical attitude were absent from other areas
of the African thought?
The oft-quoted Akan proverb,

Wisdom is not in the head of one person,

(nyansa nni onipa baako ti mu)

means (1) that other individuals may be equally wise and capable of
spawning equally good, if not better, ideas; (2) that one should not,
or cannot, regard one’s intellectual position as final or beyond
criticism, but expect it to be evaluated by others; and (3) that, in
consequence of (2), one should be prepared to abandon one’s
position in the face of another person’s superior ideas or arguments,
or in the event of one’s own ideas or arguments being judged
unacceptable or implausible by others. Such an attitude to the
wisdom, ideas, or thoughts of others can hardly fail to be critical.
The fact that differences are evident in, for instance, Akan concep¬
tions of person, destiny, spiritual entities, etc, implies that the ideas
or propositions of some persons must have been found unaccepta¬
ble by others. Mrs. Eva Meyerowitz, who undertook elaborate
research among some sections of the Akan people in the 1940s and
1950s, asserted that “the concept of the Kra (soul) [was] evolved by
generations of thinkers.”1' The question, then is: Is it possible for
the critical element to be completely absent in the evolution of a
concept?
One other point: Horton, who denies African traditional thought
the name of philosophy because it did not develop formal logic and
epistemology, admits that African thought was eminently rational
and logical, and that traditional world views were “logically
elaborated to a high degree.” But such rational and logical thinking
would have been impossible had it not been based on “rules,”
perhaps not formally elaborated but nevertheless present in their
consciousness. Now, “to be logical” is not identical with “to be
critical.” Nevertheless, logic is an important part of critical think¬
ing. Thus, traditional thought could not have been logical without
bearing at least some of the marks of critical thinking: a worldview
that is “logically elaborated to a high degree” must in some ways
be critical.

50
 3. Methodological problems

Finally, the critical attitude is certainly not unique or exclusive to

philosophy for it is exhibited in any field of intellectual activity: in
history, art, literature, law, politics, etc. A philosophical discourse
must be critical, but it does not mean that any critical discourse is
philosophical. Thus, while a critical attitude is essential to philo¬
sophical activity, that alone does not suffice to distinguish it from
other intellectual activities. What essentially distinguishes philo¬
sophical activity from other intellectual activity is, as most philoso¬
phers will agree, the fundamental nature of its inquiry and of its
subject matter. The crucial concern of philosophy is to reflect upon
the fundamental ideas that shape and influence the life of humanity.
But such fundamental inquiry can hardly be pursued with success,
nor its results fully comprehended, without the presupposition of
the critical attitude. So that, if in fact African thinkers did pay
philosophical attention to fundamental aspects of the life, conduct
and experience of man - which we know they did - then the
presence of the critical attitude can be assumed.
In sum, then, the complete denial by some scholars of philosophy
among African peoples, the assumed monolithic nature of African
traditional thought, the alleged nonindividualistic (collective) and
uncritical nature of that thought - these are some of the mistaken
impressions about African traditional philosophical thought. There
are two principal reasons for the currency of these impressions. The
first relates of course to the lack of literate culture in Africa’s
history, which has wrought untold, irretrievable damage not only
to African philosophy but to other aspects of the African life, such
as its history. The second reason is that some scholars have come to
their conclusions on the basis of incomplete and superficial research
and analysis.

3.2. Difficulties besetting the

study of African traditional philosophy
The most obvious and the greatest difficulty in studying or
researching into African traditional philosophy stems from the fact
that it is an unwritten, an undocumented philosophy. The question
then becomes how one can succeed in resurrecting the philosophi¬
cal doctrines and arguments of African thinkers. In Chapter 2 I
argued that in Africa philosophy can be found in the myths,
proverbs, folk tales, and beliefs of the people. There are, however,
enormous difficulties in understanding and interpreting them. The

51
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

possibility of misunderstanding and misinterpretation is real; the

possibility of wrongly attributing views is always there. One may
undertake interviews and discussions with living traditional wise
people in an attempt to overcome this difficulty, but one can never
be sure that the conceptions or interpretations of the traditional
elders are themselves not colored by ideas and doctrines of Chris¬
tianity or Islam with which some of them are acquainted.
Although some philosophical ideas can certainly be distilled from
such sources as I have mentioned and from discussions with
traditional thinkers, a further difficulty arises in connecting isolated
and sometimes unrelated ideas into a coherent system, even assum¬
ing the compatibility of those ideas. The scholar of African
philosophy must pay attention to the logic of ideas, that is, the
logical relations between them, draw inferences, and suggest expla¬
nations that introduce some order into the fragmentary and chaotic
mass of discrete ideas. This exercise in logic, conceptual ordering,
and theorizing is not easy. It requires a great deal of experience in
scholarship and textual analysis; it requires painstaking care; it
presupposes a great deal of sustained interest and enthusiasm on the
part of the scholar. Unless one’s analytical interpretation is marked
by such intellectual and dispositional virtues, one may not make
much of it.
The scholar of African traditional philosophy, who almost in¬
variably was trained in a Western philosophical environment and
who perhaps cannot completely and immediately divorce him- or
herself from that philosophical background, faces another diffi¬
culty: namely, the possibility of introducing foreign ideas into the
analyses, and thus understanding African philosophy through for-
eign eyes. (This is not to rule out references to non-African
philosophies by way of comparison and in an attempt to make
explanations clearer.) This danger becomes more real when one
considers that the scholar probably will be using a foreign language
in interpreting and analyzing African thought, a (foreign) language
that is both structurally different from the African language (in
which the concepts originally occur) and that is rooted in the life of
a rather different culture.
The analysis in one language of concepts originally expressed in
another language naturally involves translation. But, as we know,
in translation we are dealing not just with words but with concepts
as well. It is the translation of concepts that gives rise to serious
problems. How can we know that our translations are perfect, and

52
 3. Methodological problems

that word Wx used to render another (supposedly equivalent) word

W in a different language corresponds to the original in all aspects
of its use? On what grounds, can we say that Wx is a perfect
translation of W? If in language L, W is used to designate the
concept C, can W, (supposed to be a translation of W) in language
L, also be said to designate the same concept C? Although it is
generally easy to find equivalent expressions in different languages,
the concepts associated with the words of one language are not
necessarily the same as those associated with the words of the
language into which one is translating. For this reason the problem
of translation is a real one for philosophers engaged in the study
and analysis of African thought using the media of alien languages.
How can one be certain, for instance, that the Akan word okra
correctly translates the English word “soul”?
A further difficulty: How does one deal with the diverse and
sometimes incompatible views that emerge from interviews and
discussions with traditional thinkers and from proverbs and other
sources?
These difficulties are not insurmountable nor are they peculiar to
the study of an unwritten philosophy. The serious scholar should
be able to study and present doctrines in African traditional
philosophy as clearly and accurately as possible.
Regarding the difficulty of getting at indigenous ideas in the light
of Africa’s historical contact with Christianity and Islam, I wish to
say that in Akan, as indeed in every African community, there are
certain individuals who are steeped in the traditional lore. These
individuals are regarded as wise persons in their own right. They
stand out in their own communities and command the respect and
esteem of their townsfolk. A researcher who goes to any Akan
town or village would invariably be directed to such individuals;
they are generally tradition-bound in their intellectual and general
outlooks. Some of them have had no formal education at all; others
have had some formal (Western) education, mostly through ele¬
mentary school. While some may be Christians or churchgoers and
so have some acquaintance with Christianity, all of them, in
discussions, are able intellectually to distinguish between tradi¬
tional conceptions and those of Christianity and of Islam as well,
although its influence in Akanland has been marginal.
As regards the impact of Islam, Parrinder observed: “One would
have thought that Islam would have produced a greater effect on
pagan African beliefs than is apparent. Strangely enough, this effect

53
 /. Question of philosophy in African culture

seems to have been remarkably small. . . . Muhammadan ideas of

the soul have varied, and do not appear to have affected African
beliefs; rather the reverse has not infrequently happened.” As
regards Christianity, it became clear to me in the course of my field
research that sometimes the formulation of an indigenous thought
may appear to be influenced by biblical language, but it is enough,
for the purposes of the researcher, if there is sufficient evidence that
the thought wrapped in biblical language was original. For in¬
stance, in a discourse on Onyame (Supreme Being) one traditional
discussant stated that ‘‘no one knows His beginning and His end
(obi nnim n’ahyease ne n’awiei), and another that “everything is from
Onyame and ends up in Onyame” (biribiara ft Onyame na ewie
‘Nyame). The language of these propositions rings a biblical bell,
and appears to be the kind that could be used by the Christian
missionary. Nevertheless, there is evidence that the language ex¬
presses a conception of the Supreme Being (God) that can be said to
be held originally by most Akan people (see n.10 of Chapter 5).
Christianity neither introduced nor fashioned Akan words and
proverbs that express the concept of an infinite God, for instance.
However, it is not my intention to make the claim - which would
be extravagant - that Christianity has not permeated the religious
life and thought of the Akan. It has, undoubtedly, although there is
evidence that at certain traumatic moments in the life of the Akan
the influence of Christianity may be seen as a thin veneer. (It is a
well-known fact that, in times of personal crises, misfortunes,
failures, and fears, a number of Akan Christians do consult the
traditional fetish-priests or the so-called witch-doctors.) The mini¬
mum claim I am making is this: that despite the diffusion of
Christian ideas, the basic or mainstream religious thought of the
Akan can be stripped of the incrustations of alien religious doc¬
trines and that therefore it can be reached through research and
analysis.
Now, as regards the difficulty of piecing together the philosophy
of the Akan people from the welter of diverse and sometimes
incompatible statements that emerge both from discussions with
traditional wise people's and from proverbs and other sources, I
must emphasize that the attempt here is not to get at the philosophy
of the Akan people as a unitary body of philosophical ideas. Such
an attempt will be doomed to failure in the light of the diverse
nature of the sources. Instead I shall attempt here to resurrect,
through analytical interpretation, the philosophical ideas held by

54
 3. Methodological problems

some individual Akan thinkers, ideas that in part have survived in

proverbs and other sources of Akan philosophy. It is such individ¬
ual thinkers and their ideas that I have in mind when I use such
expressions as “Akan thinkers,” “Akan conceptions,” “Akan
thought,” “Akan philosophy.” I must not be taken to imply that I
am presenting a set of philosophical ideas held by all Akan people,
thinkers and nonthinkers alike. In my reconstruction of Akan
philosophical thought, I have selected (perhaps arbitrarily), from
the traditional sources, some statements and ideas by some individ¬
ual thinkers that I have found important in my analytical exegesis
and evaluation. I have focused on the logic of such ideas and
statements in terms of their relations and implications. But I admit
the possibility that another modern philosopher might obtain
statements and ideas from the same traditional sources (at least
some of which may differ from those I used) and produce a
different synthesis based on those sources.
On the problem of translation, I take the view that it is not so
severe as to obstruct our apprehension of ideas or thoughts
expressed in different languages.16 Even though it is logically true
that our ideas or thoughts, as part of our mental furniture, are
private, it does not follow from this that the ideas expressed by a
speaker of one language bear no relation to those expressed by a
speaker of another language in terms of their designata. It is
certainly possible for two persons, speaking different languages, to
have the same ideas and for those ideas, as it were, to converge on
the same object. This is the case not only logically but also in
reality. It is indeed this reality that is the basis for the obvious fact
of translingual and interpersonal communication and understand¬
ing.
Thus, it is possible, through translation, for a scientist speaking
one language to grasp the results of scientific research developed
and produced in a different language. I think we can say that given
two sentences S, and S2 in two different languages, 5, correctly
translates S2 if both say the same thing and therefore express the
same thought; sameness of thought presupposes sameness of mean¬
ing. Suppose a number of physicians drawn from several countries
of the world attend a conference in Kumasi (Ghana). The king of
Asante (the Asantehene), who had earlier delivered the keynote
address of the conference, becomes ill not long after the opening
ceremony. When some of the visiting physicians arrive at the
hospital to visit the king, someone meets them and says, “The king

55
 I. Question of philosophy in African culture

is dead!” On returning from the hospital, the physicians announce

to the assembled world press, each in his or her native language
(having thus translated the sentence originally made in English), the
death of the king. The English physician says, “The king is dead,
the German “Der Konig ist tot,” the Arab “mata al-malik,” the
French “Le roi est mort,” and the Akan “Ohene no awu.” Do the
physicians not mean the same thing, namely, the-death-of-the-
king, despite the fact that they use different languages in making
their statements?
I believe that the ideas of one conceptual system can be explicated
in the language of another system. In explicating and analyzing
African concepts in a foreign language, a number of things need to
be done. These include profound inquiry into the nature of the
concept in both the African language and the language which is to
be used for translation; where a word has diverse or complex
meanings, the necessary qualifications must be made; it may be
necessary sometimes both to give reasons why a particular word is
being used to translate another word, and to show one’s awareness
of the difficulties in translating a particular word. Even though
these operations may not necessarily achieve complete success, they
should ensure a high degree of correctness in our translation and
thus our understanding. Thus, even though Akan thought may in
some respects be different in its concepts and doctrines from
Western philosophy, the differences are such as can be captured by
the resources of a Western language like English. The problem of
translation therefore is not unsurmountable.
On the question of understanding and interpretation, the scholar
should try to get at the inner meaning of the material in question.
Even if one speaks the language of the thinkers whose philosophi¬
cal ideas he is studying, one should pay particular attention to the
philology and semantics of that language. On points of interpreta¬
tion one should frequently consult not only with those known to
be well versed in the nuances of the language, but also with the
traditional thinkers about concepts expressed in the language and
the designata of those concepts. Flow a thinker handles a concept
expressed in the original language is an essential part of any attempt
to interpret and appreciate that thought. The attempt to analyze,
interpret, and present philosophical ideas unavoidably requires one
to engage in supplying, within limits, “the missing links in
thought,” to use Raju’s words.17 This is so even in studying written
philosophical discourse; much more is it true in studying and

56
 3. Methodological problems

presenting unwritten philosophical thought. So it is that I have

attempted to supply the missing links in Akan thought, links that
are either implicit in, or required by, the logic of the elliptical and
allusive statements in the sources, or derive from my own (fallible)
understanding of the issues involved - issues that must be explored
primarily within the Akan cultural, linguistic, and intellectual
framework in particular and the African cultural framework in
general. In this regard, it must be admitted that in any exegetical
work the input of the exegete, although kept to a minimum, is
inevitable.
Finally, the scholar should be constantly on guard against read¬
ing preconceived notions into a study of African thought. Con¬
sciousness of this pitfall will do much to ward off the temptation to
analyze the ideas of African philosophy within a foreign conceptual
framework.
These, then, are some methods that may be adopted to overcome
the difficulties that confront the scholar of African traditional
philosophy.

57
II
The Akan conceptual scheme
 4
The Akan conception of
philosophy

My intention in this chapter is to examine the Akan concep¬

tion of wisdom or philosophy. The difference between wisdom and
philosophy in Akan conceptions is slight, and there is only one
word used for both.
In the Akan language there is no word for “philosophy,” in the
sense of “love of wisdom.” Despite this fact, some linguists try to
force some seemingly appropriate word into the Akan language.
For example, Christaller and Berry1 give nyansape as a translation of
“philosophy.” This word is an etymological translation of “philos¬
ophy,” and means “love of wisdom” or “quest for wisdom,” and
similarly “philosopher” is rendered by onyansapefo, “lover of wis¬
dom.” Although these two expressions, nyansape and onyansapefo, are
correct etymological translations of their Greek equivalents, they
are dubious from the point of view both of the vocabulary and
usage of the Akan language and the Akan conception of philosophy
(to be explained below). My researches indicate that these two
expressions were not indigenous to the Akan language, nor have
they been accepted or incorporated into the current vocabulary and
usage. Consequently, there is in reality no such expression as
onyansapefo, “lover of wisdom.” And the reason for this, it seems to
me, is that in Akan conceptions one is conceived of at once as a wise
person (onyansafo), not a lover of wisdom. It is such a wise person
who in fact does or would have the ability, flair, and disposition to
ask certain types of questions and make certain types of inquiries.
And the Akan thinkers in fact hold that nyansa (or, adwen, its
possible equivalent), understood as the capacity for philosophical
thinking, is a mental faculty that is inborn; it is not acquired.

61
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

However, where nyansa means skill, practical knowledge, it can

and has to - be acquired.
The basis of the assertion that nyansa is inborn is the Akan belief
that it is the spirit (sunsum) of a person that makes nyansa possible
(sunsum no na ema nyansa), and that thinking is in fact a function of
the spirit (adwen no wo sunsum no mu).2 According to the Akan
conception of the person (see Chapter 6) sunsum (spirit) is an innate
faculty possessed by a person at birth. It is thus clear why the word
nyansape, seeking wisdom, would not occur. The wise person is not
one who seeks or searches for wisdom. He or she would not be
wise if he were to search for wisdom, where wisdom refers to an
activity rather than a body of knowledge. What we search for is a
body of knowledge or truths.
The position of the Akan thinkers, as just interpreted, may be
contrasted with that of Pythagoras (c. 532 B.C.). When he, accord¬
ing to the familiar anecdote, was referred to as a wise man, he said
that his wisdom consisted in knowing that he was ignorant, and
that he should therefore not be called “wise” but a “lover of
wisdom.” It seems to me, however, that Pythagoras was merely
being modest in refusing to be called sophos (wise man), and
preferring to be called philosophos (lover of wisdom), for surely it is a
sophos who can ask the type of questions and adopt certain
approaches to problems that would be regarded as philosophical.
That is to say, being a philosophos is already evidenced in the nature
of the intellectual activities of the sophos. Hence there must be an
obvious link between the sophos and the philosophos in terms of their
methods and concerns. On this showing, even if the Akans do not
actually have a word for “philosophy” (“love of wisdom”) as such,
we may conclude from the intellectual activities of the onyansafo
(wise man) that he or she must be considered a philosopher in the
sense of a thinker (odwendwenfo, obadwenfo). Consequently, the Akan
expression nyansa must be rendered by both “wisdom” and “phi¬
losophy,”4 among others to be mentioned below. A word that may
be used interchangeably with nyansa (wisdom) is adwen, which
means “thinking,” hence odwendwenfo, obadwenfo, thinker. Thus the
wise person (onyansafo) is a thinker.
That wisdom or philosophy is an activity may be inferred from
the fact that according to the Akan thinkers nyansa (wisdom) is seen
in what a person says (nyansa wo kasa mu) and how he or she says it;
that is, it is through discussion and discourse that a person shows
that he or she is wise. In a gathering in the traditional court of the

62
 4. The Akan conception of philosophy

king or in any public place, for instance, the person who is able to
provide an intellectual analysis of the subject matter under discus¬
sion, the person who is able to argue and convince others, the
person who is able to bring together all the relevant facts in order to
point up an underlying reason or meaning - it is such a person who
in an Akan community is considered wise and a philosopher
(<onyansafo).
The reference to a gathering in the royal palace that is normally
attended only by the elders (mpanyinfo) of the community may give
the impression that it is only among the elderly that wise people are
to be found. Such an impression would be false, for a young adult
also may be considered wise if he or she can display the intellectual
characteristics already mentioned. One reason why the elders are
traditionally acknowledged as repositories of wisdom is that, in an
environment in which writing was nonexistent, they possess the
cumulated philosophical reflections of many thinkers. Another
reason was that because Akan philosophy is based principally on
experience, it was natural to credit the elderly person with wisdom
because he or she had gained experience in life, although it surely
does not follow that every elderly person had the intellectual ability
to make philosophical sense of his or her experiences.
That wisdom is not confined to the elders follows from the fact
that the Akan hold that thinking is an activity of the sunsum (spirit),
a mental capacity, and that every human being has sunsum. This
implies that anyone has the potential to be wise. Although mental
capacity does not exist in the same degree in everyone, it is, as
already pointed out, held to be developable. This means that it is
theoretically possible for someone to develop mentally, though not
necessarily to the point of becoming wise (a philosopher). For not
just any kind of thinking makes a person wise. In this connection,
we are reminded of the Akan proverb,

Speech (talk) is one thing, wisdom another.

(asem nko, nyansa nko)

Words do not constitute wisdom; the good speaker is not necessar¬

ily wise. To be wise, that is, a philosopher, requires a certain type of
intellectual effort, activity, and approach. The one whose thoughts
are profound (obi a n’adwen mu do) is considered a philosopher, for it
is such a person who is considered to have the ability and
disposition for creating proverbs that contain philosophical specu¬
lations and constitute an important source of Akan ideas.

63
 II. The Akau conceptual scheme

The onyansafo reflects, imagines, intuits, and then condenses these

reflections, imaginings, and intuitions in proverbs. The onyansafo is
able to speculate about human experience. Probing aspects of
human experience and the external world, he or she may pose
questions about the fundamental principles that underlie human
life. The aim is to make a synthetic and coherent picture of human
experience and the world, inferring from that experience that
which is ultimately real and true. The thoughts of such a person are
distilled in proverbs, although by this I do not mean that proverbs
are the only manifestation of intellectual activity. The Akan philos¬
opher aims at comprehensive understanding of the world and
human life and conduct. He or she attempts a description of not
only how things are, but also how human beings ought to live and
what their values ought to be - hence the existence of many
proverbs relative to morality. The wise person of the Akan commu¬
nity is essentially a speculative philosopher.
There are, however, two kinds of wise person in the Akan
community. The wisdom of the first kind is oriented or restricted
to personal relations and to success in personal life. Such a person is
not really a philosopher. The other sort is the person who is
interested in the principles underlying human life. It is the second
type who, in my view, can appropriately be described as a
philosopher.
The wise person’s creativity - evidenced, for instance, in the
ability to originate philosophical proverbs - and possession of a
profound and inquiring mind constitute the background of the
proverb,

The wise man is spoken to in proverbs, not in

speeches (or, words).
('onyansafo wobu no be na wonka no asem)

The ambiguous word, asem, here means speech, talk, lecture,

discourse. The proverb asserts that since the wise person has the
intellectual ability to grasp the profound meanings of proverbs
immediately, he or she should be spoken to in proverbs; one need
not deliver a lecture or long speech before succeeding in conveying
one’s idea. The wise person sees for him- or herself the conclusions
or implications of such pithy sayings. The proverbs, which are, as it
were, capsules of ideas, can be “broken down” or “broken into”
(mpaepaemu: “analysis”) by the wise person.
But the Akan wise person analyzes not only proverbs or, for that

64
 4. The Akan conception of philosophy

matter, propositions but also concepts or ideas (adwene). In the

course of my field research I would ask such questions as, “What is
nkrabea (fate, destiny)?” or “What is the Akan conception of
nkrabea? (adwene ben na Akanfo wo wo nkrabea ho})” My discussant
would proceed to explicate or clarify the meaning (asee) of the
concept. But - and here is the point to note - while elucidating the
concept he or she would refer to relevant proverbs. This means that
in the view of the Akan wise person, analysis of propositions or
concepts cannot dispense with experience. (In this connection
generalizations and even principles would be considered as having
some basis in experience.) If it could, it would be reduced to mere
linguistic analysis, and in the Akan conception of philosophy, as I
interpret it, with its practical orientation, linguistic analysis as such
would have little, if any, place. For if philosophy is conceived in
terms of linguistic analysis, it can do nothing to help solve human
problems in the world. Such a philosophy would be arid, idle, and
vacuous, and would be described by the Akan thinkers as nyansa
hunu, useless philosophy, or impractical (inoperative) philosophy
(:nyansa a womfa nnye adwurna6), wisdom that is not put to good
purposes.
The wise person in the Akan conception is one who can
“analyze” (mpaepaemu, mpensempensemu) the problems of people and
society with a view to suggesting answers. An Akan proverb has it
that
Wisdom is not like money, to be tied up and
hidden away.
(nyansa nnye sika na woakyekyere asie)
The wise person should apply wisdom to daily life. That wisdom
or philosophy should be used in solving practical problems is
expressed also in the proverb, literally translated as
If a problem lasts for a long time, wisdom comes to
it.
(asem kye a, nyansa ba ho)
That is, it is the wise person who, after grappling with a problem
for a long time, succeeds in disentangling it. The proverb also
implies that philosophizing is a long intellectual process; it takes
time. But the more time it takes the more seasoned it becomes, and
the more able it is to solve problems. In sum, then, the analytical
activity of the Akan philosopher consists in intellectually disentan¬
gling human problems, and his or her reflections on those problems

65
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

(some of which are embodied in proverbs) would therefore become

a philosophy of life, offering rational guidance on questions of
individual action and social policy. Philosophy thus provides peo¬
ple with a fundamental system of beliefs to live by.
That philosophy is essentially oriented toward action and practi¬
cal affairs is reflected in other meanings of nyansa. In addition to
wisdom, nyansa also means skill, dexterity, art, artfulness, learning,
knowledge.7 Thus, the practical dimension of Akan philosophy is
already embedded in the original meaning of the word nyansa. The
Greek sophia is also translated, in addition to wisdom, as skill,
intelligence, practical wisdom, learning. But the practical character
or orientation of Akan philosophical thought appears to have
succeeded more in moving on an even keel: “A fact about philoso¬
phy in a traditional society,” observes Wiredu, “particularly worthy
of emphasis, is that it is alive in day-to-day experience. When
philosophy becomes academic and highly technical, it can easily
lose this quality.”9 Although in the West philosophy is generally
becoming more and more dry, abstract, and technical and thus out
of touch with practical wisdom, the highly technical nature of
philosophical discourse is principally a conscious effort on the part
of its practitioners at making the intentions of that discourse
articulate, acute, and comprehensible. Only when the technicality
of the discourse involves or results in its breaking loose from the
practical problems of life may it generate doubts about its relevance.
There is not sufficient evidence for the conclusion that the technical
nature of philosophical discourse in the West has deflected the
attention of philosophical thinking from human problems and
concerns. And it is appropriate, in my opinion, that such deflection
not take place.
The ultimate goal of philosophizing ought to be the concern for
the nature of the good in mankind or society - for human value,
and not for abstract matters for their own sake. (The word
“ultimate” here is important and is used advisedly: It indicates that
concern for abstractions should somehow conduce eventually to
the determination of the nature of human values.) Every branch of
philosophy is, and ought to be, concerned directly or indirectly
with the problems of human value. The practical orientation of
Akan philosophy appears, therefore, to be worthwhile.
Our investigations into the Akan conception of philosophy
indicate that Akan philosophy is oriented toward action and
practical affairs. For the traditional Akan thinker there is an

66
 4. The Akan conception of philosophy

intimate relationship between philosophy and life. Philosophy is the

articulation of a concrete way of life, not just a tissue of well-
laundered concepts. Akan philosophy may thus be characterized as
a philosophy of living experience, as evidenced, for instance, in the
proverbs, and expressed in real and vital attitudes. Such a concep¬
tion of philosophy undoubtedly is of great relevance to the contem¬
porary circumstances of Ghanaian or, for that matter, African
societies.

67
 5
Concepts of being and causality

5.1. God and the

other categories of being
Quite often the impulse of philosophical reflection finds its
first expression in religious life and thought. A philosophical idea
may be found concealed in a religious perspective or expressed in
religious language. This is the case with Akan ontology, that is, the
doctrine of being. For the religious language, attitude, and practices
of the Akans provide a great deal of insight into their conception of
reality, that is, the sorts of entities considered to be real or to exist.
It is the reality of an entity or object that in fact constitutes the
ground of its being worshiped; the object*of worship must be
presumed to exist.
The language of the religious rite of libation immediately reveals
the entities that are considered real in Akan metaphysics. A typical
prayer of libation runs as follows:
Supreme God, who is alone great, upon whom men lean and
do not fall, receive this wine and drink. Earth goddess, whose
day of worship is Thursday, receive this wine and drink.
Spirits of our ancestors, receive this wine and drink . . .’

These words from the prelude of the libation prayer attest to the
existence of a Supreme Being (Onyame, OnyankopSn), deities
(abosom: lesser spirits2), and ancestors (that is, ancestral spirits:
nsamanfo), in descending order. Next after these entities are humans
and the physical world of natural objects and phenomena. Thus the
hierarchical character of Akan ontology is clear: the Supreme Being

68
 5. Being and causality

at the apex, and our phenomenal world at the bottom of this

hierarchy. The Supreme Being, the deities, and the ancestors are
spiritual entities. They are considered invisible and unperceivable to
the naked eye: This is in fact the definition of the word “spiritual,”
for the Akans use the word sunsum (“spirit”) generally to refer to
the mystical, the unempirical, the nonphysical. Given the belief of
most Akans that at least part of nature or the physical world is
animated, and that man too is partly spiritual, we have to conclude
that Akan ontology is essentially or primarily spiritual (see Chapter
6); the Akan universe is a spiritual universe, one in which supernat¬
ural beings play significant roles in the thought and action of the
people. What is primarily real is spiritual.
It must be noted, however, that the world of natural phenomena
is also real, even though in ultimate terms the nonperceivable,
purely spiritual world is more real, for upon it the perceivable,
phenomenal world depends for sustenance. There is no distinction
between the sensible (perceivable) world and the nonsensible
(nonperceivable) world in the sense of the latter being real and the
former being unreal, as in other metaphysical systems. The dis¬
tinction lies entirely in the perceivability of one and the unper-
ceivability of the other. But the perceivability of the one - namely,
the world of nature - does not in any way detract from its reality.
From this perspective, it would seem that reality in Akan concep¬
tions is one and homogeneous. But this in fact is not the case. For
the characteristics of the physical world are different from those of
the spiritual world. The Akan metaphysical world is thus a dual
world, notwithstanding the fact that the activities of the inhabit¬
ants of the spiritual world extend to, and are “felt” in, the physical
world.
As already noted, Akan ontology is clearly pluralistic. Yet it is
equally clear, from the religious language of libation, the attributes
ascribed to Onyame (the Supreme Being), and the general religious
attitude and behavior of the Akan people, that within this broad,
comprehensive ontological pluralism, there are categorial distinc¬
tions, and that all these entities are not on the same level of being -
a fact that follows from the hierarchical character of Akan ontology.
From the several attributes or descriptions of Onyame, it would
undoubtedly appear that he is the ultimate ground of being.
The Akan conception of God, Onyame (or Nyame), may be
reached by first examining the names or epithets that are given to
him. Fie is known as

69
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

1. Onyankopon: Alone, the Great One, the Supreme Being.

2. Borebore: Creator, Excavator, Hewer, Carver, Architect,
Originator, Inventor/
3. Oboadee: Creator.
4. Odomankoma: Infinite, Boundless, Absolute, Eternal.
5. Obiannyew: Uncreated.
6. Tetekwaframua: He who endures from ancient times and for-
6
ever.
7. Tweaduampon: The Dependable One.
8. Brekyirihunuade: All-Knowing, Omniscient.7
9. Enyiasombea:8 Omnipresent.
10. Otumfo: The Powerful One, Omnipotent.
11. Atoapem: Ultimate, Final (literally: Unsurpassable).9

These descriptive titles give us some insight into the conception of

Onyame originally10 held by the Akan people regarding his nature
and position in relation to the other denizens in their ontology.
Onyame is the Absolute Reality, the origin of all things, the
absolute ground, the sole and whole explanation of the universe,
the source of all existence. Absolute Reality is beyond and indepen¬
dent of the categories of time, space, and cause. As tetekwaframua
and odomankoma, Onyame transcends time and is thus free from the
limitations of time, an eternity without beginning, without an end.
The fact that Onyame dwells in an infinite time gives the lie to the
supposition, made by Mbiti, that Africans do not have a concept of
a long or infinite future, for surely a concept of an eternal, infinite
being implies a concept of an infinite time (see section 11.2). If
there were no concept of an infinite time the infinite being would
be limited by time, and he would no longer be infinite. But ex
hypothesi he is infinite; therefore, he must dwell in an infinite time.
While containing space, Onyame is not held to be spatial. He is not
bound or limited to any particular region of space. He is omnipres¬
ent (enyiasombea), all-pervading. The fact that Onyame is not
confined to any particular locality is the basis of the proverb: “If
you want to say something to Onyame, say it to the wind” (wope
asem aka akyere Onyame a, ka kyere mframa). The Akans often draw an
analogy between God, or for that matter any spiritual being, and
the wind. Just as the wind is invisible and intangible - yet its effects
are seen everywhere - so is Onyame invisible, intangible, and
omnipresent. The analogy, however, is obviously incomplete, for
the wind can be physically felt whereas Onyame cannot.

70
 5. Being and causality
As the ultimate source of being, Onyame created the whole
universe, including the deities or lesser spirits, out of nothing. He is
the oboadee, “the creator of the thing,” the bbrebore, originator. At
some point in the distant past, Onyame created the world, and
having brought the world into existence, he sustains it with his
infinite power (otumfo). All things end up in him (atoapem), that is,
into him all things are dissolved. Thus, a discussant stated: “Every¬
thing is from Onyame and ends up in Onyame.”11 Onyame himself
is uncaused (odomankoma). The Akan view here follows from the
notion of infinity. Causality operates and is applicable in all matters
of change in the world. But Onyame, being infinite and eternal, is
not subject to change and a fortiori to causality.
The names ascribed to Onyame and their significations indicate
that Onyame is the ultimate or absolute reality, an attribution that
is found in proverbs such as “All things are dependent upon
Onyame” (nsem nyinaa ne ’Nyame), and “The earth is wide but
Onyame is the elder” (asase terew na Onyame ne panyin), that is,
Onyame is the progenitor, the primordial ancestor. Further evi¬
dence regarding the ultimacy of the reality of Onyame vis-a-vis the
reality of the other entities in the Akan ontological universe may be
gathered from the religious attitudes and behavior of the Akan
people. Here are some of the short prayers and the constant
references and invocations made to Onyame by the Akan people at
certain times and occasions:1 2 3 4 5 6"

1. At the start of any undertaking the Akan would say: “Ony¬

ame, help me!” (Onyame boa me).
2. The expression “If it is the will of Onyame” (se Onyame pe a) is
constantly on people’s lips at the start, or in the course, of a
pursuit.
3. If one inquired about another’s health, the latter would almost
invariably say, “By the grace of Onyame, I am all right”
(Onyame adorn me ho ye).
4. Salutations and words of farewell are couched in the form of
prayer to Onyame. For instance, “May you go in the company
of Onyame” (wo ne ’Nyame nkb); “I leave you in the hands of
Onyame” (me de ’Nyame gya wo).
5. If one narrowly escapes a disaster one would say, “If Onyame
had not intervened . . .” (se Onyame ampata a . . . ); “Onyame
alone” (Onyame nko ara).
6. The priest at the shrine of a deity, when consulted in case of

71
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

illness, would always say: “If Onyame permits, I shall cure

you.”

Such sayings, as I understand them, are not cliches but genuine

religious expressions used by those who have confidence in the
ultimate power of Onyame. These spontaneous religious references
or invocations are made only to Onyame and never to the deities
that generally are the direct objects of worship.
The well-known artistic symbol “Except God” (Gye ’Nyame)
expresses the idea of the omipotent, eternity, uniqueness, suprem¬
acy of Onyame. Kofi Antubam, the late Ghanaian (Akan) artist, was
given an elaborate interpretation of the symbol by an informant:
“This great panorama of creation originated from the unknown
past: No one lives who saw its beginning. No one lives who will
see its end, Except God.”'3 The meaning of the symbol is simply
that only Onyame is omnipotent, supreme, eternal.
Now it is evident from the names of Onyame, the Supreme
Being, from the religious attitudes and expressions of the Akan
people including their ejaculatory prayers, and from the ideas about
Onyame contained in Akan proverbs and art that, although there
are several categories of being, Onyame is in fact the ultimate
reality. As the Uncreated and First Cause, he is independent of all
the other categories of being. Other entities are real because, being
rooted in Onyame, they partake of, or participate in, his reality.
Their reality is, therefore, derivative and adventitious. Thus, while
Onyame is the Absolute Reality, other entities, being dependent
categories, are only dependently real. Deities, ancestral spirits,
humans and the physical world cannot therefore be said to be
absolutely or ultimately real. Parrinder was, therefore, wrong, at
least as far as the Akan concept of Onyame is concerned, when he
thought that the Supreme Being, God, was conceived to be
“sometimes first among equals.”'4 How can Onyame, who is
conceived as “Alone the Great One” (Onyankopon), have an equal
when he constitutes the highest category of being? The concept of
equality implies a relation and a relation implies the existence of at
least two things. But since Onyame is the only member of a class,
the concept of equality is inapplicable here.
The Akan universe, essentially spiritual, is endowed or charged
with varying degrees of force or power. This force or power is
sunsum, usually translated as “spirit,” which, as noted, is commonly
used to refer to the mystical and nonempirical, as in sunsum yare

72
 5. Being and causality

(spiritual disease). In this metaphysic all created things, that is,

natural objects, have or contain sunsunr, every deity (obosom) is a
sunsum, but not vice versa. This sunsum derives ultimately from
Onyame who, as the Supreme Being, is the Highest Spirit or
Highest Power. Sunsum, then, appears, on my interpretation, to be a
generic concept; it appears to be a universal spirit, manifesting itself
differently in the various beings and objects in the natural world. At
the same time, the word sunsum is used in two different but related
senses.
First, it is used to refer to any self-conscious subject whose
activities are initiated self-consciously. In this sense, Onyame, the
deities, and the ancestors are said to be spirits, that is, spiritual
beings with intelligence and will. Second, it is used to refer to the
mystical powers believed to exist in the world. These powers are
held to constitute the inner essences or intrinsic properties of
natural objects, and are believed to be contained in those objects.
Thus, sunsum is used in both a specific sense, to refer to the essence
of a particular deity or man, and a general sense, to refer to all
beings and powers unperceived by man.
There are two ways in which the two senses of sunsum are
related. The first is that the mystical powers in the world and in
natural objects are categorially related to the deities, although
they derive ultimately from Onyame. The second is that the
deities are supposed to reside in natural objects such as trees,
plants, rocks, mountains and hills, rivers and brooks. Notwith¬
standing the relatedness of the two senses or uses of sunsum some
scholars make a distinction between spirits (which, according to
my analysis, include Onyame, the deities, the ancestors, etc.) and
what they call supernatural powers or forces. Mbiti, for instance,
writing about religious or metaphysical concepts of Africa in
general, said: “African people know that the universe has a
power, force or whatever else one may call it, in addition to the
items in the ontological categories which we discussed in Chap¬
ter Three.”15 Busia wrote: “To the Ashanti the universe is full of
spirits. There is the Great Spirit, the Supreme Being, who created
all things, and who manifests his power through a pantheon of
gods; below these are lesser spirits which animate trees, animals
or charms.”16 [Since Busia distinguishes the gods (deities) it is
correct, I think, to take his expression “lesser spirits” as a refer¬
ence to the supernatural or magical forces or powers.] Parrinder
also made a similar distinction.

73
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

What is not clear to me, however, is whether these supernatural

or magical forces (for example, those operative in witchcraft,
charms, and amulets) belong to a category of being distinct from
that of the deities (abosom) or whether they are categorially linked to
the deities. The statements of Mbiti, Busia, and Parrinder suggest
the former. Rattray also seems to distinguish the magical powers
(suman, pi. asumari) from the deities, regarding the former as
“among the lowest grades of superhuman powers,” “lower graded
spiritual power.”19 Elsewhere, in a more elaborate discussion of
suman, Rattray observed: “Although suman may form part of an
obosom (god), suman and obosom are in themselves distinct, and are so
regarded by the Ashanti.”2" In saying that the two are distinct in
themselves Rattray means most probably that in terms of the actual
exercise of power suman and obosom are distinct, but that they are
not distinct in terms of their nature, the former forming part of the
latter. It seems to me that the magical or supernatural powers are in
fact part of the manifestation or operation of the characteristic
activities and powers of the deities (abosom), that they are a specific
extension of the powers of the abosom. The asuman (which include
charms, amulets, and talismans) are in Akan communities actually
prepared by priests and priestesses, who serve the deities and thereby
appropriate the powers of the deities. There is evidence to support
this view, namely, that the magical powers are not categorially
distinct from the deities. Kwaku Mframa, an Akan medium-priest
of many years experience who submitted to a long series of
interviews, stated repeatedly that much of the power of the
medium-priest rests upon the help provided by the good witches
attached to his shrine.'1 Helaine Minkus reported that two of her
“informants went further and denied that the gods have any power
at all, declaring that the effects produced are due solely to a group
of witches who combine their power.”22 The views of the medium-
priest and the “informants” of Ms. Minkus indicate a real relation¬
ship between the mystical powers and the deities. It appears certain
therefore that what are called supernatural or magical powers do
not constitute a distinct, autonomous category of being additional
to the categories discussed earlier in this chapter, but that they are a
subcategory of the deities (abosom).
It may be mentioned, parenthetically, that the fact that all created
things are held to be sunsum or to contain sunsum may give the
impression that the Akan world view is pantheistic. Such an
impression, however, would be erroneous, for Akan thinkers do

74
 5. Being and causality

not maintain that Onyame (God) is identifiable with the sum of all
things. They do not identify the creator with the creature, the
author with his work. Indeed, the concept of transcendence'1 held
by them implies a rejection of pantheism. A more appropriate
description of the Akan system might be panpsychism: Everything is
or contains sunsum (spirit). In saying that natural objects contain
sunsum or power Akan thinkers mean to attribute to them an
intrinsic property, namely, the property of activity or an activating
principle. If this interpretation of the Akan position is correct, then
it rejects by implication the view, held by the Cartesians and others
in Western philosophy and also in Islamic philosophy,'4 that matter
is essentially passive or inert and that a creative divine being must
therefore activate it. According to Akan thinkers, then, activity is a
property intrinsic to matter, that is, natural objects; it is the essence
of natural objects to be active, to possess power.
As noted before, the Akan universe is conceived as a hierarchy of
beings with Onyame at the apex, then the deities, ancestors,
humans, and the world of natural objects and phenomena, in that
order. Parrinder, in my view, was wrong, at least as far as the Akan
conception goes, in using the pyramid or triangle as an analogy to
explain the relationships between the various categories of being in
Akan ontology. He wrote: “. . . a pyramid or triangle was apt
illustration of the order of the spiritual forces. At the apex was the
supreme God, on one side of the triangle were the nature gods, and
on the other side the ancestors, while at the base were the lower
magical powers.”25 This analogy places the deities (what he calls
“nature gods”) and the ancestors on the same footing, whereas the
religious practices and attitudes of the Akans indicate that the
deities are considered more powerful than the ancestors, who are
considered to be “nearer’ to man — for they were once human,
whereas the deities were never human. A vertical line, therefore,
would be a more appropriate figure to use in displaying the ordered
relations between the different entities in Akan ontology.
In the web of interaction between the various entities in this
hierarchy, an entity can destroy or affect any other below it. Thus,
Onyame can destroy the deities (hence the obeisance made to him
by the priest who serves a deity) as well as the other spiritual
beings, humans, and the whole world; thus, a witch can kill a
human being, for although the witch is also a human being he or
she is believed to have a power which is extraordinary and greater
than that possessed by the “ordinary person. It follows that

75
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

entities with the same degree of potency cannot destroy or affect

one another. Thus, an Akan proverb has it that unless you die of
God let living man kill you, and you will not perish” (Onyankopon
ankum wo na odasani kum wo a, wunwu da). The proverb means that
entities with equal potency, like men, cannot really affect one
another, but that Onyame, with an unequaled or incomparable
potency, can destroy man. On the other hand, the hierarchical
conception implies that a lower entity cannot subvert a higher
entity; hence the proverb, “the order Onyame has established,
living man cannot subvert”26 (ade a Onyame ahyehye onipa ntumi nsee
no). Furthermore, such an ordered conception belies the description
by anthropologists and others of Akan religion as “idolatry,”
“fetishism,” “nature worship,” and the like, meaning that the Akans
worshiped man-made objects as well as objects of nature. Now,
according to the Akan hierarchical order, natural objects are below
man; man therefore cannot make obeisance to such lower entities.
Thus, any worshipful attitude shown toward natural objects, such
as trees and rivers, is in fact directed to deities that are believed to
inhabit them. The worshipful attitude toward “objects of nature” is
therefore a mere recognition on the part of the Akan people of the
existence of a category of spiritual beings higher than man. Here
one sees something that anthropologists and other writers on Akan
religion failed to see, namely, the influence of a metaphysical system
on the religious perspective or behavior of a people.
Akan ontology, essentially spiritualistic, is, on my interpretation,
neither wholly pluralistic nor wholly monistic; it is both pluralistic
and monistic. It admits several entities as real, but it recognizes only
one of them, namely Onyame, as the ultimate reality, the absolutely
real. The entities of this ontology are hierarchically ordered, a
higher entity having the power to destroy a lower entity. This latter
fact partly explains the Akan conception of causality.

5.2. Causality
One might begin by asking why a discussion of causality
should be appended to a discussion of a theory of being. The
answer is a simple one: It is because the Akan conception of
causality is closely tied to their conception of the world, to their
theory of being. Consequently, section 5.1 on the Akan theory of
being provides the background and the framework for explicating
their concept of causality.

76
 5. Being and causality

Akan thinkers maintain a doctrine of universal causation: Every¬

thing has a cause (asem biara wo ne farebae). Hence, the proverbs,
“Whenever the palm tree tilts it is because of what the earth has
told it” (se abe bo ne mu ase a, na hvo nea asase ase no)-21 “If Birebire had
not come, there would have been no calamity” (Birebire amma a,
amene mma).28 Nothing happens without a cause.
In our discussion of the Akan theory of causality we shall pay
particular attention to events that are considered by them as
unexpected or extraordinary; events that in their view do not occur
according to the course of nature. It is such occurrences for which
they have characteristic causal explanations. They have not con¬
cerned themselves much with finding explanations for ordinary or
regular occurrences in nature, such as the flooding of a river after a
heavy rainfall, the drying up of rivers in times of drought, poor
harvests due to the lack of sufficient rains, catching few fish at
certain times of the year, the growth of plants, a pregnancy that
lasts nine months, the fatality of certain diseases, and so on. Such
events are held by them to be part of the order of nature established
by the omnipotent creator, Onyame; they are part of Onyame’s
arrangement (Onyame nhyehyee), and, as a previously quoted prov¬
erb has it, “The order Onyame has established, no living man can
alter.” Thus, they seem to say that there is a “necessary” causal
connection between such events. Since it has long been observed
that whenever it rains heavily and for a long time the river floods,
and whenever it does not rain for a long time poor harvests and
famine follow, they are not specially interested in looking for causal
explanations for such expected occurrences. Answers to questions
such as “What caused the flooding of the river?” or “Why is this
year’s harvest so poor?” or “How did the bushfire in the farm
occur?” are provided within the framework of their empirical
knowledge of natural events: “The uninterrupted rainfall of the past
four days caused the flooding of the river”; “This year s harvest is
so poor because of the lack of sufficient rainfall’ ; “The burning of a
large forest for charcoal, not far away, spread to the cocoa farm,
causing the bushfire.” Causal explanations for such natural occur¬
rences are thus empirical, scientific, and nonsupernaturalistic. Dif¬
ferent attitudes, however, are adopted with respect to another kind
of what other cultures would regard as natural occurrences.
The occurrences that engage their attention and for which
different explanations are given are those that they regard as
“extraordinary” or “contingent,” occurrences that are held to fall

77
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

outside the course of nature and so are taken to be exceptions to

the laws of nature. These occurrences do not fit into their
conception of the normal order of things, for they imply a
disruption of the preestablished order of Onyame. Some exam¬
ples might be: an unusually long period of drought, a tree falling
and killing a farmer on his way to his farm, a pregnancy that
extends much beyond a period of nine months, a person dying
from a snakebite, a person being afflicted with a certain kind of
disease, a person being accidentally shot to death by a hunter, and
so on. Such occurrences have certain characteristics: They are
infrequent and hence are considered “abnormal”; they are dis¬
crete and isolated; they appear to be puzzling, bizarre, and
incomprehensible; they are not considered subsumable under any
immediately known law of nature. It is not that the Akans do not
know that a falling tree can kill a person or that certain diseases
can be fatal. In such situations the question the Akan poses is not
“Why did the falling tree kill him?” but “Why did that tree fall at
that particular time and kill that particular person?” Putting this
type of question suggests that, for them, events like the falling of
a tree and the biting of a snake cannot be ultimate causes; they
can only be regarded as immediate or secondary causes. Those
events by themselves are deemed insufficient or unsatisfactory to
explain their effects. It is and can only be an ultimate cause that
caused that tree at that time to kill that man. Note that the
“ultimate” cause here is not necessarily the Supreme Being; it
could be any of the lesser spirits or ancestral spirits."q
In two respects events that are considered in the Akan philoso¬
phy of causation as extraordinary bear some resemblance to
happenings that are regarded as accidents (asiane). First, both
direct their attention to the situation of the individual person qua
the consequence or victim of an occurrence. Second, both have
causes (“accident” to the Akan thinker is not an uncaused event).
But they differ in that extraordinary events include both “imper¬
sonal occurrences, such as an unusually long period of drought
and an uninterrupted rainfall for over four weeks, and “personal”
occurrences, that is, occurrences which directly affect a person
such as dying from snakebite or being killed by a falling tree. By
contrast, accidents (asiane) are restricted to personal misfortunes.
Thus, accidents and extraordinary events are not the same.
A preliminary objection may be raised against the viability of the
Akan idea of the extraordinary event and the classification of

78
 5. Being and causality

natural occurrences into ordinary and extraordinary, normal and

abnormal, “necessary” and “contingent.” One might well argue
that any type of event, however irregularly or infrequently it
occurs, must be considered as part of the course of nature, and that
such an event may thus not, after all, be as extraordinary as it is
supposed to be. Such an argument may be allowed. But to the Akan
an extraordinary event must be a peculiar one indeed. An event
considered extraordinary by Akan thinkers is one that has traumatic
consequences. The falling of a tree, which is perfectly ordinary,
leaves no one spellbound or confounded. Of the greatest interest is
why a particular man should be there just at that moment and be
trapped. It is that aspect of the event that is considered “extraordi¬
nary.” But such a concept of the extraordinary event can hardly be
considered intelligible and adequate. For events considered extraor¬
dinary are not so unique, isolated, and discrete as to be completely
inexplicable by a natural or scientific law. If they had paid greater
attention to their own experience, the thinkers would probably
have had a different view of the character of the so-called extraor¬
dinary events; they would have convinced themselves that it was,
after all, not impossible, as it were, to compound those atomic
events into molecular ones.
Yet it is generally for events considered extraordinary that the
Akan thinkers have serious and well-meaning causal explanations.
So let us turn to how they conceive of causal relations in such
events.
The Akan doctrine of being provides the metaphysical frame¬
work for analyzing and understanding the Akan concept of cause.
The world is, according to them, a world of action. This concept of
action is developed into a metaphysics of potency. The concept of
action itself derives from their view that the world is primarily
spiritual; what exists is spirit, and the world teems with spirits or
spiritual beings. These spiritual beings are powers, or endowed
with powers, of varying capabilities. Since a higher being has the
power to destroy a lower being, humans and the world of natural
objects and phenomena can easily be controlled by such spiritual
powers. These powers or spirits, then, are causes of action and
change in the world. And inasmuch as every causal situation
involves action and change - for there cannot be an effect without
something being changed - causal reference is often made to
powers or spirits. In this connection, some information we have
from Busia is instructive and apposite.

79
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme
In 1946 the Akwamuhene of Ankaasi, a village near Kumasi,
died. Forty days before, he had given evidence at court in a
case in which another man had been accused of murdering the
Akwamuhene’s own father. The accused person was acquitted
chiefly on the evidence of the Akwamuhene, who a few days
later fell ill. On the twenty-eighth day of his illness he
confessed to a friend that he believed his father’s ghost was
punishing him because he had given false evidence at the trial.
He did not recover from his illness, and died. No other
explanation was required, for it was the general belief that his
father had punished him for his conduct.
Another death also occurred recently (1946) at Wenchi. In
1940 an elderly man died there. His funeral rites were
curtailed because some of the members of the lineage were
away. It was decided that the full rites should be performed
later. This was not done for six years. Then another member
of the lineage, a nephew of the elderly man, fell ill and died. A
native physician declared that the death had been caused by
the spirit of the elderly man because the lineage had not
performed his funeral rites. This was generally held to be a
sufficient explanation for the death.30

In an Akan community, if a falling tree kills a man, or if a man dies

in a car accident or from a snakebite, the cause of the death would
generally be thought to be a spirit. A purely scientific or naturalistic
explanation would not suffice, because a snakebite or car accident
does not always result in death. For the Akan, then, a purely
scientific or naturalistic explanation of natural events presupposes
an absolute regularity or uniformity in nature. But such an absolute
uniformity is subverted by the existence of irregular, abnormal
occurrences.
Akan thinkers provide causal explanations for those events that
do not, in their view, form themselves into a regular pattern. The
irregularity of such events immediately gives rise to the question
“Why?” Here I wish to make a distinction between two kinds of
why-questions. The first relates to situations considered normal,
ordinary, and easily comprehensible. In these, explanations would
be given in empirical and naturalistic terms. An example of such a
why-question is: “Why is this year’s harvest so poor?” raised by an
Akan farmer. Poor harvest might be ascribed to lack of sufficient
rainfall, for instance. Such a why-question, eliciting a purely

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empirical explanation, I refer to as why,-question. The second kind

of why-question comes up in situations where particular persons
happen to be the victims. Such situations are regarded by the Akan
as abnormal, extraordinary, and incomprehensible, and they invari¬
ably elicit nonempirical, supernaturalistic explanations. An example
of such a personalized why-question is: “Why did that tree fall and
kill that particular person?” The death of that person would be
ascribed to some supernatural being or power. I refer to this second
kind of why-question as a why2-question. The two kinds should be
noted, as most scholars ignore why,-questions in African causal
explanations and fasten on why2-questions.31
Let me say a bit more about why2-questions. The question
“why2” comes up when, for instance, a person dies from a
snakebite or from a disease because the effect (death) appears
mysterious to them. In their experience such an effect did not
always occur. In the event of a man dying from some disease, they
would, to quote Busia writing about the treatment of the sick in
Akan culture, ask: “ Why did a disease that had on many occasions
responded to the traditional healer’s treatment fail to respond in a
particular case? Many others had had the same disease and had been
successfully treated with the same remedies. Why did this particular
patient die when the others had recovered?”32 The causal explana¬
tion for this type of event would be made in supernaturalistic
terms.
In considering such so-called abnormal or extraordinary events,
Akan thinkers obviously fail to consider other factors that may be
relevant. The quantity of poison injected by the snake, the physical
constitution of the person, the speed with which he was brought to
the healer, etc. - these are some of the factors that may have
contributed to the death of a person bitten by a snake. Such factors
may also account for the opposite effect in cases that did not result
in death. Thus, in their causal explanations, Akan thinkers turn too
quickly from the what-, how-, and why,-questions to why2-
questions. Instead of asking, What brought this about? or How did
this happen?, they insist on asking, Why2 did it happen? The reason,
however, is that even though they know of the what- or how-
questions, they maintain that the answers to those kinds of ques¬
tions do not go far enough to be satisfactory, for there is or may be
something that is unclear and ought to be clarified or known. For
them, the way to clarify or know is to ask other kinds of questions
than the what- or how-questions. Hence, why2-questions are

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

considered deeper kinds of questions, leading to different kinds

of explanations. One may also conclude, however, that why2-
questions actually constitute an admission of their inability to give
adequate explanations to certain events.
One way to avoid the why2-questions where the answers to the
what- or how-questions are unknown or unsatisfactory is to
introduce the concepts of chance and luck. But explanations of
unexpected natural events in terms of chance or luck are repugnant
to determinist Akan thinkers, who hold that “nothing just (or,
merely) happens” (biribiara nsi kwa),}i and that “everything has its
‘because of,’ ” that is, reason, cause (biribiara wo ne se nti). Their
conception of an orderly universe completely rules out the possibil¬
ity of an unqualifiedly random event, and therefore chance, defined
as an uncaused event, can have no place in their explanations of the
causes of natural events. The Akans do have concepts of accident
(iasiane) and luck or fortune (akrade). But for Akan thinkers an
accident is not simply a chance event, an event that just happens to
take place; it has a cause. To them an event may be considered an
accident insofar as it may, for some reason, be thought not to be
part, or an inevitable consequence, of a man’s destiny (nkrabea)M
Thus, accident (asiane) and luck (or fortune: akrade) are believed to
operate solely on the level of human nature3’ and purpose, not on
the level of the order of nature. That is to say, in nature there are no
chances or accidents. For them, as for Aristotle, a chance event as
such would in fact be an event whose cause is unknown, not one
lacking a cause. When a European explains an unpredictable or
unexpected natural event by reference to chance, coincidence, luck,
or fortune, from the point of view of Akan thinkers that is the same
as saying that the cause is unknown. But the Akan thinker would
here retort that ignorance of the cause of an event does not imply
the nonexistence of a cause.
Although supernatural factors play important roles in Akan
causal explanations, recognition is given also to the causal roles of
physical objects. Causal explanations in terms of supernatural
factors are generally made when human beings feel the immediate
or direct effects or are the victims of natural events. Thus, a tree
falling and killing a man on his way to his farm would almost
invariably be explained in supernatural terms. But if on his way to
the farm the farmer comes upon a big tree that had fallen across the
path and he then remembers the previous night’s rainstorm, he
would certainly attribute the cause of the fall of the tree to’ the

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rainstorm. Similarly, he would causally explain poor harvests in

natural terms: either the destructive action of insects or the lack of
adequate rainfall or the infertility of that piece of land. Cause, for
this type of event, is conceived in terms of physical agency or
efficiency.
The acknowledgment of physical (nonsupernatural) causality
indicates a conception of dual causality, the physical being invoked
in consequence of ordinary or regular sequence of events, the
regularity making the situation comprehensible; the spiritual being
invoked in cases regarded as extraordinary or abnormal events. This
concept of dual causality follows from the concept of dual reality
discussed earlier in this chapter. Furthermore, whereas spiritual
causality is vertical - the causal direction going only from a higher
being to a lower one - physical causality is horizontal.
The Akan theory of causality, as discussed here, is in some ways a
consequence of the hierarchically ordered Akan ontology. In this
ontology any higher being can have causal power or control over a
lower being, but the causal relation of a higher being to a lower
being is asymmetric; thus a lower being can have no causal power
over a higher being. The world of natural objects and phenomena is
at the bottom of this hierarchy; it is the lowest kind of being and
can therefore be causally controlled by the other beings. Causal
relations must therefore be explained or understood within the
framework of Akan psychophysical metaphysics. Thus, in cases
where human beings are the victims of events, the ultimate cause is
regarded as a supernatural being. In such cases natural laws, which
consider the relations only between material objects, are incapable
of offering adequate causal explanations. Natural laws describe but
do not explain; real explanations must make reference to spirits.
Why2-questions, which figure prominently in Akan thinking about
causality, purport to elicit deeper explanations of natural events. It
is when such explanations are not forthcoming that some European
thinkers, for want of something better, resort to chance, a concept
that is rejected in determinist Akan philosophy. Nevertheless, in
Akan explanations, recognition is appropriately given to the causal
roles of physical (material) objects. That is to say, physical laws are
also considered causally relevant and operative, even though limited
to relations between physical phenomena. Akan thought, however,
appears emphatic in its position that in our complex and bizarre
world, physical laws, which are the creation of human intellects,
cannot claim to exhaust all possible explanations of events and

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

behavior. One final point: In my view, the Akan thinkers’ insistence

on regularity, uniformity, or repetition of a certain kind of event,
imphcit in their ideas about causation, is appropriate, as without
such an assumption no reliable scientific predictions can be made
and no inference from the observed to the unobserved can be
drawn.

84
 6
The concept of a person

What is a person? Is a person just the bag of flesh and bones

that we see with our eyes, or is there something additional to the
body that we do not see? A conception of the nature of a human
being in Akan philosophy is the subject of this chapter.

6.1. Okra (soul)

We are given to understand from a number of often quoted,
though mistaken, anthropological accounts that the Akan people
consider a human being to be constituted of three elements: okra,
sunsum, and honam (or nipadua: body).
The okra is said to be that which constitutes the innermost self,
the essence, of the individual person. Okra is the individual’s life,
for which reason it is usually referred to as okrateasefo, that is, the
living soul, a seeming tautology that yet is significant. The expres¬
sion is intended to emphasize that okra is identical with life. The okra
is the embodiment and transmitter of the individual’s destiny (fate:
nkrabea). It is explained as a spark of the Supreme Being (Onyame)
in man. It is thus described as divine and as having an antemundane
existence with the Supreme Being. The presence of this divine
essence in a human being may have been the basis of the Akan
proverb, “All men are the children of God; no one is a child of the
earth” (nnipa nyinaa ye Onyame mma, obiara nnye asase ba). So
conceived, the okra can be considered as the equivalent of the
concept of the soul in other metaphysical systems. Hence, it is
correct to translate okra into English as soul.

85
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

Wiredu, however, thinks that this translation “is quite definitely

wrong.”2 He, for his part, would translate the okra as ‘'that whose
presence in the body means life and whose absence means death and which
also receives the individual’s destiny from God. Surely the (here)
italicized part of the quotation accurately captures the Akan con¬
ception of the soul - okrateasefo, the living soul — whose departure
means death. This is indeed the primary definition of the soul in
practically all metaphysical systems. I do not think, however, that
the concept of destiny is an essential feature of the Akan definition
of the soul, even though the concept of the soul is an essential
feature of the Akan conception of destiny (see Chapter 7).
Wiredu’s reason for thinking that it is wrong to translate okra as
soul is mainly that whereas “the soul is supposed in Western
philosophy to be a purely immaterial entity that somehow inhabits
the body, the okra, by contrast, is quasi-physical.”4 He adds,
however, that “It is not of course supposed to be straightforwardly
physical as it is believed not to be fully subject to spatial constraints.
Nor is it perceivable to the naked eye. Nevertheless, in some ways it
seems to be credited with paraphysical properties.”5 Wiredu’s
characterizations of the okra as “quasi-physical” and having “para¬
physical” properties are completely wrong. He acknowledges that
“highly developed medicine men” or people with extrasensory (or
medicinally heightened) perception in Akan communities are said
to be capable of seeing and communicating with the okra. It must be
noted, however, that these phenomena do not take place in the
ordinary spatial world; otherwise anyone would be able to see or
communicate with the okra (soul). This must mean that what those
with special abilities see or communicate with is something non-
spatial. Thus, the fact that the okra can be seen by such people does
not make it physical or quasi-physical (whatever that expression
means), since this act or mode of seeing is not at the physical or
spatial level.
I understand the term “quasi-physical” to mean “seemingly
physical,” “almost physical.” Such description of the okra (soul) in
Akan thought runs counter to the belief of most Akan people in
disembodied survival or life after death. For a crucial aspect of
Akan metaphysics is the existence of the world of spirits (asamando),
a world inhabited by the departed souls of the ancestors. The
conception or interpretation of the okra as a quasi-physical object
having paraphysical properties would mean the total or “near total”
(whatever that might mean) extinction of the okra (soul) upon the

86
 6. The concept of a person

death of the person. And if this were the case, it would be senseless
to talk of departed souls continuing to exist in the world of spirits
(<asamando).
In attempting further to distinguish the Akan okra from the
Western soul, Wiredu writes:

The okra is postulated in Akan thought to account for the fact

of life and of destiny but not of thought. The soul, on the other
hand, seems in much Western philosophy to be intended to
account, not just for life but also for thought. Indeed, in
Cartesian philosophy, the sole purpose of introducing the
soul is to account for the phenomenon of thinking,6
Wiredu, I believe, is here taking “thought” in the ratiocinative or
cognitive sense, its normal meaning in English. But his position is
undercut by his reference to the concept of thought in Cartesian
philosophy. For it is agreed by scholars of Descartes that by thought
(or thinking: cogitatio) Descartes means much more than what is
normally connoted by the English word. Thus, Bernard Williams
writes:
It is an important point that in Descartes’ usage the Latin verb
cogitare and the French verb penser and the related nouns
cogitatio and pensee, have a wider significance than the English
think and thought. In English such terms are specially con¬
nected with ratiocinative or cognitive processes. For Descartes,
however, cogitatio or pensee is any sort of conscious state or
activity whatsoever; it can as well be a sensation (at least, in its
purely psychological aspect) or an act of will, as judgment or
belief or intellectual questioning.7
Thus, what Descartes means by mind or thought is consciousness.
Despite his reference to Descartes, I think Wiredu uses “thought”
in the narrow sense, that is, of ratiocination or cognition.
“Thought” in the narrow sense is of course a function or an act of
consciousness. Any living human being must have consciousness.
This being the case, consciousness, which is equivalent to the soul
or mind in Descartes, can be a translation of okra. On this showing,
it cannot be true, as Wiredu thinks, that “when we come to
Descartes, the difference between the okra and the soul becomes
radical and complete.”8 My analysis, if correct, implies the opposite.
I argue below (section 6.3) that thought (adwen) in the narrow sense
is in Akan philosophy an activity of the sunsum, which I interpret as
a part of the soul (okra). Having raised some objections to Wiredu’s

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

interpretation of what he calls the Akan concept of mind, I return

to my own analysis of the Akan concept of the person.
The conception of the okra as constituting the individual’s life, the
life force, is linked very closely with another concept, honhom.
Honhom means “breath”; it is the noun form of home, to breathe.
When a person is dead, it is said “His breath is gone” (ne honhom ko)
or “His soul has withdrawn from his body” (ne ’kra aft ne ho). These
two sentences, one with honhom as subject and the other with okra,
do, in fact, say the same thing; they express the same thought, the
death-of-the-person. The departure of the soul from the body
means the death of the person, and so does the cessation of breath.
Yet this does not mean that the honhom (breath) is identical with the
okra (soul). It is the okra that “causes” the breathing. Thus, the
honhom is the tangible manifestation or evidence of the presence of
the okra. [In some dialects of the Akan language, however, honhom
has come to be used interchangeably with sunsum (“spirit”), so that
the phrase honhom bone has come to mean the same thing as sunsum
bone, that is, evil spirit. The identification of the honhom with the
sunsum seems to me to be a recent idea, and may have resulted from
the translation of the Bible into the various Akan dialects; honhom
must have been used to translate the Greek pneuma (breath, spirit).]
The clarification of the concepts of okra, honhom, sunsum and others
bearing on the Akan conception of the nature of a person is the
concern of this chapter.

6.2. Sunsum (spirit)

Sunsum is another of the constituent elements of the person. It
has usually been rendered in English as “spirit.” It has already been
observed that sunsum is used both generically to refer to all
unperceivable, mystical beings and forces in Akan ontology, and
specifically to refer to the activating principle in the person. It
appears from the anthropological accounts that even when it is used
specifically, “spirit” (sunsum) is not identical with soul (okra), as they
do not refer to the same thing. However, the anthropological
accounts of the sunsum involve some conceptual blunders, as I shall
show. As for the mind - when it is not identified with the soul - it
may be rendered also by sunsum, judging from the functions that are
attributed by the Akan thinkers to the latter.
On the surface it might appear that “spirit” is not an appropriate
rendition for sunsum, but after clearing away misconceptions en-

88
 6. The concept of a person

gendered by some anthropological writings, I shall show that it is

appropriate but that it requires clarification. Anthropologists and
sociologists have held (1) that the sunsum derives from the father,9
(2) that it is not divine,10 and (3) that it perishes with the disintegra¬
tion of the honam," that is, the material component of a person. It
seems to me, however, that all these characterizations of the sunsum
are incorrect.12
Let us first take up the third characterization, namely, as some¬
thing that perishes with the body. Now, if the sunsum perishes
along with the body, a physical object, then it follows that the
sunsum also is something physical or material. Danquah’s philo¬
sophical analysis concludes that “sunsum is, in fact, the matter or the
physical basis of the ultimate ideal of which okra (soul) is the form
and the spiritual or mental basis.”11 Elsewhere he speaks of an
“interaction of the material mechanism (sunsum) with the soul,” and
assimilates the sunsum to the “sensible form” of Aristotle’s me¬
taphysics of substance and the okra to the “intelligible form.”14 One
might conclude from these statements that Danquah also conceived
the sunsum as material, although some of his other statements
would seem to contradict this conclusion. The relation between the
honam (body) and the sunsum (supposedly bodily), however, is left
unexplained. Thus, philosophical, sociological, and anthropological
accounts of the nature of the person give the impression of a
tripartite conception of a human being in Akan philosophy:

Okra (soul) immaterial

Sunsum (“spirit”) material (?)
Honam (body) material

As we shall see, however, this account or analysis of a person,

particularly the characterization of the sunsum (“spirit”) as some¬
thing material, is not satisfactory. I must admit, however, that the
real nature of the sunsum presents perhaps the greatest difficulty in
the Akan metaphysics of a person and has been a source of
confusion for many. The difficulty, however, is not insoluble.
The functions or activities attributed to the sunsum indicate that it
is neither material nor mortal nor derived from the father. Busia
says that the sunsum “is what moulds the child’s personality and
disposition. It is that which determines his character and individu¬
ality.”15 Danquah says: “But we now know the notion which
corresponds to the Akan ‘sunsum namely, not spirit as such, but
personality which covers the relation of the ‘body’ to the ‘soul’

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

(Okra).”16 That the sunsum constitutes or rather determines the

personality and character of a person is stated by Danquah several
times.17 Rattray observed that the sunsum is the basis of character
and personality.18 Eva Meyerowitz also considered the sunsum as
personality.19 My own researches indicate that the views of Busia
and Danquah regarding the connection between sunsum and per¬
sonality are correct, but that they failed to see the logical implica¬
tions of their views. There are indeed sentences in the Akan
language in which sunsum refers to a person’s personality and traits.
Thus, for “He has a strong personality” the Akans would say, “His
sunsum is ‘heavy’ or ‘weighty’ ” (ne sunsum ye duru). When a man is
generous they would say that he has a good sunsum (dwo sunsum pa).
When a man has an impressive or imposing personality they would
say that he has an overshadowing sunsum (ne sunsum hye me so). In
fact sometimes in describing a dignified person they would simply
say, “He has spirit” (owd sunsum), that is, he has a commanding
presence. And a man may be said to have a “gentle” sunsum, a
“forceful” sunsum, a “submissive” or “weak” sunsum. Thus, the
concept of the sunsum corresponds in many ways to what is meant
by personality, as was observed by earlier investigators.
It is now clear that in Akan conceptions the sunsum (“spirit”) is
the basis of a man’s personality, and, in the words of Busia, “his
ego.”20 Personality, of course, is a word that has been variously
defined by psychologists. But I believe that whatever else that
concept may mean, it certainly involves the idea of a set of
characteristics as evidenced in a person’s behavior - thoughts,
feehngs, actions, etc. (The sentences given above demonstrate that
it refers to more than a person’s physical appearance.) Thus, if the
sunsum is that which constitutes the basis of an individual’s person¬
ality, it cannot be a physical thing, for qualities like courage,
jealousy, gentleness, forcefulness, and dignity are psychological,
not sensible or physical. The conception of personality as the
function of the sunsum makes a material conception of the latter
logically impossible. (Some Western philosophers and theologians
in fact identify personality with the soul.'1) On the basis of the
characteristics of sunsum, Parrinder describes it as the “personality-
soul,” perhaps using the term for the first time.22
As noted, certain statements of Danquah suggest a physicalistic
interpretation of the sunsum. On the other hand, he also maintains
that “it is the sunsum that ‘experiences,’ ”2 and that it is through the
sunsum that “the okra or soul manifests itself in the world of

90
 6. The concept of a person

experience.”24 Elsewhere he says of the sunsum: “It is the bearer of

conscious experience, the unconscious or subliminal self remaining
over as the okra or soul.”25 It is not clear what Danquah means by
the “bearer” of experience. Perhaps what he means is that the
sunsum is the subject of experience - that which experiences.
Experience is the awareness of something. Since a purely material
thing, such as wood or a dead body, cannot experience anything, it
follows that the sunsum, qua subject of experience, cannot be
material. If, as Danquah thought,25 it is the sunsum that makes it
possible for the destiny (nkrabea) of the soul to be “realized” or
“carried out” on earth, then, like the okra (soul), an aspect of whose
functions it performs, the sunsum also must be spiritual and
immaterial. Danquah’s position on the concept of the sunsum, then,
is ambivalent, as is Busia’s. Busia says that one part of a person is
“the personality that comes indirectly from the Supreme Being.”27
By “personality” Busia must, on his own showing,” be referring to
the sunsum, which must, according to my analysis, derive directly
from the Supreme Being, and not from the father. (What derives
from the father is the ntoro, to be explained directly.) It must,
therefore, be divine and immortal, contrary to what he and others
thought. That sunsum cannot derive from the child’s father is
proved also by the fact that trees, plants, and other natural objects
also contain sunsum, as we saw in the previous chapter.
The explanation given by most Akans of the phenomenon of
dreaming also indicates, it seems to me, that sunsum must be
immaterial. In Akan thought, as in Freud’s, dreams are not somatic
but psychical phenomena. It is held that in a dream it is the person’s
sunsum that is the “actor.” As an informant told Rattray decades ago,
“When you sleep your ’Kra (soul) does not leave you, as your
sunsum may.”29 In sleep the sunsum is said to be released from the
fetters of the body. As it were, it fashions for itself a new world of
forms with the materials of its waking experience. Thus, although
one is deeply asleep, yet one may “see” oneself standing atop a
mountain or driving a car or fighting with someone or pursuing a
desire like sexual intercourse; also, during sleep (that is, in dreams) a
person’s sunsum may talk with other sunsum. The actor in any of
these “actions” is thought to be the sunsum, which thus can leave
the body and return to it. The idea of the psychical part of a person
leaving the body in sleep appears to be widespread in Africa. The
Azande, for instance, maintain “that in sleep the soul is released
from the body and can roam about at will and meet other spirits

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

and have other adventures, though they admit something mysteri¬

ous about its experiences. .. . During sleep a mans soul wanders
everywhere.”30
The idea that some part of the soul leaves the body in sleep is not
completely absent from the history of Western thought, even
though, as Parrinder says, “the notion of a wandering soul is [are]
foreign to the modern European mind.”31 The idea occurs, for
instance, in Plato. In the Republic Plato refers to “the wild beast in
us” that in pursuit of desires and pleasures bestirs itself “in dreams
when the gentler part of the soul slumbers and the control of reason is
withdrawn; then the wild beast in us, full-fed with meat and drink,
becomes rampant and shakes off sleep to go in quest of what will
gratify its own instincts.”32 The context is a discussion of tyranny.
But Plato prefaces his discussion with remarks on the psychological
foundation of the tyrannical man, and says that desire (Greek:
epithumia) is the basis of his behavior.
It is not surprising that both scholars of Plato and modern
psychologists have noted the relevance of the above passage to the
analysis of the nature of the human psyche. On this passage the
classical scholar James Adam wrote: “The theory is that in dreams
the part of the soul concerned is not asleep, but awake and goes out
to seek the object of its desire.”33 The classicist Paul Shorey
observed that “The Freudians have at least discovered Plato’s
anticipation of their main thesis.” 4 The relevance of the Platonic
passage to Freud has been noted also by other scholars of Plato such
as Renford Bambrough35 and Thomas Gould,36 and by psycholo¬
gists. Valentine, a psychologist, observed: “The germ of several
aspects of the Freudian view of dreams, including the characteristic
doctrine of the censor, was to be found in Plato.”37
It is clear that the passage in Plato indicates a link between
dreams and (the gratification of) desires.38 In Akan psychology the
sunsum appears not only as unconscious but also as that which
pursues and experiences desires. (In Akan dreams are also consid¬
ered predictive.) But the really interesting part of Plato’s thesis for
our purposes relates to the idea of some part of the human soul leaving the
body in dreams. “The wild beast in us” in Plato’s passage is not
necessarily equivalent to the Akan sunsum, but one may say that just
as Plato s “wild beast” (which, like the sunsum, experiences dreams)
is a part of the soul and thus not a physical object, so is sunsum.
It might be supposed that if the sunsum can engage in activity,
such as traveling through space or occupying a physical location -

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 6. The concept of a person

like standing on the top of a mountain - then it can hardly be said

not to be a physical object. The problem here is obviously complex.
Let us assume, for the moment, that the sunsum is a physical object.
One question that would immediately arise is: How can a purely
physical object leave the person when he or she is asleep? Dreaming
is of course different from imagining or thinking. The latter occurs
during waking life, whereas the former occurs only during sleep:
wonda a wonso dae, that is, “Unless you are asleep you do not dream”
is a well-known Akan saying. The fact that dreaming occurs only
in sleep makes it a unique sort of mental activity and its subject,
namely sunsum, a different sort of subject. A purely physical object
cannot be in two places at the same time: A body lying in bed
cannot at the same time be on the top of a mountain. Whatever is
on the top of the mountain, then, must be something nonphysical,
nonbodily, and yet somehow connected to a physical thing - in this
case, the body. This argument constitutes a reductio ad absurdum of
the view that sunsum can be a physical object.
But, then, how can the sunsum, qua nonphysical, extrasensory
object, travel in physical space and have a physical location? This
question must be answered within the broad context of the African
belief in the activities of the supernatural (spiritual) beings in the
physical world. The spiritual beings are said to be insensible and
intangible, but they are also said to make themselves felt in the
physical world. They can thus interact with the physical world. But
from this it cannot be inferred that they are physical or quasi¬
physical or have permanent physical properties. It means that a
spiritual being can, when it so desires, take on physical properties.
That is, even though a spiritual being is nonspatial in essence, it can,
by the sheer operation of its power, assume spatial properties.
Debrunner speaks of “temporary ‘materializations,’ i.e., as spirits
having taken on the body of a person which afterwards suddenly
vanish.”39 Mbiti observed that “Spirits are invisible, but may make
themselves visible to human beings.”40 We should view the “physi¬
cal” activities of the sunsum in dreaming from the standpoint of the
activities of the spiritual beings in the physical world. As a
microcosm of the world spirit, the sunsum can also interact with the
external world. So much then for the defense of the psychical,
nonphysical nature of sunsum, the subject of experiences in dream¬
ing.
As the basis of personality, as the coperformer of some of the
functions of the okra (soul) - undoubtedly held as a spiritual entity -

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

and as the subject of the psychical activity of dreaming, the sunsum

must be something spiritual (immaterial). This is the reason for my
earlier assertion that “spirit*’ might not be an inappropriate transla¬
tion for sunsum. On my analysis, then, we have the following picture:

Okra (soul)
immaterial (spiritual)
Sunsum (“spirit”)
Honam (body) material (physical)

In their conception of the nature of the person the Akans

distinguish the ntoro and the mogya (blood). In contrast to the sunsum
and okra, which definitely are of divine origin, the ntoro and the
mogya are endowed by human beings. The ntoro is held as coming
from the father of the child. It has been confused with sunsum.
Thus, Busia says that the two terms are synonymous, and hence
renders ntoro as “spirit.” He writes: “Ntoro is the generic term of
which sunsum is a specific instance.”4' Rattray also translated ntoro by
“spirit,” though he thought it corresponded with the semen.4‘ He
said elsewhere that the ntoro is “passed into the woman by a male
during the act of coition.”43 One of my discussants stated that ntoro
is derived from the father’s semen, but the sunsum, he said, comes
from the Supreme Being.44 The ntoro appears to be the basis of
inherited characteristics and may therefore be simply translated as
“sperm-transmitted characteristic,” even though spiritual as well as
physiological qualities are attributed to it. Both ntoro and mogya
(blood, which is believed to be transmitted by the mother) are
genetic factors responsible for inherited characteristics, on the basis
of which the Akan thinkers have created proverbs such as:
The crab does not give birth to a bird.
The offspring of an antelope cannot possibly
resemble a deer’s offspring.
The antelope does not leap for its offspring to
crawl.45

The introduction of inherited characteristics into the constitution of

a person introduces an element of complexity into the Akan
concept of the person.

6.3. Relation of okra and sunsum

Having shown that the sunsum is in fact something spiritual
(and for this reason I shall henceforth translate sunsum as “spirit”),
we must examine whether the expressions sunsum and okra are

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identical in terms of their referent. In the course of my field research

some discussants stated that the sunsum, okra, and honhom (breath)
are identical; they denote the same object; it is one and the same
object that goes under three names. I have already shown that
although there is a close link between okra and honhom, the two
cannot be identified; likewise the identification of honhom and
sunsum is incorrect. What about the sunsum and okra? Are they
identical?
The relation between the sunsum and okra is a difficult knot to
untie. The anthropologist Rattray, perhaps the most perceptive and
analytical researcher into the Ashanti culture, wrote: “It is very
difficult sometimes to distinguish between the ’kra and the next
kind of soul, the sunsum, and sometimes the words seem synony¬
mous, but I cannot help thinking this is a loose use of the terms.”46
Rattray was, I think, more inclined to believe that the two terms are
not identical. Such a supposition, in my view, would be correct, for
to say that the two are identical would logically mean that whatever
can be asserted of one can or must be asserted of the other. Yet there
are some things the Akans say of the sunsum which are not said of
the okra, and vice versa; the attributes or predicates of the two are
different. The Akans say:

A(l) “His ’kra is sad” (ne ’kra di awerehow); never, “His sunsum is
sad.”
(2) “His ’kra is worried or disturbed” (ne ’kra teetee).
(3) “His ’kra has run away” (ne ’kra adwane), to denote someone
who is scared to death.
(4) “His ’kra is good” (ne ’kra ye), referring to a person who is
lucky or fortunate. [The negative of this statement is “His
’kra is not good.” If you used sunsum in lieu of ’kra, and made
the statement “His sunsum is not good” (ne sunsum nnye), the
meaning would be quite different; it would mean that his
sunsum is evil, that is to say, he is an evil spirit, a witch.]
(5) “His ’kra has withdrawn from his body” (ne ’kra afi ne ho).
(6) “But for his ’kra that followed him, he would have died” (ne
’kra dii n’akyi, anka owui).
(7) “His ’kra is happy” (ne ’kra aniagye).

In all such statements the attributions are made to the okra (soul),
never to the sunsum. On the other hand, the Akans say:

B(l) “He has sunsum” (owo sunsum), an expression they use when
they want to refer to someone as dignified and as having a

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme
commanding presence. Here they never say, He has okra,
soul, for it is believed that it is the nature of the sunsum (not
the 'okra) that differs from person to person; hence they speak
of “gentle sunsum,” “forceful sunsum,” “weak or strong
sunsum,” etc.
(2) “His sunsum is heavy or weighty” (ne sunsum ye duru), that is,
he has a strong personality.
(3) “His sunsum overshadows mine” (ne sunsum hye me so).
(4) “Someone’s sunsum is bigger or greater than another’s” (obi
sunsum so kyen obi dee). To say “someone s kra is greater than
another’s” would be meaningless.
(5) “He has a good sunsum” (owo sunsum pa), that is, he is a
generous person.

In all such statements the attributions are made to the sunsum

(spirit), never to the okra (soul). Rattray also pointed out correctly
that “an Ashanti would never talk of washing his sunsum ,”47 It is the
okra that is washed (okraguare). In the terminology of the modern
linguist, sentences containing okra and sunsum differ, according to
my analysis, not only in their surface structures but also in their
deep structures.
It is pretty clear from this semantic analysis that okra and sunsum
are not intersubstitutable in predications. Intersubstitution of the
terms, as we saw above, leads either to nonsense as in B(4) or to
change of meaning as in A(4) and B(l). Semantic analysis suggests a
nonidentity relation between sunsum and okra. One might reject this
conclusion by treating these distinctions as merely idiomatic and
not, therefore, as evidence for considering okra and sunsum as
distinct. Let us call this the “idiomatic thesis.” In the English
language, for instance, it is idiomatic to say “He’s a sad soul” rather
than “He’s a sad spirit,” without implying that soul and spirit are
distinct. But in English the substitution of one for the other of the
two terms - even if unidiomatic - will not lead to nonsense and
would not change the meaning-, in Akan it would.
The “idiomatic thesis” has been advanced by a former student of
mine in an undergraduate “Long Essay” written under my supervi¬
sion. He denied that any ontological distinctions can be made from
the fact that attributions in some statements in Akan are made to
the okra, whereas in others they are made to the sunsum. He wrote:

If the Akans use okra instead of sunsum, or the latter instead of

the former in expressions such as those given above, they do

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 6. The concept of a person

so not because of their belief in the distinction between the

okra and the sunsum, but merely as a matter of locution. The
Akans do not say, ne sunsum ye simply because such expression
is not idiomatic. In many instances the two terms are used
interchangeably.48

He went on to say that “the words sunsum and okra refer to one and
the same thing, the soul, the spiritual substance of a human being.
Therefore any attribute predicated of the okra can be predicated of
the sunsum.”49 My student’s point is that the use of the terms okra
and sunsum in different statements is a matter of usage and that no
ontological distinction between okra and sunsum can be made on the
basis of sentences in the Akan language. Sentences containing okra
and sunsum differ in their surface structures but not, according to
my student, in their deep structures (that is, meanings). Language,
he would say, at any rate in the present context, is therefore a
misleading guide to metaphysics. This view is plausible and ought
not to be rejected cavaherly; it is the view of some of my
discussants and others. This is not to say, however, that that view is
not irrefutable. My refutation of it is grounded on, and strength¬
ened by, what the Akans say regarding the nature and functions of
okra and sunsum. That is, the distinction between okra and sunsum is
not based solely on semantic grounds. It may be the easiest way out
of an interpretative labyrinth to identify okra and sunsum,50 but I do
not think it is the most satisfactory way out. There are, I believe,
other considerations for rejecting the “identity theory.”
First, most Akans agree that in dreaming it is the sunsum, not the
okra, that leaves the body. The departure of the okra (soul) from the
body means the death of the person, whereas the sunsum can leave
the body, as in dreaming, without causing the death of the person.
Second, moral predicates are generally applied to the sunsum.
Rattray wrote: “Perhaps the sunsum is the more volatile part of the
whole ’km,” and “. . . but the ’kra is not volatile in hfe, as the sunsum
undoubtedly is.”51 Moreover, the okra and sunsum appear to be
different in terms of their functions or activities. The okra, as
mentioned before, is the principle of life of a person and the
embodiment and transmitter of his or her destiny (nkrabea). Person¬
ality and character dispositions of a person are the function of the
sunsum. The sunsum appears to be the source of dynamism52 of a
person, the active part or force of the human psychological system;
its energy is the ground for its interaction with the external world.

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

It is said to have extrasensory powers; it is that which thinks,

desires, feels, etc. It is in no way identical with the brain, which is a
physical organ. Rather it acts upon the brain (amene, hon). In short,
people believe that it is upon the sunsum that one’s health, worldly
power, position, influence, success, etc. would depend. The attrib¬
utes and activities of the sunsum are therefore not ascribable to the
okra. Lystad was wrong when he stated: “In many respects the
sunsum or spirit is so identical with the okra or soul in its functions
that it is difficult to distinguish between them.’”3
Now, given x and y, if whatever is asserted of x can be asserted of
y, then x can be said to be identical with y. If there is at least one
characteristic that x has but y does not, then x and y are not
identical. On this showing, insofar as things asserted of the okra are
not assertable of the sunsum, the two cannot logically be identified.
However, although they are logically distinct, they are not ontologi-
cally distinct. That is to say, they are not independent existents held
together in an accidental way by an external bond. They are a unity
in duality, a duality in unity. The distinction is not a relation
between two separate entities. The sunsum may, more accurately, be
characterized as a part - the active part - of the okra (soul).
I once thought that the sunsum might be characterized as a state,54
an epiphenomenon, of the okra. I now think that characterization is
wrong, for it would subvert the entitative nature of sunsum. The
fact that we can speak of the inherence of the sunsum in natural
objects as their activating principle means that in some contexts
reference can be made to the sunsum independently of the okra. This,
however, is not so in the context of the human psyche: In man
sunsum is part of the okra (soul). Plato held a tripartite conception of
the human soul, deriving that conception from his view of the
functions said to be performed by the various parts of the soul. So
did Freud. There is nothing inappropriate or illogical or irrational
for some Akan thinkers to hold and argue for a bipartite conception
of the human soul. Neither a tripartite nor a bipartite conception of
the soul subverts its ontic unity. As already stated, the okra and
sunsum are constitutive of a spiritual unity, which survives after
death. Therefore the soul (that is, okra plus sunsum) does not lose its
individuality after death. It survives individually. Beliefs in reincar¬
nation (which I do not intend to explore now) and in the existence
of the ancestors in the world of spirits (asamando) undoubtedly
presuppose - and would be logically impossible without - the
survival of each individual soul.

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 6. The concept of a person

6.4. Relation of okra

(soul) and honam (body)

Understanding the sunsum and okra to constitute a spiritual

unity, one may say that Akan philosophy maintains a dualistic, not
a tripartite, conception of the person: A person is made up of two
principal entities or substances, one spiritual (immaterial: okra) and
the other material (honam: body).
But Akans sometimes speak as if the relation between the soul
(that is, okra plus sunsum) and the body is so close that they comprise
an indissoluble or indivisible unity, and that, consequently, a person
is a homogeneous entity. The basis for this observation is the
assertion by some discussants that “okra is blood” (mogya)f or “okra
is in the blood.” They mean by this, I think, that there is some
connection between the soul and the blood, and that ordinarily the
former is integrated or fused with the latter. I think the supposition
here is that the blood is the physical or rather physiological
“medium” for the soul. However difficult it is to understand this
doctrine, it serves as a basis for a theory of the unity of soul and body.
But Akan thinkers cannot strictly or unreservedly maintain such a
theory, for it logically involves the impossibility of the doctrine of
disembodied survival or life after death, which they tenaciously and
firmly hold. The doctrine of the indivisible unity of soul and body is
a doctrine that eliminates the notion of life after death, inasmuch as
both soul and body are held to disintegrate together. The doctrine
that the souls of the dead have some form of existence or life
therefore cannot be maintained together with a doctrine of the
indivisible unity of soul and body. The former doctrine implies an
independent existence for the soul. I think their postulation of some
kind of connection between the soul and blood is a response to the
legitimate, and indeed fundamental, question as to how an entity
(that is, the soul), supposed to be immaterial and separate, can
“enter” the body. Though their response certainly bristles with
difficulties and may be regarded as inadequate, like most theses on
the soul, Akan thinkers had sufficient awareness to focus philosophi¬
cal attention also on the intractable question regarding the begin¬
nings of the connection of the soul to the body, of the immaterial to
the material. Other philosophies attempt to demonstrate that man
consists of soul and body, but they do not, to my knowledge,
speculate on the manner of the soul’s “entry” into the body.

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

In the Akan conception, the soul is held to be a spiritual entity

(substance). It is not a bundle of qualities or perceptions, as it is held
to be in some Western systems. The basis of this assertion is the
Akan belief in disembodied survival. A bundle theory of substance
implies the elimination of the notion of substance, for if a substance
is held to be a bundle or collection of qualities or perceptions, when
the qualities or perceptions are removed, nothing would be left.
That is, there would then be no substance, that is, a substratum or
an “owner” of those qualities.56 Thus, if the soul is held to be a
bundle of perceptions, as it is in the writings of David Hume, it
would be impossible to talk of disembodied survival in the form of
a soul or self since the bundle itself is an abstraction. One Akan
maxim, expressed epigrammatically, is that “when a man dies he is
not (really) dead” (onipa wu a na onwui). What is implied by this is
that there is something in a human being that is eternal, indestructi¬
ble, and that continues to exist in the world of spirits (asamando). An
Akan motif expresses the following thought: “Could God die, I
will die” (Onyame bewu na m’awu). In Akan metaphysics, as was
explained in Chapter 5, God is held to be eternal, immortal
('Odomankoma). The above saying therefore means that since God
will not die, a person, that is, his or her ’kra (soul), conceived as an
indwelling spark of God, will not die either. That is, the soul of
man is immortal. The attributes of immortality make sense if, and
only if, the soul is held to be a substance, an entity, and not a bundle
of qualities or perceptions (experiences).
But where in a human being is this spiritual substance located?
Descartes thought that the soul was in the pineal gland. The Akans
also seem to hold that the soul is lodged in the head, although they
do not specify exactly where. But “although it is in the head you
cannot see it with your natural eyes,” as they would put it, since it is
immaterial. That the soul is “in the head (fi)” may be inferred from
the following expressions: When they want to say that a person is
lucky or fortunate they say: “His head is well (good)” (ne ti ye), or
“His soul is well (good)” (ne 'kra ye). From such expressions one
may infer some connection between the head and the soul. And
although they cannot point to a specific part of the head as the
“residence” of the soul, it may be conjectured that it is in the region
of the brain which, as observed earlier, receives its energy from the
sunsum (spirit), a part of the soul. That is, the soul acts on the brain
in a specific locality, but it is itself not actually localized.
The Akan conception of a person, in my analysis, is dualistic, not

100
 6. The concept of a person

tripartite, although the spiritual component of a person is highly

complex. Such dualistic conception does not necessarily imply a
belief in a causal relation or interaction between the two parts, the
soul and body. For instance, some dualistic philosophers in the
West maintain a doctrine of psychophysical parallelism, which
completely denies interaction between soul and body. Other dual¬
ists advance a doctrine of epiphenomenalism, which, while not
completely rejecting causal interaction, holds that the causality goes
in one direction only, namely, from the body to the soul; such a
doctrine, too, is thus not interactionist. Akan thinkers, however, are
thoroughly interactionist on the relation between soul and body.
They hold that not only does the body have a causal influence on
the soul but also that the soul has a causal influence on the body
(honam). What happens to the soul takes effect or reflects on the
condition of the body. Thus, writing on Akan culture, Busia stated:

They (that is, Akans) believed also that spiritual uncleanness

was an element of ill-health and that the cleansing of the soul
was necessary for health. When, for example, a patient was
made to stand on a broom while being treated, it was to
symbolize this cleansing. The broom sweeps filth away from
the home and keeps it healthy; so the soul must be swept of
filth to keep the body healthy.57

Similarly, what happens to the body reflects on the conditions of

the soul. It is the actual bodily or physical behavior of a person
that gives an idea of the condition of the soul. Thus, if the physical
behavior of a man suggests that he is happy they would say, “His
soul is happy” (ne ’kra aniagye); if unhappy or morose they would
say, “His soul is sorrowful” (ne ’kra di awerehow). When the soul is
enfeebled or injured by evil spirits, ill health results; the poor
conditions of the body affect the condition of the soul. The
condition of the soul depends upon the condition of the body. The
belief in psychophysical causal interaction is the whole basis of
spiritual or psychical healing in Akan communities. There are
certain diseases that are believed to be “spiritual diseases (sunsum
yare) and cannot be healed by the application of physical therapy.
In such diseases attention must be paid to both physiological and
spiritual aspects of the person. Unless the soul is healed, the body
will not respond to physical treatment. The removal of a disease of
the soul is the activity of the diviners or the traditional healers
(adunsifo).

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

6.5. Akan psychology and Freud

There are some similarities between the functions and activi¬
ties of the sunsum of Akan psychology and the ego of Freud. An
essential task of the ego is to engage in intercourse with the external
world. Like the sunsum, it directs the business of everyday living; it
is the executive of the personality and the representative of the id in
the external world. An aspect of the sunsum is or may be similar to
the ego. The sunsum is not always conscious, and a person does not
always know what the sunsum wants. It is the sunsum with which
the Akan diviner (okomfo), believed to possess extrasensory abilities,
communicates. It tells the diviner what it really wants without the
person knowing or being aware of what he or she wants: Thus, the
sunsum may be unconscious. Freud said: “And it is indeed the case
that large portions of the ego and super-ego can remain uncon¬
scious and are normally unconscious. That is to say, the individual
knows nothing of their contents and it requires an expenditure of
effort to make them conscious.”58 It is, I suppose, for these reasons
that some scholars have not hesitated to identify the sunsum with
the ego of Freud, and having done so to go on to identify the okra
with the id.59
There are, however, dissimilarities as well. First, in Freud the id is the
original system of the psyche, the matrix within which the ego and the
superego become differentiated. In the Akan conceptions both the okra
and sunsum at once constitute the original system of the psyche. Unlike
the id, the okra is not the only entity present at birth. Second, in Freud
the ego and the superego are formed or developed later. In Akan the
sunsum is not formed later; it is a constitutive part of the original psychi¬
cal structure, the okra, soul. At birth the child possesses a sunsum as well
as an okra. Freud thought in fact that the mental structure of the person
was pretty well formed by the end of the fifth year of life. Third, the
superego is the moral dimension of personality; it represents the claims
of morality.60 In the Akan system moral attributes are generally ascribed
to the sunsum. Thus, the sunsum of the Akan seems to perform aspects of
the functions of both the ego and the superego.

6.6. Conclusion
The Akan conception of the person, on my analysis, is both
dualistic and interactionist. It seems to me that an interactionist
psychophysical dualism is a realistic doctrine. Even apart from the

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prospects for disembodied survival that this doctrine holds out -

prospects that profoundly affect the moral orientation of some
people - it has had significant pragmatic consequences in Akan
communities, as evidenced in the application of psychophysical
therapies. There are countless testimonies of people who have been
subjected to physical treatment for months or years in modern
hospitals without being cured, but who have been healed by
traditional healers applying both physical and psychical (spiritual)
methods. In such cases the diseases are believed not to be purely
physical, affecting only the body (honam). They are believed rather
to have been inflicted on the sunsum through mystical or spiritual
powers, and in time the body also gets affected. When Western-
trained doctors pay attention only to the physical aspects of such
diseases, they almost invariably fail to heal them. The fact that
traditional healers, operating at both the physical and psychical
levels, cope successfully with such diseases does seem to suggest a
close relationship between the body and the soul.
From the point of view of the Akan metaphysics of the person
and of the world in general, all this seems to imply that a human
being is not just an assemblage of flesh and bone, that he or she is a
complex being who cannot completely be explained by the same
laws of physics used to explain inanimate things, and that our
world cannot simply be reduced to physics.

103
 7
Destiny, free will, and
responsibility

Although much has been written about it, the Akan concept
of destiny (nkrabea: also fate) has not been thoroughly analyzed.
Many of the attempts to define it have been thin and pedestrian.
There have been a number of different interpretations of the
concept, resulting either from the ambiguity of the concept among
the Akan thinkers themselves, or from the lack of profound and
satisfactory analysis by scholars. My intention in this chapter is to
clarify fully the nature of the concept and to explore its implications
for human freedom and responsibility.

7.1. Basis of belief in destiny

Akan thinkers hold that every human being has a destiny that
was fixed beforehand. As noted in Chapter 6, the soul (okra) is
thought to be the bearer of the destiny of man. It is held that before
the soul sets out to enter this world, it takes leave of or bids farewell
(kra) to the Supreme Being, Onyame. At this juncture it receives
from Onyame the message (nkra) that will determine the course of
the individual’s life on earth. From the outset, that is, in Akan
conceptions there is a close link between destiny and the soul. Here
are some proverbs that underline this belief:

There is no bypass to God’s destiny.

No living man can subvert the order of God.
Unless you die of God, let living man attempt to
kill you and you will not perish.

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

The yam that will burn when fried, will also burn
when boiled.
The tree that will shed its leaves, knows no rainy
season.
If you are destined to die by the gun, you will not
die by the arrow.
What is destined to prosper or succeed cannot be
otherwise.
If a piece of wood remains in a river for thousands
of years, it cannot become a crocodile.
If you are destined to gain fortunes, the vulture will
not be abominable to your soul.

What is the basis of Akan belief in destiny? In his critical

examination Wiredu stated: “There is however a very much more
intractable difficulty which emerges when we ask the question why
it comes to be supposed in the first place that man has unalterable
pre-appointed destiny. A question of this sort is of the last
consequence in the assessment of a philosophy, for the real meaning
of a philosophical thesis remains more or less hidden until the
reasoning behind it is known.”" Wiredu’s point is of course funda¬
mental and applies to a great number of beliefs and assumptions.
However, before I take up the reasoning of the Akan thinkers
concerning the basis of their belief in human destiny, I should like
to make one general remark.
The belief in destiny is of course not peculiar to the Akan people;
it is probably found in all cultures. The question of destiny is of
great import for human beings, and hence has been raised and
explored by thinkers and theologians in all philosophies and
religions. It is enmeshed with such genuine philosophical themes as
determinism, freedom of the will, punishment, moral responsibil¬
ity, etc. Regarding the reasons for this universal belief in destiny
two observations may be made.
The first relates to the link that a number of thinkers find
between language and thought, or more precisely in the present
context, between language and metaphysics. They claim that there
is some kind of reality antecedent to language that language is
developed to express or depict. Language or linguistic structure,
they hold, reflects a deep-lying structure of reality (or being). On
this showing, the Akan expression nkrabea was developed to depict
a reality. Thus, a well-known discussant stated that “if there were

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

no accident (asiane), the word asiane would not exist in the Akan
language.”1 He stated that “the situation or matter that is not real
has no name” (asem a enni ho no enni din). In other words, anything
that is named must be presumed to be real.
Second, the universal belief in destiny derives from another
belief, namely, that humans are the product of a Creator. It is
possible to assume that if humans were fashioned, they were
fashioned in a way which would determine their inclinations,
dispositions, talents, etc. Thus, an Akan fragment says: “All men
have one head but heads4 differ” (nnipa nyinaa wo ti baako nanso won ti
nse). That is, all people are basically alike as people - they are all
created in the same way - but they differ in their fortunes, luck,
capacities, etc. Just as the maker of a car can determine its speed,
size, and shape, so the Creator can determine a number of things
about human beings. The notion of a preappointed destiny, there¬
fore, may also have arisen in this way. It might not have arisen if
man were supposed to have evolved and not been created by a
Creator. Thus, Western humanism that maintains “that man is an
evolutionary product of the Nature of which he is part” goes on
appropriately to deny “that there is any overarching fate, either in
the form of a Divine Providence or a malignant Satanism, that is
either helping or hindering man’s progress and well-being.”5
How did the Akan thinkers come by their concept of destiny?
What is the basis or reasoning behind their concept of destiny? The
basis of the Akan concept of destiny, like the bases of most of their
concepts and thoughts, is essentially experiential. Human life
(abrabo) itself, therefore, provides the setting for their thought on
destiny. A well-known researcher on Akan language and culture
said in a discussion: “It is in life itself that we see that there is
destiny^ Another discussant stated: “Destiny reveals itself clearly
in life”7 (that is, in human experiences). Patterns of individual lives,
habitual or persistent traits of persons, fortunes and misfortunes,
successes and failures, the traumas and enigmas of life; the ways in
which propensities, inclinations, capacities, and talents show them¬
selves in individuals; the observed uniqueness of the individual - all
these suggest to the Akan that there is and must be some basis or
reason for this individuality. That basis is destiny.
For the Akan, the striking features of these phenomena do much
to clinch the idea about destiny. These features include the repeti¬
tion and persistence of particular actions of the individual, the
apparent unalterability and inexplicability of elements in one’s

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character, the inexplicability of events in the life of an individual,

the apparent irremediability of particular failures in the life of an
individual, the constancy of one’s good fortunes, and so on. It is the
existence of such features of their experiences that, in the view of
Akan thinkers, suggests the reality of a concept of destiny. With
regard to the unalterability of a trait in one’s character, for instance,
it is held that if a person commits an accidental act (asiane), which
for them means not influenced by destiny, he or she will not
commit it again; that action is thus easily corrigible. A discussant
explained that if one day the cocoa bags of a farmer who has
become wealthy through buying and selling cocoa catch fire, the
occurrence would be considered an accident. On the other hand, if
every time he buys cocoa it catches fire, then this repeated event
will be ascribed to his destiny: Selling and buying cocoa is just not
his destined occupation; he ought to give it up and look elsewhere
for his “real” occupation. In other words, it is the persistence of an
action or a behavior pattern or the inexplicability of an event that
induces a belief in destiny.
The Akan concept of destiny is thus not mysterious; it is reached
through a profound analysis of the realities of human life. The
reasoning behind the concept, like all reasoning based on experi¬
ence, is inductive. This does not, however, detract from its plausi¬
bility or validity, and supports the view that the philosophical
enterprise proceeds from experience.
The concept of destiny is thus reached by reflecting upon the
experiences of individuals. This implies that destiny is that which
determines the uniqueness and individuality of a person. It is your
destiny (nkrabea) that makes you you, and my destiny that makes me
me. The nkrabea of a person is unique and idiosyncratic, as we see in
the following proverbs:

Each destiny is different from the other.

All men have one head but heads differ.
Antelope’s soul (destiny) is one, duiker’s another.
Oh cock, do not compare your destiny with that of
the hen.

In Akan conceptions each person is unique, for, as they often say,

“each and his destiny,” that is, each person has his own destiny
(obiara ne ne nkrabea). A person’s destiny is the crucial determinant
or basis of individuality and uniqueness. The characteristics of
individuals reflect the differences in their destiny.

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

7.2. Nature of the concept

7.2.1. On the two Akan words for destiny
The two Akan words used to denote destiny are nkrabea
and hyebea. Nkrabea is composed of two words nkra, message, and
bea, manner. Nkrabea therefore literally means “the manner of the
message,” and it has come to mean the message given by the
Supreme Being to the individual soul, which (message) was to
determine the manner in which the individual was to live in the
world. As Bishop Sarpong correctly pointed out, though in a
different context: “Mothers are wont to shout at their children:
‘What kind of destiny have you brought into the world?’ ”'° The
word nkrabea has thus come to be translated as destiny or fate.11 The
other word used synonymously with nkrabea, though this synon¬
ymy has been doubted or variously interpreted, is hyebea, also
composed of two words: hye, to fix, arrange [not to command, as
Meyerowitz1' thought, or to make law, to order (in the sense of
command), as Danquah13 thought], and bea, manner. The word
indicates the manner in which one’s destiny was fixed or arranged.
A further discussion of the words nkrabea and hyebea is necessary
here, as different philological interpretations of these terms have led
to incorrect or farfetched conclusions. First, the bea component.
The dictionary gives two meanings of bea, namely (a) place, and (b)
manner or state.14 Some scholars15 have preferred the “place”
meaning, intending to imply that nkrabea indicates a person’s place
(that is, position, rank) in the world. In Akan, however, bea as
“place’’ refers only to a specific spatial locality, whereas in English
place,” in addition to denoting a spatial locality, also denotes rank,
status, situation, circumstances, etc. For purposes of clarity, let us
use place2 for the comprehensive meaning and place, for the narrow
meamng. Place,, is the only meaning in Akan; therefore, bea as
place, - that is, rank, status, condition, - does not work within the
context of Akan. Moreover, if we took bea to be place rather than
manner or state, nkrabea would literally mean “the place of taking
leave, which makes nkrabea a physical concept, whereas it is in fact
metaphysical.
There are Akan words with bea as a component in which the
spatial meaning of “place” does not figure at all. As examples:

bobea : nature
kabea : manner of speaking

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

yebea : manner of doing or making, performance, style,

fashion
dibea : position (in the sense of rank), occupation

There is another group of expressions which connote both place (in

the spatial sense) and manner. As instances:

gyinabea : standing place; stand, state; attitude

dabea : sleeping place; position, situation
tobea : place or manner of lying
tebea : a place of existence, abode; manner, nature,
condition, rank'6

In the first group of words, the bea component does not mean place,
(that is, in the spatial sense), but manner, nature, quality, rank. In
the second group, the bea component carries both meanings, that is
(spatial) place and manner. But if by “place” the interpreters of bea
as place have the comprehensive meaning (that is, place2) in mind,
as I believe they do, only bea as “manner” is relevant, for bea (place)
in Akan only means, a specific physical space, as in sleeping place,
and standing place. The words in the first group all indicate in
different ways the “manner” of one’s faring in the world. Therefore
the “place” interpretation of the bea component of nkrabea must be
rejected. If the place or the spatial region a person is born in or
resides in is decreed or involved in his nkrabea, it is merely one of
the several elements of the concept, merely a logical consequence of
the concept of destiny. Bea, then, must be taken to mean manner,
indicating the way an individual soul was to express itself in the
world.
1 now turn to the distinction that has been made by some scholars
between nkrabea and hyebea.'7 Hagan has argued that the two
expressions denote different concepts. In his view, hyebea, which he
takes to be hyebere and renders as appointed time, denotes the
temporal dimension of a person’s life, whereas nkrabea denotes the
nontemporal attributes of a person - status, rank, occupation,
success. Not one of my discussants thought that the two expres¬
sions denote different concepts. For all of them, the two expres¬
sions have identical referents. One discussant, who had some
knowledge of English, pointed out that the two words are like the
expressions “you” and “thou’ in English.
Both philological and philosophical objections may be raised
against Hagan’s thesis. First, the philological caveat: In some parts

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

of the Akan land the bea component is pronounced and written as

here (sometimes bre). Examples of such expressions follow:

bobre : that is, bobea

dibere : that is, dibea
dabere : that is, dabea
gyinabere : that is, gyinabea
tebere : that is, tebea

One discussant” stated that in the Kwahu area, nkrabea is pro¬

nounced nkrabere. The bere component of such words does not
indicate time as such, as Hagan thought, although the usual Akan
expression for time is here. The bere in the above words is another
form of bea, meaning “manner.” Therefore, it is wrong to associate
a concept of time with hyebea (or hyebere).
Now, the philosophical objection: Hagan’s thesis implies that the
Akan concept of destiny or fate is two-pronged, one prong directed
at the temporal aspects and the other at the nontemporal aspects, of
one s life on earth. This is a philosophical aberration; for the
concept of destiny, that is, the message (nkra) borne by the soul
(okra), must necessarily embrace all aspects of the person’s life,
temporal and nontemporal, even if not in detail. The temporal
dimension of one’s life, indicating, according to Hagan, the tempo¬
ral order of events in one s life, must therefore already be involved
in one’s nkrabea, destiny. The message would perhaps be incomplete
without the inclusion of the element of time. The Akan proverb,
“We offer advice in order to reform a person, but not to change his
destiny;” (yetufo, yentu hyebere), refers of course to the whole of a
person’s destiny, not only to its temporal element. Why should the
offer of advice be contrasted with only the time dimension of one’s
destiny? The concept of destiny is not two-pronged but many-
pronged, involving the individual’s status, rank, and occupation, as
well as the fixed time when the soul must depart this world.
Although destiny is conceived by Akan thinkers to be of a general
nature, so that not everything is “stated” in the message, neverthe¬
less the general Akan view is that the time of a person’s death is
definitely stipulated in the scroll of destiny. Nevertheless, this fact
does not justify singling out the time element and subsuming it
under a different, autonomous concept, for time is no more
significant than the other elements of destiny. Time is only one
atom in the molecular life of the individual. There is no evidence in
the sources I have examined that the soul, the bearer of destiny,

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

bears two messages, a temporal one and a nontemporal one. Nor

does philosophical analysis lead us to a two-message concept of
destiny in Akan thought.
Eva Meyerowitz, Danquah, and Bishop Sarpong also attempt to
separate nkrabea and hyebea, but with different aims. In their
interpretations, however, time is not separated from the other
elements and subsumed under an autonomous concept. In nkrabea,
Meyerowitz sees the conscious, personal will, and in hyebea, the
unconscious drives and impulses.20 Elsewhere she identifies the
conscious personal will with the sunsum, and the unconscious drives
and impulses with the okra.2' Thus, she sees some connection
between nkrabea and sunsum on the one hand, and hyebea and the okra
on the other hand, although she does not explain the basis for
making such connections. Her interpretations, however, are incor¬
rect insofar as they imply a dichotomy between nkrabea and hyebea.
In my view, there is a definite connection between personality
(.sunsum) and destiny (nkrabea or hyebea). An attempt will be made
directly, in dealing with Danquah’s discussion, to explain why a
connection of some sort between sunsum and nkrabea (destiny) may
in some sense be allowed, although the explanation cannot be taken
to imply that a connection may also be correctly made between okra
and hyebea.
Danquah may have been the source, in whole or in part, of
Meyerowitz’s interpretations. He speaks of the sunsum as conscious
and the okra as unconscious."" He also uses nkrabea and hyebea to
designate different concepts. He says that the destiny of man is of
two parts,23 and speaks of “the nkrabea of the sunsum” and “the hyebea
of God.”24 These two expressions of Danquah’s are misleading. We
cannot strictly speak of “the nkrabea of the sunsum” since, it is the okra
(soul) that bears the nkrabea of a person.25 Nevertheless, it is not
absolutely incorrect to speak of “the nkrabea of the sunsum, for — and
this applies as well to Meyerowitz’s connection of sunsum and nkrabea
- it is the sunsum, the active part of the psychical system, that makes
possible the realization of the nkrabea on earth, because it is the
sunsum that interacts with the external world. Thus interpreted,
Danquah’s expression “the nkrabea of the sunsum” makes sense. The
expression “the hyebea of God makes sense only when it is taken to
mean the destiny of God, where destiny is designated by both
nkrabea and hyebea. Nevertheless, my main objection to Danquah s
use of these two expressions, as to Meyerowitz’s, is the implication
that nkrabea and hyebea denote different concepts.

Ill
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

All these confusions stem from holding that the words nkrabea
and hyebea refer to different concepts. According to my discussants,
the two are identical in their referent; and it is also the view that is
philosophically attractive. There is no evidence in the sources that
leads one to believe that two different “messages,” that is, scrolls of
destiny, are borne by the individual into the world. The message,
whether determined by the individual’s own soul or given to it by
the Supreme Being, is a single message, but its content is many-
faceted. Nkrabea (or hyebea) therefore expresses a concept of destiny
that is totalistic, encompassing all aspects, temporal and nontempo¬
ral, though not in detail, of an individual’s mundane existence.

7.2.2. Is it a concept of double destiny?

The question has arisen whether the individual’s soul states
the destiny message to God or receives it from God. In this
connection, some scholars find a conception of double destiny in
Akan thought. Bishop Sarpong makes a distinction between nkra¬
bea, which he regards as the divinely imposed destiny, and hyebea
(or hyebre, as he reads it), as the self-determined destiny: “Neither
the divinely imposed Fate (Nkrabea) nor the self-determined Des¬
tiny (Hyebre) is avoidable. . . .”2h Although Bishop Sarpong is per¬
ceptive enough to see that this concept of “double destiny [is]
fraught with many logical problems,”27 yet he does nothing to
disentangle those problems and continues to hold that view in a
later publication.'8 Bishop Sarpong’s position was taken also by
some informants of Helaine Minkus, who stated that “nkrabea
refers to the message the individual gives to God . . .” while “hyebea
is the message given by God. . . (Some of her informants
claimed, however, that the two expressions were synonymous.)
Bishop Sarpong and Minkus’s informants differ as to which is the
divinely imposed destiny and which the self-determined destiny.
But all is a muddle. Which aspects or elements of a person’s destiny
are determined or chosen by the soul, and which are given by God?
How much of the message is decided on by the soul and how much
by God? Double destiny is a conceptual blunder. The concept of
destiny makes sense only when it is held to be either wholly self-
determined or wholly divinely imposed, but not both.
The concept of double destiny bristles with difficulties, as Bishop
Sarpong saw. Its proponents use the self-determined theory of
destiny to argue for human freedom and responsibility. This
misfires, however, because in the context of a philosophy of double

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

destiny, how can an individual in this world know that a particular

action one takes stems from the “part” of destiny that was chosen
and not the “part” that was divinely imposed? Akan thought offers
a more satisfactory basis for the concept of human freedom and
responsibility than a double destiny theory.
In the course of my field research I often found conflicting views
or statements. Some discussants claimed that the individual states
his or her destiny to God, and others claimed that it is God who
gives the destiny. The analyst must provide reasons for preferring
one point of view to the other. I have three reasons for thinking that
an individual’s destiny is given by God. The first reason, a subtle
one, derives from such proverbs as these:

There is no bypass to God’s destiny.

(Onyame nkrabea nni kwatibea)
God’s destiny cannot be altered.
(Onyame hyebea yennae no)
No living man can subvert the order (arrangement)
of God.
(ade a Onyame ahyehye odasani ntumi nsee no)

These clearly refer to God’s destiny (Onyame nkrabea, Onyame

hyebea), which suggests that God gives the destiny. The destiny is
his, in the sense that he decrees or determines it. Thus, the language
of some proverbs suggests or supports the divinely imposed theory
of destiny.
Second, an Akan myth expresses the idea of God determining an
individual’s destiny. The myth is as follows:

The rivers Tano, Bea, the Bosomtwe Lake and the sea were
children of the Supreme Being. The latter decided to send
these his children to the earth. The Supreme Being himself
had planned where he would send each of the children. The
goat got to know of the plans of the Supreme Being. He, the
goat, and Bea were great friends, so he told Bea of the plans
of the Supreme Being, urging him to arrive before his
brothers if their father sent for them. One day the Supreme
Being sent for his children and Bea ran quickly and got there
first; so the Supreme Being assigned to him the cool and
shady forest country which had been intended for Tano, the
favorite son of the Supreme Being. Tano therefore was sent to
the grassy plains, and each in turn was given a place different

113
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

from the original plan, due to the goat having revealed the
plan to Bea.30
There is no direct evidence here that God’s children - the river
spirits - have a destiny in the sense that human beings do. But it is
clear from the myth that God determined the place of each river
spirit (that is, place,, where place, is logically a part of the
comprehensive concept of destiny). God’s action in determining the
place of the river spirits can be seen as an analogue of his
determination of human destiny, which of course comprehends
more than just place,. This myth suggests that there is no choice of
destiny for individuals, for the Supreme Being had already decided
where each of the children would be settled. Although, as Rattray
pointed out, “Owing to the machinations of the goat the final
resting-place of all the waters was not as really intended by
Nyame,”31 nevertheless upsetting the intentions of God (Nyame)
did not imply that his children had the opportunity to decide on
their resting places. God had already decided that whoever got to
him first would be given the most congenial place, and the
subversion of his intentions was the result not only of the goat
having revealed God’s plans but also of his own firmness and
fairness. To the extent that the myth can be applied to human
beings, it suggests that destiny is given by God.
The third and perhaps most telling reason is this: The soul setting
foot into the world must be presumed to be completely without
knowledge of the conditions of this world. This being so, how can
the soul possibly choose or indicate its own destiny? It is the
omniscient God who, of course, knows of such conditions. The
ignorance of the soul regarding the world suggests both the
implausibility of the self-determined theory of destiny and the
plausibility of the divinely imposed theory of destiny.

7.2.3. The general nature of destiny

The conception of destiny held by most of the traditional wise
persons with whom I had discussions makes the destiny of man a
general destiny. That is, the message (nkra) borne by the soul is said
to be comprehensive; it determines only the broad outlines of an
individual’s mundane life, not the specific details. It follows that not
every action a person performs or every event that occurs in one’s
life comes within the ambit of his destiny. Two problems, perhaps
the most difficult problems in the Akan conception of destiny,
immediately come up. The first is: How can we determine the exact

114
 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

level of generality of one’s destiny? The second is: What are the
elements of destiny, that is, what attributes are contained in the
message of destiny? The second question appears to be more
fundamental, for if we can determine the nature of the content of
the message, we have some idea of the level of generality of destiny.
I shall therefore attempt the second question first.
My discussants were generally unsure about the elements that are
included in one’s destiny. They were, however, unanimous in
claiming that the time of a person’s death and possibly also the
manner and place of death are stipulated in his destiny. Rank and
occupation are included, according to two discussants.32 Thus the
level of the generality of destiny remains vague. All the discussants,
however, agreed that the inexplicable events in one’s life, the
unalterable and persistently habitual traits of character, the persist¬
ent actions and behavior patterns of an individual are all traceable
to destiny. It is important to note that only when all human or
physical explanations for events or actions are exhausted that
recourse is had to a person’s destiny. This being so, one might say
that only certain “key” events and actions are embodied in destiny.
Perhaps better, the destiny of an individual comprises certain basic
attributes. The proverbs on destiny quoted in section 7.1 refer to
such key events or basic attributes. What these basic attributes are is
of course difficult to say with certainty. Nevertheless, it is clear that
the Akan notion of destiny is a general one, which implies that not
everything that a person does or that happens to him or her
represents a page from the “book of destiny.”
Construing the message (nkra) of destiny in terms of basic
attributes provides a solution for another knotty problem in the
Akan conception of destiny. The problem is that of the alterability
or unalterability of one’s destiny. This problem is of great conse¬
quence, for it has been supposed that its solution determines the
place of human effort in human activities and the development of
society. It will be shown, however, that the place of human effort
depends on something other than the alterable or unalterable nature
of one’s destiny. On the question of whether or not one can alter
one’s destiny, my discussants were about equally divided. Bishop
Sarpong33 claims that destiny can be changed by magic or religious
means. Opoku,34 however, denies that it can be changed. The Akan
proverbs on destiny I have examined seem to imply the unalterabil¬
ity and unavoidably of destiny. Perhaps there are some proverbs
that imply otherwise. But if the message of destiny is conceived in

115
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

terms of basic attributes, as I am construing it, it is clear why

destiny cannot be changed: Basic attributes do not change. More¬
over, if as I have argued destiny is determined by the omnipotent
Supreme Being, it obviously cannot be changed. Hence, the
insistence of the proverbs I have seen that God s destiny cannot be
avoided or changed is logical.
Changing one’s destiny is not only an impossible idea, but it is
also one that should, strictly speaking, not arise in a system in
which destiny is divinely determined. The reason is, since the
Supreme Being is regarded in Akan thought as good - a view that
is expressed in these proverbs:
Goodness is the prime characteristic of God.
The hawk says: “Whatever God does is good.”
- the destiny fixed by God must be good. My discussants were
unanimous in asserting that “everyone’s leave-taking was good”
(iobiara kraa yie)\ “nobody’s leave-taking was evil” (obiara ankra bone)-,
“God created everyone well” (Nyame boo obiara yie). Thus, bad
things are not included in the message of destiny. Wherein, then,
lies the necessity for changing one’s destiny, for changing what is
good? There is really no such necessity, for the talk of changing
destiny really refers to the attempt to better one’s condition. For
instance, a person’s path may be strewn with failures, either because
of his or her own actions, desires, decisions, and intentions, or
because of the activities of some supposed evil forces. A person in
such a situation may try to do something about the situation by,
say, consulting priests and diviners. But in so doing he or she
would certainly not be changing destiny as such; rather, he or she
would in fact be trying to better the conditions of life (abrabo) by
some means. Therefore one should speak of improving one’s
circumstances in life rather than of “changing” one’s destiny.
Destiny in Akan thought, interpreted as the basic attributes of an
individual, may be contrasted with the German philosopher Leib¬
niz’s (1646-1716) concept of the individual. Leibniz wrote:

We have said that the concept of an individual substance

includes once for all everything which can ever happen to it,
and that in considering this concept one will be able to see
everything which can truly be said concerning the individual,
just as we are able to see in the nature of a circle all the
properties which can be derived from it.35

The view that the concept of the individual “includes once for all

116
 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

everything which can ever happen to it” is in fact antithetical to the

message of destiny, the basis of individuality in Akan thought. For
the Akan notion does not include everything that can ever happen
to the individual.
Akan thinkers maintain that the message of destiny of an
individual is not known by any living man, a view that is
expressed, for instance, in the proverb:
When someone was taking leave of the Supreme
Being, no one else was standing by.
(obi kra ne Nyame no na obi nnyina ho bi)
Since no one else observed the act of leave-taking of another
person, no one knows the destiny of any other person. The
individual does not know his or her own destiny either; the
message of destiny cannot be remembered since a large portion of
the soul (okra) is said to remain unconscious. Only the Supreme
Being (Onyame) knows an individual’s destiny. But divine knowl¬
edge of an individual’s destiny does not appear to be fatal to the
latter’s exercise of free will, since the individual does not presume
to have access to this knowledge of God. More on free will in Akan
thought anon.
Finally, we turn to the resignation that is alleged to be involved
in, or induced by, the Akan concept of human destiny. Wiredu
wrote:
. . . adversity may lead a man to resignation. This happens
every where and in all cultures. But in our culture the notions
about destiny just mentioned are apt to facilitate the resignation of a
despairing soul f
Again:
But our traditional philosophy is probably highly remarkable
in the personal directness and individual immediacy of the
doctrine of fate and, further, in the sincerity and practical
seriousness with which it is entertained in the day to day life
of our people.37
Kwesi Dickson has argued successfully against the view that the
Akan concept of nkrabea induces resignation. Referring specifically
to the Akan notion of destiny, nkrabea, he wrote: “Resignation,
with its consequent passivity, does not appear to be encouraged in
African thought.”38 Some of the arguments I advance against the
view that the Akan concept of destiny induces an immediate feeling
of doom have been made by Dickson.

117
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

First, only after repeated attempts in the pursuit of some aim have
failed do the Akans normally blame a person’s failure on destiny,
nkrabea. This means that striving is highly esteemed by the Akans
and that it is never considered normal to give up easily or
immediately unless one is brought to a situation from which there
is no escape. Resignation should not be the immediate response to
failure; it is appropriate only after all possible recourse has been
exhausted. Resignation is thus a response or attitude to a humanly
impossible situation. In such a situation the Akans would say:

Man came to play only a part of the drama of life,

not the whole.
(onipa beyee bi, na woammeye ne nyinaa)

On this saying Antubam comments: “ When after a sincere strenuous

effort the Ghanaian fails to reach the highest height in a competition,
he cheers himself up in resignation by saying to himself” the above
proverb.’^ It is implicit in the proverb that something must have
been achieved, some effort expended. The feeling of resignation
wells up only when one recognizes that one’s efforts have been
misplaced, or are otherwise unavailing. Such resignation, however,
does not imply a feeling of doom or a belief that future success is
impossible, nor does it induce in that individual the feeling that try¬
ing other pursuits would be useless. After repeated failure, resigna¬
tion is a rational, realistic, and necessary attitude for an individual
who believes that luck, success, and fortune are to be looked for
elsewhere.
Second, everyone wishes to avoid evil and escape disaster; hence
the strong belief in the beneficial activities of the traditional divin¬
ers and priests. In all libation prayers, the spiritual beings, from
Onyame down to the ancestors, are implored to avert disaster
(musuo) and to bring peace, happiness, prosperity, good harvest,
etc.
Third, as observed earlier, Akans believe in the existence of
accidents (asiane, akwanhyia) - events or actions that are not “in
one’s destiny.” As one discussant put it, “Accident is not in the
nkrabea" (asiane, enni nkrabea no mu).40 The word asiane is generally
used to refer to an unintended effect, although this does not mean
that it is uncaused, or occurring by chance. An Akan proverb has it
that,

The death offuntum affects mmatatwene.

funtum wuo saa mmatatwene)

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

Funtum is a tree. Mmatatwene is a creeping plant that grows along

and around the main stem of the funtum tree. Now, if one fells the
funtum tree, at the same time, though unintentionally as far as one is
concerned, one destroys the mmatatwene plant around it. Thus, the
destruction or death of the mmatatwene plant is an accident, that is,
an effect not intended by the person who felled the funtum tree. The
proverb makes it clear that there are, according to the Akan
thinkers, accidents or contingencies in human life, a fact also
recognized or implicit in the general character of nkrabea.
Finally, by stressing the uniqueness and individuality of people,
the Akan concept of destiny implies that each individual is naturally
fitted for a particular sphere of action, and that he or she has
capacities and aptitudes for the activities of that sphere. This means
that while one does not have a capacity or talent for every
conceivable or desirable pursuit, one certainly has capacities for
particular pursuits or endeavors. This position emerges in such
proverbs as:

If God did not give the swallow anything, He gave

it agility.41
If the cat does not have anything, it has swiftness.

Since each individual has some talents, a series of failures would

suggest that he or she might be in the wrong sphere of action and
that those talents are therefore misplaced and are consequently
being denied the opportunity for their full exercise. Thus, if the
Akan concept of destiny is fully and properly understood, it would
have far-reaching beneficial consequences for individuals in society.

7.3. Causality, fate,

free will, and responsibility
I now turn to the external and internal influences on human
life and the implications of these for free will and moral responsi¬
bility. Chapter 5 made clear that Akan thinkers hold a strongly
deterministic conception of the world: For them every event has a
cause; nothing is attributable to chance. We learned in our analysis
of the Akan concept of a person (Chapter 6) that some characteris¬
tics, due to the ntoro and mogya elements, are inherited from parents
or relatives and that moral attributes are generally ascribed to the
sunsum (spirit). In section 7.2.3 we saw that fate or destiny is
unalterable. Even an individual s day of birth, called krada, is

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

thought to influence one’s personal characteristics. Thus, people

born on Monday are said to be calm (odwo), those born on Thursday
are said to be courageous (preko: warlike), and so on. One’s krada,
and hence time, is believed to be a factor in determining one’s
individuality and uniqueness. In the light of such a deterministic
conception of the world and of life, can humans be said to be free in
their actions and behavior? Can they be moral agents? Akan
thinkers answer these questions in the affirmative.
The argument in Western philosophy pertaining to human free
will and responsibility is this: If every event is caused, as determi¬
nism holds, then human action and behavior too are caused, and
hence we cannot be held to be free and therefore cannot be held
morally responsible for those actions. There is a suppressed premise
in the argument, which is that human actions are (a species of)
events. This premise is, in my view, not wholly correct. There is a
sense in which human actions cannot be considered as events.
Events are mere happenings or occurrences, which do not have
their origin in human design and motivation. Thus, we speak of the
flooding of a river, the erosion of the sea, a tremor of the earth, the
capsizing of a boat during a storm, the disruption of electrical
supply following lightning, and the crash of an aircraft during a
thunderstorm, as events. Human “events,” insofar as they originate
in human thought, deliberation, desire, etc., cannot strictly be
regarded as events. Although the word “event” may be used to
refer to humanly motivated action, as in “The French Revolution
was a momentous event in the history of France,” “The Bond of
1844 was a significant event in the history of Ghana,” “Intertribal
wars in Africa were tragic events,” “Egyptian President Sadat’s visit
to Jerusalem in December 1977 was a historic event,” the sense of
“event” in these statements is plainly different from the sense it has
in the occurrences mentioned earlier. The flooding of a river and
the warring among ethnic groups in Africa are different kinds of
“events.” The former is an event simply: It just occurred, without
any human intervention. The latter is, strictly speaking, not an
event, for it did not simply occur; it was an action brought about as
a result of human deliberation, intention, decision, and desire; it
was planned and executed by people. The French Revolution did
not erupt by itself, like a volcano; it was planned and executed by
humans. Sadat’s historic visit to Jerusalem resulted from his desire
for peace in that area of the world. Such human actions may later be
described as ‘events,” but they are not events, properly speaking.

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

As noted in Chapter 5, Akan thinking about causation is con¬

fined to events, natural and nonhuman, that are beyond the control
or power of people, to the exclusion of human actions (nneyee). I
think it is correct to maintain that in Akan thought the doctrine of
causality or determinism is irrelevant as far as human actions are
concerned. This means that the doctrine of determinism is not fatal
to the freedom a person has in actions and behavior. For the fact
that every event is caused does not, in the Akan system, eliminate
or subvert the role of the individual in human actions. Now Akan
thinkers conceive of cause in terms of spirit or power (sunsum), and
humans also have a spirit, even if of a lower potency, that is the
basis of thought, deliberation, will and so on. It follows that man
also is a causal agent. Determinism therefore does not negate the
effectiveness of human beings as causal and therefore moral agents.
The sunsum of a person is held to be developable; a weak power or
capacity can be improved or strengthened. Moral failures, then,
which are in fact spiritual defects, can be rectified. Therefore,
neither the Akan deterministic conception of the world nor Akan
moral psychology is fatal to human free will and responsibility.
The concept of destiny (nkrabea) might be held to be subversive of
the reality of humans as causal free agents. For if actions are
predetermined, then thoughts, deliberations, decisions are of no
consequence; there is nothing that a person might think of or do
that will affect the result. Therefore, the effects of the concept of
destiny on volitional causality are relevant to the questions of free
will and moral responsibility. Is the Akan concept of destiny
destructive of human free will?
Because nkrabea (destiny) expresses only the basic attributes of
the individual, and because nkrabea is general and not specific,
human actions are not fated or necessitated; this fact gives viability
and meaningfulness to the concept of choice. Even if one consid¬
ered free will not to be absolute in the light of human creatureli-
ness, it must nevertheless be granted that the individual can make
his or her own existence meaningful through the exercise of free
will within the scope of destiny.
That actions and behavior originate from thought, desire, choice,
etc., is implicit in the concept of asiane, accident, which is invariably
tied to the concept of nkrabea. In Akan thought, “accident refers to
an action or event that is unintended but that has a cause. As far as
human actions are concerned, the cause is, of course, the person
him- or herself. Consequently, if a hunter, for instance, accidentally

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

mistakes a man for an animal and shoots him, he is held responsible,

even though as far as he is concerned it was an unintended action. It
was his action in that he was the cause of it; he should or could have
been more careful. Also relevant here is that of “doing something
premeditatedly or purposely” (se wo hyeda). However, for it to be
applicable here, it appears in the negative: woanhyeda, that is, “He
did not do it premeditatedly (or deliberately).” But it is implicit that
this does not mean that action is automatic or predetermined. Our
hypothetical hunter cannot absolve himself of the responsibility by
claiming that his action was unpremeditated; he accepts the respon¬
sibility for the action because he willed and executed it, even
though the consequences of his action turned out to be different
from what he intended. Thus, the general nature of nkrahea allows
room for the exercise by the person of free will and, consequently,
“accidental” and “unpremeditated” actions are considered as deriv¬
ing from the exercise of free will and hence are the person’s
responsibility.
Humanity is endowed with capacity (or power) for thought and
action. This capacity is implied in the concept of sunsum. Humans
then should employ this capacity to improve themselves. The
Akans highly esteem effort, for as the proverb has it,
Trying hard breaks the back of misfortune.
(mmodenbo bu musuo abasa so)
Thus, if a person fails to do the right thing either in a moral
situation or otherwise he or she should be held responsible, for it
was within human capacity to do it correctly.
Akan thinkers maintain that character, which is given an impor¬
tant place in the ethical life of a person, is reformable; it can be
trained and developed. Moral habits are acquired through habitua¬
tion and obedience to good advice. Thus, they say:
We offer advice (in order to reform one’s character),
but we do not change destiny.
(yetufo, yentu hyebre)
One is not born with “bad head” but one takes it
on the earth.
(ti bone wofa no Jam, womfa nnwo)

The latter proverb means that bad habits are acquired by people;
misfortunes and failures are their own making. Accordingly, an
unhappy or miserable life is attributed to a person’s behavior or
conduct:

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

If a man is unhappy, his conduct is the cause.

(onipa ho ant'd no a, na efi n’asem)

Because character can be reformed, such an attribution, it seems to

me, is appropriate. A person is responsible for the state of his or her
character, for he or she is endowed with the capacity to reform and
to improve. In sum, then, Akan philosophy maintains that human
beings are free and must therefore be held morally responsible for
their actions and behavior.

7.4. The problem of evil

Because Akan thinkers hold that moral evil stems from the
exercise of man’s free will, it is appropriately treated here. The
problem of evil appears to be more complex in Akan thought than
Western thought. The reason is that whereas in Western thought
the problem centers round God, in Akan thought the problem
centers round both the Supreme Being (God: Onyame) and the
deities (that is, lesser spirits). In Western thought the problem arises
out of seeming conflicts between the attributes of God and the
existence of evil. In Akan thought the problem is conceived in
terms not only of the attributes of God but also of those of the
deities. When the problem of evil in Akan thought is pushed to its
logical limits, however, its philosophical nature is quite similar to
that in Western philosophy and theology.
The problem of evil in Western philosophy arises out of the
contradiction between God’s attributes of omnipotence and good¬
ness (benevolence) on the one hand and the existence of evil on the
other hand. Thus, given the three propositions:

A. God is omnipotent,
B. God is wholly good,
C. evil exists,
C is considered to be incompatible with A and B, individually or
jointly. If God is omnipotent, then He can completely eliminate
evil, since there are no limits to what an omnipotent being can do,
and if God is wholly good or benevolent then He would be willing
to eliminate evil. Yet evil exists. The existence of evil, it is argued in
Western philosophy, implies that either God does not exist or if He
does exist He is not omnipotent or not wholly good or both. Of
course various attempts have been made by philosophers and
theologians to explain the sources of evil in this world.

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

In Akan philosophy and theology God is conceived as omnipo¬

tent and wholly good. Yet the Akan thinkers do not appear to find
these attributes of God incompatible with the fact of the existence
of moral evil. One might suppose that the Akan thinkers are
dodging the philosophical issue here, but this is not so. Rather, they
locate the source of the problem of evil elsewhere than in the logic
of the relationships between the attributes of God and the fact of
existence of evil.
For the Akan, evil is not a creation of God; that would be
inconsistent with the goodness of God. Akan thinkers generally
beheve that it was not God who created evil (Nyame ambo bone).
Then how is the existence of evil explained? According to them,
there are two main sources of evil: the deities (abosom, including all
supernatural forces such as magical forces, witches, etc.) and
mankind’s own will. About half a dozen assembled discussants
were unanimous in asserting that “evil derives from evil spirits’’
(bone firi obonsam)f The deities are held either to be good and evil or
to have powers of good and evil. Thus, unlike Onyame (God), they
are not wholly good, and hence they are the authors of evil things.
Although the deities were created by God, they are considered in
Akan theology and cosmology to have independent existence of
some sort; they operate independently of God and in accordance
with their own desires and intentions.
Since the deities that constitute one source of evil in this world
are held not to be wholly good, one might suppose that the
problem of evil is thereby solved. Busia, for instance, thought that

. . .the problem of evil so often discussed in Western philoso¬

phy and Christian theology does not arise in the African
concept of deity. It is when a God who is not only all
powerful and omniscient but also perfect and loving is
postulated that the problem of the existence of evil becomes
an intellectual and philosophical hurdle. The Supreme Being
of the African is the Creator, the source of life, but between Him
and man lie many powers and principalities good and bad, gods, spirits,
magical forces, witches to account for the strange happenings in the
world.

It is not clear what Busia means by “deity” here; perhaps he

means the Supreme Being, God. If so, his view of the attributes of
the Supreme Being - a view that implies some limitation on the
Supreme Being as conceived in African thought - is disputable. Be

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 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

that as it may, the view that the African concept of the Supreme
Being does not give rise to the problem of evil is of course
predicated on the assumption that the lesser spirits created by Him
are conceived of as good and bad, so that the quandaries arising out
of the conflict of omnipotence and perfect goodness on the one
hand and evil on the other hand cease to exist. But this conclusion
is premature and unsatisfactory philosophically.
The immediate question that arises is this: Why should a wholly
good God create a being that embodies in itself both good and evil
powers or dispositions? One possible answer may be that it was not
God who created the evil powers or actions of a lesser spirit, but
that these result from the operations of the independent will of the
spirit itself. But this answer is not wholly satisfactory either. First,
God, being a higher entity, can destroy the lesser spirits as well as
the other powers and forces. Consequently, God has the power to
eliminate or control the evil wills and actions of the lower beings
such as the lesser spirits and so to eliminate evil from the world.
Second, since God is wholly good and eschews evil (Nyame mpe
bone), as an Akan proverb has it, he would not refrain from
eliminating evil or controlling evil wills. Even if it were granted
that God endowed the lesser spirits with independent wills, it
might be expected that the wholly good God would be willing to
intervene when he sees them using their wills to choose to act
wrongly and so to cause evil. Would it have been wrong for God to
intervene in the evil operations of the independent free wills of the
lesser spirits in order to eliminate evil? But if he had done so, would
he not have disrupted the free wills with which he endowed them?
(These questions come up again in discussing mankind as a source
of evil.) Thus, contrary to Busia’s assertion, it is clear that the Akan
concept of deity does generate the philosophical problem of evil.
Busia’s assertion would be true only if a lesser spirit, held to be
both good and bad, were considered as the supreme or ultimate
spiritual being. But this, as we saw in Chapter 5, is not the case. It is
Onyame who is the Supreme and Absolute Being.
The other source of evil, according to Akan thought, is human
will. On this some of my discussants advanced the following views:

Evil comes from man’s character.

(bone fi onipa suban)44

In the view of this discussant, character determines the nature of

our actions; bad character gives rise to evil actions, and good

125
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

character gives rise to good actions. The person with bad character,
he asserted, thinks evil, and it is such evil thoughts that translate or
issue in morally evil actions. According to him, it is impossible for
evil to come from Onyame (God) because (1) Onyame is good
(Onyame ye), and (2) our character, from which evil proceeds, is of
our own making; what our character is, or will be, is the person s
responsibility, not God’s. In a discussion with a different group of
three elders,45 two of them also blamed evil on human character, but
the third one, criticizing the other two, asked: “Is it not Onyame
who created the world and us and all that we are?” He answered his
own question by saying: “If Onyame made us what we are, then he
created, along with everything else, evil too.” To this one of the
others retorted: “It is surely not Onyame who tells or forces a
person to go and rape, steal, and kill. It is the person’s own desires
and mind” (n’apede ne n’adwen). But the conception of the human
source of moral evil was shared by two other discussants, both
from different communities. One of them maintained that “Ony¬
ame did not create evil; evil comes from man’s own actions”
(Onyame ambo bone; bone ftri onipa nneyee),4b and the other that
“Onyame is not the cause of evil, but our own thinking and
deliberation” (bone mfi Onyame; eft yen ankasa adwendwen mu)A
Arguing that God is not the author of evil, another discussant
maintained that “evil comes from man’s conscience” (tiboa).48 His
position is that a human being has what is called tiboa, conscience
(moral sense, that is, a sense of right and wrong), which enables one
to see the difference (nsoe) between good and evil. Putting it bluntly,
he said, “Man is not a beast (aboa) to fail to distinguish between the
good and evil.” The comparison between man and beast is intended
as a distinction between moral sense and amoral sense on the one
hand, and between rationality (intelligence) and irrationality (non¬
intelligence) on the other hand. The implication is that it is only
conscienceless, irrational beasts that cannot distinguish between
good and evil. Since, according to this traditional thinker, our
possession of tiboa enables (or, should enable) us to do correct moral
thinking, evil stems from our inability to exercise the moral sense.
But this argument is not persuasive. Having the ability to do
correct moral thinking, or to distinguish between good and evil,
does not necessarily imply possession of the moral will to carry out
the implications of the distinction. This traditional wise man
assumes that it does, but this assumption, I think, is mistaken. So
that the statement “Evil comes from man’s conscience” must

126
 7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

perhaps be taken to mean that evil stems from the inability to

exercise either our moral sense or our moral will.
In sum, the basic premise of the arguments of the Akan thinkers
on the problem of evil is generally that God does not like evil
(Nyame mpe bone) and hence did not create it (Nyame ambo bone). Evil,
according to most of them, proceeds from man’s character, con¬
science, desires, and thoughts - all of which suggest, within the
Akan conceptual system, that evil stems from the exercise by the
person of his or her own free will (onipa ne pe), as was in fact
explicitly stated by a discussant.^
It was made clear in section 7.2.3 that the general nature of
destiny (nkrabea) allows for the concept of human freedom, and
therefore of choice, and that within the context of human actions -
which are not to be considered as events - the concept of determi¬
nism is inapplicable. Thus, the view of the human source of moral
evil appears to stem from a set of related concepts in the Akan
metaphysical system.
This argument seems to me a potent one. Nevertheless, some
difficult questions might be raised against it. For instance: Why did
not God, if he is omnipotent and wholly good, make human beings
such that they always choose the good and avoid the evil? Or,
having endowed them with freedom of the will, why does God not
intervene when he sees them using this freedom to choose the
wrong thing and so to cause evil? Is God unable to control human
will? Is he unable to control what he has created? And if he is able,
why does he not do so? Can the argument that evil results from the
exercise of human free will really be sustained?
If God is omnipotent, then he certainly could have made human
beings such that they always choose the good and avoid the evil,
that he could also intervene in the event of human freedom of the
will leading to evil, and that he could thus control human will. But
if God had done all this, humans would act in a wholly determined
way, without any choice whatever - a situation that would run
counter to the general nature of the concept of destiny and the
notion of human action as held by Akan thinkers. That would also
have led to the subversion of rationality, which not only distin¬
guishes human beings from beasts, but also enables human beings
generally to judge before acting. The argument that God should
have made humans such that they always choose the good implies
that God should have made them nonrational and thus less human,
wholly without the ability to choose. Thus, the subversion of

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

rationality together with its concomitants of choice, deliberation,

judgment, etc., constitutes a reductio ad absurdum of the view that the
wholly good God should have created humans such that they
always choose the good. The Akan thinkers, like thinkers in most
other cultures, would rather have humankind endowed with ra¬
tionality and conscience than to have them fashioned to behave like
a beast. Hence, God’s provision of rationality and freedom of the
will and of choice is justified. If humans debase this provision,
knowing that this would bring evil in its wake, then they, not their
Creator, should be held responsible.
What if God made humans such that they use their rationality
always to choose the good? Would they have been free under such
circumstances? The answer must be no, inasmuch as the choice of
the good would have been predetermined, which means that no
choice ever existed.
This discussion shows that the problem of evil does indeed arise
in Akan philosophy and theology. The Akan thinkers, although
recognizing the existence of moral evil in the world, generally do
not believe that this fact is inconsistent with the assertion that God
is omnipotent and wholly good. Evil, according to them, is
ultimately the result of the exercise by humans of their freedom of
the will with which they were endowed by the Creator, Oboadee.

128
 8
Foundations of ethics

This chapter is in two main sections. The first takes up the

question of the relation between religion (or God, deities) and
morality as conceived in Akan moral thought and practice. The
second, rather brief, deals with the social and humanistic founda¬
tions of Akan morality.

8.1. Religion and

morality in Akan thought
Several writers have remarked that Africans are a very reli¬
gious people, and that religion permeates all aspects of their lives
(see section 12.3.3). This attribution of religiosity to African
peoples, though a general one, may be said to be true of the Akan
people. Thus, Opoku observed:
The phenomenon of religion is so pervasive in the life of the
Akan, and so inextricably bound up with their culture, that it
is not easy to isolate what is purely religious from other
aspects of life. It may be said without fear of exaggeration that
life in the Akan world is religion and religion is life.
In the light of the alleged religiosity of the Akan people, writers
have not hesitated to establish some kind of necessary connection
between the religion and the morality of the Akans. These writers
maintain that the Akan moral system derives from, or is based on,
religion. Thus, writing on Akan morality, Opoku stated: “Gener¬
ally, morality originates from religious considerations, and so perva¬
sive is religion in African culture that ethics and religion cannot be

129
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

separated from each other. . . . Thus, morality flows out of religion'.'2

Bishop Sarpong also stated: “Ethics here merges with religion and
religious practices, and assumes communal proportions. Among
the Akan, every ethical conduct may be said to be religiously
orientated.”3 Busia, a notable scholar of Akan culture, thought that
“religion defined moral duties for the members of the group or
tribe.”4 And Danquah said that “Everything else has value only in
its relation to the ideal of the great ancestor.”5 This “great ancestor”
he identified with God.6
All such statements are, in my view, mistaken, for reasons I shall
state directly. I think that a more penetrating investigation must be
made into the relation between religion and morality in Akan
ethics, with a view to clarifying the Akan conception of the basis of
morality and the roles, if any, played, or supposedly played, by the
spiritual beings (God, deities, and ancestors) in the Akan moral
universe.
However, before I examine the alleged religious basis or religious
dependence of Akan morality, I wish to turn briefly to the meaning
of any statement about the religious basis or dependence of
morality. It must mean or imply: (1) that moral concepts such as
“good,” “bad,” “right,” “wrong,” and “ought” are (to be) defined
in terms of religious prescriptions or the commands of some
supernatural being; (2) that moral beliefs, principles, and ideals
derive logically from those of religion, and hence, (3) that religious
prescriptions provide the necessary justification for moral beliefs,
principles, and judgments. Finally, (4) the moral conduct of indi¬
viduals is determined or greatly influenced by their religious
beliefs.
These implications are of course intimately bound up with the
concept of morality itself. Morality refers either to a set of social
rules and norms for guiding and regulating the conduct of people
in a society, or to behavior patterns, that is, responses or attitudes
to such rules and norms. Thus, we speak not only of moral rules,
beliefs, and prescriptions, but also of moral behavior, meaning
behavior in conformity with accepted moral beliefs and rules: The
moral person is one whose attitude or response to moral rules is
satisfactory and commendable. So that the idea of the religious
dependence of morality involves not only the sources of moral rules
and principles, but also the influences that affect patterns of
behavior.
These two meanings or implications of the notion of the religious

130
 8. Foundations of ethics

dependence of morality must be kept distinct. Failure to recognize

such a distinction has led some scholars to make mistakes. For
instance, in an article that seeks to establish that several factors,
including religion, inform the morality of a people, Kudadjie wrote:
Where we are thinking of the origin of influences that mold
behavior, or the factors that enable one to lead the morally
worthy life, or indeed, the determinants of what is right or
wrong, good or bad, or obligation, there are factors other
than religion which come into play.7

This statement conflates two issues, namely, the sources or constit¬

uents of moral rules - what the author calls “the determinants of
what is right or wrong, good or bad, or obligation” and what
makes one observe moral rules - what the author refers to as the
“influences that mold behavior or the factors that enable one to lead
the morally worthy life.” Parrinder also wrote (of Africans as a
whole): “Morality is bound up with religion and receives its
sanction from the Creator who gives the order of the world.”8 It is
not clear whether Parrinder means that morality is genetically
bound up with religion or that religious beliefs influence people’s
moral conduct, or both. There is, thus, a need to distinguish
between the role of religion in the genesis of moral beliefs and
principles and the role of religion in the moral conduct of people.
I wish now to explain why I reject the view that religion
constitutes the basis of Akan morality. (For purposes of clarity and
to save space, I shall in this chapter write “morality,” to refer to
moral beliefs, norms, rules, principles, ideals, and “morality,” to
refer to patterns of behavior, that is, attitudes or responses to moral
norms, rules, etc.; moral practice or commitment. Where I mean
both aspects, I shall write “morality” without subscripts.)

8.1.1. The concepts of good and evil

I shall begin with the Akan moral concepts of good (or
goodness: papa) and evil (bone), which are fundamental in the moral
thought and practice of any culture. In Akan thought goodness is
not defined by reference to religious beliefs or supernatural beings.
What is morally good is not that which is commanded by God or
any spiritual being; what is right is not that which is pleasing to a
spiritual being or in accordance with the will of such being. In the
course of my field research none of my discussants referred to
Onyame (God) or other spiritual entities in response to the ques-

131
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

tions What is good? What is evil? None of them held that an action
was good or evil because Onyame had said so. On the contrary, the
views that emerge in discussions of these questions reveal an
undoubted conviction of a nonsupernaturalistic - a humanistic -
origin of morality. Such views provide insight into the Akan
conception of the criterion of moral value.
In Akan moral thought the sole criterion of goodness is the
welfare or well-being of the community. Thus, in the course of
my field research, the response I had to the question, “What do
the Akan people mean by ‘good’ (or, goodness)?” invariably
included a list of goods, that is, a list of deeds, habits, and
patterns of behavior considered by the society as worthwhile
because of their consequences for human well-being. The list of
such goods invariably included: kindness (generosity: ayamyie),
faithfulness (honesty, truthfulness: nokwaredi), compassion (mmo-
brohunu), hospitality (ahohoye, adoe), that which brings peace, hap¬
piness, dignity, and respect (nea ede asomdwee, ahomeka, anuonyam
ne ohuo ba), and so on. The good comprehends all the above,
which is to say that the good (papa) is explained in terms of the
qualities of things (actions, behavioral patterns). Generosity, hos¬
pitality, justice are considered (kinds of) good. Generosity is a
good thing, but it is not identical with goodness. Goodness (or
the good), then, is considered in Akan moral thinking as a
concept comprehending a number of acts, states, and patterns of
behavior that exemplify certain characteristics.
On what grounds are some acts (etc.) considered good? The
answer is simply that each of them is supposed (expected or
known) to bring about or lead to social well-being. Within the
framework of Akan social and humanistic ethics, what is morally
good is generally that which promotes social welfare, solidarity,
and harmony in human relationships. Moral value in the Akan
system is determined in terms of its consequences for mankind
and society. “Good” is thus used of actions that promote human
interest. The good is identical with the welfare of the society,
which is expected to include the welfare of the individual. This
appears to be the meaning or definition of “good” in Akan ethics.
It is clear that this definition does not at all refer to the will or
commands of God. That which is good is decreed not by a
supernatural being as such, but by human beings within the
framework of their experiences in living in society. So that even
though an Akan maxim says

132
 8. Foundations of ethics

I am doing the good (thing) so that my way to the

world of spirits might not be blocked,
(mereye papa na ankosi me nsaman kwanf

what constitutes the good is determined not by spiritual beings but

by human beings.
Just as the good is that action or pattern of behavior which
conduces to well-being and social harmony, so the evil (bone; that is,
moral evil) is that which is considered detrimental to the well-being
of humanity and society. The Akan concept of evil, like that of
good, is definable entirely in terms of the needs of society. Thus,
even though one often hears people say “God does not like evil”
(Onyame mpe bone), yet what constitutes evil is determined by the
members of the community, not by Onyame.
Akan ethics recognizes two categories of evil, bone and musuo,
although bone is the usual word for evil. The first category, bone,
which I shall call “ordinary,” includes such evils as theft, adultery,
lying, backbiting (kokonsa), and so on. The other category of evil,
musuo, I shall call “extraordinary.” As described by a group of
discussants, 11 musuo is an evil which is great and which brings
suffering (ohaw; ahokyere: disaster, misfortune) to the whole commu¬
nity, not just to the doer alone.”10 Another discussant also stated
that “the consequences of committing musuo affect the whole
community.”11 Musuo was also defined as an “uncommon evil” (bone
a wontaa nhu),'2 and as an “indelible evil” (ade a woye a wompepa da),
“remembered and referred to by people even many years after the
death of the doer.”13 Thus, musuo is generally considered to be a
great, extraordinary moral evil; it is viewed by the community with
particular abhorrence and revulsion because its commission is
believed not only to bring shame to the whole community, but
also, in the minds of many ordinary people, to invite the wrath of
the supernatural powers.
The category of musuo includes such acts as suicide, incest, having
sexual intercourse in the bush, rape, murder, stealing things dedi¬
cated to the deities or ancestral spirits, etc. Moral evils that are
musuo are also considered as taboos (akyiwade: abominations, prohi¬
bitions), a taboo being, to most people, an act that is forbidden or
proscribed just because it is supposedly hateful to some supernatu¬
ral being. That musuo are classifiable as taboos was in fact the view
of some discussants: “musuo is something we abominate” (musuo ye
ade a yekyi);'4 “musuo is a taboo” (akyiwade) f Now, it is remarkable

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

that the same evils considered as taboos by Bishop Sarpong, such as

murder, sexual intercourse with a woman impregnated by another
man, suicide, incest, words of abuse against the chief, and stealing
from among the properties of a deity are all musuo. This gives the
impression that the category of extraordinary moral evils (musuo) is
coextensive with the category of taboos (akyiwade).u But in reality
this is not so. The musuo are indeed taboos, but from this we can
only infer that some taboos are musuo-, since musuo are moral evils,
such taboos (as are musuo) are also moral evils.17 It seems to me that
extraordinary moral evils (which include both musuo and moral
taboos) are the kinds of moral evil that are never to be committed
under any circumstances. This view is based on the force of the
word kyi, to abhor, hate, from which akyiwade (hateful things,
taboos) derives. Henceforth, I shall simply use the expression
“moral taboos” to cover both musuo and akyiwade.
In view of the fact that breaking a moral taboo by any member of
the community is followed by the performance by the elders of
purificatory rites in order to avert possible (or imagined) disasters,
it would seem to follow that the moral evils referred to as moral
taboos are believed by most of the community to be especially
hateful to the supernatural beings. But understanding moral taboos
in terms of supernaturalism does not accord with the fundamen¬
tally humanistic thrust of Akan culture and thought (see section
8.1.2); it is the humanistic, nonsupernaturalistic outlook of Akan
morality that in fact underpins the reasons offered by Akan thinkers
for considering some things as morally taboo.
How would the traditional Akan thinker explain the origin and
role of taboos in Akan morality? In connection with taboo, Bishop
Sarpong observed: “If one were to ask the Ashanti why he keeps
these taboos, he will probably not be able to give the reasons I have
propounded. All he is likely to assert is that they existed from time
immemorial, that the ancestors want him to observe them.”18
Bishop Sarpong is right as far as the ordinary Akan is concerned;
but the wise persons (anyansafo) among them would be able to
furnish the underlying reasons for considering such acts as moral
evils of a high order. Their statements quoted above indicate clearly
that they believe that committing a taboo act affects the welfare of
the whole community. Moral taboos are thus explained by refer¬
ence to their social function and purpose. Communal well-being,
then, appears to be the principal reason for the proscription of the
category of moral evils referred to as moral taboos (musuo and

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 8. Foundations of ethics

akyiwade). The following explanation given by Bishop Sarpong for

tabooing sexual intercourse in the bush is in line with the thinking
of the Akan thinkers:

Those who indulge in it expose themselves to the risk of

being bitten by venomous creatures like the snake, the scor¬
pion, and the spider. (It should be borne in mind that Ashanti
is a forested region with dangerous creatures whose bites may
easily be fatal.) Let a mishap of this nature take place and there
is every likelihood that misapprehensions are conceived about
the conjugal act itself. That this would be detrimental to the
human species is too obvious to emphasize.19

In the view of Akan thinkers, the real, underlying reason for

regarding sexual intercourse in the bush as a great moral evil and
thus for tabooing it is not that it is hated by the earth goddess (Asase
Yaa), but that it has undesirable social consequences. Their position
is plainly that the acts classified as moral taboos were so regarded
simply because of the gravity of their consequences for human
society, not because those acts were hateful to any supernatural
beings.

8.1.2, Morality in the

context of a nonrevealed religion
The conclusion regarding the nonsupernaturalistic foundation
of Akan morality, is buttressed by the nature of Akan religion itself.
Akan religion, like any other indigenous African religion, is not a
revealed religion such as Islam or Christianity. In this connection,
Danquah observed that
. . . the original Akan society did not act according to any
Christian conception. We have never had a Christ or a
Buddha or a Mohammed. Never in the history of the Akan
people, so far as we know, have we had what is known as a
revealed religion, a revelation to, or by, a prophet, of a
Supreme Master or Lord, residing in your heart or residing in
Heaven, who sits there waiting for you at the end of your life
to judge you as either a goat or a sheep, and to send you to
Paradise or to Hell, according as you are a sheep or a goat."'

In a revealed religion divine truth is revealed to a single founder;

others must know it through him. In such cases, what is revealed is
generally elaborate, and there is inevitably a moral dimension to the
detailed will of God so revealed. A system of morality grounded in

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religion is a necessary offshoot and concomitant of a revealed

religion. The morality, of the Decalogue, the Sermon on the
Mount, and the Koran are obvious cases in point. The elaborate
moral prescriptions contained in Scriptures are held to derive from
the commands of God.
Given that Akan religion is not a revealed religion, how could the
Akans have had access to the will of God on which to erect a moral
system? It is true that a deity in some Akan locality may, from time
to time, reveal through its priest that, for instance, a particular man
died because he committed a wrong act in secretly selling a portion
of an ancestral land, or that he had appropriated a great part of the
income from the sale of family property before distributing the rest
to the other members of the family - revelations that would
embody or imply moral rules or prescriptions that ought to be
observed. Yet such revelations in Akan communities are so few and
far between that they cannot constitute a basis for a coherent moral
system. Moreover, such revelations would be made to a community
already in possession of moral beliefs and ideals, moral beliefs and
values whose grounds were independent of any revelation. In
consequence, then, any moral relevance that may have been at¬
tached by the Akans to revelations would have had to be derived
from their own insight and understanding of the moral issues
involved. If the quality of moralities, derived from, or connected
with, a revealed religion such as Christianity has to be indepen¬
dently judged by people on the basis of their own moral knowledge
and intuitions, as is usually maintained by ^^estern philosophers,*1
this would be even more so in the case of a morality,, hke the Akan
morality,, that is not related to a revelation. It should be clear from
my analysis that the Akans hold morality, to be logically indepen¬
dent of nonhuman (supernatural) powers.
It follows from the foregoing that it is through their own moral
perception or understanding or knowledge that the Akans have
come to ascribe moral attributes to Onyame, the Supreme Being
(God). For instance, God is considered to be good. Thus, the
proverb,

Goodness is the prime characteristic of God.

(papa ye Nyamesu a edi kan)

God is identified with goodness (Nyame ne papa).22 God is also held

as compassionate, as the following proverbs illustrate:

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 8. Foundations of ethics

God pounds the one-armed person’s fufu for him.23

God drives away the insects from the tailless
animal.

God is referred to as Abommubuwafre, that is, “He upon whom you

call in your experience of distress.” As Nyaamanekose, he is one “in
whom you confide troubles which come upon you”;24 thus, he is
one ready to offer help. Thus, God is regarded by the Akans as
good, compassionate, merciful, just, benevolent, comforting, etc.
But the meanings of these moral terms must have been appreciated
by them independently before their application to God: That is,
what would count as “good,” “compassionate,” etc., would logi¬
cally have been known prior to their ascription to God. The
criterion by which the Akans evaluate the actions not only of God
but also of the other spiritual powers and which often influences
their attitudes springs from the attribution of a moral character to
these spiritual powers. Clearly that criterion is established through
their own understanding and appreciation of moral concepts.
Another argument against the religious basis of Akan morality,
can be derived from the relationships between the deities and their
devotees, or more specifically from the attitudes of devotees to the
deities in certain situations. Much evidence indicates that in the
event of a deity failing to fulfill a promise, for instance, that deity
would be censured and abandoned by the people. The obvious
implication here is that the deity’s action is considered unethical; the
deity would have therefore forfeited its moral right to command
and to be obeyed. This independent moral attitude with regard to
the conduct of the spiritual powers is unrelenting. Busia observed:
“The gods are treated with respect if they deliver the goods, and with
contempt if they fail. . . . Attitudes to [the gods] depend upon their
success, and vary from healthy respect to sneering contempt.”"
Abraham wrote: “Minor gods are artificial means to the bounty of
Onyame . . . The institution of minor deities thus appears as an
attempt to make sure of God’s succour. . . ,”"6 The expectation of
goods and bounty from the deities is of course based on the Akan
assumption about the deities’ moral esteem, an esteem that suffers
in the eyes of the Akans in the event of the inability (or unwilling¬
ness) of the deities to deliver. (I have reason to believe that some of
the deities in the Akan pantheon have become extinct due to the
moral disapprobation of the people.) The fact that the behavior of a
supernatural being is thus subject to human censure implies that it

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

is possible for a deity to issue commands that can be considered

unethical. This being the case, the criterion of moral right and
wrong for the Akan must be located elsewhere than in the notion of
“commanded by God,” or any other spiritual power for that matter.
Finally, it should be clear from the above that rather than saying
that Akan morality, is grounded in religion, one should say that
Akan religion is moral; that is, it is founded upon morality,.
It follows from what has been said that to the question asked by
Socrates (in Plato’s Euthyphro) whether something is good because
God approves of it or whether God approves of it because it is
good, the response of the Akan moral thinker would be that God
approves of the good because it is good. The reason is, if something
is good because God approves of it, how would that good thing be
known to them (that is, Akans)? How would they know what God
approves in a nonrevealed religion? On the contrary, their ascrip¬
tion of moral attributes to God and the sanctions that he is believed
to apply (see section 8.1.3) in the event of a breach of the moral law
clearly suggest the Akan conviction that God approves of the good
because it is good and eschews the evil because it is evil.

8.1.3. Religion, sanctions, and moral practice

To one who believes that a religious people, such as the Akans
are supposed to be, can hardly do away with supernatural beings in
matters of morality,, the conclusion that Akan morality, is not
grounded in religion and is thus independent of nonhuman sources
may appear bizarre, even paradoxical. Yet that conclusion is logical.
There is, however, another aspect of the question of the relation
between morality and religion that needs to be examined more
closely. It relates to morality conceived not as a set of rules of good
conduct as such, but as patterns of behavior, as responses to the
rules and norms - morality as commitment (that is, morality,,). The
question is whether in the Akans’ moral practice, in their response
to the moral rules of society, supernatural influences and sanctions
come into play.
It was indicated in the previous section that the moral intuitions
of the Akans led them to attribute a moral character to God. This
moral attitude in turn led them to consider God as the upholder of
the moral law, even if he is not the immediate giver of that law, and,
consequently, to consider the virtuous God as concerned with the
moral life of humanity, even if he has not specifically told them
what to do or what not to do. Consequently, an individual

138
 8. Foundations of ethics

wronged in some way by another individual would invoke curses

such as, “God will give you due recompense” (Nyame betua wo ka).
Busia stated that “the ancestors and gods punish those who violate
the traditionally sanctioned code, and reward those who keep it. . . .
It will be seen from their prayers that the gods are expected ... to
see that proper behavior is rewarded and offenses are punished.”27
Bishop Sarpong also observed that religion served “as a deterrent
against aberrant behavior and an incentive to good conduct.”28
The role of sanctions in the moral conduct of the Akan must be
examined more closely. Note first that the sources of sanctions do
not have to be supernatural or nonhuman. Along with the nonhu¬
man sources of sanctions in Akan moral practice, there are human
sources as well: In a communal society like the Akan, containing a
network of complex relationships, the opinions of kinsmen, par¬
ents, and heads of lineage and clan powerfully influence the moral
behavior of the individual.
The possibility of undergoing shame, disgrace, or dishonor in
consequence of unethical behavior is a real sanction in Akan moral
practice. The moral maxim, “It is unbecoming of the Akan to be in
disgrace” (or “Disgrace does not befit the Akan”: animguase mfata
okanniba), is so ever-present in the consciousness of every adult Akan
that it undoubtedly constitutes a potent influence on moral conduct.
A similar moral maxim is “Given a choice between disgrace and
death, one had better choose death” (aniwu ne own, na efanim owu). That
one ought to behave so as not to bring dishonor or disgrace to oneself
and one’s group is ingrained in the moral consciousness and motiva¬
tion of the Akan. It can be said that any wrong act is disgraceful, but
the pertinent question is whether it should be avoided in order to
avoid disgrace or because it is wrong in itself. Akan moral thought
leans heavily, I think, to the former alternative. The consequentialistic
stamp of Akan morality2 thus appears glaring.
Is a person, Akan or anyone else for that matter, moral who does
the right thing or avoids the wrong thing because of, or after
thinking about, sanctions? Sanctions, whether human or nonhu¬
man (supernatural), may be said to be extrinsic to morality2, and so
they are generally impugned by those moral philosophers who are
given to defending the autonomy of ethics. For such philosophers it
is not only moral rules and principles that are logically independent
of religion or metaphysics, but our moral conduct as well. Accord¬
ing to them, a person does or ought to do that which is right and
avoid that which is wrong for no other reason than that the action

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

is right in one case and wrong in the other. If a person does the
right thing in order merely to avoid possible sanctions or undesir¬
able consequences, then such conduct is not to be considered moral;
to observe a moral rule just because of the consequences is not to
act morally. Thus, Bernard Williams maintains that “genuinely
moral action must be motivated by the consideration that it is
morally right, and by no other consideration at all. So, taking this
all together, we reach the conclusion that any appeal to God in this
connection either adds nothing at all, or it adds the wrong sort of
thing.”215 This, many people will agree, is the ideal moral life.
It seems to me that the case regarding the alleged immoral
character of an action done because of, or after thinking about, or
under the influence of sanctions, is unduly overstated and made
without adequate consideration of the question of moral motiva¬
tion. The factors that motivate a person to do the right thing are
complex, so complex that they cannot so easily be unraveled and
identified. In certain situations, therefore, much more may be
involved in a person’s motivation than the consideration whether
an action is morally right. The complexity of the question of moral
motivation is related to the rise and function of morality,.
The British philosopher G. J. Warnock has argued persuasively
that the rise of morality, is in response to what he calls the “human
predicament” of having to make moral choices based on “limited
resources, limited intelligence, limited rationality, limited sympa¬
thies.”31 Regarding the limitations of human sympathies, Warnock
writes. One may say for a start, mildly, that most human beings
have some natural tendency to be more concerned about the
satisfaction of their own wants, etc., than those of others.”32 The
general object of morality, then, he concludes, “. . . is to countervail
limited sympathies and their potentially most damaging effects.”33
Following Warnock, J. L. Mackie writes: “The function of morality
is primarily to counteract this limitation of men’s sympathies.”34 All
this is probably true.
Yet it is certainly disputable that morality - in the sense of moral
rules - ipso facto alleviates the “human predicament” and thus
enhances or expands human sympathies; otherwise we would not
have such moral problems as selfishness and the desire for self-
aggrandizement, sometimes to the total disregard of the feelings
and needs of others. The existence of known and accepted moral
rules following the creation of morality, is one thing; having the
disposition and capacity to observe those rules in practice is quite

140
 8. Foundations of ethics

another. Morality, does not automatically lead to morality2. It is in

connection with the latter that factors that motivate moral conduct
come into play. And it is in that connection that sanctions - such a
bugbear to those moral philosophers who want people to act
autonomously, aided by their own moral light or “voice” - also
come into play. If we look more closely, we might conclude that
sanctions are perhaps not extrinsic, but are in some sense intrinsic
to moral conduct. They are, to my mind, potent aids in countervail¬
ing the consequences of the “human predicament,” in counteracting
human weaknesses and temptations to do wrong or to refrain from
doing the right thing. The fear or thought of shame, of disgrace, of
loss of social esteem and opportunity, and so on, constitutes a real
influence on moral conduct, and as such can be regarded as a kind
of sanction, if an obscure one.
Some sanctions are so subtle that they may not be felt as such. What
seems to have happened is that, as a result of the process of
habituation, thought or fear of sanctions in making moral decisions
may have receded so far back in our moral psychology that we hardly
think of sanctions in deciding to do the right or to avoid the wrong.
The right moral choice thus appears to be spontaneous and motivated
by no other consideration than the rightness of the action itself.
In short, sanctions, whether human (social) or nonhuman (super¬
natural), do play an important role in our moral conduct: in
obeying moral rules and translating our moral decisions into action.
The thought of sanctions of any sort may add to our willingness to
perform our moral duties; it may make us see our duties in a fresh
light; it may prop us up where we might have faltered; it may make
more acute our sense of guilt. The thought or fear or influence of
sanctions therefore cannot, in my opinion, be completely extruded
from the domain of moral practice. Since some of these sanctions
derive in the Akan system from religious beliefs, it follows that
religion cannot be completely banished from the practice of moral¬
ity. It appears, though, that in the Akan system the supernatural
sanctions, which follow upon religious beliefs, are limited to what I
have earlier characterized as “extraordinary evils” and taboos. My
conclusion, then, is that in terms of behavior, of responses to moral
norms and rules, Akan morality2 cannot be said to be wholly
independent of religion. It may appear puzzhng that the practical
aspects of a morality, whose principles are not grounded in religion
should be animated by religion; yet this position does not involve
any logical inconsistency.

141
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

However, the clarification of the role of sanctions in the explana¬

tion of moral conduct provided above is not intended to imply that
Akan moral thought recognizes sanctions as the sole reason for
moral action, that the individual does that which is morally right in
order only and always to avoid possible sanctions or undesirable
consequences. That would be far from the truth. For the Akans
have a conception of an inner urge conducing to moral practice:
tiboa, translated by Christaller as “the inward voice, conscience.”35
Every human being “possesses” a sense of right and wrong - called
tiboa, conscience or moral sense. It is not clear to me when and how
a person comes to possess moral sense. Is tiboa something innate or
acquired? And how is it acquired, if it is? No elaborate answers to
these questions emerge from the Akan sources. Nevertheless, tiboa
is held, among other things, as creating a sense of guilt in the
individual, convicting him or her of bad actions. Thus, it is said of a
guilty person who cleverly evades punishment or public censure,
but who later confesses, that “His conscience has judged him
guilty” (ne tiboa abu no Jo). Similarly, a person who claims to be
innocent but whose innocence is not accepted by others will always
say, “My conscience does not trouble me” (me tiboa nha me). Since
moral conduct, that is, response to a moral rule, is ultimately an
individual or private affair, the notion of tiboa (conscience) is
important. Bishop Sarpong was right when he wrote: “There
appears to be no more effective measure against unethical behavior,
whether detected or hidden, than conscience” (tiboa).36 It is by
virtue of tiboa that the notion of self-sanctioning in moral conduct
becomes intelligible.
As a result of its power to induce a sense of guilt, tiboa is held to
influence a person s moral choice, decision, response, and attitude.
Thus, a person who often fails to act morally, frequently flouting
the accepted moral rules of the community, is considered as one
whose tiboa is “dead” (ne tiboa awu); that is, his or her moral sense
(conscience) is dulled and has in consequence become inoperative.
Although it may be said that the person who has frequently
violated moral rules lacks conscience, we can, I think, also say that
he or she lacks moral will. If this is correct, then tiboa can be
rendered also as “moral will,” as well as “conscience.” But moral
will and conscience are not identical. For, having a sense of right
and wrong is not the same as having the capacity or strength of will
(moral will) to do that which conscience prescribes as right or to
refrain from that which conscience prescribes as wrong. There

142
 8. Foundations of ethics

must be some relation between the two concepts that is not easy to
articulate; one can say that both of them bear on moral commit¬
ment. Presumably, moral will is the “executive” of conscience.
When moral will falters, guilt sometimes results.
I said that the Akan sources appear to be silent on the origin of
the notion of tiboa (conscience). But I maintain that tiboa, whether as
moral sense (conscience) or as moral will, is not innate to man, but
something acquired through socialization, through habituation,
through moral experience. It is the cumulative result of the individ¬
ual’s responses to past moral situations. Thus, I interpret tiboa as
nothing mysterious or supernatural in its origins. This interpreta¬
tion appears consonant with the generally empirical orientation of
Akan philosophy.

8.2. The social and

humanistic basis of Akan morality!
Arguments have been advanced in section 8.1 to show that,
contrary to the views of a number of scholars, Akan morality, is not
religiously grounded, even if religious beliefs may be said to have a
bearing on moral practice (that is, morality2). The question that
naturally follows is this: Having removed Akan morality, from its
alleged religious (supernaturalistic) moorings, where do we moor
it? If religion is not the basis of Akan morality,, what is?
Section 1.1 showed unmistakably the preoccupation of Akan
moral thought with human welfare: The concern for human
welfare constitutes the hub of the Akan axiological wheel. This
orientation of Akan morality, takes its impulse undoubtedly from
the humanistic outlook that characterizes Akan traditional life and
thought. Humanism, the doctrine that sees human needs, interests,
and dignity as fundamental, thus constitutes the foundation of
Akan morality,.
Unlike Western humanism, however, Akan humanism is not
antisupernaturalistic. On the contrary, it maintains a rigid super-
naturalistic metaphysics that is rejected by Western humanism. The
rejection by Western humanist thinkers of supernaturalism stems, I
think, from their supposition that such an outlook would divert the
attention and concern required to promote human welfare in this
world. In the words of Corliss Lamont, a leading exponent and
protagonist of the philosophy of humanism in the West,

143
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

The philosophy of humanism, with its conscious limitation of

the human enterprise to this existence, sets us free to concentrate
our entire energies, without distraction by either hopes or fears of
individual immortality, on that building of the good society that has
been the dream of saints and sages since the dawn of history.37

The antisupernaturalistic metaphysics of Western humanism must

be seen in relation to the theological context of Western humanist
thought. The espousal of this kind of metaphysics was an attempt
on the part of Western humanism to wriggle out of the Christian
theological shell. The “fears or hopes of individual immortality”
that Lamont refers to are but part of the doctrines of Christianity,
the main religion of the West. It was the assumption of Western
humanists that, unless our minds were rid of such hopes and fears,
we would concentrate on the “other world,” to the detriment of
human interests in this world. The antisupernaturahstic stand of
Western humanism is therefore the consequence of a strong deter¬
mination to achieve human welfare, prosperity, and happiness by
devoting all attention to this world and this life.
The position of Akan thinkers here is quite different. In their
view, as I understand it, the pursuit of the welfare and interests of
human beings in this world - which for them, as for every
humanist, is the crucial meaning of humanism - need not lead to
the rejection of supernaturalism. It is possible, they maintain, to
believe in the existence of supernatural entities without necessarily
allowing this to detract from the pursuit of human welfare in this
world. Here, as in the case of Western humanism, the theological
context is relevant, though it functions in importantly different
ways. In Akan religious thought the Supreme Being is not con¬
ceived as a terrible being who ought to be feared because he can
cast one into eternal hellfire. (The Supreme Being is believed to
punish evildoers only in this world.) Again, in spite of Akan belief
in immortality, their conception of the hereafter does not include
hopes of a happier, more blessed life beyond the grave. Western
humanism sees religion as impeding the concentration of human
energies on building the good society. In Akan thought this tension
between supernaturalism and humanism does not appear; for the
Akan, religion is not seen as hindering the pursuit of one’s interests
in this world. On the contrary, the supernaturalistic outlook of
Akan humanism is the consequence not only of a belief in the
existence of a Supreme Being and other supernatural entities, but,

144
 8. Foundations of ethics

more importantly I think, of a desire to utilize the munificence and

powers of such entities for the promotion of human welfare and
happiness. The observation was made earlier (section 8.1.2) that the
deities are censured on moral grounds if they fail to “deliver the
goods.” One implication of this, for our present purposes, is that
the deities exist in order to supervise the well-being of human
beings. Hence, supernaturalism was accommodated. Whether or
not the supernatural entities actually fulfill their expectations is
beside the point. The important point to note is that in Akan
thinking about the foundations of morality, consideration is given
solely to human well-being.
Although I see the point of Western humanism in its rejection of
supernaturalism, I am not sure whether the mere rejection of
supernaturalism (or the religious outlook) necessarily leads to the
attainment of human well-being. (Lamont seems to assume that it
does.) In the pursuit of human well-being - and that means the
well-being of every individual human being - sufficient consider¬
ation must be given to the distribution of the material and social
benefits of the society, the adequacy and fairness of its legal system,
its system of class and social relationships, and so on. Legal and
social justice, equality, equitable distribution of goods, and human
rights are, to my mind, more essential to the achievement of human
well-being than the mere banishing of religion. The banishing of
religion in modern Marxist states has not led to the attainment of
human well-being. But Akan humanism, which accommodates
religion, will not necessarily conduce to the attainment of human
well-being either, unless it is also underpinned by legal and social
justice, equality, and the other benefits mentioned above. All this
means that the acceptance or rejection of religion cannot - must not
- be considered essential to humanist thought; to do so is to draw a
red herring across the track.
A morality like that of the Akan, whose central focus is the
concern for human well-being, would expectably be a social
morality. This social character is intrinsic to the notion of morality,
for unless human society existed, there would be no such a thing as
morality. A society-oriented morality is necessarily grounded in
human experiences in living together. Such is the nature of Akan
morality. Akan proverbs are based upon the experiences of the
people, which indicates the social or this-worldly origin of Akan
moral values. It seems to me that the most adequate morality is one
that is socially grounded.

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

Akan thought conceives the human being as a social animal and

society as a necessary condition for human existence (see Chapter
10). This thought is expressed in the proverb

When a man descends from heaven, he descends

into human society.

But the person who descends into human society has desires, aims,
interests, and will, and these have to be reconciled with those of
others. An Akan proverb such as

One man’s curse is another man’s fortune

(lit.: What appears sour on one man’s palate appears
sweet on another man’s palate),

indicates the view that the desires, interests, and passions of

individual members of a society differ and may conflict with one
another. One often hears the ordinary Akan say obi mpe a obi pe: “If
one does not desire it, the other does”; that is, people have different
desires, preferences, and choices. One Akan motif shows a “Sia¬
mese” crocodile with two heads but a common stomach. The
saying that goes with the symbol is that, although they have one
stomach, the heads fight over the food that will eventually nourish
both of them. The symbol, whose significance I discuss in detail in
section 10.2, points to the conflicts that result from the existence of
individual desires and needs. The problem is how to minimize such
conflicts and at the same time allow room for the realization of
individual desires and needs. The need for a system of rules to
regulate the conduct of individuals and, consequently, for social
harmony and cooperative living, thus becomes urgent. It is this
social need that gives rise to morality,, according to Akan ethics.
Thus considerations for human well-being and for an ideal type
of social relationships - both of which are generated by the basic
existential conditions of man - these, not divine pronouncements,
constitute the crucible in which Akan morality, is fashioned.
Whatever the moral virtues possessed by, or ascribed to, God and
the other spiritual powers, it should now be clear that the compel¬
ling reason of the Akan for pursuing the good is not that it is
pleasing to the supernatural beings or approved by them, but rather
that it will lead to the attainment of human well-being. This
humanistic moral outlook of the Akan is something that, I think, is
worth being cherished, for its goal, from the moral point of view, is
ultimate and, thus, self-justifying.

146
 9
Ethics and character

9.1. The Akan word for “ethics”

It is difficult to say what the Akan equivalent of the word
“ethics” is. The word obra has been used by Danquah to mean “the
ethical life, conduct, behavior, moral life.”1 This rendition of obra is
not wholly correct. Christaller’s rendition of it as “life in this
world, manner of life”~ is better. Christaller, however, adds “con¬
duct” and “behavior” as translations of obra, as does Danquah.
Berry also renders obra as “behavior.”’ It must be conceded that the
words “conduct” and “behavior” have ethical connotations and
figure prominently in discussions on the nature of ethics, as when
we say that moral rules are meant to guide the conduct and
behavior of people in terms of what is right and wrong. Although
the way one conducts oneself affects one’s life, nevertheless it
cannot be allowed that obra must therefore mean “ethics.” Obra (life,
manner of life) is certainly a much wider concept than ethics.
Obviously not all aspects of life are ethical. In referring to the
ethical aspects of life the Akans generally use the word suban,
character.
The concept of character, suban, is so crucial and is given such a
central place in Akan moral language and thought that it may be
considered as summing up the whole of morality. Thus, when the
Akans want to say, “He has no morals,” they would say, “He has no
character”(oMni suban ). Onni suban is much used to express moral
disapprobation of all kinds. Sometimes the word pa or papa, mean¬
ing “good” (in the moral sense), is added: thus, onni suban pa (“He
has no good character,” “He has no morals,” “His conduct is

147
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

unethical”). An equivalent expression is dwd suban bone (“He has bad

character”). The opposite of onni suban pa (“He has no morals”) is dwd
suban pa (“He has morals,” “He is ethical, moral”), said of a person
whose actions are morally praiseworthy. Being a bad person (onipa
bone) and having a bad character (suban bone) are considered identical;
similarly, being a good person (onipa pa) and having a good character
(suban pa) are considered identical. Thus, Berry was right in render¬
ing suban (character) as “morals,” though he was wrong in translat¬
ing the word “character” as obra,4 for the Akan word for character is
suban. In the light of the place occupied by the concept of character
in Akan moral life and thought, it may be more correct to use the
word suban to translate “morals.”
The Akans are not the only people to use a word that means
“character” to refer to the general subject of moral phenomena. The
word “ethics” itself comes from the Greek word ethos, which
means character. Thus, a well-known Oxford classical scholar
translates he ethike as “the science of character.”5 In Islamic moral
philosophy the word used for “ethics,” namely, akhldq, means
character. This Arabic word is more akin to the Akan word suban in
that the word khalaq, from which akhldq derives, means nature,
creation, as does su (or esu), the first part of the word suban. In
Yoruba language and thought the word iwa means both character
(or morality) and being (nature).6 The Akan word suban, as we have
seen, sums up the whole concept of morality, and hence can
correctly be used, sometimes with an additional word or words to
reflect modern usage, as the Akan equivalent of the word “ethics.”
Thus, ethics” may be translated as suban ho nimdee or suban ho
adwendwen, “studies or reflections on character,” a rendition which,
in stressing the notion of character, agrees with the Akan concep¬
tion of morality.

9.2. The centrality of

character (suban) in Akan ethics
Morality is generally concerned with right and wrong con¬
duct or behavior and good and bad character. We speak not only of
a moral act but also of a moral person; we speak not only of an
honest or generous or vicious act but also of an honest or generous
or vicious person. When a person is generally honest or generous
the Akans judge him or her to be a good person, by which they
mean that he or she has a good character (dwd suban papa), and when

148
 9. Ethics and character

the person is wicked or dishonest they judge him or her to be a bad

person, that is, to have a bad character. It is on the basis of a
person s conduct (deeds, nneyee) that the Akans judge one to be
good or bad, to have good character or bad character. According to
them, the character of a person is basic. The performance of good
or bad acts depends on the state of one’s character; inasmuch as
good deeds reflect good character, character (suban) appears as the
focal point of the ethical life. It is, in Akan moral thought, the
crucial element in morality, for it profits a society little if its moral
system is well articulated intellectually and the individuals in that
system nevertheless have bad character and so do the wrong things.
A well-articulated moral system does not necessarily produce good
character; neither does knowledge of moral rules make one a good
person or produce good character.
For the Akans, and perhaps also for the Greeks and Arabs, ethics
has to do principally with character. Ethics, according to Akan
thinkers, deals essentially with the quality of the individual’s
character. This is a remarkable assertion, for after all the ethical
response, that is, the response or attitude to a moral rule, is an
individual, private affair. All that a society can do regarding
morality is to provide or impart moral knowledge to its members,
making them aware of the moral rules that are applicable to all
living in it. But granted this, it does not follow that the individual
members of the society will lead lives in conformity with the moral
rules. A man may know and may even accept a moral rule such as,
say, it is wrong to seduce someone’s wife. But he may fail to apply
this rule to a particular situation. He is not able to effect the
transition from knowledge to action. According to the Akan
thinkers, to be able to act in accord with the moral rules of the
society requires the possession of a good character (suban).
What, then, is character? How do Akan thinkers define character?
The root of suban is su or esu, meaning nature, which might imply
that character is associated with a person’s nature, that character
develops from a set of inborn traits. Moreover, the earlier discus¬
sion of the Akan concept of the person may give a similar
impression. There it was observed that sunsum, the active aspect of
the soul, plays a role in character formation, that moral attributes
are ascribed to the sunsum, and that like the superego of Freud it
constitutes the moral dimension of personality. Overall, one might
conclude that character is a state or condition of the soul which
“causes” it to perform its actions spontaneously and easily. This

149
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

implies that the moral habits are innate, that we are born virtuous
and are not responsible for our character. That impression, how¬
ever, is false. Despite its etymological link with nature, the suban of
a person is not wholly innate. I shall in due course explain what it
means to say that the sunsum plays a role in character formation.
Akan thinkers define character in terms of habits, which origi¬
nate from a person’s deeds or actions; character is the configuration
of (individual) acts. Thus, several of my discussants opined that
“Character is your deeds” (actions: nneyee7); “Character comes
from your deeds” (suban firi wo nneyee). Moreover, sometimes the
Akans use the sentence, “He has a bad character” (owo suban bone)
when they want to say “He does bad things” (bye nneema bone). The
thought here is that moral virtues arise through habituation, which
is consonant with the empirical orientation of Akan philosophy.
This is, I think, the reason for the teaching of moral values
embedded in proverbs and folktales to children in the process of
their socialization; the moral instructions are meant to habituate
them to moral virtues. If moral habits were thought to be acquired
by nature or through birth it would be senseless to pursue moral
instruction. But it is believed and expected that the narratives are
one way by which children acquire and internalize moral virtues.
I hold the view that in general society presents us with a variety
of modes of behavior. We see and are told what is good behavior
and what is bad, what is praiseworthy and what is blameworthy.
We are given a choice. To acquire virtue, a person must practice
good deeds so that they become habitual. The newly acquired good
habit must be strengthened by repetition. A single good deed may
initiate further good deeds, and in this way virtue is acquired. Over
time such an acquired virtue becomes a habit. This is the position of
Akan philosophy, for this is what they mean by saying aka ne ho, “It
is left (or has remained) with him,” “It has become part of him,” “It
has become his habit.”*1 Such practice and performance emphasize
the relevance and importance of action in the acquisition of virtue.
To be just, for instance, one must first behave in a just manner. The
emphasis placed by Akan thinkers on the influence of actions on
character illustrates their conviction that one is in some sense
responsible for the sort of person one is; the person is responsible
for the state of his or her character. The unjust man may be held
responsible for becoming unjust, because his character is the result
of repeated (aka ho) voluntary acts of injustice. He had the choice
between committing acts of injustice and refraining from such acts.

150
 9. Ethics and character

The emphasis on the relevance of actions for states of character is

reflected in the way that abstract terms for “goodness,” “virtue,”
are formed. The usual words for “goodness” in Akan are yieye9 and
papaye'0 (the latter also appears sometimes as papa). The last syllable
of each word means to do or perform. Thus, the two words literally
mean “good-doing” (that is, doing good).
This analysis of the Akan concept of character supports, as far as
the Akan position goes, Mbiti’s view that “the essence of African
morality is that it is a morality of ‘conduct’ rather than a morality
of‘being’ ... a person is what he is because of what he does, rather
than that he does what he does because of what he is.”11 This view
is repeated by Bishop Sarpong: “For it would appear that for the
Akan what a man is is less important than what a man does. To put
it more concretely, a person is what he is because of his deeds.
He does not perform those deeds because of what he is.”12
The emphasis on deeds (nneyee) is appropriate, for it agrees with the
Akan belief that a person is not born virtuous or vicious. The
previously quoted proverb

One is not born with a bad “head,” but one takes it

on the earth,

implies, among other things, that a bad habit is not an inborn

characteristic, but one that is acquired. The Akan position thus is
that the original nature of human beings was morally neutral. If this
were not the case, there would be no such thing as a moral person.
The person’s original moral neutrality later comes to be affected by
actions, habits, responses to moral instruction, and so on. Conse¬
quently, what a person does or does not do is crucial to the
formation of the character. A virtuous character is the result of the
performance of virtuous acts.
There is one difficult question inherent in the Akan position, a
question that has not been squarely faced or examined by scholars
such as Mbiti and Bishop Sarpong. The question is this: How are
we to perform virtuous acts if we are not already virtuous? The
question places us on the horns of a dilemma, for if we are born
virtuous, then we have nothing to acquire, for we are already
virtuous. If on the other hand we are not already virtuous, how can
we perform such acts as are virtuous?
As already noted, Akan moral thought assumes a person’s
original nature to be morally neutral, which is congruent with the
assumption of the reality and meaningfulness of human free will

151
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

and responsibility. Akan moral thought considers character (suban)

to be dispositional, which implies that a person is not born with a
settled tendency to be good or to be bad. Hence, Berry is
reasonable in translating the word “disposition” as suban, charac¬
ter.13 But then the question is: If a person is not born virtuous, how
can he or she perform virtuous acts? The answer is through moral
instruction, which in traditional Akan society was normally done
by means of ethical proverbs and folktales. In this way the growing
child and young adult become aware of what is a virtuous or
vicious act and become virtuous by performing virtuous acts.
In dealing with the further question of how a person can perform
such acts, the role of the sunsum in a person’s psychological system
must be recalled. It was observed earlier that a person’s sunsum
(spirit) plays a role in the formation and exercise of character
(suban), which means that sunsum, considered as a capacity, enables a
person to perform virtuous acts. One might regard the position of
the Akan traditional thinker here as less than adequate on the
grounds that capacity or power does not exist in the same degree in
different individuals. In fact the idea of different degrees of capacity
in individuals is reflected in such Akan locutions as “strong
sunsum,” “forceful sunsum,” “weak sunsum,” and so on. However,
whatever a person’s capacity, the Akans believe that the sunsum can
be developed.14 A weak sunsum can be strengthened by making an
effort, and by making an effort a person can obey a moral rule,
either by doing what is right or refraining from doing what is
wrong. Thus, while none of the moral virtues is implanted in us by
nature, nature gives us the capacity to acquire them. The develop -
ability of sunsum implies the possibility of moral reform and a
change of character. All my discussants were unanimous in assert¬
ing that character can be changed (suban wotumi sesa no). For this
reason people are to be held responsible for their characters (suban).
It is on the possibility of change of character that the sensitivity to
moral rules hinges. However, the Akan thinker’s position here, if
my interpretation is correct, cannot claim to be final and impregna¬
ble, for we can still pose the questions: Is it not the case that making
an effort itself requires or presupposes antecedent factors? If so,
what are these factors and how can they be acquired? The attempt
to answer this set of questions will most probably involve us in a
circle, and a vicious one.
One must conclude that the crucial place given to character in the
Akan conception of morality is appropriate. If morality is con-

152
 9. Ethics and character

cerned essentially with the right and the wrong in the way of
conduct, then the quality of the individual’s personal character lies
at the heart of the moral life he or she will live. In a particular moral
situation the individual must have the disposition to observe or
obey a moral rule. Aristotle wrote: “We are inquiring not in order
to know what virtue is, but in order to become virtuous.”15 Becom¬
ing virtuous certainly requires that one have a good or virtuous
character. Erich Fromm, the social philosopher and psychoanalyst,
wrote: “The subject matter of ethics is character, and only in
reference to the character structure as a whole can value statements
be made about single traits or actions. The virtuous or the vicious
character, rather than single virtues or vices, is the true subject matter of
ethical inquiry!''6
It is appropriate, of course, to bring within the compass and
scrutiny of moral philosophy topics like duty, obligation, moral
knowledge, moral judgment, and happiness. But after such matters
have been thoroughly examined, the basic or ultimate aim of the
ethical inquiry remains how to improve the quality of an individ¬
ual’s personal character. The carrying out of a person’s moral duty
depends on character. The way to happiness, whether of the society
or of the individual, depends ultimately on the characters of the
individual members of the society. Whatever may be the origin of
moral rules, whether man or a divine being, the important thing is
to obey them insofar as these rules have been accepted and
approved by the society - and the state of a person’s character is a
crucial factor in obeying moral rules. The Akan thinkers therefore
appear to be correct in attributing a pivotal place to character
(suban) in their thinking about morality.

153
 10
The individual and the social
order

10.1. Communalism as a social theory

It is of course well known that the social order of any African
community is communal. But I think it would be more correct to
describe the African social order as amphibious, for it manifests
features of both communality and individuality. To describe that
order simply as communal is to prejudge the issue regarding the
place given to individuality. The African social order is, strictly
speaking, neither purely communalistic nor purely individualistic.
But the concept of communalism in African social thought is often
misunderstood, as is the place of the individual in the communal
social order.
Scholars, usually from noncommunal social backgrounds, say
about communalism (or communitarianism) that it offers no room
for the expression of individuality, assuming that individuality is
submerged by communalism, and that communalism is antithetical
to individualism. The two cannot coexist, for, it is said, there
cannot be a meaningful cooperative relationship between them.
The burden of this chapter is to analyze the concepts of communal¬
ity and individuality as they exist in Akan social thought, in order
to articulate the Akan idea of the relationship between the individ¬
ual and society.
Communalism, which is a doctrine about social organization and
relations, is an offshoot of the Akan concept of humanism. It is
perhaps indisputable that social institutions embody a philosophical
perspective about human nature and social relationships. One way
in which the Akan concept of humanism is made explicit is in its

154
 10. The individual and the social order

social organization. Ensuring the welfare and interests of each

member of society - the essential meaning of Akan humanism -
can hardly be accomplished outside the communal system.
Communalism may be defined as the doctrine that the group
(that is, the society) constitutes the focus of the activities of the
individual members of the society. The doctrine places emphasis on
the activity and success of the wider society rather than, though not
necessarily at the expense of, or to the detriment of, the individual.
Aristotle proclaimed many centuries ago that man is by nature a
social animal,1 and that it is impossible for him to live outside
society. Akan thinkers agree that society is not only a necessary
condition for human existence, but it is natural to man. This idea is
expressed in an already-quoted proverb:
When a man descends from heaven, he descends
into a human society.
(onipa firi soro besi a, obesi onipa kurom )
[The idea of man descending from heaven stems from the belief
that man is created by the Supreme Being, Onyame, in heaven
(soro).]
This proverb rejects the concept of the state of nature, as
exphcated by those eighteenth-century European philosophers
who asserted the existence of an original presocial character of man.
In the state of nature, people lived solitary and uncooperative lives,
with undesirable consequences that in time led to the formation of
society. Akan thought, however, sees humans as originally born
into a human society (onipa kurom), and therefore as social beings
from the outset. In this conception, it would be impossible for
people to live in isolation. For not only is the person not born to
live a solitary life, but the individual’s capacities are not sufficient to
meet basic human requirements. For the person, as another proverb
has it, is not a palm tree that he or she should be complete or self-
sufficient. Consequently, the individual inevitably requires the
succor and the relationships of others in order to realize or satisfy
basic needs. As another proverb states it:
The prosperity [or well-being] of man depends
upon his fellow man.
(<obi yiye firi obi)
Human sociality, then, is seen as a consequence of basic human
nature, but it is also seen as that which makes for personal well¬
being and worth. Because community life is natural to man, the

155
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

kind of society that permits the full realization of human capacities,

needs, and aspirations should be communal.
Communalism as conceived in Akan thought is not a negation of
individualism; rather, it is the recognition of the limited character of
the possibilities of the individual, which limited possibilities whit¬
tle away the individual’s self-sufficiency. Thus, we have the follow¬
ing proverbs:

One finger cannot lift up a thing.

If one man scrapes the bark of a tree for medicine,
the pieces fall down.2
The left arm washes the right arm and the right
arm washes the left arm.

The above proverbs, and many more similar to these in content,

clearly underscore the rationale behind communalism. They indi¬
cate, on the one hand, the failures and frustrations of extreme
individualism; that in spite of individual talents and capacities, the
individual ought to be aware of his or her insufficiency to achieve his
welfare through solitary effort. On the other hand, the proverbs also
indicate the value of collective action, mutual aid, and interdepen¬
dence as necessary conditions not only for an individual’s welfare,
but also for the successful achievement of even the most difficult
undertakings. Communalism insists that the good of all determines
the good of each or, put differently, the welfare of each is dependent
on the welfare of all. This requires that the individual should work
for the good of all, which of course includes his or her own good.
Thus, it is implicit in communalism that the success and meaning
of the individual’s life depend on identifying oneself with the
group. This identification is the basis of the reciprocal relationship
between the individual and the group. It is also the ground of the
overriding emphasis on the individual’s obligation to the members
of the group; it enjoins upon him or her the obligation to think and
act in terms of the survival of the group as a whole. In fact one’s
personal sense of responsibility is measured in terms of responsive¬
ness and sensitivity to the needs and demands of the group. Since
this sense of responsibility is enjoined equally upon each member
of the group - for all the members are expected to enhance the
welfare of the group as a whole - communalism maximizes the
interests of all the individual members of the society.
If sociality is in fact fundamental to human nature, then the type
of social order that ought to exist is that which would conduce to

156
 10. The individual and the social order

the full realization of that nature. One may therefore come down on
the side of the communal social arrangement, as it would seem to
be best able to express basic human nature. Thus, communalism
could be regarded as the ideal social order even though, like other
types of social arrangement, it also contains difficulties, to be
mentioned in due course. For the moment one may say that in the
communal social order material and other benefits are more likely
to be available to all the members of the society than in any other
social system. The reasons for this statement are that the communal
social order is participatory, and that it is characterized by such
social and ethical values as social well-being, solidarity, interdepen¬
dence, cooperation, and reciprocal obligation - all of which con¬
duce to equitable distribution of the resources and benefits of the
society. It seems to me that the pattern of distribution of the
resources and benefits of a society provides the litmus test for
judging the fairness and worthwhileness of a particular social
arrangement and its concomitant socioeconomic relations.
From another aspect - namely, that of psychological well-being
- the communal social order is worthwhile. Its intricate web of
social relationships tends to ensure the individual’s social worth,
thus making it almost impossible for an individual to feel socially
insignificant. In a communal social order like that of the Akan, this
assurance is already provided; the individual feels socially worthy
and important because his or her role and activity in the commu¬
nity are appreciated. The system affords the individual the oppor¬
tunity to make a meaningful life through his or her contribution to
the general welfare. It is thus part of the doctrine of communalism
that the individual can find the highest good - materially, morally
and spiritually (psychologically) - in relationships with others and
in working for the common good.
But inherent in the communal enterprise is the problem of
contribution and distribution. The communal enterprise tends to
maximize the common good because each individual is expected to
contribute to it, but obviously individuals are not equal in their
capacities and talents - a fact explicitly recognized in Akan thought
(see section 9.2). It follows therefore that individual contributions
to the common good will be unequal. Now, the question is: Should
inequality in contribution lead to inequality in distribution? Akan
social thought, with its social and humanistic thrust, answers this
question in the negative. It may be objected that this leads to an
unfair treatment of those who have contributed more, to which one

157
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

may respond that those who have contributed more must have been
endowed with greater talents and capacities - natural characteristics
and assets for which they were not responsible. This counterargu¬
ment is perhaps implicit in the proverbs, “The left arm washes the
right arm and the right arm washes the left arm” and “The fingers
of the hand are not equal in length.” Even though the power or
effort of one arm may not be as great as that of the other,
nevertheless it is able to make some contribution. The natural assets
of human beings are, as the two proverbs imply, different and
should therefore not be made the basis of unequal distribution, even
though the second proverb rejects the idea of absolute equality.
The Akan position is defensible for, irrespective of an individual’s
contribution to the common good, it is fair and reasonable that
everyone’s basic human needs be satisfied by the society: From each
according to whatever contribution one can make to each according to
one’s basic needs will be the new slogan.
But having said all this, there remains the crucial question of the
place of individuality in the theory of communalism. This question
is an ultimate one, for, after all, the human being who “descends
into human society” has personal will, identity, aspirations, and
desires that can be said to be idiosyncratic. In discussing the Akan
concept of destiny I observed that destiny is that which determines
the uniqueness and individuality of a person, which means that
Akan thought clearly recognizes the idea of individuality. But does
it also recognize the possible tension between the two ideas of
individuality and communality? The answer to this crucial question
will occupy the remaining part of the chapter.

10.2. The tensions of individualism

A number of scholars, writing usually from noncommunalis-
tic backgrounds and mentalities, consider communalism as absorb¬
ing the individual into the life of the group, with the consequent
whittling away of individuahty, personality, initiative, and respon¬
sibility. In charting the Akan response to this question, let us first
turn to the ideas expressed in the following Akan proverb:

The clan is like a cluster of trees which, when seen

from afar, appear huddled together, but which
would be seen to stand individually when closely
approached.

158
 10. The individual and the social order

Annobil explains this proverb thus: “If one is far away from a
cluster of trees, he sees all the trees as huddled or massed together.
It is when he goes nearer that he recognizes that the trees in fact
stand individually. The clan is just like the cluster of trees.”3 The
proverb gives the impression that the clan or the community is a
mere abstraction, not a reality. This is not so, however, for the
cluster of trees is real. The proverb stresses the reality of the
individual, which, the proverb implies, cannot be diminished or
obliterated by the reality of the community. The proverb expresses
the idea that the individual has a separate identity and that, like the
tree, some of whose branches may touch other trees, the individual
is separately rooted and is not completely absorbed by the cluster.
That is, communality does not obliterate individuality. Thus,
individuals have characters and wills of their own, an idea that
comes out clearly also in Akan art.
I have already mentioned the Akan art motif of the “siamese”
crocodile: a crocodile with two heads but a single stomach (section
8.2). The proverb connected with this symbol says that, although
they have a common stomach, they always struggle over food. The
symbol has implications for Akan social thought, particularly about
the articulation of the uniqueness of the individual and his or her
relationship to the society. First, the presence of two individual
heads is important. In the Akan language the head (ti) is regarded
“as the seat of intellect, thought, deliberation and determination,
also of feeling . . . that which perceives (and feels), thinks and
remembers, reasons, wills and desires in man . . .”4 The head in the
symbol emphasizes individuality: It indicates the will, interests,
tastes, and passions of the individual; it indicates the desire of the
individual for self-expression. Conflicts in society, the symbol
seems to imply, are the consequences of the clash of individuals
expressing themselves and the desire to satisfy one’s own needs,
implying in turn that the aims, interests, passions, etc., of individ¬
uals differ. An Akan maxim says that “it is by individual effort that
we can struggle for our heads” (ti wopere no nkorokoro). The proverb
expresses the idea of individual effort as a necessary condition for
protecting and, more particularly, struggling for our interests and
needs. The notion of competition (pere) is also implicit here. Thus,
individuality, which lies at the heart of social conflicts, is recog¬
nized in Akan social thought. Though social conflicts arise as the
result of the implications of the individuality of members of the
society, I do not think that Akan thought suggests that they are

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

either inevitable or permanent, if individual members realize that,

after all, their interests are identical or cannot be essentially
different.
Second, the common stomach of the two crocodiles indicates that
(1) at least the basic interests of all the members of the community
are identical, and (2) the community of interests forms the basis for
the maximization of their interests and welfare. Just as the common
stomach becomes bigger as a result of each head’s being fed, so the
assets of the society increase with the contributions, great and
small, of the individual members of the society. This means that a
society cannot prosper without the full cooperation of its members.
But if an individual made only a modest contribution, this would
not prejudice his or her chances of getting a fair share of the
material benefits of the society, a share that will at least satisfy basic
needs.
I think therefore that the common stomach symbolizes the
common good, that is, the good of all individuals embraced within a
society. The common good, I take it, is not merely the sum of the
various individual goods. The concept implies, I think, that there
are certain needs that are basic to the enjoyment and fulfillment of
the life of each individual. Such needs include shelter, food, health,
equality of opportunity, and liberty. Thus conceived, the common
good is predicated on a true or essential universal, the good of all,
that which is essentially good for human beings as such. The
common good, therefore, is not conceptually opposed to the
individual good of any member of the society. It embraces his or
her individual good as it embraces the goods of other members. If
the common good is attained, then logically the individual good is
also attained. Strictly speaking, there can or should be no conflict
between the two, for the individual and the common goods are tied
up together and overlap. Therefore, any conflict stems from a
misconception either of the common good, of the individual good,
or of the relationship between the two.
Thus, the symbol of the crossed crocodiles with two heads and a
common stomach has great significance for Akan social thought.
While it suggests the rational underpinnings of the concept of
communalism, it does not do so to the detriment of individuality.
The concept of communalism, as it is understood in Akan thought,
therefore does not overlook individual rights, interests, desires, and
responsibilities, nor does it imply the absorption of the individual
will into the “communal will,” or seek to eliminate individual

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 10. The individual and the social order

responsibility and accountability. Akan social thought attempts to

establish a delicate balance between the concepts of communality
and individuality. Whether it succeeds in doing so in practice is of
course another question.
The Akan acceptance of individualism is also indicated by their
understanding of an important feature of the group. We see it
expressed in the proverb,

The clan (group) is (merely) a multitude (crowd).

(abusua ye dom)

This proverb does not say that the group is amorphous or unreal,
but that the individual cannot always and invariably depend on the
group for everything. The proverb is thus intended to deepen the
individual’s sense of responsibility for oneself. The proverb sug¬
gests that the relevance and importance of the group (clan) are
exaggerated even by the Akan people themselves. This gives the he
to the supposition that the individual in a communal social order is
a parasite. The individual is supposed to have a dual responsibility:
for oneself as an individual as well as to the group. This is not easy
to do successfully, and the balance between individuality and
communality is a precarious one indeed.
In striking the right balance between individualism and commu-
nalism, Akan social thought seeks to promote social arrangements
that allow for the adequate expression of the individual’s worth and
self-fulfillment. If one is by nature a social being, and not merely an
atomized entity, then the development of one’s full personality and
identity can best be achieved only within the framework of social
relationships that are realizable within a communal social system.
That is to say, the conception and development of an individual’s
full personality and identity cannot be separated from his or her
role in the group. The interaction between the individual and the
group is thus conceived in Akan social thought to be basic to the
development and enhancement of the individual’s personality.
Nevertheless, there is an enduring tension in the Akan philoso¬
phy of the individual. For while it offers a clear, unambiguous
statement on the value of individuality, at the same time it makes an
equally clear and unequivocal statement on the value of communal¬
ity. Yet Akan social thought attempts to strike a balance between
individualism and communalism. It therefore rejects the notion that
claims of the individual and society are antithetical, while attempt¬
ing to integrate individual desires and social ideals.

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

In Akan social philosophy, then, individualism and communal-

ism are not seen as exclusive and opposing concepts, as they are in
capitalist and Communist philosophies. There the two concepts are
poles apart because both positions have, in my view, become
unnecessarily exaggerated. On the one hand, the value attached to
the idea of individual has been so exaggerated in the capitalist
system as to detach the person from the natural communal social
environment. On the other hand, the Communist system runs
berserk, brandishing its sword indiscriminately against practically
any trace of individuality. Neither system appears to offer the
greatest opportunity for the full development of the human spirit.
Akan social philosophy tries to steer clear of the Scylla of exagger¬
ated individualism and the Charybdis of exaggerated communalism
(= communism). It seeks to avoid the excesses of the two exagger¬
ated systems, while allowing for a meaningful, albeit uneasy,
interaction between the individual and the society.
I conclude by saying that if sociality is basic to human nature, then
any philosophy that deemphasizes that nature and consciously
overemphasizes individuality on the one hand, or overemphasizes
that nature so as to suppress individuality on the other hand, could
hardly be considered ideal. Due recognition must be given to the
claims of both communality and individuality, for after all a society
is a community of individuals, and individuals are individuals in
society. In advocating a philosophy that would pay due attention to
the roles of both, however, I am not oblivious of the practical
problems involved in the attempt to balance the two concepts,
rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is
God’s.

162
 11
Philosophy, logic, and the Akan
language

Some philosophers, like Carnap' and Quine,2 think that

philosophical propositions are relative to language. They maintain
that the plausibility or importance of a particular proposition can
be grasped only within the context of the language in which it is
formulated, and that it loses its plausibility when translated into
another language. Other philosophers, like Ryle3 and Cohen4 think
that such propositions are not relative to language but are lan¬
guage-neutral. As regards logic, Strawson5 and Hahn6 are among
the proponents of the linguistic-conventionalist theory, which
holds that logic is generated by language, that logical rules derive
from conventions about the use of words such as “not,” “or,” “if”
“some.” Opposed to them are philosophers such as Pap7 and
Mitchell.8 I believe that whether a particular statement or problem
is language-dependent or language-neutral and whether logical
rules derive from the grammatical rules of natural languages are not
questions that can be determined on intuitive grounds, and that
much might be achieved by actually examining statements formu¬
lated in one language on the basis of another language. Therefore I
propose in this chapter to examine philosophical theses regarding
the problem of the mind and body, time, existence and predication,
and subject and predicate on the basis of the Akan language. I
believe that such a discussion will be of interest to philosophers
interested in the relation between philosophy and language on the
one hand, and logic and language on the other hand.

11.1. The mind-body problem

It may be said that the mind-body problem is essentially a
problem about the referent of the first-person pronoun “I.” Thus,
some English-speaking philosophers such as Pap, Shaffer, and

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

Lewy11 have attempted to draw inferences regarding the nature of

the referent of the “I” from sentences formulated in the English
language with “I” as the grammatical subject. To explain their
reasoning, let us examine the following groups of sentences in the
English language:

Group A:
1. I am heavy.
2. I am thin.
3. I am tall.
4. I am ugly.
5. I am (or have grown) lean.

Group B:
1. I am happy (delighted).
2. I am patient.
3. I am hopeful.
4. I am jealous (or covetous).
5. I am humble.
6. I am in despair.
7. I am courageous.
8. I am generous.
9. I am arrogant.
10. I am aware.

The sentences of group A make sense when “my body” is

substituted for the grammatical subject “I.” It is obvious that in
each sentence reference is being made to my body. Since such
sentences present no difficulty to the mind-body problem, I merely
mention them and am not concerned with them further.
However, if we substitute “my body” for the “I” in the sentences
of group B, these sentences become nonsensical, for “I am humble”
does not mean that my body is humble, nor does “I am patient”
mean that my body is patient. From such cases dualist philosophers
have concluded that the referent of the “I” in the sentences of
group B must be something other than the body and that not
everything that happens to a person happens to his or her body but
that a great deal happens to a “part” or “something” in him or her
that is nonphysical, immaterial - a thing variously called “mind,”
‘soul,” “spirit,” “pure ego,” or “consciousness.” Thus, from the
existence in the English language of such mentalistic or psycholog¬
ical expressions - as the predicate expressions in sentences of group

164
 11. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

B are called - dualist philosophers have inferred the existence of the

mental: Dualism in language, they argue, must be matched by, or
correlated with, a dualism of entities or events. Thus, after having
made some observations on the possible referents of the first-
person pronoun, Pap remarked: “A little semantics, then, is suffi¬
cient to establish that not all that happens to a human being
happens to his body, but that a great deal happens to his mind.”12
Materialist philosophers, who hold that human beings are noth¬
ing but material objects and that human minds, actions, states, etc.,
are to be explained in terms of the same physical laws used to
explain material (inanimate) objects, have, of course, controverted
the dualists’ inference from dualistic language to dualistic objects.
For materialist philosophers the so-called mentalistic expressions in
the English language denote the same objects denoted by physical-
istic expressions, which objects, for them, are basically physical or
material. Language, materialist philosophers would then say, is
misleading as a guide to metaphysics. The English language,
brimful of mentalistic expressions, has misled thinkers into an
ontology of the mental. Now, let us turn to the Akan language and
see to what conclusions translations of the mentalistic expressions
of English lead.
We may begin by translating the sentences of group B into the
Akan language, as shown in Table 11.1. These are the normal
translations of the English sentences of group B into the Akan
language, and there is nothing particularly interesting or revealing
about them. But the point I wish to make is revealed in the
etymologies of the Akan words. The etymological translations of
these Akan sentences are also shown in Table 11.1.
It can be seen that the mentalistic expressions of group B
translated into Akan actually become physicalistic expressions. In
Akan, that is, the mentalistic expressions in English actually refer to
the body or some organs of the body such as the eyes, chest,
stomach, heart, ears, head, etc. (see Table 11.2), but the words of the
original sentences in English made no reference to parts of the
body.
Table 11.2 gives more examples of mentalistic expressions in
English that become physicalistic in Akan. What conclusions can
we draw from all this? First, it follows from these translations that
the arguments of English-speaking dualist philosophers who infer
the existence of the mental from the existence in English of
mentalistic or psychological expressions cannot be sustained when

165
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

Table 11.1. Group B mentalistic expressions translated into and out of

Akan

English . . . into Akan . . . and etymologically into

English

1. I am happy M’ani agye My eyes are brightened

2. I am patient Me wo abotare My heart subsides
(boaseto).
3. I am hopeful M’ani da so My eyes are on it
4. I am jealous/ M’ani abere My eyes are red
covetous
5. I am humble Me wo ahobrease I have brought my body down/
low
6. I am in despair Mehome te me ho My breath is breaking/tearing
apart
7. I am courageous Mewo akokoduru I have a heavy/weighty chest
8. I am generous Me yem ye My stomach is good
9. I am arrogant Mema meho so I raise my body
10. I am aware M’ani da meho so My eyes are on/around my body

such expressions are translated into Akan. The mentalistic sentences

of group B become physicalistic in Akan. In Akan the referent of
the first-person pronoun “I” seems to be nothing mysterious or
invisible; much that happens to the “I” happens to the body or
parts of the body. Second, some kind of materialism is apparent in
the Akan language, and if one were to reason like the English-
speaking dualists, one would have to infer from this the nonexistence
of the mental. An Akan thinker, ignorant of Enghsh, might thus
come to hold a nonmental view of the person and of the world.
Yet the second inference is certainly not true of Akan ontology in
general or of the Akan metaphysic of the person in particular. Akan
ontology, as shown in Chapter 5, admits both visible (material,
perceivable) and invisible (immaterial, unperceivable, spiritual)
entities, although ontological primacy, in my view, is given to the
invisible. In Akan conceptions what exists is primarily spiritual.
There is a firm belief in the world of spirits (asamando), where all the
dead live a kind of life that is patterned on the earthly one. The
general belief of most Akan people in the existence of the world of
spirits derives from their conception of the nature of a person. The
discussion of the Akan concept of the person (Chapter 6) concluded
that the Akans generally hold a dualistic conception of the person:

166
Table 11.2. Further examples of expressions that are mentalistic in
English but physicalistic in Akan

English Akan" Etymological translation &

comments

cunning, cleverness anitee “one’s eyes are open and

clear”
ambition, determination, ambere “one’s eyes are red/
anxiety, jealousy, envy, reddened”
covetousness, desperation
anger abofuw “one’s chest has sprouted/
burst out” The reference
to the chest is actually a
reference to the heart,
which is covered by the
chest.
awareness, consciousness, anidaho “one’s eyes are widely
discretion open”
shame drawuo “one’s eyes are dead,” i.e.,
one cannot raise one’s
eyes to look
confusion, bewilderment tfwtan reference is made here to
the eyes
patience boasetd reference is made in both
to the chest , i.e., the heart
satisfaction, contentment, abotoyam reference is made to both
composure the chest (i.e., the heart)
and the stomach
peace of mind asomdwee “coolness/calmness of the
ears”
disgrace, indignity am'mguase “one’s face has fallen
down”
gentleness, meekness odwo “cool,” not hot
grief, sorrow awere how reference is made to the
heart
pride, arrogance, ahomaso “raising one’s own body”
haughtiness
tough-minded, strong- anie den “one’s eyes are hard”
willed, resolute
courage, boldness, bravery akokoduru “one’s chest (heart) is heavy/
aboo duru weighty”
confidence awere hyem reference is made to the
heart
dignity ammuonyam “one’s face brightens”

167
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

Table 11.2 (cont.)

English Akan” Etymological translation &

comments

discouragement abapzw reference is made in both

ababww to the arm
fear, consternation, dismay akomatu “the fleeing of the heart”
apprehension ayamhyehye “one’s stomach burns”
disobedience asodden “one’s ears are hard”
impatience ahopere restlessness of the body
cruelty atirimooden “one’s head is hard”
ayemunwon “one’s stomach is bitter/
sour”
envy d/iooeyaa “body (or skin) pain”
to determine (resolve) botirim reference is made to the
head

“The italicized parts of the Akan expressions refer to the actual part of
the body. It must be noted that the meanings of the Akan expressions
are literal, though their English equivalents give the impression that they
are or may be metaphorical. A word in any language that is used
metaphorically must first have a literal meaning, and the Akan words
here are literal in their meanings. The distinction made in modern
linguistics between surface and deep structures of sentences is not in play
here, as it generally affects sentences, not words. I am concerned here
specifically with the etymology of words and what they seem to indicate.

A person is composed of two elements, a spiritual one, itself found

to be complex, and a physical one, the body. The soul,13 okra, which
occupies the central place in this spiritual complex, is associated
with the life principle in a person and is also considered to be
immortal. The departure of the okra (soul) from the body means the
death of the person. It is such departed souls that are believed to
inhabit the world of spirits.
Thus, the Akan belief in disembodied survival in the form of
spirit or soul presupposes a nonmaterial conception of a human
being. The ontological pull of the Akan language toward material¬
ism is consequently enfeebled. For in spite of the fact that sentences
of group B are physicalistic in Akan, this does not lead to a
materialist conception of man and the world.

168
 11. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

I now turn to the question of whether logical rules are also

language-dependent. Cohen, who believes in the language-neutral
character of propositions, criticizes Carnap for saying that they are
language-oriented. To Carnap’s view that “From ‘All A are B' and
‘All B are C’ you can logically infer ‘All A are C’ ” was a
transformation rule of the English language,14 Cohen objected that
this example is translatable into all natural languages. Thus Cohen:
“You can find, for example, books about rules of Aristotelian logic
written in many different natural languages and all using the same
example for a syllogism. . . .”15 Cohen’s argument, however, may be
sustained if we restrict ourselves to formal logic, for it is certainly
plausible that a logical rule such as
[(P “*■ $) A (q - r )] -*■ (p -* r)
would be upheld in or by all natural languages. Thus, such a logical
thesis is translatable, and one may therefore reasonably claim that it
does not depend upon language.
In my view, both Cohen and Carnap err in drawing their examples
only from formal logic and generalizing them for all philosophical
theses. It seems to me that although the view of the language-
neutrality and consequent translatability of philosophical theses may
be generally true of formal logic, it would founder on questions in
philosophical logic such as, say, the distinction between subject and
predicate and the theory of meaning. A thinker using a language
brimful of abstract expressions may be more likely to develop a
Platonistic theory of meaning than one using a language character¬
ized by concreteness. The mistake of both Carnap and Cohen was
that they overstated their case, in generalizing it. For me, whether a
particular philosophical thesis or problem is language-oriented or
language-neutral must be determined within the structure of a given
natural language: It cannot be determined without examining the
characteristics of other natural languages. It is not a logical or
conceptual question but an empirical one.

11.2. Time
The principal reason for including a discussion of the concept
of time in Akan thought in a chapter on philosophy and language is
Mbiti’s assertion that his denial of the existence of the concept of
distant or infinite future in African thought was arrived at through
an analysis of the verb tenses of some East African languages.16 The
structures of those languages, according to Mbiti, do not generate a

169
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

concept of an infinite future. Language, then, Mbiti precipitately

concludes, is a sure guide to a general African conception of time.
Since Mbiti draws his conclusions about the so-called African
concept of time - particularly his denial to Africans of a concept of
distant or infinite future - from the characteristics of two East
African languages, Gikuyu and Kikamba, I deem it appropriate and
necessary to rebut his generalized conclusions by examining the
characteristics and vocabulary of the Akan language. First, how¬
ever, I propose to comment on other aspects of the notion of time
(here) in Akan philosophy.
In Akan philosophy time is regarded as a concrete reality. But
this does not imply that the abstract notion of time is lacking. The
word here (time) is used to express both the abstract and the
concrete notion of time. Christaller was, thus, wrong when he
wrote: “For the entirely abstract notion of time in general as in
‘Timeflies' there is no proper word.”'7 An Akan proverb says,
Time is like a bird: If you do not catch it and it
flies, you do not see it again.18
A well-known Akan maxim says,
Time changes.
(lhere di adannan)
Both of these express an abstract notion of time. The fact that Akan
thinkers generally put their thoughts in concrete terms should not
be taken to mean that they lack abstract concepts.
The Akan thinkers consider time as a concrete reality, associated
with change and growth. Time is associated with motion, as the
notion of “flying” in the above proverb indicates, and hence with
change and transformation. To experience time, then, is to experi¬
ence concrete change, growth, generation, and passing away of
specific things. Since such events are features of the phenomenal
world, time is considered to belong essentially to the phenomenal
world, although this does not imply a belief in the nonexistence of
a future time. Thus, an Akan dirge runs as follows:
This is for me a sad and memorable day;
Be quick and let us depart;
No place here [on earth] is safe;
No one reigns forever on the throne of time.19
(here akonnwa yenni nka so)
The dirge speaks of the contingency, impermanency, and transi-
tori-ness of the phenomenal world. Some lines of Akan poetry say:

170
 11. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

Time has its boundary; we do not traverse it;

Man is but mortal: however hard he struggles,
he will depart (this world).
(here wo n’ehyer, yennb ntra
onipa de odasani, operepere a obeko)20

The word translated as “boundary” is ehyee, which means the edge

or limit of one’s farm or plot of land; the word do tra translated
“traverse” actually means “to weed or plough beyond (the edge).”
The poetic language here is of course metaphorical. The Akan poet
is not saying that time as such is limited or finite, but that a person’s
time, that is, life span (on earth) is finite, transitory, impermanent.
And when the dirge says that no one reigns or remains forever on
the throne of time, this means that time exists; it is real; it has an
objective existence that is continuous, but that everything that
exists in time is subject to change and decay. The metaphorical
expression, “the throne of time,” is significant. It symbolizes, I
think, the idea that just as kings who sit on the throne of a clan or
nation come and go while the throne itself remains, so time exists
objectively and continuously, while the things that exist in time
change and decay.
Although it is not possible to provide a strict definition of the
concept of time in Akan philosophy, the foregoing discussion
should give us some idea of what, according to Akan thinkers, time
is. Time is to be associated with change, process, and events. But
this statement must not be taken to imply that it is these phenom¬
ena that generate our consciousness of time. On the contrary, these
phenomena occur within time; for time, as the dirge seems to
indicate, is held to have an objective metaphysical existence, so that
even if there were no changes, processes, and events time would
still be real. This is the reason why the Akans can, and do, have the
concept of a distant or infinite future. Mbiti’s assertion that for
Africans “time is simply a composition of events which have occurred,
those which are taking place now and those which are immediately
to occur”21 implies that time is composed or constituted by actual
events, and this implies in turn that since distant future events have
not yet occurred, Africans therefore do not consider such future or
potential events as constituting real time. This conclusion, which
derives from assumptions not made in Akan thought, is not
applicable to the Akan conception of time.
In Akan thought, it is not events that compose time; it is not

171
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

events that generate the awareness of the existence of time. If that

were the case, all talk about the future in Akan language and
thought would be nonsense. Rather, it is time, conceived as
objectively existing, within which such events and changes take
place and which makes possible the dating of such events. Given a
number of events, say festivals, /,, f2, f, etc., which occur at
different times of the year, our ability to say that f took place before
(or earlier than: ansa) f and that f took place after (or later than:
akyi) f implies the presupposition of the existence of time. Mbiti
may be right in saying that in African communities the reckoning
of time is done in connection with events, but this fact cannot be
taken to mean that time itself is composed of events. If the events
were not taking place within time, they could not be reckoned
temporally, nor could people in Akan communities speak of the
Adai festival coming before or after the Ohum festival. But more on
criticisms of Mbiti’s views on “the African concept of time” anon.
Akan beliefs about the personal characteristics of people reveal
their consciousness of time as an element in an individual’s destiny.
One’s day of birth, krada, is held to be a factor in determining one’s
personal characteristics and aspects of one’s behavior. People born
on Monday are said to be suppliant, humble, calm (okoto)\ those
born on Tuesday are said to be compassionate (ogyam); those born
on Wednesday are said to be champions of the cause of others (ntoni,
atobi)\ those born on Thursday are said to be courageous, aggres¬
sive, warlike (preko); those born on Friday are said to be wanderers
(okyin), that is, bent on exploring, discovering; those born on
Saturday are said to be great (atoapem)22 and problem solvers
(ioteanankaduro; literally “he who knows the antidote for the ser¬
pent”);”3 and, finally, those born on Sunday are said to be protectors
(ibodua; literally, tail of the animal). Now, the assumption that time is
an influence on personality suggests that time has an objective
metaphysical existence, and cannot, contrary to Mbiti’s view, be
held as “simply a composition of events.” Indeed, the notion of
time as a determinant of personal characteristics seems to invest it
with some kind of cosmic power.
Mbiti maintains that African peoples conceive time to be a “two-
dimensional phenomenon with a long past, a present and virtually
no future.”"4 The linear concept of time in Western thought, with
an infinite past, a momentary present, and an infinite future, is
practically foreign to African thinking. He says he reached this
conclusion by his study of the verb tenses of some East African

172
 11. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

languages. According to Mbiti, the three verb tenses that refer to

the future cover the period of about six months and in any case not
beyond two years at most. Coming events have to fall within the
range of those verb tenses, otherwise such events lie beyond the
horizon of what constitutes actual time. The languages he exam¬
ined, he says, lack words by which distant future events can be
conceived or expressed.25 It may well be that there is no expression
for the distant future and hence the concept of a distant future does
not exist in the thought of East African peoples. My objection is to
Mbiti’s generalization of a concept derived from just two local
African languages to the whole of the African peoples. He admits
that “languages are the key to the serious research and understand¬
ing of traditional religions and philosophy.”"6 Languages, indeed,
are vestibules to the conceptual world. But this indicates that a
concept inferred from one language cannot necessarily be assumed
for a people speaking another language. I am not denying that it is
possible for an analysis of a concept made on the basis of different
languages to produce identical or similar conclusions. Rather, I am
asserting that the identity or similarity of such conclusions cannot
be assumed without having investigated the other languages.
I now turn to an investigation of the characteristics and vocabu¬
lary of the Akan language in order to demonstrate the impossibility
of attributing a “two-dimensional” conception of time to the Akan
people. I have already pointed out that the concept of an infinite be¬
ing in Akan thought logically involves the concept of an infinite fu¬
ture time, for the infinite being necessarily dwells in an infinite
time, which, of course, extends to the future. I begin with a quota¬
tion from a well-known grammar book on the Akan language.
Regarding the future tense the author wrote:
The first future marks action in the time to come. The second
future, or future proximate, marks action in the next future.
Note that in the first future there is no specification of the period
during which the action is to take place. Thus, a man observing the
behavior of his younger son says to him:
1. wo bedi hen (daakye), that is, “You will be a king (in the
future)!’
2. wobeye onyansafo (daakye), that is “You will be a wise man (in
the future)!’
The ten-year-old boy will be made a king when he is twenty,
thirty, or fifty years old; in any case, many years after his father’s

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

prediction. It was an expectation of the father that may not be

fulfilled in his own lifetime. It is the second future that gives an
indication of a period - a short period, that is, of time in the future,
but it is not possible to say whether this short period is two or six
months or within two years.
Second, the Akan language has definite expressions that are the
equivalent of the English expression “future.” These expressions are
daakye and da bi. Daakye means “future” or “in the future”; da bi
literally means “someday,” that is, an unspecified day, a day as yet
unknown, some time to come. The expression da bi is in fact
translated by Christaller as “an indefinite time.”28 Expressions denot¬
ing infinite time are daa, daapem, beresanten, afeboo, all of which mean
“eternally,” “eternity.” A brief disquisition on the word beresanten in
particular is necessary for a reason that will be clear presently. The
first component of the word, “here,” means time. The second,
santen, means row or line of things or persons. Beresanten therefore
literally means “time in a row,” “the whole length of time.”
Beresanten, then, expresses the concept of linear time that Mbiti says
is alien to African thinking. Christaller translates mmeresanten
(mmere is the plural of here) as “the times or days in succession, the
whole length of times or days, eternity.”29
In addition, there are Akan proverbs that refer to the future
dimension of time. For example:
The vulture says he is learning to walk in the royal
manner for someday (da bi), a day unknown to
him, he might be made a king.
The rhinoceros beetle says he knew that famine
would come, which is why he scraped the young
raffia palm leaves to store.
(amankuo se: onim se okbm beba nti na okuturuu okoro)
These proverbs obviously refer to a future time, which, though
unknown, is nevertheless thought to be real, actual; it is “there.” Its
reality is the basis of hope and anticipation. Other proverbs say:
A child who burns his finger will be more careful
in the future (daakye).
If you see the hen destroy the corn of your
neighbor, drive it away, for someday (da bi) it will
destroy yours.
There is a saying among our elders, “In future God will inquire
something of you” (daakye Onyame bebisa wo asem), meaning that in

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 i l. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

future God will ask each individual to give an account of his or her
life on earth. This saying refers to a postmundane future time, life
after death, as is indicated by the following lines from an Akan
poem already mentioned:

Time has its boundary: we do not traverse it;

Everything will end in the hereafter (world of
spirits) someday™
(ihere wo n’ehyee: yennb ntra;
ne nyinaa besi assamando da bi!)

In the Akan conception, then, the future exists as an actual time.

Mbiti says: “People have little or no active interest in events that lie
in the future beyond, at most, two years from now.”31 This
statement is not true of the Akans. The proverb about the vulture
and other proverbs falsify Mbiti’s assertion that “the people neither
plan for the distant future nor ‘build castles in the air.’ ”32 The
vulture is planning or preparing for his kingship in the distant
future. Similarly, the rhinoceros beetle has the forethought to
provide for hard times in the future. That is to say, men have hopes
for the future and prepare for the possible realization of those
hopes. A line in an already-quoted poem says:

Because there exists some future time, there exists

Hope.33
(bere bi wo ho nti na Anidaso wo ho)

Furthermore, divination, a mystical activity that is much prac¬

ticed in African communities, involves the notion of the distant
future. Diviners are said to be people with special extrasensory
abilities. There is no denying that their divining activities, which
Mbiti discusses,34 necessarily involve predicting future events or
acts either in the life of an individual or in that of the community.
Divination includes the attempt to discover future events by
extraordinary or supernatural means. I do not believe that diviners
in African communities restrict their divining activities to the
present, merely giving “information concerning the cause, nature
and treatment of disease (or other form of misfortune), and
concerning thefts or loss of articles.”35 As “seers and fortune¬
tellers,”36 these diviners must necessarily look into the future also,
which cannot be limited to a period of not more than two years.
Diviners and medicine men in Akan communities do give informa¬
tion about future events, particularly in the life of an individual. A

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

diviner may tell a client in his twenties or even less, that the client
will in future be a great person in his clan or tribe. Akan diviners do
not limit this future to a specific period within which a prophecy
will be fulfilled; it would be nonsense to specify that period when
he is unable to do so, beyond the hope that it will be, someday (da hi).
It is surprising that Mbiti does not see that divination is essentially
or primarily about the future, and that whether this future is an
immediate or a distant one depends on the nature of the event or act
divined. Mbiti’s mistake stems from his supposition that the
African concept of time is anchored in the past (Zamani) and the
present (Sasa).
It is thus clear that the Akans do hold a three-dimensional
conception of time: past, present, and future (both immediate and
distant). Hence, it is not true for Mbiti to generalize that it is

modern change [that] has imported into Africa a future dimension of

time. This is perhaps the most dynamic and dangerous discov¬
ery of African peoples in the twentieth century. Their hopes
are stirred up and set on the future. They work for progress,
they wait for an immediate realization of their hopes, and they
create new myths of the future. It is here that we find the key
to understanding African political, economic and ecclesiastical
instability. Africa wants desperately to be involved in this
future dimension. Emphasis is shifting from the Zamani [that
is, past] and Sasa [that is, present] to the Sasa and Future; and
we are part of the historical moment when this great change¬
over is being wrought. . . .37

I quote this passage at length because it is a tissue of errors. It is one

thing to have a conception of a future and quite another to act in a
way that reflects that conception. It is, again, one thing to have a
conception of a future and quite another to feel concerned about
this future. It is certainly instructive that Jesus taught his followers
not to worry about tomorrow, for “sufficient unto the day is the
evil thereof”18 (that is, there is no need to add to the troubles each
day brings). Christians who have a conception of a future time are
here being told not to be anxious about what they will (tomorrow,
in future) eat, wear, etc. Yet the fact that they are to focus on the
present does not obliterate their hopes of blessedness in the future.
Thus, even if Africans may not have experienced “progress” in the
past, this is not attributable to the absence of a conception of a
future time. When we talk of progress, we have in mind opportuni-

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 1 i. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

ties, abilities, resources, and other similar factors, and these can
hardly be said to be connected with such a metaphysical category as
time. Nor is the “instability” in African political and economic
affairs due to the alleged sudden emergence of a consciousness of
future time.
I have controverted Mbiti’s analysis of what he calls “the
African concept of time” at length because he has given it a
preeminent place in his book, calling it “the key to our under¬
standing of the basic religious and philosophical concepts. The
concept of time may help to explain beliefs, attitude, practices and
general way of life of African peoples not only in the traditional
set-up but also in the modern situation.”39 Yet, despite the fact
that East African peoples, according to Mbiti, hold a two-dimen¬
sional conception of time and the Akans (and possibly other
peoples in Africa) hold a three-dimensional conception of time,
there are certainly some philosophical doctrines common to all of
them. Their doctrines of causality and fate and aspects of ethical
philosophy and philosophical theology are similar in their essen¬
tials. This being so, “the African concept of time” cannot be the
key or the basic category in the African religious and philosophi¬
cal orientation. For if it were in fact the key to the understanding
of African religious and philosophical ideas, then the Akans and
East African peoples, holding different conceptions of time as they
do, logically must differ in most, if not all, of their religious and
philosophical doctrines; yet this probably is not the case. Time, as
a metaphysical category, is certainly a fundamental concept, but
this does not warrant its being made the key to such other
concepts as cause, soul, substance, etc. Thus, apart from the fact
that Mbiti’s analysis of “the African concept of time” is question¬
able, there is also no philosophical justification for making it more
significant than other categories.

11.3. Existence, predication, and identity

Philosophers acquainted with ancient Greek philosophy are
of course aware of the logical puzzles or confusions generated by
the ambiguity inherent in the Greek verb einai, “to be.” Often it is
not clear whether the word was used to indicate existence, copula¬
tion (predication), identity, or some other relation. For instance, the
opening sentence of Protagoras’ (481-411 B.C.) work On Truth
reads as follows: “Man is the measure of all things, of what is (esti),

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 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

that it is (esti), of what is not, that it is not (ouk esti).” (Esti is the
present tense third-person singular of einai.) It is possible to
interpret the verb einai here as existential; it is equally possible,
particularly since the subject is truth, to interpret the verb as “to be
so,” “to be the case,” or “to be true,” which is another meaning of
einai.40 In fact Kahn claims that this latter meaning is philosophically
“the most fundamental value of einai when used alone (without
predicates).”41 Thus, the minds of scholars of Plato are much
exercised about whether Plato in the Sophist intends einai existen¬
tially or predicatively. Owen, a foremost scholar of Aristotle, points
out that Aristotle nowhere distinguishes the predicative and exis¬
tential uses of einai.42 Graham observes: “It is well known that
Greek philosophy hardly ever distinguishes between the existential
and copulative functions of einai, ‘to be.’ ”43
In English and most other Indo-European languages the problem
relating to existence and predication is not as acute as it is in Greek.
In English, for instance, in addition to the word “exist,” the
expression “there is” also indicates simple existence. German “es
gibt” and French “il y a” are equivalents of the English “there is” in
terms of their functions. Although “exist” in

1. Lions exist

is a grammatical predicate, it is generally held not to be a logical

predicate,44 so that (1) is strictly not a predicate statement. It is an
existential statement, asserting the existence of something - in this
case, lions. Similarly,

2. There are lions

is also an existential statement.

In English, however, the same verb, “to be,” is used to express
existence, predication, and identity, as in

3. There are lions (existence)

4. Lions are fierce animals (predication: class membership)
5. Lions are the kings of the forest (identity).

Let us now turn to see how the Akan language handles existence,
predication, and identity. Akan is more than adequate in meeting
the logical difficulties inherent in the Greek einai. It may also have
some advantages over English for these questions, for it has three
separate verbs for expressing existential, predicative, and identity
statements.

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 12. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

11.3.1. Existence
In Akan existence is expressed by the word wo: “to be
somewhere,” “to be or exist in a place,”45 to which the deictic word
ho (“there”) is added. The complete existential expression is thus wo
ho, “there is,” “exists.” [This is what is represented in modern logic
by the formula (3x) Fx.] Thus,

God exists: Nyame wo ho.

The ho part of this existential expression is, in my view, not “semanti¬

cally empty,” as Boadi thought.46 In Akan the existential verb involves
location - and this is not peculiar to Akan47 - and it is the ho that, it
seems to me, contains the locative implication of the existential
expression wo ho. Therefore, the ho cannot be semantically empty. And
although wo and ho do not appear as a unitary lexical item - neither do
“be” and “there” in Enghsh - nevertheless, insofar as it is the two
together that adequately express the notion of existence, that is,
existential locative, it would be a mistake to deny the ho a semantic
function. In fact the two words constitute a semantic unit.

11.3.2. Predication
The predicative “be” in Akan is ye, which is used to indicate
both class membership and class inclusion. As examples:

1. anoma no ye patu.
(The bird is an owl.)
2. bepow no ye tenten.
(The mountain is tall.)
3. nnipa nyinaa ye Onyame mma.
(All men are children of God.)

Statements (1) and (2) indicate class membership, whereas (3)

indicates class inclusion.

11.3.3. Identity
Identity statements in Akan are expressed by ne, “to be
(identical with).”

t. Onyame ne panyin.
(God is the elder.)
2. Owusu ne sukuu no hwefo.
(Owusu is the principal of the school.)
3. sukuuhwefo no ne Owusu.
(The principal of the school is (the same as) Owusu.)

179
 II. The Akati conceptual scheme

Thus, ne necessarily involves and makes use of the concepts of

definite description and proper name. The thought expressed in (1)
and (2) would change if we substituted ye (the predicative “is”) for
ne. Thus,

Onyame ye panyin
(God is an elder.)

would not be an identity, but a predicative statement indicating

class membership.
There is yet another word in the Akan language that expresses
identity, but only in a limited or special sense. The verb de (“to be”)
is used in statements such as:
1. ne din de Owusu
(His name is Owusu.)
2. nsuo no din de Volta
(The river’s name is Volta.)

In such cases the grammatical subject is generally the word

“name” and the grammatical predicate must be a proper name.
However, a proper name can be used as the grammatical subject, as in
Owusu ne ne48 din
(Owusu is his name.)

In the latter case de becomes ne. (Christaller may be correct in

saying that de is an old form of ne.'9) Sometimes ne is used in place
of de for emphasis, as in:
ne din ne Owusu
(His name certainly is Owusu.)

It is thus clear that the Akan language sharply separates the

existential and copulative functions of the verb “to be” and that it
has different words to express existence, predication, and identity.
Consequently puzzles, confusions, or mistakes arising out of the
use of such an ambiguous verb as the Greek einai cannot arise
within Akan. So, if ancient philosophers such as Protagoras,
Parmenides, Plato, and Aristotle had written in Akan, they would
have been able to avoid the ambiguities of einai.

11.4. The ontological argument

In the ontological argument for the existence of God the
claim is made that existence is an attribute (that is, predicate). This
implies that the attribution of existence to an object adds something

180
 11- Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

to its characterization: It provides new information apart from

asserting the existence of the object.
Now let us consider this claim within the context of Akan. The
Akan verb for “to exist” is wo ho. Thus, Onyame wo ho translates the
English “God exists” or “There is God.” There is, however, no
direct equivalent of the noun “existence” in Akan; it would be
rendered by “that something is there (exists)” (se biribi wo ho). Thus,
the question whether existence is an attribute becomes in Akan
something like: “Is that something is there an attribute?” The bizarre
nature of this question in Akan makes implausible the thesis about
the reality of God that derives from the concept of existence. The
ontological argument, then, loses its plausibility when considered
within the context of the Akan language. Because of the qualities of
the language, it is more than likely that a thinker using Akan would
never have raised the ontological argument.

11.5. Subject and predicate

Here I wish to discuss, within the context of the Akan
language, the logical criterion that P. F. Strawson, the distinguished
Oxford philosopher, advances as a basis for a distinction between
the subject and predicate of a sentence. The traditional view is that a
predicate is an expression that provides an assertion about some¬
thing, this something being referred to as the subject. Thus, in the
sentence
Owusu walks
the predicate “walks” asserts something about Owusu, with
Owusu, being that about which something is asserted, as the
subject. Strawson rejects this characterization on the grounds that
in the above sentence one might be talking about walking, and not
necessarily about Owusu.50 I think Strawson is right here. The
traditional definition of the predicate as that which makes an
assertion about something is not satisfactory.
In his arguments for the logical criterion for distinguishing
between subject and predicate, Strawson uses the terms “complete”
and “incomplete” to characterize the subject and predicate, respec¬
tively, terms which had been used by the German mathematician-
philosopher Gottlob Frege (1848-1925) for practically the same
purpose. Strawson’s intention is to defend the Fregean characteriza¬
tions of the subject and predicate. Subject expressions, he says, are
complete, or better, are nearer completion, whereas predicate

181
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

expressions are incomplete because they hardly ever occur alone.

According to Strawson, the main difference between what are
called subject expressions like “Socrates,” “John,” and “Owusu”
and predicate expressions like “is wise,” “smokes,” and “walks,” is
that a subject expression “might be completed into any kind of
remark (or clause), not necessarily a proposition, or it might stand
by itself as designating an item in a list; but the expression ‘is wise’
demands a certain kind of completion, namely, completion into a
proposition or propositional clause.”51 Thus, he explains that sub¬
ject expressions “introduce their terms in a grammatical style (the
substantival) which would be appropriate to any kind of remark
(command, exhortation, undertaking, assertion) or to none,”52
whereas predicate expressions “introduce their terms in a very
distinctive grammatical style, viz., the assertive or propositional
style.”53 The minimal claim Strawson makes is that “is wise” and
“smokes” occur only in propositions; thus, they introduce their
terms in the propositional style. A predicate expression, therefore, is
an expression that can be completed only into a proposition or
propositional clause, whereas a subject expression is an expression
that can be completed into any kind of remark, not necessarily a
proposition or propositional clause.
Strawson’s thesis is based on the characteristics of English
grammar, for in English the verb introducing the predicate expres¬
sion is inflected to agree with the subject expression in number and
in person. Verbs in Akan, however, are not inflected for person or
for number. Strawson s theory may therefore produce problems
when considered within the context of Akan. Let us consider the
following sentence:
Owusu nante
(Owusu walks.)

In Strawson’s theory the predicate expression, nante, is computable

only into a proposition. But in Akan nante (unlike its equivalent
walks in the above sentence) does not demand to be completed
only into a proposition or propositional clause. It can be completed
into other kinds of remark (or clause) that are not propositions. As
examples:

1. nante can be used as a (grammatical) subject, as in:

nante ye yaw
(walking or to walk is painful) or

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 11. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

nante ye ma honam
(walking is good for the body).
2. nante can be used as imperative:
nante! (walk!)
3. nante can be used in asking a question:
nante? (walk?)

Thus, the predicate expression nante in Akan performs functions

that “walks” cannot perform in English. Strawson’s criterion
collapses.
The picture, however, appears slightly different when the predi¬
cate expression is introduced by the verb “to be.” Consider the
Akan sentence

barima no ye kese
(the man is big)

Although the predicate expression ye kese cannot perform all the

functions performed by nante, nevertheless it is not computable
only into a proposition or propositional clause, for ye kese can be
used in a command, as in

ye kese!
(Be big!)

Of course in English “is big” cannot be used for a command, but in

Akan ye kese can. In Akan the copulative (predicative) ye can be
translated as “am,” “are,” “be,” depending on the type of sentence.
Thus,

Be big!: ye kese
He is big: dye kese
I am big: me ye kese
They are big: wo ye kese, etc.

The English sentence “Socrates is wise” can be rendered into Akan

in three ways:

1. Socrates ye onyansafo
(Socrates is a wise man)
2. Socrates w5 nyansa
(Socrates possesses wisdom)
3. Socrates nim nyansa
(Socrates perceives wisdom; nim literally means “to know”).

Expression (1) indicates a case where a part of the predicate

expression, namely, onyansafo (wise man), itself designates a corn-

183
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

plete symbol, for onyansafo can be, and is, used as a subject
expression, as in the well-known Akan proverb onyansafo wobu no be
na wonka no asem (“The wise man is spoken to in proverbs, not in
speeches or words”).
Similarly, in (2) and (3) a part of the predicate expression, namely
nyansa (wisdom), can be used as a subject, as in

nyansa ye ade papa

[Wisdom is a good thing (a virtue).]

It is obvious that Strawson’s observation that the expression “is

wise” or “smokes” (“walks” in my example) demands a certain
kind of completion, namely, completion into a proposition or
propositional clause, exploits some facts about English grammar:
(a) the fact that the verb is inflected, as a result of which the
expression “smokes,” for instance, cannot perform any other func¬
tion than being coupled with a subject expression like “Raleigh” to
form a proposition;54 (b) the fact that the verb must agree with the
subject in person and number, as a result of which the expression
“smokes,” for instance, can be coupled only with a third-person
singular subject expression. (As we have seen, neither of these
applies to Akan.) Thus, it is clear that Strawson’s observations were
influenced by the characteristics of English. But Strawson seems to
deny this: “It should be noticed that, in drawing this distinction
between A-expressions [that is, subject expressions] and B-expres-
sions [that is, predicate expressions], I am not merely exploiting the
fact that English is a comparatively uninflected language, especially
as regards its noun-forms . . .”55 (But the English verb is inflected in
the present tense.) The denial seems to imply that Strawson sees his
criterion as applicable regardless of language. The facts he exploits,
however, are not congruent with Akan grammar, for instance.
The idea behind the description of the subject expression as
complete is that such an expression can occur alone and can be used
in itself as salutation, command, and exclamation (“Owusu!”).
Questions ( Owusu? ) and assertions (“Owusu.”) may also consist
only of the proper name “Owusu.” Predicate expressions behave
differently in English; they can hardly occur alone - hence their
incompleteness. In asking a question and in issuing a command in
English, one says “walk” instead of “walks.” But in Akan the case
is different in respect of predicate expressions. The predicate
expression nante (walk), like the subject expression, can occur alone
and can be used in itself, as already noted, as command (“nante!”), as

184
 1l. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

question (“nante?”), and as assertion (“nante”). If the predicate is

“incomplete” because it cannot occur alone and also because it is
completable only into a proposition, then it is difficult to see why
predicate expressions in Akan should be depicted as “incomplete,”
for, after all, they can perform the functions that subject expressions
are supposed to perform. Strawson’s theory regarding the character
and behavior of the predicate is therefore invalid with respect to the
grammar of the Akan language.56

11.6. Conclusions
First, we may conclude that it is neither safe nor proper for
philosophers or logicians to generalize for other natural languages a
particular philosophical thesis or logical theory or principle that has
been influenced or determined by the features of some particular
language (or family of languages). Thus, the logical distinction
based on the concepts of “completeness” and “incompleteness,”
respectively, is invalid not only in respect of Akan grammar but
Chinese grammar as well, according to Tsu-Lin Mei.57 Mbiti’s
analysis of the so-called African concept of time, which was based
on a couple of East African languages, is incorrectly attributed to
other African languages. Generalizations on such matters that are
based on the characteristics of one or two natural languages ought
to be made with circumspection. Thus Lemmon, after referring to
the logical connectives, incautiously wrote: “This book is written
in English, and so mentions English sentences and words; but the
above account could be applied, by appropriate translation, to all
languages I know of. There is nothing parochial about logic, despite this
appearance to the contrary.”58 It is not clear how many and what
kind of languages Lemmon knows. If one examines sentences and
words in a number of languages, one would reject Lemmon’s view
that “there is nothing parochial about logic,” at least as regards the
aspects that are demonstrably language-oriented.
This is not to say, however, that the whole system of logic
necessarily derives from the grammatical rules of language. I
believe that there are logical rules or principles that can be said to be
language-neutral and may operate in all natural languages. Such
rules or principles that transcend the limits of languages, it seems to
me, really belong to the realm of thought; that is, they can be
known to be true by reflection. I suppose that the hypothetical
syllogism [{p -> q) A (q -*» r)] -* (p -* r) and the disjunctive

185
 II. The Akan conceptual scheme

syllogism [(p V q) A ~ p] -> q are among such logical principles

whose validity can be ascertained by thought, and so can be said to
be true in all languages.
Second, it is clear from our examination of the type of arguments
used by Western dualist philosophers on the mind-body problem
and from our remarks on the ontological argument that some
philosophical theses formulated on the basis of one language lose
their validity or plausibility or importance when translated into
another language. Thus, despite the materialism apparent in the
Akan language, the Akan philosophy of mind and body is never¬
theless not materialistic, but thoroughly and undoubtedly dualistic.
Third, the discussions on existence, predication, and identity
point up the fact that some logical or philosophical puzzles and
confusions generated in ancient philosophy by the Greek verb “to
be” (einai) evaporate when such matters are examined in, say, the
Akan language. The Akan language is well equipped to handle
logical matters relating to existence, predication, and identity. The
implication here is that some philosophical or logical problems are
relative to language. I use the word “some” here advisedly, for I do
not believe that all philosophical problems relating to fatalism,
bases (sources) of morality, civil disobedience, human rights, the
existence of God, political legitimacy, moral obligation, among
others, are relative to some natural language or other. Such philo¬
sophical problems, in my view, do in fact arise from common
human experiences. This is why it is possible for thinkers from
different cultural backgrounds and using different languages to
arrive at similar conclusions.
Finally, because languages have different and peculiar structures,
a philosophical or logical thesis that is clearly based on the charac¬
teristics of one language should not necessarily or precipitately be
generalized to other languages, unless the evidence is extremely
persuasive. Where such evidence is lacking, one should make
circumspect statements and speak in terms of probabilities rather
than certainties.

186
Ill
Toward an African philosophy
 12
On the idea of African
philosophy

I started this book with a discussion of the question of

philosophy in African culture in which I argued that there is a
philosophical dimension to African traditional thought. I end it
with a discussion of thought systems as wholes, at the level at
which we speak of Western or European or Oriental philosophy.
The major question is: May we in similar vein talk also of African
philosophy? Is the idea of African philosophy intelligible? One
answering these questions in the negative would, I suspect, prefer
to talk rather of Akan, Yoruba, Kikuyu, Bantu, or Mende philoso¬
phy. But it should be noted that in addition to Western philosophy,
one can speak as well of American, British, French, and German
philosophy, and similarly of Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Indian
philosophy in addition to Oriental (or Eastern) philosophy. (There
is indeed a philosophical journal with the title Philosophy East and
West.) If it makes sense to talk of Western or Eastern philosophy,
would it not make sense to talk of African philosophy too?
In Part III I shall argue that the common features discernible in
the cultures and thought systems of sub-Saharan African peoples
justify the existence of an African philosophy. The intention here is
not to argue that there is or ever will be either a unitary or a
uniform African philosophical perspective, for such an argument
will not hold water. It is to argue, rather, that a justification exists
for talking of African philosophy or describing a body of ideas as
African - not in the sense that these ideas are not to be found
anywhere else in the world, but in the sense that this body of ideas
is seen, interpreted, and analyzed by many African thinkers (and
societies) in their own way. Thus, by “African” I do not mean to

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 III. Toward an African philosophy

imply that a particular body of philosophical ideas is uniquely or

exclusively African. I am using “African” in the sense in which one
might use “Western” or “European” or “Oriental.” The task here is
a formidable but a significant one.

12.1. The need not to generalize

In a critical discussion of Mbiti’s African Religions and Philoso¬
phy I accused him of “generalizations, over-simplifications, prema¬
ture judgments and sparse analysis.”' In this well-known book
Mbiti recognizes the diversity of religious beliefs and practices in
Africa and so speaks of African “religions” in his title, whereas in
his use of the singular “philosophy” he means perhaps to convey
the impression that Africans have a common philosophical perspec¬
tive, although he himself speaks of “philosophical systems of differ¬
ent African peoples.’” Mbiti wrote: “But since there are no parallel
philosophical systems which can be observed in similarly concrete
terms we shall use the singular ‘philosophy’ to refer to the
philosophical understanding of African peoples concerning differ¬
ent issues of life.”3 This statement invites two responses. The first is
that even though the philosophical contours of the various African
thinkers are yet to be seriously delineated, yet it is safe to say that it
is impossible for the philosophical understanding of African peo¬
ples to be similar or uniform. Second, the view that “there are no
parallel philosophical systems which can be observed” can hardly
be advanced when one knows, as Mbiti does, that “the philosophi¬
cal systems of different African peoples have not yet been formu¬
lated.”4
As to Mbiti’s generalizations, I shall cite only two examples,
namely, his views on the so-called African concept of time and on
the nature of moral evil in African thought. I have already criticized
(in section 11.2) his views on the African concept of time, disagree¬
ing especially with the way he generalizes his analysis from East
Africa to the rest of African peoples. On the nature of moral evil
Mbiti says that in African communities “something is considered to
be evil not because of its intrinsic nature, but by virtue of who does
it to whom and from which level of status.”5 Although this latter
view is controversial, my difficulty with it here, as with his views
on the African concept of time, concerns the basis for generalizing
it for Africa as a whole even if it is true of his own ethnic group.

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 12. On the idea of African philosophy

There is no need to generalize a particular philosophical position

for all African peoples in order for that position to be African.
I wish to make it clear that in criticizing Mbiti some time ago, as
now, my intention was not to deny the legitimacy of the idea of
African philosophy (using “philosophy” in the singular), but to
question the bases of some of his bald, generalized assertions about
African thought, assertions that need not have been made and that
can hardly be justified. I believe that in many areas of thought we
can discern features of the traditional life and thought of African
peoples sufficiently common to constitute a legitimate and reason¬
able basis for the construction (or reconstruction) of a philosophical
system that may properly be called African - African not in the
sense that every African adheres to it, but in the sense that that
philosophical system arises from, and hence is essentially related to,
African life and thought. Such a basis would justify a discourse in
terms of “African philosophy,” just as the similarity of the experi¬
ences, traditions, cultural systems, values, and mentalities justify
the appropriateness of the labels European philosophy, Oriental
philosophy, Western philosophy, and so on.

12.2. Common
features in African cultures
The basis I have in mind is made up of the beliefs, customs,
traditions, values, sociopolitical institutions, and historical experi¬
ences of African societies. This observation will doubtless evoke
cynicism, even scandal, among many Africanists, who are given to
harping on the diversities of the cultures of Africa. Such scholars
see no affinities among the cultures of Africa, even though the fact
of cultural pluralism, which they expend great intellectual effort in
pointing out, is so obvious a consequence of ethnic pluralism in
Africa. Yet cultural pluralism, I maintain, does not necessarily
eliminate the possibility of horizontal relationships between indi¬
vidual cultures.
On the intellectual level the works of such eminent Western
anthropologists as Rattray, Herskovits, Forde, Fortes, Evans-
Pritchard, Radcliffe-Brown, Lienhardt, and Goody, which gener¬
ally deal with specific ethnic groups in Africa, have produced the
impression, which was not intended by their authors, that the
institutions and practices of the ethnic groups in Africa are very
different from one another. The reason is that none of these

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 III. Toward an African philosophy

authors, through either lack of interest in other ethnic groups or

consciousness of his own limitations, tried in any signi ficant way to
relate his own observations and conclusions to those of other
scholars, where they were available. The few comparisons in their
works are usually made in passing, as if tangential to the import
and structure of the work. The valuable productions of such
individual Africanists do not therefore provide an opportunity for a
synoptic study of African cultures. Consequently, such works fail
to convey the impression that African cultures can be examined
from a continental perspective.
In this connection such works as African Worlds, edited by Forde
(1954), African Political Systems, edited by Fortes and Evans-
Pritchard (1940), and African Systems of Kinship and Marriage, edited
by Radcliffe-Brown and Forde (1956) are of immeasurable value.
Each of these books focuses on a specific theme as it may be found
in a number of African societies: the first on cosmological ideas and
social values, the second on traditional political systems, and the
third on social institutions. The great value of such works is that
they provide one with a horizontal conspectus of some of the
cultural systems of a number of African peoples. Others, like
Geoffrey Parrinder, cover the whole of Africa, or a big region of it,
in one sweep, an approach that has didactic advantages, even
though it may leave out important details and can lead to superfici¬
ality if not properly handled. The point is that anyone interested in
offering a considered, not pedestrian, opinion on the general nature
of African cultures must make comparative investigations. This
approach is certainly arduous, for it requires that one delve into
many publications on the various cultural systems of Africa. Yet it
is the approach most likely to yield a fruitful result.
A painstaking comparative study of African cultures leaves one in
no doubt that despite the undoubted cultural diversity arising from
Africa’s ethnic pluralism, threads of underlying affinity do run
through the beliefs, customs, value systems, and sociopolitical
institutions and practices of the various African societies.
This kinship among the cultural systems of Africa has been noted
by a number of scholars, mostly non-African. Edwin Smith, an
anthropologist and missionary in Central Africa during the first
half of this century, believed that “there is an underlying identity in
religion throughout sub-Saharan Africa which allows one to talk
legitimately of a unified African Religion.”6 Gelfand was impressed
by the similarities of African belief in different parts of the

192
 12. On the idea of African philosophy

continent. Forde wrote in the introduction to his collection of

essays on social values and cosmological ideas of several ethic
groups in Africa: “When these studies are considered together one is
impressed not only by the great diversity of ritual forms, but also
by substantial underlying similarities in religious outlook and moral
injunction.”8 Later he spoke of “the religious ideas and social values
which are widespread in Africa.”9 Elsewhere Forde asserted:

Thus the linguistic distributions in West Africa suggest sev¬

eral important underlying features of cultural development
. . . Since ... all the languages of West Africa appear to be
ultimately derived from a common stock, one would expect
to find significant elements of a common early tradition in the cultures
of all West African peoples. Little systematic enquiry has so far
been given to this question but there are many indications that
underlying the great regional and tribal differences in the
elaboration of cult and cosmological ideas there is a very
widespread substratum of basic ideas that persists in the rituals,
myths and folktales of West African peoples.10

In an introduction to a collection of studies on the political systems

of different African peoples Fortes and Evans-Pritchard opined that
“the societies described are representative of common types of African
political systems” and that “most of the forms described are
variants of a pattern of political organization found among contigu¬
ous or neighboring societies . . . we believe that all the major
principles of African political organization are brought out in these
essays.”11 Parrinder also observed that “there is much more kinship
between the various peoples in Africa than might appear at first
sight.”12 Hilda Kuper’s view was that “the piling up of ethno¬
graphic detail produces an impression of chaos where there is in
fact only variation on a few themes . . . African tribal societies are
relatively undifferentiated and homogenous.”13 Recently the emi¬
nent Ghanaian sociologist K. A. Busia observed that “from such
studies as have already been done on the religious behefs and rites
of different communities, it is possible to discern common religious
ideas and assumptions about the universe held throughout Africa,
and which provide a world-view that may be described as Afri¬
can.”14 Earlier Busia had written: “I am not aware of an agreed
Christian view of nature, but I submit that there is an African one
which is that nature has power which may be revered as well as
used for man’s benefit.”15 Taylor observed that there is in Africa,

193
 III. Toward an African philosophy

south of the Sahara, “a basic world view which fundamentally is

everywhere the same.”16 And according to Idowu,

There is a common Africanness about the total culture and

religious beliefs and practices of Africa. This common factor
may be due either to the fact of diffusion or to the fact that
most Africans share common origins with regard to race and
customs and religious practices . . .; with regard to the con¬
cept of God, there is a common thread, however tenuous in
places, running throughout the continent.'7

Such views regarding the common features of the cultural systems

of Africa justify, in my opinion, the assertion that ethnic pluralism
does not necessarily or invariably produce absolute verticalism with
respect to cultures, allowing no room for shoulder-rubbing of any
kind, but producing windowless monads of cultural systems.
There are several ways in which the cultural systems of the
various African societies may be said to be related. First, a number
of Africa’s ethnic groups are so small, and consequently their
cultures have been so greatly influenced by those of neighboring
large groups that they may now be said to a great extent to share
the culture of the large groups. A foremost scholar of Akan culture,
J. H. Kwabena Nketiah, said of the Akans: “Not only is their
language the most widely spoken throughout the country but also
their culture has influenced those of several ethnic groups within
the borders of Ghana.”18 According to Kenneth Little, “The Mende
. . . form the larger cultural group in Sierra Leone, and their culture
is shared to a considerable extent by peoples living in a wide region
around them.”17 The cultural influence of the Yoruba on the Fon of
Dahomey has likewise been noted. 0 Second, it is a common feature
of the cultural landscape of Africa that a seemingly distinct ethnic
group may in fact turn out to be a subdivision or component of a
larger ethnic group. In Ghana, for instance, the Nzema and the
Ashanti are regarded by non-Ghanaian writers as separate ethnic
entities, whereas in fact both of them are parts of the Akans,
sharing common cultural experiences with other component Akan
groups such as the Fantes, Akwamus, Akwapims, Akims, and
others. The Shilluk of the Upper Nile are culturally related to the
Nuer and the Dinka.~' Third, there are ethnic groups in Africa that,
following the arbitrary and unrealistic boundaries drawn a century
ago by Africa’s colonial masters, are found in two or more
neighboring countries. Thus, there are Ewes in Ghana, Togo, and

194
 12. On the idea of African philosophy

Dahomey (Benin); there are Akans in Ghana, Togo, and Ivory

Coast; there are Yorubas in western Nigeria and Dahomey. The
Bantu are spread over central, eastern, and southern Africa: The
Abaluyia, for instance, are Bantu tribes of the Nyanza province of
Kenya." Writing on “An African Morality,” Godfrey Wilson stated:
“The African people whose morality is here described are the
Nyakusa of the Rungwe district of South Tanganyika; the same
cultural group extends into Nyasaland under the name Ngonde.”21
“The Yoruba, Bird, and Dahomeans,” wrote Fortes, “are closely
related in culture ... I have dwelt on their beliefs because they are
characteristic of West Africa. . .2.4’
A close look at the ethnic configuration of Africa shows a
number of such dislocations or transplants resulting from the
drawing of boundaries that placed peoples bound by ties of kinship,
language, and culture in different states. As a result it is possible to
see particular cultural patterns extending across states in Africa.

12.3. The community of

cultural elements and ideas
I wish now to present, in a nutshell, the worldviews, sociopo¬
litical ideas, values, and institutions that can with a high degree of
certainty be said to pervade the cultural systems of different African
peoples. What I have done is to extract the common or rather
pervasive elements and ideas in the cultures of African peoples as
may be found in as many of the existing publications as I have been
able to look at. Such pervasive cultural elements and ideas are the
elements which constitute the basis for constructing African phi¬
losophy (using “philosophy” in the singular). In some cases the
attempt to bring out the philosophical implications of beliefs, ideas,
attitudes or practices has led to brief philosophical discussions; so
that this section is not just a catalog of facts about African cultures.
We may start, then, with the African metaphysic.

12.3.1. Metaphysics
(a) Categories of being in African ontology
A critical examination of the scholarly literature2’ on tradi¬
tional African religions shows that most African peoples do have a
concept of God as the Supreme Being who created the whole
universe out of nothing and who is the absolute ground of all

195
 III. Toward an African philosophy

being. Thus, Busia wrote: “The postulate of God is universal

throughout Africa; it is a concept which is handed down as part of
the culture.”26 After studying the concept of God held by nearly
three hundred peoples in Africa, Mbiti concluded thus: “In all these
societies, without a single exception, people have a notion of God
as the Supreme Being.”27 The Supreme Being is held to be omnipo¬
tent, omniscient, and omnipresent. He is considered uncreated and
eternal, attributes implying his transcendence. But transcendence is
also implicit in African beliefs about God removing himself far
from the world of humankind as a result of our misconduct. “It
appears to be a widespread notion in Africa that at the beginning
God and man lived together on earth and talked one to another; but
that owing to misconduct of some sort on the part of man - or
more frequently of a woman - God deserted the earth and went to
live in the sky.”28 But God is also held by African peoples to be
immanent in that He is “manifested in natural objects and phenom¬
ena, and they can turn to Him in acts of worship, at any place and
.• ,,29
any time.
African ontology, however, is a pluralistic ontology that recog¬
nizes, besides the Supreme Being, other categories of being as well.
These are the lesser spirits (variously referred to as spirits, deities,
gods, nature gods, divinities), ancestors (that is, ancestral spirits),
man, and the physical world of natural objects and phenomena.
Mbiti observed: “Myriads of spirits are reported from every
African people,”30 and “the class of the spirits is an essential and
integral part of African ontology.”31 The reality of the ancestral
spirits is the basis of the so-called ancestor worship that has been
considered by some as an important feature of African religion.
Thus, Fortes wrote: “It has long been recognized that ancestor
worship is a conspicuous feature of African religious systems.”32
And Parrinder observed: “Thus there is no doubt that ancestral
spirits play a very large part in African thought; they are [so]
prominent in the spiritual world.”33 The physical world is also
considered real in African ontology.
Mbiti thought that in addition to these four entities in African
ontology - namely, God, qua the Absolute Being, lesser spirits
(consisting of superhuman beings and ancestral spirits), man, and,
finally, the world of natural objects - “there seems to be a force,
power or energy permeating the whole universe”34 which, in his
opinion, is to be added as a separate ontological category.35 But
although African ontology distinguishes four or five categories of

196
 i2. On the idea of African philosophy

being, yet it must not be supposed that these entities are on the
same level of reality. For God, as the Supreme Being and the
ground of all existence, must be categorially distinguished from the
lesser spirits and the other beings that were his creations. The
Supreme Being is held as the ultimate reality, which is inferrable
not only from the attributes ascribed to God,36 but also from the
religious attitude and behavior of African peoples, the majority of
whose “prayers and invocations are addressed to God.”37 Moreover,
in spontaneous religious outbursts references are made to the
Supreme Being rather than to the lesser spirits.38 The lesser spirits
are thus on a lower level of reality. African ontology therefore is
hierarchical,36 with the Supreme Being at the apex and the world of
natural objects and phenomena at the bottom.
African ontology appears to be essentially spiritualistic, although
this does not imply a denial of the reality of the nonspiritual,
empirical world. Conceptually, a distinction is made between the
empirical and nonempirical (that is, spiritual) world. But this
distinction is not projected onto the level of being, so that in terms
of being both worlds are regarded as real. Thus, McVeigh stated:
“Both the world of the seen and the unseen are realities.”40 And
Mbiti observed that in African conceptions “the physical and
spiritual are but two dimensions of one and the same universe.”41
Reality in African thought appears to be homogeneous. Thus, just
as African ontology is neither wholly pluralistic nor wholly monis¬
tic but possesses attributes of both, so it is neither idealistic -
maintaining that what is real is only spirit, nor materialistic
(naturalistic) - maintaining that what is real is only matter, but
possesses attributes of both.

(b) Causation
African ontological structure constitutes the conceptual
framework for explaining the notion of causality. Implicit in the
hierarchical character of that structure is that a higher entity has the
power to control a lower entity. Since man and the physical world
are the lower entities of that hierarchy, occurrences in the physical
world are causally explained by reference to supernatural powers,
which are held to be the real or ultimate sources of action and
change in the world. Wrote Mbiti:
African peoples . . . feel and believe that all the various ills,
misfortunes, accidents, tragedies . . . which they encounter or
experience, are caused by the use of (this) mystical power. . . .

197
 III. Toward an African philosophy

It is here that we may understand, for example, that a

bereaved mother whose child has died from malaria will not
be satisfied with the scientific explanation. . . . She will wish
to know why the mosquito stung her child and not somebody
else’s child. . . . Everything is caused by someone directly or
through the use of mystical power.42
Elsewhere Mbiti wrote that “for many millions of African people”
such phenomena, as the eclipse of the sun, “do not just happen
without mystical, mythological, or spiritual causes. It is not enough
for them to ask why or how this causes them to happen. In
traditional life the who questions and answers are more important and
meaningful than the how questions and answers ,”43 McVeigh made
reference to “the African concern with the deeper ‘why’ ques¬
tions,”44 and “the African tendency to seek immediately mystical
answers.”45 In a book that deals specifically with eastern and
southern African peoples, Monica Wilson referred to the dogmas
regarding mystical power as “the explanation of good and evil
fortune, the answer to ‘Why did it happen to me?’ ”46 She observed
that in Africa scientific answers are regarded as incomplete, for
science “cannot answer the question the Mpondo or Nyakyusa is
primarily concerned with when his child dies: ‘Why did it happen
to me?’ ‘Who caused it?’ ”47
The evidence, then, is that causation is generally explained in
terms of spirit, of mystical power. Scientific or empirical explana¬
tions, of which they are aware, are considered not profound enough
to offer complete satisfaction. The notion of chance is the alterna¬
tive to the African proclivity to the “why” and the “who”
questions when the answers to the “how” and “what” questions
are deemed unsatisfactory. But the Africans’ conception of an
orderly universe and their concern for ultimate causes lead them to
reject the notion of chance. Consequently, in African causal expla¬
nations the notion of chance does not have a significant place.48

(c) Concept of the person

Every culture produces a dogma of human personality, that
is to say, an accepted formulation of the physical and psychical
constitution of man.” So wrote the renowned British anthropolo¬
gist Meyer Fortes. African systems of thought indeed teem with
elaborate dogmas of the nature of the human being. The African
philosophy of the person is, in my view, rigidly duahstic: The
person consists of body and soul. However, the common concep-

198
 12. On the idea of African philosophy

tion of the soul varies widely in its details. In some cases the soul is
conceived as having three or even more parts, as, for example,
among the people of Dahomey;50 others, such as the Dogon,51 the
Rwanda, the Nupe and Gwari of northern Nigeria,53 and the
Yoruba, conceive it as bipartite. Still others, like the Mende and
the Shilluk,55 have simpler conceptions of the soul.
The soul is understood as the immaterial part of a person that
survives after death. The African belief in the soul - and hence in
the dualistic nature of the person - leads directly to their concep¬
tion of an ancestral world inhabited by departed souls. Thus the
logical relation between the belief in the soul and the belief in the
ancestral world is one of dependence: The latter belief depends on
the former. It is the immaterial, undying part of a person, namely,
the soul, that continues to live in the world of the ancestral spirits.
Thus, McVeigh was right when he wrote: . . it is impossible to
deny that African thought affirms the survival of the human
personality (that is, soul) after death.”56 For this reason, ‘‘the
Christian missionary,” in McVeigh’s view, “does not go to Africa to
inform the people that there is a spiritual world or that the
personality survives the grave. Africans know this from their own
experience.”57 The psychophysical conception of a person common
to African thought systems and the commonly observable phe¬
nomena of psychophysical therapeutics practiced in all African
communities presuppose a belief in psychophysical causal interac¬
tion.

(d) Concept of fate (destiny)

As the absolute being and the ultimate ground of being in the
African metaphysic, the Supreme Being constitutes the controlling
principle in the world. This fact, together with others to be
mentioned presently, is the basis of the belief in fate (or destiny)
common in African thought systems. “Running through the Afri¬
can conception of God,” observed McVeigh, “is a clear sense of fate
or destiny.”58 Dickson also noted that “The concept of Destiny is
quite widespread in Africa; certainly the literature on West Africa
suggests that many of its peoples have some ideas which may be
put down under the heading of Destiny.”59 Writing on the African
ideas about the works of God, Mbiti said: “God not only continues
to create physically, but He also ordains the destiny of His creatures,
especially that of man.”60 Fortes, however, thought that the concept
of fate is held only in the religions of West African people: “Indeed

199
 III. Toward an A frican philosophy

one of the characteristic marks of West African religions, as

compared with other African religions (for example: East and
South African Bantu religions) in which ancestor worship also
plays a part, is the occurrence of the notion of Fate in them.”61 It is
not true, however, that eastern and southern African religions lack
the notion of fate. Mbiti, for instance, noted that “Similar notions
of predestination are found among peoples like the Ila, Tswana,
Bacongo, Barundi, Yao and others.”62 (These are peoples in eastern
and southern Africa.)
The concept of fate must be implicit, in my view, in systems of
thought, like the African, which postulate a creator who not only
fashioned man and the world but also established the order of the
world in which man lives. It makes sense logically to assume that if
human beings were fashioned, then they were fashioned in such a
way that would determine a number of things about them. This
assumption therefore must have been a basis for the African belief
in fate. Further, the repudiation of the notion of chance in African
thought would seem to lead to the idea of fate. Thus, some other
assumptions in African thought involve a general belief in fate.
What is not clear is whether fate is self-determined, that is, chosen
or decided upon by the individual soul or divinely imposed. Some
African peoples think that destiny is chosen by the individual whereas
others think that it is conferred by the Supreme Being. Among the
Yoruba the manner in which destiny comes to the individual is
ambiguously conceived: In one way the individual “chooses his des¬
tiny”; in another he “receives his destiny,” that is, from Olodumare
(God): in yet another way “his destiny is affixed to him.”63 In the
conceptions of the Rwandas, the Fon of Dahomey, the Lele of Kasai
(southwestern Congo Kinshasa), and others, God decides the destiny
of the individual.64 However, whatever the source of the individual’s
destiny, the fact remains - as I pointed out in discussing the concept
among the Akan (section 7.2.2) - that the individual enters the world
with a predetermined destiny. The concept of fate in African thought
appears to be quite complex and, like other concepts, stands in need of
thorough analysis and explication.

(e) The problem of evil

Busia, to whose views I have already referred in my discus¬
sion of the problem of evil, claimed that the African concept of
deity does not generate the problem of evil, for the sources of evil
in the world are the lesser spirits and other supernatural forces.

200
 12. On the idea of African philosophy

That is to say, God is not the source of evil. Mbiti asserted that
“many [African] societies say categorically that God did not create
what is evil, nor does He do any evil whatsoever ... In nearly all
African societies, it is thought that spirits are either the origin of
evil, or agents of evil.”65 A few African peoples hold, however, that,
in the words of McVeigh, God is “the explanation for what is good
and evil in man’s life.”66 Among such peoples are the Shilluk, Dinka,
Nupe, Bacongo, and Vashona. The assumption of God as the
source of evil in the world stems from the conception of God as the
first principle and the ultimate ground of explanation for all
existence. This of course raises the problem of evil, since God is
also considered in African thought to be good67 and omnipotent.
Most African peoples, however, deny that God is the source of
evil. Does their view succeed in eliminating the problem of evil, as
Busia and others claimed? Maquet, writing about the Rwanda, said:
“The century-old problem of evil in the world, particularly acute
where there is a belief in the existence of a being who is omnipotent
and infinitely good, has been solved by putting the responsibility
for all evil and all suffering on agents other than Imana . . . Imana
(God) himself does not cause any evil but he allows the causes of
evil to act.”68 These agents or causes of evil, according to Maquet,
are the “malevolent agencies of the invisible world,”69 that is, evil
spirits. Maquet is surely mistaken in maintaining that the fact that
evil is traceable to evil spirits eliminates the problem of evil. For the
questions I raised in discussing the problem of evil as it occurs in
Akan thought (in section 7.4) are relevant here too. Thus even if it is
the lesser spirits and not God which are held as the sources of evil,
evil still remains a genuine problem for African philosophy and
theology.

12.3.2. Epistemology: paranormal cognition -

an important mode of knowing in African thought
Historically, Western epistemology has acknowledged two
main sources of knowledge: reason (mind) and sense experience.
The theories associated with these sources are known as rationalism
and empiricism. Despite the activities of the Society for Psychical
Research (founded in England in 1882) and despite much-
publicized experiences in clairvoyance and telepathy - which are
forms of extrasensory perception (ESP) - ESP has not been
formally accepted as a form of knowing in the Western philosophy
of knowledge. There are, to be sure, some individuals in Western

201
 III. Toward an African philosophy

societies who believe in ESP as a source of knowledge, but this is

far from implying the recognition of ESP.
The case is different in African ways of knowing. Reason and
sense experience are, to be sure, not unknown to African epistemol¬
ogy, even though, as in other areas, epistemological concepts in
African thought have not been extensively investigated. In Akan
thought, for instance, the well-known proverb
No one teaches a child God,
(obi nkyere abofra Nyame)
implies that knowledge of God is intuitive and immediate,70 rather
than acquired through experience. Other proverbs indicate the
Akan belief in innate ideas, such as
No one teaches blacksmithing to the son of a
blacksmith.
No one teaches the leopard’s child how to spring.71
(that is, it is born with that knowledge even though
that knowledge is developed through experience).
Sense experience as a source of knowledge is also recognized in
African thought. The Akan proverb
All things depend on experience,
(;nneema nyinaa dan sua)12
indicates the high regard the Akan thinkers have for knowledge
based on experience.
But I wish to point out an important feature of African epistemol-
ogy that makes it distinct from Western epistemology, namely, spirit
mediumship, divination, and witchcraft. These modes of cognition
are of course occasioned by means that differ from, but work
alongside (para), the normal. Divination, witchcraft, and spirit medi¬
umship are psychical phenomena common in all African communi¬
ties. Middleton and Winter said: “Beliefs about witches and sorcer¬
ers have a worldwide distribution; in Africa their occurrence is almost
universal:’12 Evans-Pritchard wrote: “. . . most, perhaps all, African
peoples have witchcraft or sorcery beliefs or both - in some de¬
gree.”7' Debrunner also noted that “Witchcraft beliefs are promi¬
nent all over Africa.’ “With a few exceptions,” writes Mbid,
African systems of divination have not been carefully studied,
though diviners and divinations are found in almost every commu¬
nity.” Spirit medium and spirit possession are just as widespread.77
Parrinder observed that “Divination ... is very popular in Africa.”78

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 12. On the idea of African philosophy

In African communities it is commonly believed that some

individuals are born with certain abilities that are not acquired
through experience. Diviners, traditional healers, and witches are
believed to possess ESP with which they can perceive and commu¬
nicate with supernatural entities. African thought maintains that
perception does not wholly or exclusively occur through the
physical senses, and that human beings are not entirely subject to
the limitations of space and time. Telepathy, a form of ESP in which
information originating in the mind of one person is sent to that of
another; clairvoyance, in which people can see objects that are far
away or otherwise hidden from sight; and precognition, in which
people acquire information about the future - all these forms of
Western parapsychology are, in the African context, aspects of
divination and spirit mediumship, for the African diviner claims
knowledge of the thoughts of other persons and of certain facts that
has been acquired without the use of the normal senses. In Africa,
this information is thought to be the result of the activities of
discarnate minds, that is, spirits. Divination thus links the physical
and the spiritual worlds, and in Africa (as perhaps elsewhere) there
are numerous stories about individuals communicating with the
dead, which, if true, would attest to survival after death.
Divination and spiritual mediumship are parapsychological phe¬
nomena and should, if possible, be investigated scientifically, for if
they are found to be genuine, they might establish that the human
mind is not material but a spiritual entity - a conclusion with
obvious implications for epistemology and the philosophy of mind.
In Africa, however, judging from the popularity of diviners and
mediums and from the assiduity with which people in an African
community seek certain kinds of knowledge from them, it can
legitimately be claimed that paranormal cognition is recognized by
and large as a mode of knowing.

12.3.3. African morality: religious or nonreligious?

A number of scholars have made the observation that African
peoples are very religious, and that religion permeates their lives.
Mbiti asserted that “Africans are notoriously religious, and each
people has its own religious system with a set of beliefs and
practices. Religion permeates into all the departments of life so fully
that it is not easy or possible always to isolate it.”79 According to
him “in traditional life there are no atheists.”8" Busia observed that
Africa’s cultural heritage “is intensely and pervasively religious,”81

203
 III. Toward an A frican philosophy

and that “in traditional African communities, it was not possible to

distinguish between religious and nonreligious areas of life. All life
was religious.”82 Writing specifically on the Yoruba, Idowu said:
“The keynote of their life is their religion. In all things, they are
religious . . . The religion of the Yoruba permeates their lives so
much that it expresses itself in multifarious ways.”83 Elsewhere he
refers to Africans generally as people “who in all things are
religious.”84 Father Onuoha’s view was that “Religion permeated
the life of the African through and through,”85 and McVeigh wrote
that “The African is deeply religious.”86 Many colonial administra¬
tors in Africa used to refer to Africans as “this incurably religious
people.”87
The claim about the religiosity of African peoples has led some
scholars to assert a link between religion and morality in African
moral philosophy. At the end of Monica Wilson’s chapter on “Mo¬
ralities” she remarks: “To conclude, in the traditional societies in
Africa there was a direct connection between religion and morality,
though the concepts of sin varied and the sources of retribution were
diverse.”88 Dickson opined that “. . . in Africa religion and life go
together: life is to a very great extent believed to be permeated by
religious values. I happen to subscribe to the view that in African
thought there is some link between religion and morality.”89 Busia
maintained that “religion defined moral duties for the members of
the group or tribe,”90 and again, that “The standards and loyalties, the
obligations and reciprocities of social life in Africa are rooted in
religion.”91 That some connection may exist between religion and
morality in African thought is definitely conceivable in the allegedly
religious environment of the African. It seems to me, however, that
the nature of the connection is yet to be fully clarified.
The connection has been taken by some scholars to mean that the
African moral system derives from, or is founded upon, religion,
and that African morality is a religious morality. Busia’s first
statement quoted above implies such a view. Parrinder observed:
Morality is bound up with religion and receives its sanction from
the Creator who gives the order of the world. What is ethically
good must be ontologically good also.”92 Parrinder means, I think,
that religion is the basis of morality, for elsewhere he wrote:
“. . . the past has been (so) thoroughly impregnated with religion
and its ethics . . ”93 Thus, he sees African morality as an offshoot of
African religion. Idowu also thought that “With the Yoruba
morality is certainly the fruit of religion.”94

204
 12. On the idea of African philosophy

Some scholars writing on the morality of specific African ethnic

groups, however, deny the religious basis of the moral systems of
those peoples. Godfrey Wilson wrote of the Nyakyusa: “Among
the Nyakyusa the ideas of social behavior are not connected with
religion, nonetheless they exist . . after mentioning the moral
virtues of the Nyakyusa, he added: “But the positive, ideal state¬
ment of these virtues is not made in religious terms.”95 Referring to
African morality generally, Monica Wilson observed: “The basis of
morality was fulfillment of obligation to kinsmen and neighbors,
and living in amity with them.”96 On the morality of the Rwanda,
Maquet wrote: “Thus the ethics of the Banyarwanda are not
integrated on a religious basis such as the will of God . . . That is
good (or evil) which tradition has defined as good (or evil).”97
Among the Mende, “Wrong behavior is regarded as a breaking of
some specific rule of conduct, not as the flouting of some divine or
absolute law of the universe.”98 These are unambiguous statements
of the nonreligious foundation of morality of at least some African
peoples.
In order to ascertain the real basis of African morality and thus to
clarify the link between religion and morality in African thought,
two distinctions must be made. First, one must distinguish between
morality as a system of moral rules or principles - and the question
here is whether or not moral rules originate from divine prescrip¬
tions - and morality as the moral life or conduct of the individual
person. Second, as I noted in section 8.1, the relation between
religion and morality in African ethical thought must be examined
from two angles: from the angle of religion or spiritual beings as
the source of moral rules or values, and from the angle of religion
as playing some active role in the moral behavior of the individual.
The nature of the link between religion and morality that has been
alleged by some observers becomes clearer when these distinctions
are made. If they mean that the Supreme Being (God) and the other
spirits play a significant role in the moral behavior of African
peoples, this is a plausible view. If, on the other hand, they mean
that religious or divine pronouncements constitute the bases of
moral rules in African societies, this, in my opinion, is implausible.
A number of scholars have noted the significant roles played by
the Supreme Being and other supernatural beings in the moral
behavior of African peoples. Writing on religion and society in
Africa, Parrinder observed that “religion provides the sanctions
that society cannot fully supply of itself. . . Busia s view was that

205
 III. Toward an African philosophy

“African religions support the idea that religion regulates con¬

duct.”100 While supposing that “God rarely intervenes in the moral
life of men on earth,” Ray noted that “for the most part, it is the
ancestors who act as the official guardians of the social and moral
order.”101 According to McVeigh, “To speak of religious sanctions
in African ethics is to recognize that the ancestors are the trustees of
tribal morality.”102 In an allegedly religious environment it is
conceivable that the objects of religious awe, the beings to which
worshipful obeisance is made, may be said in some sense to affect
the moral behavior of the people.
The interpretation of the link between religion and morality in
terms that would make religion, that is, divine commands, the
source of moral values appears to be conceptually impossible. The
principal reason is that African traditional religion is essentially not
a revealed religion.103 The doctrinal system of a religion revealed by
God to a single person, the founder, invariably includes elaborate
prescriptions to guide the ethical life of the people who accept and
practice that religion. A coherent system of ethics can be founded
upon such divinely revealed commands. African religious experi¬
ence has certainly included mystical encounters between human
beings (that is, priests and priestesses, diviners, etc.) and spiritual
beings. Such encounters occur in divinations, spirit mediums,
communications with the dead, and other forms of the religious
experience. Such contacts, however, take place in a religious atmos¬
phere; they are some of the manifestations of African religion. The
encounters therefore are the results, rather than the causes (or
sources), of religion in Africa in the traditional setting. Thus,
religious “truths” that people in an African community may claim
to possess could not have originated in such events. The origins of
African traditional religion appear to be more complex than those
of religions like Christianity and Islam. It is clear, however, that
African traditional religion cannot be said to be a religion whose
doctrines were embodied in a revelation.
To say this, however, is not to deny that “messages” may be
received by the practitioners or followers of African traditional
religion and that part of the message may concern the moral fife of
its followers. Nevertheless, such messages carrying moral prescrip¬
tions appear to be too few and far between to constitute an
adequate basis for a coherent ethical system. In any case the moral
character of such prescriptions would have to be judged by the
people themselves, using their own moral insight. After stating that

206
 ^ 2. On the idea of African philosophy

With the Yoruba, morality is certainly the fruit of religion,”

Idowu added: “What have been named tabu took their origin from
the fact that people discerned that there were certain things which
were morally approved or disapproved by the Deity.”104 By “moral¬
ity Idowu, I take it, means a set of moral rules or moral values. If
this is the case, then there is a tension inherent in the above
statements. If moral rules are derived from religion or divine
commands, then they would immediately compel obedience irre¬
spective of the moral views of the people. On the other hand, if
popular moral sentiment was relevant to the origin of taboos
(“things not done”), as Idowu’s second statement implies, then the
people were the final arbiters of what was morally right or wrong.
The logic of Idowu’s statements, in the context of a nonrevealed
religion, suggests indeed that moral rules or moral values do not
derive from religion. I conclude therefore that the most plausible
way of interpreting the link between African religion and morality
is to see it in terms of the supernatural beings playing an important
role in the moral behavior of the people rather than in terms of such
beings constituting the sources of moral values.
This conclusion immediately raises this important question:
What constitutes the basis of African moral belief, values, and
principles, if not religion? I believe that in African conceptions
moral values originate from the basic existential conditions in
which people conduct their lives. McVeigh observed:

Therefore, it is important to inquire concerning the African

standard of judgment, what makes some things good and
others bad. [Edwin] Smith replies that the norm of right and
wrong is custom; that is, the good is that which receives the
community’s approval, the bad is that which is disapproved.
The right builds up society; the wrong tears it down. One is
social; the other anti-social.'05

Regarding the basis of Bantu morality, Molema remarked:

The greatest happiness and good of the tribe was the end and
aim of each member of the tribe. Now, utility forms part of
the basis of perhaps all moral codes. With the Bantu, it
formed the basis of morality ... it was utilitarianism. This
was the standard of goodness, and in harmony with, and
conformity to, this end must the moral conduct be moulded.
The effect of this, of course, was an altruism.106

207
 III. Toward an African philosophy

Thus, it is clear that the guiding principles of African morality

originate not from divine pronouncements as such, but from
considerations of human welfare and interests. Reverence for non¬
human entities is not necessarily considered to lessen one’s devo¬
tion to the welfare and interests of human beings in this life. The
(alleged) religiosity of African peoples, even if true, is therefore not
at variance with the pursuit of human welfare on earth. Indeed,
African prayers are brimful of requests to the supernatural beings
for material comforts and the things necessary for building a good
life. Mbiti observed that “the prayers are chiefly requests for
material welfare, such as health, protection from danger, prosperity
and even riches.”107 Shorter also noted that African prayers are
devoted to “the transmission and continuity of life and fertility. . . .
Life and the sharing of life and [such] well-known, fundamental
values in Africa . . .”108 He continued: “Health and healing are most
important values in African traditional religion, connected as they
are with the fundamental theme of life. Sickness, for the African, is
a diminution of life; and petition for healing is probably the most
common subject of prayer.”109 In Monica Wilson’s view, “What
men continually sought in traditional African society - what they
worshipped - was life, vitality, fertility.”110 The African love of life
is a feature of their concern for human well-being, which consti¬
tutes the warp and woof of their moral life and thought.

12.3.4. Communalism in
African social thought and practice
Communalism111 is the doctrine that the group constitutes the
main focus of the lives of the individual members of that group, and
that the extent of the individual’s involvement in the interests,
aspirations, and welfare of the group is the measure of that
individual’s worth. This philosophy is given institutional expres¬
sion in the social structures of African societies.
The communal social structures of African societies have been
noted by many a writer on African social life. The sense of
community and social solidarity that characterizes the social rela¬
tions of African peoples stems from such communal social struc¬
tures. This sense of community, observed Dickson, is a “characteris¬
tic of African life to which attention has been drawn again and again by
both African and non-African writers on Africa. Indeed, to many
this characteristic defines Africanness!'"~ Edwin Smith observed more
than half a century ago:

208
 12. On the idea of African philosophy

The Africans have hitherto lived in the collectivist stage: the

community has been the unit, every individual interest has
been subordinate to the general welfare. In many respects this
excites our admiration - even envy. There is a solidarity that
civilized communities find it hard to attain. The corporate
sentiment that trade unions create among their members is
but a faint reflection of the brotherhood found within the
African’s clan.1'3

Writing on the Bantu, Molema observed: “Individualism, as under¬

stood in the Western World, could not thrive. Collectivism was the
civic law, communism and a true form of socialism the dominating
principle and ruling spirit.”"4 According to Senghor, “Negro-
African society puts more stress on the group than on the individ¬
ual, more on solidarity than on the activity and needs of the
individual, more on the communion of persons than on their auton¬
omy. Ours is a community society.”115 Sekou Toure wrote: “Africa is
fundamentally communocratic. The collective life and social soli¬
darity give it a basis of humanism which many peoples might envy.
These human qualities also mean that an individual cannot imagine
organizing his life outside that of his family, village or clan.”116
Referring specifically to traditional life in Kenya, Kenyatta wrote:
“According to Gikuyu ways of thinking, nobody is an isolated
individual. Or rather, his uniqueness is a secondary fact about him;
first and foremost he is several people’s relative and several people’s
contemporary . . . this fact is the basis of his sense of moral
responsibility and social obligation.”"7 Elsewhere he observed that
“Individualism and self-seeking were ruled out . . . The personal
pronoun “I” was used very rarely in public assemblies. The spirit of
collectivism was [so] much ingrained in the mind of the
1 ??118
people. . .
Communalism is echoed in the works of some African novelists.
Camara Laye’s The African Child evokes a sense of community.
Chinua Achebe’s No Longer at Ease refers to the fellow feeling and
neighborliness in African societies. The hero of William Conton’s
The African rages against “the European’s exaggerated individual¬
ism, his constant exalting of the single human being . . .”"9
Plainly, communalism holds a most significant place in African
social thought, though this does not imply that individualism as
such is smothered or ignored, as has been alleged by some scholars,
such as Burke, who opined that communal values “tend to sub-

209
 III. Toward an African philosophy

merge the individual personality within the collectivity.”120 Much

earlier Adolphe Louis Cureau had written of the Congo: “The
village as an extension of the family, compels its citizens to strict
communism, to dependence upon one another, and a fusion which
reduces everyone to the same level and submerges personality and
originality.”121 I have already argued against such a view in Chapter
10. Senghor, immediately after the statements referred to above,
added: “This does not mean that it [that is, the community society]
ignores the individual.”122 And contrasting the African conception
of the social nature of the individual with that of the European, he
said:

The individual is, in Europe, the man who distinguishes

himself from the others and claims his autonomy to affirm
himself in his basic originality. The member of the community
society also claims his autonomy to affirm himself as a being. But he
feels, he thinks that he can develop his potential, his original¬
ity, only in and by society, in union with all other men. . . ,123

In African social thought human beings are regarded not as

individuals but as groups of created beings inevitably and naturally
interrelated and interdependent. This does not necessarily lead to
the submerging of the initiative or personality of the individual, for
after all the well-being and success of the group depend on the
unique qualities of its individual members - but individuals whose
consciousness of their responsibility to the group is ever present
because they identify themselves with the group. Some writers on
African social thought and practice have failed to comprehend the
nature of the relation between communalism and individualism as
these concepts really operate in African societies. In African philos¬
ophy, as in African life, these concepts are not considered antitheti¬
cal, as they are in European (both capitalist and communist)
philosophies.

12.4. Conclusion: the legitimacy

of talking of African philosophy
The main purpose of Part III is to point out one thing:
namely, that it is legitimate and intelligible to talk of “African
philosophy,” the basis of which is the common or pervasive features
in African cultural and thought systems. I do not claim that the
features of the African life and thought I have presented are

210
 1 2. On the idea of African philosophy

peculiarly African, for they are in fact found in non-African

traditional settings as well. But this observation is harmless in itself,
and does not detract from the need to explore ideas from the
African perspective. African philosophical systems will not be
unique. The important thing is to see how the ideas of being,
causation, the nature of a person, destiny, evil, morality, the nature
of human society and social relationships, etc., are comprehended
and analyzed by African thinkers on the basis of African cultural
and intellectual experience. African perspectives on these ideas may
be similar to those of others; nevertheless, they are worth examin¬
ing within the African conceptual crucible. After all, the fact that
Indians, Chinese, and Japanese have concepts of communalism or
destiny, for instance, does not mean that those concepts are
necessarily the same as those of African thinkers.
I have already argued that a given culture forms the basis of a
philosophy and creates the controlling and organizing categories
and principles for philosophizing. For me, then, a philosophical
discourse that critically interacts or communes with African cul¬
tural and intellectual experiences, with African mentalities and
traditions, will be African. That thesis does not have to be accepted
by all Africans in order for it to be African, nor does it have to be
generalized for all Africans. It only needs to be the results of the reflective
exertions of an African thinker, aimed at giving analytical attention to the
intellectual foundations of African culture and experience. That is all. When
modern African philosophers discuss ideas produced by African
traditional thinkers, or when they philosophize with the
contemporary African situation in mind, diverse, even incompati¬
ble, analyses will undoubtedly emerge. Yet they will all come under
the umbrella of African philosophy. So that even though what will
emerge as African philosophy will in reahty be a philosophical
mosaic, this fact will not detract from the Africanness of those
philosophies. They will, after all, be the product of the “African
mind,” just as Western culture - Western mind - constitutes the
ground for Western philosophy, which also consists of numerous
philosophies. There is indeed no single philosophical idea or
doctrine shared or adhered to by all Europeans or Westerners; yet
such an idea or doctrine does not, on that account, cease to be
European or Western. As noted recently by a Western philosopher,
“There is no such thing as contemporary philosophy, of course, at
least if this is construed as some sum total of commonly held tenets
of the day. There are contemporary philosophies, philosophies as

211
 III. Toward an African philosophy

numerous, one sometimes thinks, as philosophers!’1‘4 But it must be noted

that despite the numerousness of these philosophies (produced by
Western philosophers), they all come, nevertheless, under the
umbrella of Western philosophy. The reason for this is that they are
all grounded in the Western cultural experience. This, then, pro¬
vides the justification for the main title of this book.
I conclude, then, by saying that modern African philosophers
should turn their philosophical gaze on the intellectual foundations of
African culture and experience (in addition to contributions to Western
philosophy, which some of them are in a hurry to pursue). It is
never too late in human history to start from where one should
start (or should have started). As part of the people of Africa and
speaking their languages - which fact is essential for investigating
the philosophy of a people - modern African philosophers are in a
unique position to elucidate, analyze, and interpret the philosophy
of African peoples and to sharpen its contours on the global
philosophical map.

212
 Notes

I. The question of philosophy in African culture

1. On the denial of traditional thought as philosophy

1. I use the term “traditional” in the sense of indigenous and aborigi¬

nal, something handed down from generation to generation.
2. Robin Horton, “Traditional Thought and the Emerging African
Philosophy Department: A Comment on the current Debate,” Second
Order, An African Journal of Philosophy, Vol. VI, No. 1, January 1977,
pp. 64-80.
3. Ibid., p. 66; my italics.
4. Robin Horton, “African Traditional Thought and Western Science,”
Africa, Vol. 37, Nos. 1 and 2, 1967; rpt. in Bryan R. Wilson (ed.),
Rationality (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1974). The reference is to
Rationality, p. 160.
5. Reuben Abel, Man Is the Measure: A Cordial Invitation to the Central
Problems of Philosophy (Free Press, New York, 1976), p. xxiv; my
italics.
6. Frederick Sontag, Problems of Philosophy (Chandler, Scranton, Penn.,
1970), p. 1; italics in original.
7. Ibid., p. 2.
8. Richard Taylor, Metaphysics (Prentice-Hall, Englewood Cliffs, N.J.,
1974), p. 2.
9. Sontag, pp. 1, 22; Taylor, pp. 1-2.

213
 Notes to pp. 5-11
10. “Willard Van Orman Quine on Philosophy Minus the Mind.” BBC
interview with Bryan Magee, The Listener, 23 March 1978, p. 367;
rpt. in Bryan Magee, Men of Ideas, Some Creators of Contemporary
Philosophy (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1982), p. 144.
11. A. C. Ewing, “Philosophy in India,” Philosophy, Vol. XXVI, July
1951, p. 263.
12. K. A. Agyakwa, “Akan Epistemology and Western Tradition: A
Philosophical Approach to the Problem of Educational Moderniza¬
tion in Ghana,” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, New York, 1975.
13. K. A. Busia, “The African World-View,” in Jacob Drachler (ed.),
African heritage (Crowell Collier & Macmillan, New York, 1963), p.
149; my italics.
14. D. W. Hamlyn, “Epistemology, History of,” in Paul Edwards (ed.),
The Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Macmillan, New York, 1967), III, 9.
15. Horton in Wilson (ed.), Rationality, p. 160.
16. Ibid., pp. 159-60. Horton, “Traditional Thought,” p. 65.
17. Horton in Wilson (ed.) Rationality, pp. 159-60.
18. Kwasi Wiredu, “On an African Orientation in Philosophy,” Second
Order, Vol. 1, No. 2, July 1972, p. 13; rpt. in his Philosophy and an
African Culture (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1980), p.
36. The word “needful” in the original text is omitted in the reprint.
19. P. O. Bodunrin, “The Question of African Philosophy,” Philosophy,
Vol. LVI, 1981, p. 169.
20. Ibid.
21. Paulin J. Hountondji, African Philosophy, Myth and Reality, trans.
Henri Evans (Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1983), p. 53;
my italics.
22. Ibid., p. 55-65.
23. Of course thinkers belonging to the same cultural milieu also may
have different answers to philosophical problems. But I am con¬
cerned here with statements in which we use such terms as “Greek
philosophy,” “Western philosophy,” “Indian philosophy” and “Is¬
lamic philosophy.”
24. With the exception of Ethiopian philosophy, which has written
sources. See Claude Sumner, Ethiopian Philosophy, 4 vols. (Commer¬
cial Printing Press, Addis Ababa, 1974-8).
25. E. G. Parrinder, Religion in Africa (Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1969),
p. 25.
26. S. Dasgupta, A History of Indian Philosophy (Cambridge University
Press, Cambridge, 1963), I, 10.
27. P. T. Raju, Philosophical Traditions of India (Allen and Unwin, London,
1971), p. 15.
28. Ibid., p. 114.

214
 Notes topp. 13-17

2. Philosophy and culture

1. Melville J. Herskovits, Dahomey, An Ancient West African Kingdom (J.

J. August, New York, 1938), p. 296.
2. E. G. Parrinder, Religion in Africa (Penguin, Harmondsworth, 1969),
p. 25.
3. W. E. Abraham, The Mind of Africa (University of Chicago Press,
Chicago, 1962), p. 111.
4. William Fagg, The Study of African Art,” in Simon Ottenberg and
Phoebe Ottenberg (eds.), Cultures and Societies of Africa (Random
House, New York, 1960), pp. 466-7.
5. E. Bolaji Idowu, Olodumare, God in Yoruba Belief (Longmans, London,
1962), pp. 5-6. Cf. Dasgupta’s observation about the philosophical
tradition in India in Chapter 1.
6. John S. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy (Doubleday, New York
1970), p. 87.
7. K. A. Busia, The Challenge of Africa (Praeger, New York, 1962),
p. 11.
8. Ibid., p. 26.
9. Idowu, p. 45.
10. R. S. Rattray, Akan-Ashanti Folk Tales (Oxford University Press,
Oxford, 1930), p. ix.
11. J. A. Stewart, The Myths of Plato, G. R. Levy (ed.) (Centaur Press,
London, 1960), p. 26.
12. Mbiti, p. 86.
13. j. G. Christaller, A Collection of 3,600 Tshi (Twi) Proverbs (Basel,
Evangelical Missionary Society, 1879).
14. R. S. Rattray, Ashanti Proverbs (Oxford University Press, Oxford,
1916), pp. 11-12; my italics.
15. See, for example, Ruth Finnegan, Oral Literature in Africa (Oxford
University Press, Oxford, 1970); L. A. Boadi, “The Language of the
Proverb,” in Richard M. Dorson (ed.), African Folklore (Doubleday,
New York, 1972), pp. 183-91.
16. For example, Abraham, Chap. 2; William Bascom, “Folklore and
Literature in the African World,” in Robert A. Lystad (ed.), A Survey
of Social Research (Praeger, New York, 1965).
17. J. B. Danquah, The Akan Doctrine of God (Lutterworth Press, London,
1944), passim.
18. Abraham, The Mind of Africa, passim.
19. It is interesting to note that in Nzema, another prominent language
in Ghana, the word for proverb is erele and the word for palm tree is
arele. I owe this observation to Dr. I Chinebuah of the Institute of
African Studies, University of Ghana, Legon.
20. Mbiti, p. 2; my italics.

215
 Notes to pp. 17-23

21. Bascom, p. 483; my italics.

22. Finnegan, p. 399; my italics.
23. Abraham, p. 106.
24. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy, comp, and trans. Wing Tsit Chen
(Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1963), Chap. 2.
25. I have learned, however, that a few of the proverbs, particularly those
of recent creation, have ascertainable individual origins. Such prov¬
erbs start thus: “Nana Osei Bonsu a oft Dwaben na obuu ne be se. . .”
(that is, “Nana Osei Bonsu of Dwaben created or uttered the
following proverb . . .”).
26. For example, some of the works of the Greek-Alexandrian philoso¬
phers edited in the series Commentaria in Aristotelem Graeca, Typis et
impensis Georgii Reimeri, Berlin, 1882-1909. See Kwame Gyekye,
Arabic Logic: Ibn al-Tayyib’s Commentary on Porphyry’s Eisagoge (State
University of New York Press, Albany, 1979), p. 220, nn. 32 and 33.
27. Where authorship is in doubt, the word “pseudo” is sometimes
placed before the name of the supposed author, as in pseudo-
Plutarch, pseudo-Elias, etc.
28. G. S. Kirk, Heraclitus: The Cosmic Fragments (Cambridge University
Press, Cambridge, 1954), p. 30; Philip E. Wheelwright, Heraclitus
(Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1959), pp. 17, 30.
29. E. Dupree, “L’Aristote et la Traite des Categories,” Archiv fur
Geschichte der Philosphie, 1909, Vol. 22, pp. 230-51.; S. Mansion, “La
doctrine Aristotelicienne de la Substance et la Traite des Categories,”
Proceedings of the Tenth International Congress of Philosophy (North-
Holland Amsterdam 1949), Vol. 1, pp. 1099-100.
30. I have worked with Arabic MSS. myself. See Kwame Gyekye, Ibn al-
Tayyib’s Commentary on Porphyry’s Eisogoge, Arabic text (Dar al-
Mashreq, Beirut, 1975), pp. xxvi-xxxi.
31. Khalil Georr, “Farabi est-il l’auteur, des Fusus al-Hikma?” Revue des
etudes islamiques, 1941-6, pp. 31-9.
32. S. Pines, “Ibn slna et l’auteur de la Risalat al-Fusus fi’l-hikma,”
Revue des etudes islamiques, 1951, pp. 122-4.
33. E. Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages (Random
House, New York, 1954), p. 185.
34. P. T. Raju, Philosophical Traditions of India, p. 35; also p. 45.
35. Ibid., p. 36.
36. Kirk, p. ix.
37. Ibid., p. 7; my italics.
38. W. K. C. Guthrie, A History of Creek Philosophy (Cambridge Univer¬
sity Press, Cambridge, 1962), Vol. I, p. 407.
39. Wheelwright, p. 12; my italics.
40. Ibid., pp. 19, 29.

216
 Notes to pp. 25-3I

41. Paulin J. Hountondji, African Philosophy, Myth and Reality, trans. Henri
Evans (Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1983), pp. 51, 55.
42. Ibid., p. 60.
43. Ibid., p. 49.
44. Ibid., p. 59.
45. Ibid., p. 61.
46. Aristotle, Metaphysics, 983b20 - 984a4.
47. W. K. C. Guthrie, In the Beginning (London, 1957), pp. 61-2; F. M.
Cornford, From Religion to Philosophy (Harper & Row, New York,
1957), p. 4.
48. F. M. Cornford, The Unwritten Philosophy and Other Essays (Cam¬
bridge University Press, Cambridge, 1950), pp. 10-18.
49. Ibid., p. 12.
50. Quoted by W. K. C. Guthrie, The Greek Philosophers: From Thales to
Aristotle (Methuen, London, 1967), p. 11; my italics.
51. Bertrand Russell, A History of Western Philosophy (Allen and Unwin,
London, 1961), p. 7; my italics.
52. Ibid., 11th paperback printing, (Simon & Schuster, New York,
1965), p. ix; my italics.
53. Ibid., p. 174.
54. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1095‘28-9.
55. Aristotle, De Anima, Book 3, 430T0-18.
56. W. F. R. Hardie, Aristotle’s Ethical Theory (Oxford University Press,
Oxford, 1968), p. 123.
57. T. Okere, “The Relation between Culture and Philosophy,” UCHE,
Journal of the Department of Philosophy, University of Nigeria, Nsukka,
Vol. 2, 1976, p. 8.
58. See, for example, G. E. R. Lloyd, Aristotle: The Growth and Structure of
His Thought (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1968), p.
114; Russell, p. 202; William Kneale and Martha Kneale, The
Development of Logic (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1962), p. 27.
59. Mauthner, Kritik der Sprache, quoted in Stephen Ullman, The Princi¬
ples of Semantics (Jackson, Son & Co., Glasgow, 1951), p. 21, and C.
K. Ogden and I. A. Richards, The Meaning of Meaning (Routledge and
Kegan Paul, London, 1949), p. 35, n. 1.
60. Manfred Sandman, Subject and Predicate: A Contribution to the Theory of
Syntax (Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh, 1954), pp. 13-14.
61. Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1028a20-8; see Kwame Gyekye, “Aristotle and
a Modern Notion of Predication,” Notre Dame Journal of Formal Logic,
Vol. XV, No. 4, Oct. 1974, pp. 615-18.
62. G. C. Field, Moral Theory: An Introduction to Ethics (Methuen, London,
1921), p. 68.
63. Ibid.

217
 Notes topp. 31-40

64. J. L. Austin, Philosophical Papers (Oxford University Press, Oxford,

1961), p. 130; my italics.
65. Alexis Kagame, La philosophic Bantu-Rwandaise de I’etre (Brussels,
1956).
66. Mbiti, Chap. 3.
67. See Muhsin Mahdi, “Language and Logic in Classical Islam,” in G.
E. von Grunebaum (ed.), Logic in Classical Islamic Culture (Wiesbaden,
1970) and my review in the Journal of the American Oriental Society,
Vol. 92, no. 1, pp. 100-2.
68. Second International Conference of Negro Writers and Artists, Rome,
March 25-April 1, 1959 (Presence Africaine, Paris, 1954), p. 441;
my italics.
69. W. E. Abraham, “The Life and Times of Anton Wilhelm Amo,”
Transactions of the Historical Society of Ghana, Vol. VII, 1964, pp. 60-
81.
70. Kwasi Wiredu, “How Not to Compare African Thought with
Western Thought,” in Richard A. Wright (ed.), African Philosophy: An
Introduction (University Press of America, Washington, D.C., 1977),
pp. 166-82; rpt. in Kwasi Wiredu, Philosophy and an African Culture
(Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, England, 1980), Chap. 3.
71. Ibid., Wright, p. 179; Wiredu, Philosophy and an African Culture, p. 48.
72. Ibid., Wright, p. 180; Wiredu, pp. 48-9; my italics.
73. Ibid., Wright, p. 181; Wiredu, p. 49.
74. P. O. Bodunrin, “The Question of African Philosophy,” Philosophy,
Vol. LVI, 1981, p. 162.
75. The members of that school, according to Bodunrin, p. 163, are
notably Wiredu of Ghana, Oruka of Kenya, Hountondji of the
Republic of Benin (Dahomey), and himself.
76. Ibid., p. 162.
77. Ibid., p. 169; my italics.
78. Hountondji, p. 62.
79. Ibid., p. 65.
80. Ibid., pp. 53-4.
81. Ibid., p. 66.
82. Modern African philosophers who want to tether the nature and
content of African philosophy to Western philosophical categories
would gleefully cite the alleged beginnings of philosophy in Islam to
buttress their view and to salve their philosophical consciences.
83. Majid Fakhry, A History of Islamic Philosophy (Columbia University
Press, New York, 1970), p. 40.
84. Gyekye, Arabic Logic, pp. 1-7.
85. David Sidorsky, “Shifts in the Pragmatic Scene: From the Real to the
True to the Good,” Humanities, Vol. V, No. 2, April 1984, p. 7; my
italics.

218
 Notes to pp. 41-8

86. Kwasi Wiredu, “On an African Orientation in Philosophy,” Second

Order, Vol. 1, No. 2, July 1972, p. 7.
87. Wiredu in Wright, p. 181.
88. Wiredu, Philosophy and an African Culture, p. 6.
89. Wiredu, “Philosophy and Our Culture,” Proceedings of the Ghana
Academy of Arts and Sciences, 1977, p. 52; my italics.
90. J. Raz, “Principles of Equality,” Mind, Vol. LXXXVII, 1978, p. 321,
writes: The starting point [i.e., of his thesis] is the existence within the
western cultural heritage of an egalitarian tradition”', my italics.
91. A. C. Ewing, “Philosophy in India,” Philosophy, Vol. XXVI, July
1951, p. 263; my italics.

3. Methodological problems

1. Robin Horton, “Traditional Thought and the Emerging African

Philosophy Department: A Comment on the Current Debate,”
Second Order, Vol. VI, No. 1, January 1977, p. 64; Robin Horton in
Bryan R. Wilson (ed.), Rationality (Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1974),
pp. 153-5.
2. Horton, “Traditional Thought,” p. 68.
3. Horton in Wilson (ed.), Rationality, p. 153. In his most recent article
bearing on this question, Horton has revised some of his earlier
views. In the face of better arguments and overwhelming evidence
produced by others, he now abandons his characterizations of
African thought as “closed” and Western thought as “open,” ac¬
knowledging that “such a contrast does not do justice either to the
African or to the Western subject-matter” [R. Horton, “Tradition
and Modernity Revisited,” in Martin Hollis and Steven Lukes (eds.),
Rationality and Relativism (MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1984), p.
211; italics in original].
4. D. Gjertsen, “Closed and Open Belief Systems,” Second Order, Vol.
VII, Nos. 1 and 2, 1978, pp. 51-69.
5. Daryll Forde (ed.), African Worlds (Oxford University Press, Oxford,
1954), p. vii; my italics.
6. R. Horton, “Tradition and Modernity Revisited,” p. 227.
7. Kwasi Wiredu, “The Akan Concept of Mind,” Ibadan fournal of
Humanistic Studies, in press.
8. R. S. Rattray, Religion and Art in Ashanti (Oxford University Press,
Oxford, 1927), p. 155 et passim.
9. E. L. R. Meyerowitz, “Concepts of the Soul among the Akan of the
Gold Coast,” Africa, Vol. XXI, No. 1, January 1951.
10. I say “we” because on this occasion, 17 July 1976, my colleague
Prof. Kwasi Wiredu accompanied me, and the two of us listened to
Nana Boafo-Ansah of Akropong-Akuapem.

219
 Notes topp. 49-66

11. D. M. Warren and J. K. Andrews, An Ethnoscientific Approach to Akan

Arts and Aesthetics (Institute for the Study of Human Issues, Philadel¬
phia, 1973), p. 11; my italics.
12. Robert F. Thompson, “Yoruba Artistic Criticism,” in Warren L.
d’Azevedo (ed.), The Traditional Artist in African Societies (Indiana
University Press, Bloomington, 1973), p. 19; my italics.
13. E. L. R. Meyerowitz, The Sacred State of the Akan (Faber and Faber,
London, 1951), p. 85.
14. E. G. Parrinder, West African Psychology (Lutterworth Press, London,
1951), p. 207.
15. I refer to the traditional wise elders with whom I discussed Akan
thought as discussants rather than as “informants.”
16. A discussion of Quine’s thesis of the radical indeterminacy of
translation [W. V. O. Quine, Word and Object (MIT Press, Cambridge,
Mass., 1960), Chap. 2] is not relevant here, as Quine believes the
indeterminancy problem to be both translingual and intralingual,
involving, that is, our understanding both of our own language as
well as that of others.
17. P. T. Raju, Philosophical Traditions of India, p. 36.

II. The Akan conceptual scheme

4. The Akan conception of philosophy

1. J. G. Christaller, Dictionary of the Asante and Fante Language Called Twi,

2d ed. (Basel, 1933); Jack Berry, English, Twi, Asante, Fante Dictionary
(London, 1960).
2. Interview with Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe, Akropong-Akuapem, 30
July 1976.
3. However, a person may seek to become wiser because the sunsum is
thought to be developable; see section 9.2.
4. In Arabic, for instance, the original word for philosophy, hikma,
means wisdom (in Persian, hekmat). The word falsafa, used in some
philosophical works in Arabic and Persian, is an obvious translitera¬
tion of the Greek philosophia. For “philosophy” the Romance lan¬
guages used variations on the Latin philosophia (itself from the
Greek).
5. Interview with Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe.
6. Interview with Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe.
7. Christaller, Dictionary.
8. Liddell and Scott, Greek-English Lexicon, 9th ed. (Clarendon, Ox¬
ford, 1940).
9. Kwasi Wiredu, Philosophy and an African Culture (Cambridge Univer¬
sity Press, Cambridge, 1980), p. 16.

220
 Notes to pp. 68-70

5. Concepts of being and causality

1. R. S. Rattray, Religion and Art in Ashanti (Oxford University Press,
Oxford, 1927), p. 70.
2. I think it better to call the abosom “lesser spirits” rather than “spirits”
(as we have it in many books), since Onyame (God) too is a spirit,
albeit the Absolute Spirit. I use “deity” synonymously with “lesser
spirit or “god.” Asase Yaa, the Earth goddess invoked in the
libation prayer is, I think, regarded as one of the abosom. I doubt
whether she is considered as holding a special place in relation to
Onyame. A reader of a draft of this book opined that “Asase Yaa’s
status in relation to Onyame is understood as modeled on the
relation of a chief to his Queen-mother; just as Christ’s relation to
God is modeled on the relationship of son to father.” The reader
thought that Asase Yaa is not a “nature spirit” (lesser spirit).
However, Asase Yaa does not appear to me to be a special daughter
of Onyame.
3. There are a number of interpretations of the etymology of the word
“Onyame,” and I do not intend to add to them. Suffice it to say that
it is the word used by the Akan people to refer to the highest being
in their religious universe. On these etymologies of Onyame, see the
analysis of Kwesi Dickson in his introduction to J. B. Danquah, The
Akan Doctrine of God, 2d ed. (Frank Cass, London, 1968).
4. Danquah, p. 30.
5. This name of Onyame has been variously interpreted. The list of
meanings here is Danquah’s (pp. 56-69) which was confirmed
during my own researches. See also J. G. Christaller, Dictionary, p.
90.
6. Danquah, p. 55. Thus, Nana Osei Bonsu (d. 1976), a famous Kumasi
carver, said to me in a discourse on Onyame (10 January 1974): obi
nnim n’ahyease ne n’awiei (no one knows Onyame’s beginning and his
end).
7. Danquah, p. 55.
8. Interview with J. A. Annobil of Cape Coast, 2 September 1976.
9. This name of God (Onayme) is considered, wrongly, by Danquah,
pp. 47 and 200, to mean “the ever-ready shooter.” Danquah’s
misinterpretation follows from his reading the word as atoapoma. I
accept Okyeame Akuffo Boafo of Akropong-Akuapem’s interpreta¬
tion (interview: 8 July 1974) that the word is atoapem, a word that
cannot be rendered straightforwardly in English. Etymologically, the
word consists of two parts, ato and apem. Ato means to come to, to
reach; and apem means the end or cutoff point, the stop point of
anything or any action. Atoapem, then, means “that which is reached
finally,” “that beyond which you cannot go,” “an unsurpassable

221
 Notes top. 70

point or thing.” Christaller (Dictionary, p. 384) says apem means

(among other things) to reach; he translates the sentence as'em apem as
“it has come to an end.” Thus the temporal word daa-apem (or
daapem, as it is usually written) means “the end of the days.” As
applied to Onyame (God), the word atoapem may correctly be
translated as Ultimate or Final; that beyond which nothing else is,
perhaps implying that beyond which nothing greater is.
10. That the Alcan people originally held this conception of God
cannot seriously be doubted. Yet, because the Akan (or, for that
matter, African) idea of God was comparable to, or had affinity
with, that held by adherents of other (non-African) religions,
European writers of the nineteenth century generally thought that
the African idea of God was an importation, presumably from
Europe. However, William Bossman, a traveler to West Africa
about the end of the seventeenth century, observed that West
Africans believed in a supreme God: “They have a faint idea of the
true God, and ascribe to Him the attributes of Almighty and
Omnipresent; they believe He created the universe, and therefore
vastly prefer Him before their idol-gods; but they do not pray to
Him, or offer sacrifices to Him” (William Bossman, A New and
Accurate Description of the Coasts of Guinea, Divided into the Gold, the
Slave and the Ivory Coasts, 1705, p. 348; quoted in E. G. Parrinder,
West African Religion, p. 14).
Elaborate and painstaking research by contemporary scholars
(including anthropologists, theologians, and missionaries) clearly
indicate the autochthonous origin of the African idea of the Supreme
Being. Smith noted that “It is the general testimony of pioneer
missionaries that they have discovered some belief in the existence of
God among the Africans” (Edwin W. Smith, ed., African Ideas of God.
A Symposium, Edinburgh House Press, London, 1950, p. 33). Writ¬
ing specifically on “The Akan Doctrine of God,” Rev. H. St.John T.
Evans, observed: “Evidence is now available to demonstrate that the
roots of the belief in Nyame are buried in the remote past” (ibid., p.
245). See also Edwin W. Smith, The Secret of the African, United
Society for Christian Literature, London, 1929, Chaps. 4-6 on “The
African’s Awareness of God.” “Missionaries have found, often to
their surprise,” wrote Parrinder, “that they did not need to argue for
the existence of God, or faith in a life after death, for both these
fundamentals of world religion are deeply rooted in Africa” (E. G. Parrinder,
Religion in Africa, Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, 1969, p. 39; my
italics). Thus, “God was there [that is, in Africa] before the arrival of
the gospel of Jesus Christ . . . The Africans had already identified
Him,” observed Malcolm J. McVeigh (in God in Africa, Claude Stark,
Cape Cod, Mass., 1974, p. 24). The Akan, living in the deep forests

222
 Notes topp. 70-8

of the hinterland, well knew of God prior to the arrival of Christian

missionaries; thus the Akan proverb “No one teaches God to a
child” (Obi nkyere abofra ‘Nyame). Symbols on the ancient gold-dust
weights and on other forms of art, myths, proverbs, and the drum
language make references to the Supreme Being (Onyame, in Akan),
attesting the antiquity of the Akan conception of God.
11. Interview with Okyeame Akuffo of Akropong-Akuapem (8 July
1974): biribiara ft Onyame na ewie ’Nyame.
12. Here I am drawing on Kofi Asare Opoku’s “Aspects of Akan
Worship, in C. Eric Lincoln (ed.), The Black Experience in Religion
(Doubleday, New York, 1974), pp. 297-8.
13. Kofi Antuban, Ghana’s Heritage of Culture (Koehler and Amalang,
Leipzig, 1963), pp. 159-60.
14. E. G. Parrinder, West African Religion (Epworth Press, London, 1961),
p. 12.
15. John S. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy (Doubleday, New York,
1970) p. 257.
16. K. A. Busia, “The Ashanti of the Gold Coast,” in Daryll Forde (ed.),
African Worlds (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1954), p. 191. The
Ashantis are a subsection of the Akans. Busia’s description of
Onyame as “the Great Spirit” agrees with my own.
17. See Parrinder, West African Religion, p. 12.
18. R. S. Rattray, Ashanti (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1923), p.
86.
19. Ibid., p. 212.
20. Rattray, Religion and Art in Ashanti, p. 23.
21. K. A. Opoku and K. A. Ampom-Darkwa, Akom ho nkommobo
(Kwaku Mframa) (Institute of African Studies, Legon, Accra, 1969).
22. Helaine K. Minkus, “Causal Theory in Akwapim Akan Philoso¬
phy,” in Richard A. Wright (ed.), African Philosophy: An Introduction
(University Press of American, Washington, D.C., 1977), p. 136.
23. The concept of transcendence is implicit in a well-known Akan
myth in which Onyame removes himself far from the world of
human beings as the result of the ungenerous act of an old woman.
24. See Kwame Gyekye, “Al-Ghazall on Causation,” Second Order, Vol.
II, No. 1, January 1973, pp. 31-9.
25. Parrinder, p. 12.
26. Another version of this proverb is “What Onyame has arranged
(fixed), living man cannot alter.”
27. Antubam, p. 165, proverb no.78.
28. C. A. Akrofi, Twi Proverbs (Waterville Publishing House, Accra, n.d.).
This proverb was created as a result of events in the history of the
Assin and Adanse people of the Akans.
29. The analysis of the Akan notion of causality presented here bears

223
 Notes to pp. 78-89
close resemblance to Evans-Pritchard’s discussion of the explanation
of events among the Azande; see E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Witchcraft,
Oracles, and Magic Among the Azande (Clarendon Press, Oxford,
1937), pp. 63-80.
30. K. A. Busia, The Position of the Chief in the Modern Political System of
Ashanti (New Impression, London, 1968), p. 24; my italics.
31. I must say that why-questions are not unique to African thinking
about causation. Western people, too, occasionally resort to them,
even though they are supposed to be wedded to what are called
scientific explanations. Occasionally, a Westerner may have difficulty
in avoiding why-questions. A woman who believes she is on the
brink of being raped, robbed by violence, or murdered may shout,
“Oh God, why me?” A man who has been postponing his flight
because of bad weather, but whose aircraft is about to crash on
landing on the day he finally decides to travel, may shout, “Why
today?” One hears or reads of such why-questions, and one wonders
why, on such occasions, why,-questions, to which Western people
are said to be accustomed, give way to why2-questions.
32. K. A. Busia, The Challenge of Africa, p. 20; my italics.
33. Among the translations of kwa (okwa) inj. G. Christaller’s Dictionary
are the following: without design, without cause, gratuitously, for
nothing, to no purpose.
34. On the concepts of destiny (nkrabea) and accident (asiane), see
Chapter 7.
35. Thus, the word kra, which forms part of the word akrade (luck,
fortune), means “soul”; see Chapter 6.

6. The concept of a person

1. I say “a conception” because I believe there are other conceptions of

the person held or discernible in that philosophy (see above, pp. 47,
55).
2. Kwasi Wiredu, “The Akan Concept of Mind,” Ibadan Journal of
Humanistic Studies, no. 3, Oct. 1983, p. 119. The page references are
to the typescript.
3. Ibid., p. 120; my italics.
4. Wiredu, “The Akan Concept of Mind,” p. 119.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid., p. 127.
7. Bernard Williams, Descartes: The Project of Pure Enquiry (Pelican
Books London, 1978), p. 78; also, Descartes, Philosophical Writings,
trans. and ed. Elizabeth Anscombe and Peter T. Geach (Edinburgh
University Press, Edinburgh, 1954), p. xxxvii, n. 2, and p. xvii.
8. Wiredu, “The Akan Concept of Mind,” p. 127.

224
 Notes to pp. 89-92
9. K. A. Busia, The Ashanti of the Gold Coast,” in Daryll Forde (ed.),
African Worlds, p. 197; M. Fortes, Kinship and the Social Order
(University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1969), p. 199, n. 14; Robert
A. Lystad, The Ashanti, A Proud People (Rutgers University Press,
New Brunswick, N.J., 1958), p. 155; Peter K. Sarpong, Ghana in
Retrospect: Some Aspects of the Ghanaian Culture (Ghana Publishing
Corp., Accra, 1974), p. 37.
10. Busia, p. 197; Lystad, p. 155; E. L. R. Meyerowitz, The Sacred State of
the Akan (Faber and Faber, London, 1951), p. 86; and “Concepts of
the Soul among the Akan,” Africa, p. 26.
11. Busia, p. 197; Lystad, p. 155; P. A. Twumasi, Medical Systems in
Ghana (Ghana Publishing Corp., Accra, 1975), p. 22.
12. Here the views of W. E. Abraham are excepted, for he maintains, like
I do, that the sunsum is not “inheritable” and that it “appears to have
been a spiritual substance.” W. E. Abraham, The Mind of Africa
(University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1962), p. 60.
13. J. B. Danquah, The Akan Doctrine of God (Lutterworth Press, London,
1944), p. 115.
14. Ibid., p. 116.
15. Busia, p. 197; also p. 200.
16. Danquah, p. 66.
17. Ibid., e.g., pp. 67, 75, 83, 205.
18. R. S. Rattray, Ashanti, p. 46.
19. E. L. R. Meyerowitz, The Akan of Ghana, Their Ancient Beliefs (Faber
and Faber, London, 1958), pp. 98, 150, and 146; also her Sacred State,
p. 86.
20. Busia, p. 197.
21. Corliss Lamont, The Philosophy of Humanism (Ungar, New York,
1974), pp. 81-95. Malcolm J. McVeigh, God in Africa (Calude Stark,
Cape Cod, Massachusetts, 1974), pp. 26, 37.
22. E. G. Parrinder, West African Psychology, pp. 32, 46, 70.
23. Danquah, p. 67.
24. Ibid., p. 67.
25. Ibid., p. 112.
26. Ibid., pp. 66-7, 115.
27. Busia, p. 200.
28. Ibid., p. 197.
29. R. S. Rattray, Religion and Art in Ashanti, p. 154.
30. E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande,
p. 136; also E. G. Parrinder, West African Religion, p. 197.
31. Parrinder, West African Religion, p. 197.
32. Plato, The Republic, 57 T, beginning of Book IX.
33. James Adam (ed.), The Republic of Plato, 2d ed. (Cambridge Univer¬
sity Press, Cambridge, 1975), Vol. 2, p. 320.

225
 Notes to pp. 92-1

34. Plato, The Republic, ed. and trans. by Paul Shorey (Loeb Classical
Library, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1935), p. 335.
35. Plato, The Republic, trans. by A.D. Lindsay (J. M. Dent, London,
1976), p. 346.
36. Thomas Gould, Platonic Love (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London,
1963), p. 108ff and p. 174ff.
37. Charles W. Valentine, Dreams and the Unconscious (Methuen, London,
1921), p. 93; also his The New Psychology of the Unconscious (Macmil¬
lan, New York, 1929), p. 95.
38. Wilfred Trotter, Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War (T. F. Unwin,
London, 1916), p. 74.
39. H. Debrunner, Witchcraft in Ghana (Waterville Publishing House,
Accra, 1959), p. 17.
40. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy, p. 102.
41. Busia, p. 197; also K. A. Busia, The Position of the Chief in the Modern
Political System of Ashanti, p. 1.
42. Rattray, Ashanti, pp. 1, 45, 46, 48.
43. Rattray, Religion and Art, p. 319.
44. Interview with Opanin Twum Barimah, Kibi, 17 August 1974.
45. All three proverbs refer to the idea of giving birth (awo) and the belief
that offsprings take on the characteristics of their parents. All the
three seek to assert resemblance between parents and offsprings in
respect of their characteristics. The first proverb means that the
characteristics of the offspring of the crab will (have to) be those of
the crab and not those of the bird, and the proverb is uttered when
someone is utterly convinced of the character resemblances between
a child and its parent(s). The other two proverbs must be understood
in the same way. All such character resemblances are, according to
Akan thinkers, attributable to the ntoro. The postulation of ntoro
therefore is intended to answer questions about resemblances -
particularly character resemblances (not so much physical resem¬
blances) - between children and their parents.
46. Rattray, Religion and Art p. 154.
47. Ibid., p. 318, Soul-washing is a symbolic religious rite meant to
cleanse and purify the soul from defilement. “This cult,” wrote Mrs.
Meyerowitz, “adjures the person to lead a good and decent life.”
Sacred State, p. 117; also p. 88.
48. Barima Aboagye-Agyeman, “God, Man and Destiny: Some Akan
Metaphysical Ideas,” 1976, undergraduate thesis, Department of
Philosophy, University of Ghana, Legon, Ghana, p. 22; my italics.
49. Ibid., p. 25.
50. Incidentally, the “identity theory” immediately subverts any physi¬
cal conception of the sunsum, since the okra (soul), with which it is

226
 Notes topp. 97-108
being identified, is generally agreed to be a spiritual, not a physical,
entity.
51. Rattray, Religion and Art, p. 154.
52. The dynamic and active character of the sunsum has given rise to
metaphorical use as in the sentences, “there is ‘spirit’ in the game”
(agoro yi sunsum wo mu), “the arrival of the chief brought ‘spirit’ into
the festival celebration.” Not long ago the dynamism, action and
energy of a late Ghanaian army general earned him the by-name of
“Sunsum!” among his soldiers.
53. Lystad, p. 158.
54. See Kwame Gyekye, “The Akan Concept of a Person,” International
Philosophical Quarterly, Vol. XVIII, No. 3, September 1978, p. 284.
55. This view was expressed also to Meyerowitz, Sacred State, p. 84.
56. See Kwame Gyekye, “An Examination of the Bundle Theory of
Substance,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, Vol. XXXIV,
No. 1, September, 1973.
57. Busia, The Challenge of Africa, p. 19.
58. Sigmund Freud, New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis (Penguin,
Harmondsworth, 1973), pp. 101-2.
59. For example, Meyerowitz, Sacred State, p. 84, “Concepts of the
Soul,” p. 26; H. Debrunner, Witchcraft in Ghana, p. 15.
60. Freud, p. 92.

7. Destiny, free will, and responsibility

1. Woabo wo de ibenya adze a, wo ’kra nnkyir pete. J. A. Annobil (interview,

31 August 1976, Cape Coast) explained the proverb thus: the
vulture is believed to be a sign of misfortune, and yet it cannot be an
impediment to the person who is destined to be fortunate.
2. K. Wiredu, “Philosophy and Our Culture,” Proceedings of the Ghana
Academy of Arts and Sciences, Vol. XV, 1977, p. 48; my italics.
3. Interview with Nana Osei-Bonsu of Kumasi, 8-11 January, 1974.
4. The first use of “head” (ft) refers to the physical head, the second to
the soul, the bearer of destiny.
5. Corliss Lamont, The Philosophy of Humanism, pp. 13, 109.
6. Interview with J. A. Annobil (abrabo no mu na yehu se nkrabea bi wo ho).
7. Interview with Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe of Akropong-Akuapem,
30 July 1976: (nkrabea no yi ne ho adi pefee wo abrabo mu).
8. Interview with J. A. Annobil, 1 September 1976.
9. Akan proverbs are ultimately about mankind, its life, its conception
of the universe, etc., although nonhumans such as animals, trees,
rivers, also figure in the language of the proverb.
10. Peter K. Sarpong, Ghana in Retrospect, p. 38; my italics.

227
 Notes to pp. 108-17

11. J. G. Christaller, Dictionary of the Asante and Fante Language Called Shi
(Twi), p. 262.
12. E. L. R. Meyerowitz, “Concepts of the Soul among the Akan,” p. 24.
13. J. B. Danquah, Akan Doctrine of God, p. 202.
14. Christaller, Dictionary, p. 262.
15. For example, George P. Hagan, in conversation; see his “Some
Aspects of Akan Philosophy.” M.A. thesis, University of Ghana,
Legon, 1964. Kwesi A. Dickson, Aspects of Religion and Life in Africa
(Ghana Academy of Arts and Sciences, Accra, 1977), p. 7.
16. For all these expressions and their meanings, see Christaller, Diction¬
ary.
17. George P. Hagan, M.A. thesis, see note 15 above.
18. Interview with Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe of Akropong-Akuaem, 30
July 1976.
19. Interview with A. A. Opoku, Aburi, 16 July 1975.
20. E. L. R. Meyerowitz, The Sacred State of the Akan, p. 87.
21. Meyerowitz, “Concepts of the Soul,” pp. 26-7.
22. Danquah, p. 122.
23. Ibid., p. 112.
24. Ibid., p. 86.
25. Of course for one who beheves that “sunsum” and “okra” refer to the
same thing, this objection would not apply, but Danquah is not such
a one.
26. Peter K. Sarpong, “Aspects of Akan Ethics,” Ghana Bulletin of
Theology, Vol. IV, No. 3, December 1972, p. 42.
27. Ibid.
28. Sarpong, Ghana in Retrospect, pp. 37-8.
29. Helaine Minkus, “Causal Theory in Akwapim Akan Philosophy,” in
Richard A. Wright (ed.), African Philosophy: An Introduction, 2d ed.
(University Press of America, Washington, D.C., 1979), p. 118.
30. This myth is in K. A. Busia, “The Ashanti of the Gold Coast,” p.
193; Rattray, Ashanti Proverbs, pp. 476-7; Rattray, Ashanti, p. 146.
31. Rattray, Ashanti, p. 146.
32. Interviews with Opanin Apenkwa, Keeper of the Shrine, Ghana
National Cultural Centre, Kumasi, 6 September 1974, and Kronti-
hene Boafo-Ansah of Akropong-Akuapem, 17 July 1976.
33. Sarpong, “Aspects,” p. 42.
34. Kofi A. Opoku, “The Destiny of Man in Akan Traditional Religious
Thought,” in Conch, Vol. VII, Nos. 1 and 2, 1975, pp. 21 ff.
35. G. W. Leibniz, Discourse on Metaphysics: Correspondence with Arnauld
and Monadology, trans. G. R. Montgomery (Open Court, La Salle, Ill
1968), pp. 19-20.
36. K. Wiredu, “Philosophy and Our Culture,” p. 46; my italics.
37. Ibid., p. 47.

228
 Notes to pp. 117-33

38. K. A. Dickson, Aspects of Religion and Life in Africa, p. 9.

39. Kofi Antubam, Ghana’s Heritage of Culture, p. 44; my italics.
40. Interview with J. A. Annobil of Cape Coast, 1 September 1976.
41. Akrofi comments: this proverb is “used in showing that every
human being has a special talent.” C. A. Akrofi, Twi Proverbs, proverb
no. 791.
42. Interview with some elders in Pano, near Kibi, 12 August 1974.
43. Busia, “The African World-View,” p. 148; my italics.
44. Interview with the Ankobeahene of Kibi, 15 August 1974.
45. Interview in Apapam, near Kibi, 16 August 1974.
46. Interview with Nana Dawson of Cape Coast, 4 September 1976.
47. Interview with Opanin Kofi Adu of Asikam, near Kibi, 13 August
1974.
48. Interview with Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe of Akropong-Akuapem, 6
August 1976.
49. Interview with J. A. Annobil, 3 September 1976: “Evil comes from
man’s will” (bone ft onipa ne pe).

8. Foundations of ethics

1. Kofi A. Opoku, “Aspects of Akan Worship,” in C. Eric Lincoln (ed.),

The Black Experience in Religion (Doubleday, New York, 1974), p. 286.
2. Kofi A. Opoku, West African Traditional Religion (FEP International
Private Ltd., Singapore, 1978), p. 152; my italics.
3. Peter K. Sarpong, “Aspects of Akan Ethics,” p. 41.
4. K. A. Busia, Africa in Search of Democracy (Praeger, New York, 1967),
p. 10; my italics. See also p. 16.
5. J. B. Danquah, Akan Doctrine of God, p. 3. It must be pointed out,
however, that Danquah presents ambivalent views about the basis of
moral values in Akan thought, for four paragraphs before this
statement he writes: “Tradition is the determinant of what is right
and just, what is good and done.”
6. Ibid., p. 27.
7. J. N. Kudadjie, “Does Religion Determine Morality in African
Societies?-A Viewpoint,” Ghana Bulletin of Theology, Vol. Ill, No. 5,
December 1973, p. 47.
8. E. G. Parrinder, Religion in Africa, pp. 28-9.
9. Interview with Opanin Afoakwa of Aheneasi, near Kibi, 30 July
1974.
10. Interview at Apapan village, near Kibi, 15 August 1974.
11. Interview with J. A. Annobil of Cape Coast, 3 September 1976.
12. Ibid.; interview with Krotihene Boafo-Ansah of Akropong-
Akuapem, 6 August 1976.

229
 Notes topp. 133-40
13. Interview with Oheneba Kwabena Bekoe of Akropong-Akuapem, 6
August 1976.
14. Interview with Opanin Kofi Adu of Asikam, near Kibi, 13 August
1974.
15. Interviews with Opanin Afoakwa, 18 August 1974; Opanin
Apenkwa, Keeper of the Shrine, Ghana National Cultural Centre,
Kumasi, 4 September 1974.
16. I find it puzzling that the word musuo never occurs in the writings of
R. S. Rattray, whereas akyiwade (taboos) does occur in several places,
taboos being ‘things especially abhorred by the gods,’ Rattray,
Ashanti, pp. 146, 167, 171, etc.; Religion and Art in Ashanti, p. 52. I
cannot find any good explanation for the complete absence of the
word musuo in Rattray. It is not at all probable that he did not come
across it during decades of his research. It is conjecturable, however,
that he may have assimilated musuo to the taboos, and so used the
word akyiwade to cover both musuo and akyiwade (taboos). Such an
assimilation, however, would be an error.
17. There are indeed some taboos which are nonmoral. These include (1)
religious taboos such as that “clients of certain deities may not eat
certain food, twins may not eat certain food,” etc., and (2) less
serious, perhaps naive, ones such as the prohibition to sing when you
are bathing or eating. Peter K. Sarpong, Ghana in Retrospect, p. 54.
18. Sarpong, Ghana in Retrospect, p. 58.
19. Ibid., p. 57.
20. J. B. Danquah, “Obligation in Akan Society,” West African Affairs,
No. 8, 1952, p. 3.
21. See, for example, Kai Nielsen, “Some Remarks on the Independence
of Morality from Religion,” in Ian T. Ramsey (ed.), Christian Ethics
and Contemporary Philosophy (SCM Press, London, 1966); Peter T.
Geach, God and the Soul (Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1969),
Chap. 9.
22. Kofi Antubam, Ghana’s Heritage of Culture, p. 46.
23. Fufu is a local meal. A one armed person cannot prepare it, for its
preparation requires the use of two hands. The real meaning of this
proverb, as of the next, is that God mercifully satisfies the needs of
people, helping them in pursuits which may otherwise appear
impossible.
24. J. B. Danquah, Akan Doctrine of God, p. 55.
25. K. A. Busia, “The Ashanti of the Gold Coast,” p. 205; my italics.
26. W.E. Abraham, The Mind of Africa, pp. 56-57; my italics.
27. Busia, “The Ashanti of the Gold Coast,” p. 207.
28. Sarpong, Ghana in Retrospect, p. 133.
29. Bernard Williams, Morality: An Introduction to Ethics (Harper & Row,
New York, 1972), p. 70.

230
 Notes to pp. 140-56

30. G. J. Warnock, The Object of Morality (Methuen, London, 1971),

Chap. 2.
31. Ibid., p. 21.
32. Ibid.; also p. 27.
33. Ibid., p. 26.
34. J. L. Mackie, Ethics: Inventing Right and Wrong (Penguin, London,
1977), p. 108.
35. J. G. Christaller, Dictionary, p. 513.
36. Sarpong, “Aspects,” p. 44; my italics.
37. Corliss Lamont, The Philosophy of Humanism, p. 115; my italics.

9. Ethics and character

1. J. B. Danquah, Akan Doctrine of God, p. 204.
2. J. G. Christaller, Dictionary, p. 46.
3. Jack Berry, English, Twi, Asante, Fante Dictionary, p. 24.
4. Ibid., pp. 23, 82.
5. W. D. Ross, Aristotle (Methuen, London, 1923), p. 187.
6. E. A. A. Adegbola, “The Theological Basis of Ethics,” in K. A.
Dickson and Paul Ellingworth (eds.), Biblical Revelation and African
Beliefs (Orbis Books, Maryknoll, N.Y., 1969), pp. 119-20, 129-30.
7. The word nneyee, deeds, has also been used to translate “habits.” A
Dictionary of English-Twi (Basel Missionary Society, Basel, 1909), p.
89; “habitual” is rendered as aye ne su, that is, “it has become his
character.”
8. Christaller, p. 214; ka ho: to remain in an unchanged form or
condition.
9. Ibid., p. 595.
10. Ibid., p. 376.
11. John S. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy, p. 279.
12. Sarpong, “Aspects,” p. 40.
13. Berry, Dictionary, p. 42.
14. Thus, W. E. Abraham wrote that the “sunsum ... is educable.” The
Mind of Africa, p. 60.
15. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1103b26.
16. Erich Fromm, Man for Himself (Greenwich Press, Conn., 1947), p.
42; italics in original.

10. The individual and the social order

1. Aristotle actually said “political” (Greek: politikon), by which he
meant “social.”
2. The idea here is that the person scraping the bark of a tree for

231
 Notes topp. 156-70
medicine needs some other person to collect the pieces so that they
do not fall down or scatter about.
3. J. A. Annobil, translated from his book, Mmebusem Nkyerekyeremu
(Proverbs and Their Explanations, Cape Coast, 1971), p. 29.
4. J. G. Christaller, Dictionary, p. 510 (ti).

11. Philosophy, logic, and the Akan language

1. R. Carnap, Philosophy and Logical Syntax (Kegan Paul, London, 1935),
p. 78.
2. W. V. O. Quine, From a Logical Point of View (Harvard University
Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1953), p. 61; Word and Object (MIT Press,
Cambridge, Mass., 1960), p. 80.
3. G. Ryle, “Ordinary Language,” Philosophical Review, Vol. LVII, 1953,
pp. 167-86.
4. L. J. Cohen, “Are Philosophical Theses Relative to Language?”
Analysis, Vol. IX, April 1949, pp. 72-7.
5. P. F. Strawson, Introduction to Logical Theory (Methuen, London,
1952), esp. Chap. 1, Pt. 1.
6. Hans Hahn, “Conventionalism” in Gary Iseminger (ed.), Logic and
Philosophy (Appleton-Century-Crofts, New York, 1968), pp. 45ff.
7. Arthur Pap, “Laws of Logic,” in ibid., pp. 52ff.
8. David Mitchell, An Introduction to Logic (Hutchinson, London, 1962),
pp. 120ff.
9. Arthur Pap, Elements of Analytic Philosophy (Macmillan, New York,
1949), p. 254.
10. Jerome Shaffer, “Mind-Body Problem,” in Paul Edwards (ed.),
Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Macmillan, New York, 1967), Vol. V, p.
336.
11. C. Lewy, “Is the Notion of Disembodied Existence Self-Contradic¬
tory?” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, n.s. Vol. XLIII, pp. 59ff.
12. Pap, Elements, p. 254.
13. It is interesting to note that in Akan conceptualizations, the belief in
the okra (soul) is not inferred from certain expressions in the language.
The concept of the okra, thought to be a spiritual substance, could
obviously not have been deduced from the abundance of physicalis-
tic expressions in the Akan language.
14. Carnap, Philosophy, p. 43.
15. Cohen, p. 76.
16. John S. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy, pp. 22-3.
17. J. G. Christaller, A Grammar of the Asante and Fante Language Called
Twi (Akan) (Basel, 1875), p. 83.
18. Ofei Ayisi, Twi Proverbs (Waterville Publishing House, Accra, 1966),
proverb no. 100 (Twi is a dialect of Akan).

232
 Notes to pp. 170-9
19. J. H. Kwabena Nketiah, Akan Funeral Dirges (Achimota, 1966), p.
120.
20. J. H. Kwabena Nketiah, Anwonsem (Afram Publications [Ghana],
Accra, 1975), p. 27.
21. Mbiti, p. 21; my italics.
22. Atoapem is one of the epithets of the Supreme Being.
23. J. B. Danquah, Akan Doctrine of God, p. 47. This book is the source of
the information on the personal characteristics associated with
birthdays. See ibid., pp. 47-8.
24. Mbiti, p. 21.
25. Ibid., p. 23.
26. Ibid.
27. Christaller, A Grammar, p. 59; also p. 161.
28. Ibid., p. 85.
29. J. G. Christaller, Dictionary, p. 428.
30. Nketiah, Anwonsem, p. 28.
31. Mbiti, p. 23.
32. Ibid., p. 30.
33. Nketiah, Anwonsem, p. 29.
34. Mbiti, pp. 224-33.
35. Ibid., p. 225.
36. Ibid., p. 232.
37. Ibid., p. 289.
38. Matthew, 6:34.
39. Mbiti, p. 21.
40. Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1017‘33-5.
41. Charles H. Kahn, “The Greek Verb ‘To Be’ and the Concept of
Being,” Foundations of Language, Vol. II, 1966, p. 250.
42. G. E. L. Owen, “Aristotle on the Snares of Ontology,” in R.
Bambrough (ed.), New Essays on Plato and Aristotle (Routledge and
Kegan Paul, London, 1965), pp. 84ff.
43. A. C. Graham, “ ‘Being’ in Linguistics and Philosophy,” Foundations
of Language, Vol. 1, 1965, p. 224.
44. Of course, there is a dispute of long standing in Western philosophy
as to whether existence is a logical predicate. The general view is that
it is not. But see Kwame Gyekye, “A Note on Existence as a
Predicate,” Second Order, Vol. Ill, No. 2, July 1974, pp. 97-101.
45. J. G. Christaller, Dictionary, p. 560.
46. L. A. Boadi, “Existential Sentences in Akan,” Foundations of Language,
Vol. 7, 1971, p. 19.
47. Thus, Charles H. Kahn, “The Greek Verb ‘To be’ ” p. 258, said that
there is a “close connection between the ideas of existence and
location in Greek philosophical thought.” John Lyons also wrote:
“In fact, the existential ‘be’ copula does not normally occur in

233
 Notes to pp. 179-93
English without a locative or temporal complement; and it might
appear reasonable to say that all existential sentences are at least implicitly
locative. . . .” John Lyons, “A Note on Possessive, Existential and
Locative Sentences,” Foundations of Language, Vol. Ill, 1967, p. 390;
my italics.
48. The second ne in “Owusu ne ne din” is genitive.
49. Christaller, Grammar, p. 110.
50. P. F. Strawson, “Proper Names,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society,
Suppl. Vol. XXXI, 1957, p. 193. The same doctrine appears in his
Individuals, An Essay in Descriptive Metaphysics (Doubleday, New York,
1963), pp. 143-6.
51. Ibid., “Proper Names,” p. 196; Individuals, p. 153.
52. Ibid., “Proper Names,” pp. 193-4; my italics.
53. Ibid., p. 194.
54. It is strange indeed why Strawson fastens on the third person
singular “walks.” If he had chosen the first or second person
(singular and plural), he might have arrived at different conclusions,
for we can say “walk!” (imperative) or “walk?” (interrogative).
55. Strawson, “Proper Names,” p. 195, n. 3.
56. This section on the subject and predicate was inspired by the two
papers of Tsu-Lin Mei, “Subject and Predicate, A Grammatical
Preliminary,” Philosophical Review, Vol. LXX, April 1961, pp. 153—
75, and “Chinese Grammar and the Linguistic Movement,” Review of
Metaphysics, Vol. XIV, No. 3, March 1961, pp. 487-92. In both
papers, Tsu-Lin Mei rejects Strawson’s conclusions as invalid in
respect of Chinese grammar.
57. Tsu-Lin Mei’s arguments are in the two papers of his referred to at
the preceding note.
58. E. J. Lemmon, Beginning Logic (Nelson, London, 1971), p. 6; my
itahcs, except for the word “English.”

III. Toward an African philosophy

12. On the idea of African philosophy

1. In Second Order, Vol. IV, No. 1, January 1975, p. 86.

2. John S. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy, p. 2; my itahcs.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid., p. 271.
6. Malcolm J. McVeigh, God in Africa, p. 5; also p. 142.
7. Michael Gelfand, An African’s Religion: The Spirit of Nyajena (Juta,
Capetown, 1966), pp. 110-17.

234
 Notes to pp. 193-6
8. Daryll Forde (ed.), African Worlds (Oxford University Press, Oxford,
1954), p. x; my italics.
9. Ibid., p. xiii; my italics.
10. Daryll Forde, “The Cultural Map of West Africa,” in Simon Otten-
berg and Phoebe Ottenberg (eds.), Cultures and Societies of Africa
(Random House, New York, 1960), p. 123; my italics.
11. M. Fortes and E. E. Evans-Pritchard (eds.), African Political Systems
(Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1940), p. 1.
12. E. G. Parrinder, African Traditional Religion (Harper & Row, New
York, 1962), p. 11.
13. Quoted in Parrinder, p. 11.
14. K. A. Busia, Africa in Search of Democracy, p. 4; my italics.
15. K. A. Busia, “The African World-View,” p. 149; my italics.
16. John V. Taylor, The Primal Vision (SCM Press, London, 1963), p. 27.
17. E. Bolaji Idowu, African Traditional Religion: A Definition (SCM Press,
London, 1973), p. 103.
18. J. H. Kwabena Nketiah, “Traditional Festivals in Ghana,” in Sankofa
(Accra), Vol. 1, 1977, p. 14.
19. Kenneth L. Little, The Mende of Sierra Leone (Routledge and Kegan
Paul, London, 1967), p. 7.
20. Forde (ed.), African Worlds, p. 210.
21. Ibid., pp. 138, 140.
22. Ibid., p. 27, n. 1.
23. Godfrey Wilson, “An African Morality,” in Ottenberg and Otten¬
berg (eds.), Culutres and Societies, p. 346; my italics.
24. M. Fortes, Oedipus and Job in West African Religion (Cambridge
University Press, Cambridge, 1959), pp. 24-5; my italics.
25. Bibliographical citations will necessarily be limited by lack of space.
26. Busia, Africa in Search of Democracy, p. 5.
27. Mbiti, p. 37; also McVeigh, p. 16; Parrinder, pp. 32ff.
28. Edwin Smith (ed.), African Ideas of God: A Symposium (Edinburgh
House Press, London, 1950), p. 7.
29. Mbiti, p. 43.
30. Ibid., p. 102; also Parrinder, pp. 23, 43ff; McVeigh, pp. 32ff; Forde
(ed.), African Worlds; Monica Wilson, Religion and the Transformation of
Society (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1971), pp. 26-7.
31. Mbiti, p. 105.
32. M. Fortes, “Some Reflections on Ancestor Worship in Africa,” in M.
Fortes and G. Dieterlen (eds.), African Systems of Thought (Oxford
University Press, Oxford, 1965), p. 122; also McVeigh, p. 34, Mbiti,
p. 107ff.
33. Parrinder, p. 57. African scholars, however, argue that “ancestor
worship” is a misnomer. Idowu, for instance, wrote that ancestor
worship” was not worship but only a veneration. E. Bolaji Idowu,

235
 Notes to pp. 196-201
African Traditional Religion, A Definition (SCM Press, London, 1973),
pp. 178-89.
34. Mbiti, p. 21.
35. Ibid., p. 257.
36. Ibid., pp. 37-49.
37. Ibid., p. 80.
38. Ibid., pp. 55, 84-6; also Parrinder, p. 33.
39. McVeigh, p. 139.
40. Ibid., p. 103.
41. Mbiti, p. 74; also p. 97.
42. Ibid., pp. 261-2; also p. 222. See also Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp.
8, 173; Robin Horton in Bryan R. Wilson, Rationality, p. 133.
43. John S. Mbiti, “The Capture of the Sun,” in Modern Science and Moral
Values (International Cultural Foundation, New York, 1983), p. 191;
my italics.
44. McVeigh, p. 164.
45. Ibid., p. 230, n. 57.
46. Monica Wilson, p. 38.
47. Ibid., p. 141.
48. Forde (ed.), African Worlds, p. 168; McVeigh, p. 163; Mbiti, p. 262; J.
O. Sodipo, “Notes on the Concept of Cause and Chance in Yoruba
Traditional Thought,” Second Order, Vol. II, No. 2, July 1973.
49. M. Fortes, “Some Reflections,” p. 126.
50. Forde (ed.), African Worlds, p. 227.
51. Marcel Griaule, “The Idea of Person among the Dogon,” in Otten-
berg and Ottenberg (eds.), Cultures and Societies, p. 366.
52. Forde (ed.), African Worlds, p. 174.
53. Ottenberg and Ottenberg (eds.), Cultures and Societies, p. 408.
54. E. Bolaji Idowu, Olodumare, pp. 169-70.
55. Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp. 115, 155.
56. McVeigh, p. 26.
57. Ibid., p. 37.
58. Ibid., p. 130; also p. 144.
59. Kwesi A. Dickson, Aspects of Religion and Life in Africa, p. 3.
60. Mbiti, p. 52; my italics.
61. Fortes,Job and Oedipus, p. 19.
62. Mbiti, p. 52; also Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp. 168ff.
63. Idowu, Olodumare, p. 173; italics in original.
64. Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp. 9, 169, 228.
65. Mbiti, pp. 226-67; also Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp. 43, 75.
66. McVeigh, pp. 128-9; also Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp. 160-1.
67. Mbiti, p. 47; Forde (ed.), African Worlds, p. 169.
68. J. J. Maquet, “The Kingdom of Ruanda,” in Forde (ed.), African
Worlds, p. 172.

236
 Notes to pp. 201-6
69. Ibid., p. 169.
70. W. E. Abraham, The Mind of Africa, p. 55; J. B. Danquah, Akan Doctrine
of God, p. 153; C. A. Akrofi, Twi Proverbs, proverb no. 192.
71. Akrofi, Twi Proverbs, proverb No. 193; J. G. Christaller, A Collection
of 3,600 Twi Proverbs, proverbs nos. 227-35; J. A. Annobil, Proverbs
and Their Explanations, p. 88.
72. Christaller, Proverbs, proverb no. 2284; Akfrofi, Twi Proverbs, proverb
no. 722.
73. John Middleton and E. H. Winter, Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa
(Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1963), p. 1, et passim.
74. Ibid., p. vii.
75. H. Debrunner, Witchcraft in Ghana, p. 2.
76. Mbiti, p. 232.
77. Ibid., pp. 224ff; also J. H. M. Beattie and John Middleton (eds.),
Spirit Mediumship and Society in Africa (Africana Publishing Corp.,
New York, 1969).
78. Parrinder, p. 119; also pp. 100-34.
79. Mbiti, p. 1.
80. Ibid., p. 38.
81. Busia, Africa in Search of Democracy, p. 1.
82. Ibid., p. 7.
83. Idowu, Olodumare, p. 5.
84. E. Bolaji Idowu, “The Study of Religion, with Special Reference to
African Traditional Religion,” Orita, Ibadan Journal of Religion, Vol. I,
No. 1, June 1967, p. 11.
85. Bede Onuoha, The Elements of African Socialism (Andre Deutsch,
London, 1965), p. 35.
86. McVeigh, p. 103.
87. Parrinder, p. 9.
88. Monica Wilson, p. 98; my italics.
89. K. A. Dickson, Aspects of Religion and Life in Africa, pp. 3-4; my
italics.
90. Busia, Africa in Search of Democracy, p. 10.
91. Ibid., p. 16.
92. E. G. Parrinder, Religion in Africa, pp. 28-9.
93. Parrinder, African Traditional Religion, p. 146.
94. Idowm, Olodumare, p. 146.
95. Godfrey Wilson, “An African Morality,” p. 348.
96. Monica Wilson, p. 98; also pp. 76-7.
97. J. J. Maquet, in Forde, p. 184.
98. Forde (ed.), African Worlds, p. 134.
99. Parrinder, p. 27.
100. Busia, Africa in Search of Democracy, p. 15; my italics.
101. Benjamin C. Ray, African Religions (Prentice-Hall, Englewood Cliffs,

237
 Notes topp. 206-12
N.J., 1976), p. 146; also Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp. 62, 160-1,
183, 207.
102. McVeigh, p. 90.
103. For the definition of “revealed religion,” see above p. 135.
104. Idowu, Olodumare, p. 146; my italics.
105. McVeigh, p. 84; also Forde (ed.), African Worlds, pp. 78-80, 134, 184;
Monica Wilson, p. 98.
106. S. M. Molema, The Bantu: Past and Present (Edinburgh University
Press, Edinburgh, 1920), p. 116.
107. Mbiti, p. 84; also Idowu, Olodumare, p. 116.
108. Aylward Shorter, Prayers in the Religious Traditions of Africa (Oxford
University Press, Nairobi, 1975), p. 44.
109. Ibid., p. 60f.
110. Monica Wilson, p. 173.
111. Sometimes the word “communism” may be found particularly in
older books, but this should not be given the connotation of modern
communism as practiced in, say, the Soviet Union. The word
“collectivism” is occasionally used by some writers in place of
“communalism.”
112. K. A. Dickson, Aspects of Religion and Life in Africa, p. 4; my italics.
113. Edwin Smith, The Golden Stool: Some Aspects of the Conflicts of Cultures
in Modern Africa (CMS, London, 1927), p. 214.
114. Molema, p. 115.
115. Leopold S. Senghor, On African Socialism, trans. Mercer Cook
(Praeger, New York, 1964), pp. 93-4, italics in original; see also
Mbiti, p. 141.
116. Sekou Toure, in Presence Africaine, Nos. 24-5, February-May 1959,
p. 118; quoted by Claude Wauthier, The Literature and Thought of
Modern Africa (Heinemann, London, 1978), p. 173.
117. Jomo Kenyatta, Facing Mount Kenya (Vintage, New York, 1965), p.
297.
118. Ibid., p. 188.
119. William Conton, The African (Signet, New York, 1961), p. 95.
120. Fred G. Burke, “Tanganyika: The Search for Ujamaa,” in William H.
Friedland and Carl G. Rosberg (eds.), African Socialism (Stanford
University Press, Stanford, 1964), p. 207.
121. Adolphe L. Cureau, Savage Man in Central Africa: A Study of Primitive
Races in the French Congo, trans. E. Andrews (T. Fisher Unwin,
London, 1915), p. 270.
122. Senghor, p. 94.
123. Ibid.; also Mbiti, p. 141.
124. Ralph M. Mclnerny, Thomism in an Age of Renewal (University of
Notre Dame Press, Notre Dame, 1968), p. 17; my italics.

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245
 Name index

Abel, Reuben, 4 Avicenna, 22

Aboagye-Agyeman, Barima, 226n48 Ayisi, Ofei, 232nl8
Abraham, W. E., xxi, 13, 16, 18, 137 d’Azavedo, Warren L., 220nl2
Achebe, Chinua, 209
Adam, James, 92 Bambrough, Renford, 92
Adegbola, E.A.A., 231n6 Bascom, William, 17
Adu, Opanin Kofi, 229n47, 230nl4 Beattie, J.H.M., 237n77
Afoakwa, Opanin, 229n9, 230nl5 Bekoe, Oheneba Kwabena, 220nn5,6,
Agyakwa, K. A., 214nl2 227n7,228nl8, 229n48, 230nl3
Akrofi, C. A., 223n28, 229n41, Berkeley, George, 25
237n71 Berry, Jack, 61, 147—48, 152
Amo, Anton Wilhelm, 34 Boadi, L. A., 179
Ampom-Dankwa, K. A., 223n21 Boafo, Okyeame, Akuffo, 221n9,
Anaximander, 26 223nll
Anaximenes, 26 Boafo-Ansah, Nana, 48, 219nl0,
Andrews, J. K., 49 228n32, 229nl2
Annobil, J. A., 159, 221 n8, 227n6, Bodunrin, P. O., 8, 35—36
229nll, 237n71 Bonsu, Nana Osei, 221n6, 227n3
Anscombe, Elizabeth, 224n7 Bossman, William, 222nl0
Antubam, Kofi, 72, 118, 229n39 Buddha, 11
Apenkwa, Opanin, 228n32, 230nl5 Burke, Fred G., 209
Appiah, Kwame Anthony, xxiii, xxiv, Busia, K. A., 6, 14, 73-74/79, 89,
xxvii—xxxi 90-91, 94, 101, 124-25, 130,
Aquinas, Saint Thomas, 49 137,139,193,200, 203-4, 205
Aristotle, xi, 5, 6, 11, 18-19, 22, 25—
27, 29, 30, 39, 89, 153, 155, 178, Carnap, R., 163, 169
180 Cheng, Wing-Tsit, 216n24
Augustine, Saint, 10, 49 Chinebuah, Isaac, 215nl9
Austin, J. L., 31 Christaller, J. G., 15, 61, 142, 147,
Averroes, 38 170, 174, 180

247
 Name index
Cohen, L.J., 163, 169 Grunebaum, G. E. von, 218n67
Conford, F. M., 26 Guthrie, W.K.C., 23, 217n50
Confucius, 18 Gyekye, Kwame, 216n30, 217n61,
Conton, William, 209 223n24, 227n54
Cureau, Adolphe Louis, 210
Curtin, Philip, xi, xxviii Hagan, George P., 109, 110
Hahn, Hans, 163
Danquah, J. B., 16, 19, 89, 90—91, Hamlyn, D. W., 6
108, 111, 130, 135, 147 Hardie, W.F.R., 27
Dasgupta, S., 214n26, 215n5 Hegel, G.W.F., 29, 39
Dawson, Nana, 229n46 Heraclitus, 23
Debrunner, H. 93, 202 Herodotus, xi
Descartes, Rene, 10, 49, 87, 100 Herskovits, Melville J., 13, 191
Dewey, John, 39 Hobsbawn, Eric, xxiv
Dickson, K. A., 117, 199, 204, 208 Homer, 27
Dieterlen, G., 235n32 Horton, Robin, 3—8, 44—46, 50
Diodorus, xi Hountondji, Paulin J., xvi—xix, xxi,
Diop, Cheikh Anta, xi xxii, xxviii, 8-9, 25, 35-36,
Dorson, Richard M., 215nl5 46
Drachler, Jacob, 214nl3 Hume, David, 25, 29, 100
Dupree, E., 216n29
Idowu, E. Bolaji, 14, 194, 204, 207
Evans, Henri, 214n21 Iseminger, Gary, 232n6
Evans-Pritchard, E. E., 191-93, 202
Ewing, A. C., 5, 43 Kagame, Alexis, xvii, 31
Kahn, Charles E., 178
Fagg, William, 13 Kaikaiku, xix
Fakhry, Majid, 218n83 Keita, Lancinay, xi
al-Farabi, 11, 22 Kenyatta, Jomo, 209
Field, G. C„ 217n62 Kirk, G. S., 23
Finnegan, Ruth, 17 Kneale, Martha, 217n58
Forde, Daryll, 45, 191-93 Kneale, William, 217n58
Fortes, M., 191, 193, 195-96, 198— Kopytoff, Igor, xxv, xxvi
99 Kudadjie, J. N., 131
Frege, G., 181 Kuper, Hilda, 193
Freud, Sigmund, 92, 98, 102
Friedland, William H., 238nl20 Lamont, Corliss, 143-45
Fromm, Erich, 153 Laye, Camara, 209
Leibniz, G., 19, 116
Geach, Peter T., 224n7, 230n21 Lemmon, E. J., 185
Gelfand, M., 192 Lewy, C., 164
Georr, Khalil, 22 Lienhardt, G., 191
al-Ghazali, 223n24 Lincoln, C. Eric, 223nl2
Gilson, E., 22 Lindsay, A. D., 226n35
Gjertsen, Derek, 44-45 Little, Kenneth, 194
Goody, Jack, 191 Lloyd, G.E.R., 217n58
Gould, Thomas, 92 Locke, John, 25, 29
Graham, A. C., 198 Lyons, John, 233n47
Griaule, M., 236n5l Lystad, Robert A., 98

248
 Name index
Mackie,J. L., 140 Plato, 10, 11, 15, 18, 25, 28, 30, 36,
Masolo, D. A., xv 39, 49, 92, 138, 178, 180
Magee, Bryan, 214nl0 Plotinus, 22
Mahdi, Muhsin, 218n67 Porphyry, 216nn26,30
Mansion, S., 216n29 Pythagoras, 62, 177, 180
Maquet, J. J., 201, 205
Marx, Karl, 36, 39 Quine, W.V.O., 5, 163
Mauthner, 217n59
Mbiti, John S., 14, 17, 31, 70, 73-74, RadclifFe-Brown, A. R., 191-92
93,151, 169, 170-77, 185, 190- Raju, P. T., 22, 56
91, 196-99, 200, 202-3 Ramsey, Ian T., 230n21
Mclnerny, Ralph M., 238nl24 Ranger, Terence, xxiv
McVeigh, Malcolm J., 197-99, 201, Rattray, R. S., 14-15, 47, 74, 90-91,
204, 206-7 94-96, 191
Mei, Tsu-Lin, 185, 234nn56,57 Ray, Benjamin C., 206
Mensah, Kwaw, xx Raz, J., 219n90
Meyerowitz, Eva L. R., 47, 50, 90, Rosberg, Carl G., 238nl20
108,111 Ross, W. D., 231n5
Mframa, Kwaku, 74 Russell, Bertrand, 26
Middleton, John, 202 Ryle, G., 163
Minkus, Helaine, 74, 112
Mitchell, David, 163 Saint-Simon, C. H., 39
Molema, S. M„ 207, 209 Sandman, Manfred, 29
Mudimbe, V. Y., xix, xxiii, xxiv Sarpong, Peter K., 108, 111—12, 115,
130, 134-35, 139, 142, 151
Nielsen, Kai, 230n21 Senghor, Leopold S., 209—10
Nimo, Koo, xx Shaffer, Jerome, 163
Nketiah, J. H. Kwabena, 194 Shils, Edward, xxix
Nkrumah, Kwame, xvi Shorey, Paul, 92
Shorter, Aylward, 208
Obenga, Theophile, xi Sidorsky, David, 218n85
Ofeimun, Odia, xxix Smith, Edwin, 192, 207-8
Okere, T., 28 Socrates, 10, 25, 35, 49, 138
Olela, Henry, xi Sodipo.J. O., 236n48
Onuoha, Bede, 204 Sontag, Frederick, 4
Onyina, Kwabena, xx Steward, J. A., 15
Opoku, A. A., 228nl9 Strabo, xi
Opoku, Kofi Asare, 115, 129 Strawson, Peter, 163, 181—85
Oruka, H. Odera, 218n75 Sumner, Claude, 214n24
Ottenberg, Phoebe, 215n4, 236n51
Ottenberg, Simon, 215n4, 236n51 Taylor, John V., 193
Owen, G.E.L., 178 Taylor, Richard, 4
al-Tayyib, Ibn, 216nn26,30
Pap, Arthur, 163, 165 Tempels, Placide, xvii, xviii
Parmenides, 15, 180 Thales, 26
Parrinder, E. G., 13, 53, 73—75, 90, Thompson, Robert F., 49
92, 192-93, 196, 202, 204, 205 Toure, Sekou, 209
Philip, Edward P., xi Towa, Marcien, xvii
Pines, S., 22 Trotter, Wilfred, 226n38

249
 Subject index
Twumasi, Patrick A., 225nll Wheelwright, Philip E., 216nn28,39
Twum-Barima, Opanin, 226n44 Williams, Bernard, 87, 140
Wilson, Bryan R., 219nl
Ullman, Stephen, 217n59 Wilson, Godfrey, 195, 205
Wilson, Monica, 204—5, 208
Valentine, Charles W., 92 Winter, E. H., 202
Wiredu, Kwasi, xi, 8, 32, 34—36, 41,
Warnock, G.J., 140 47, 66, 86-87, 105, 117
Warren, D. ML, 49 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 7
Wauthier, Claude, 238nll6 Wright, Richard A., 218n70

Subject index
absolute equality, 158 capacity, 61, 63, 106, 119, 121-23,
Absolute Reality, 70, 72, 125, 196 140, 142, 152
accident (asiane), Akan idea of, 78, 82, category, 4, 28-29, 31-34, 36-39, 42,
118-19, 121 70, 74-75, 133-34
action, the concept of 79 causal explanation, 77, 79, 80-82, 198
activating principle, 75, 88, 98 causal interaction between soul and
Active Intellect, 27 body, 101
adwen (wisdom, thinking), xix, 61-62, causality, 8, 71, 76-77, 121, 177, 197;
87 dual, 83
altruism, 40, 207 cause, 70, 77-79, 82-83, 119, 121 —
analysis of concepts, 7, 11, 15, 31, 65 23, 177
ancestors (ancestral spirits), 68-69, 73, chance, 82-83, 118, 198, 200
75, 78, 118, 133, 196, 199, 206 change, 6, 71, 79, 170-71
African, the term, xxiii-xxv, xxviii, character, 89, 90, 97, 122-23, 125—
189-90, 211 27, 147-49; Akan definition of,
African thought. See thought 149-50
Akan thought. See thought clairvoyance, 201, 203
akyiwade (taboo), 133-35 collective thought. See thought
amphibious social order, 154 collectivism, 209
aphorisms, 10, 15, 17, 22-23 common features in African culture,
art (symbols), 13-14, 49-50, 72, 159 xxv, xxvii, xxx, xxxi, 191-95
common good, 157-58, 160
basic attributes. See destiny communal thought. See thought
basic needs, 155, 158, 160 communalism, 40, 43, 154-58, 160-
being: theory of 5, 8, 31, 76; Akan 62, 208-9, 210-11
doctrine of 68, 76, 79 communality, 154, 158-59, 161-62
bipartite conception (of soul), 98 communications with the dead, 203,
body, 10, 89, 168 206
bdne (moral evil), 131, 133 communitarianism. See communalism
bundle theory of substance, 100 competition, 159

250
 Subject index
concepts, 4, 5, 7, 14, 15, 20, 27, 31, epiphenomenalism, 101
34, 37-39, 40-42, 52-53, 56, 65, epistemology, 3, 5-7, 50, 201-3
67, 73 essence, 22, 73, 75, 85
conceptual scheme, 21, 28, 37 ESP (extrasensory perception or abili¬
conceptual system, 28, 56 ties), 86, 98, 102, 175, 201-3
conscience, 126—28, 142—43 ethical egoism, 17, 20-21
consensus, 40-41 ethics: autonomy of, 139; Greek, 30
consistency, 7 ethnophilosophy, ix, xvi—xix, xxi-
contingencies in human life, 119 xxiii, xxviii
critical element in African thought, ethnos, xvii-xxi, xxiii
49-51 existence, 5, 22, 30, 163, 177-80, 186
cultural borrowing, the phenomenon experience, 8-10, 12, 18, 21, 33-34,
of, x, xxviii—xxx 38-39, 63-65, 107, 186, 202
cultural diversity (or disunity in extraordinary event, 77—79, 81, 83
Africa), xxii—xxviii, xxxi extrasensory perception. See ESP
cultural pluralism, 191 evil: Akan concept of, 118, 131, 133;
cultural unity in Africa, xxiii, xxiv, problem of, 8, 123-25, 127-28,
xxvii, xxxi 200-201
culture, definition of, xxxi, 9
fatalism, 20, 186
dance forms, xiii, xx fate, 21, 104, 108, 112, 177, 199, 200
definite description, 180 folk thought, 28, 34
destiny, 8, 14-15, 18-19, 21, 48, 50, folktales, 13-14, 16, 33, 51, 150, 152,
82, 85—86, 97, 199; alterability 193
of, 48, 115, 118; as basic attri¬ force, 72-74, 196
butes, 115-16, 121; basis of be¬ fragments, as source of pre-Socratic
lief, 104—7; divinely imposed, 48, philosophy, 10, 21, 23—24, 28
112-14, 200; double, 48, 112— free will, 8, 14, 104-5, 112-13, 117,
13; elements of, 115; general 119, 120-23, 127-28, 151
nature of, 114—15, 121, 127; in¬ fundamental questions, 7—10, 39, 40
dividual, 106-7, 158; predeter¬
mined, 200; and resignation, God, 8, 15, 19, 20-21, 48, 76, 104,
117-18; self-determined, 48, 112, 113, 123-24, 127-28, 131, 138,
200; single, 48; and time, 110- 174-75, 195-97, 205
11, 120 good, Akan concept of, 131-32
determinism, 82, 105, 120—21, 127 Greek philosophy. See philosophy
disembodied survival, 86, 99, 100— Greek verb einai (to be), 177—78,
101, 103, 168 186
disposition, 61, 63, 89, 97, 106, 125, guilt, sense of, 141—43
140, 152-53
distant future, 31, 170-71, 173, 175— honam (body), 10, 85, 99, 101, 103
76 honhom (breath), 88, 95
divination, 175—76, 202—3, 206 human actions, 120-21, 127
dreams, 91—94, 97 human culture, ix, xvi, xx, xxviii,
dualism, 47, 49, 99-100, 102, 165, xxxi; universality of, xxx
198 human welfare, 132, 143—46, 156—57,
160, 208
ego, 90, 102 humanism, 20, 40, 43, 106, 143—45,
empiricism, 18, 27, 201 154-55, 209

251
 Subject index
humanistic basis of Akan morality, chology, 141; in sanctions, 138—
132, 143-44 39, 140—41; in sense, 126, 142; in
hyebea (destiny), 108—9, 110—13 will, 126—27, 142-43; nonsuper-
naturalistic foundation of Akan,
id, 102 41, 132, 134—35; and religion,
ideation, xxi, xxii 129-30, 138, 204-5, 207
identity, as logical relation, 177—79, music forms, xiii, xix, xx
180,186 mystical power (activity), 69, 72—74,
identity of soul and spirit, 95-98 88, 103, 175, 198
immortality, 100, 144, 168 mysticism, 5
Indian philosophy. See philosophy myth, 9, 13-16, 22, 33, 51, 113-14,
individual concept, 116 193
individual and society, 154 musuo (great evil), 133—34
individualism, 154, 156, 161—62, 209,
210 natural phenomena, 26, 68—69, 75,
individuality, 46, 98, 106—7, 117, 79,83,196-97
119, 120, 154, 158-59, 160-62 naturalistic explanation, 80
inductive reasoning, 107 nipadua (body, human frame), 10, 85
infinite being, 54, 70, 173 nkrabea (destiny), 48, 104, 107-9,
infinite future, 169, 170—73 110-12, 117, 121, 127
innate faculty, 62; ideas, 202 nneyee (actions), 126, 150—51
invention of Africa, ix, xxiii, xxiv nonsupematuralistic foundation of
Islamic philosophy. See philosophy Akan morality, 41, 132, 134—35
nonuniqueness of Akan (or African)
language: and metaphysics, 105; and concepts, xv, xxi, 211
thought, 29, 32 ntoro (semen-transmitted characteris¬
laws of nature, 78-79, 83 tic), 94, 119
life after death, 86, 99, 175, 199, 203 nyansa (wisdom), 61—62, 65—66
logic, 3, 5—7, 50; and language, 32,
163,185 okra (soul), 10, 20, 47-48, 85-102,
104,110-11, 117, 168
magical powers, 73-74 ontic unity, 98
materialism, 47, 165—66, 168, 186 ontology, 5, 30-31, 69, 165-66;
matter as passive, 75 African, x, 196—97; hierarchical
meaning of life, 8, 15 character of Akan, 69, 70, 76, 83
mental faculty, 61 ontological: argument, 180-81, 186;
metaphysics, 4-5, 7, 22, 44, 49, 68, pluralism, 69, 76, 196; problems
97, 139, 143-44, 165, 195; Akan, as basic in philosophy, 5
86, 89, 100, 103 Onyame (God, Supreme Being), 14—
mind, concept of, 88, 203; commu¬ 15, 48, 54, 68-69, 70-73, 75-78,
nal, xxi 85, 110, 118,123, 131, 136,155
mind-body problem, 163-68, 186 oral literature, 13; tradition, 10
mogya (blood), 94, 99, 119
morality: and acquisition of moral pan-African cultural principles or
virtues, 150-52; definition of, unity, xxv, xxvi
130; humanistic basis of Akan, panpsychism, 75
132, 143-44; in intuitions, 136, pantheism, 15, 74-75
138; in motivation, 139, 140-41; paranonnal cognition, 6, 41, 201,
in practice, 138, 141-43; in psy¬ 203

252
 Subject index
parapsychology, 203 religious beliefs (and practices), 8, 14,
person, concept of, 8, 10, 47-48, 50, 75, 130-31, 141, 143, 150,
85,89,94,100-101,103,119, 194
166, 198-99 religious dependence of morality, def¬
personality, 48, 89-90, 93, 97, 102, inition of, 130-31
111, 149, 158,161,172,198- responsibility (moral), 104-5, 112-13,
99,210 121, 123, 152, 158
philosophos, 62 revealed religion, 135-36, 206
philosophy: African, ix, x, xi, xii, xvi,
2, 8-11, 24-25, 32-36, 42-43, scientific explanation, 80, 198
52—53, 57; Akan conception of scientific prediction, 84
61—67; British, 25; Cartesian, 87; self, 85, 100
definition of 4, 7—9, 11, 51; social conflicts, 146, 159, 160
Egyptian, x, xi; Ethiopian, x; sociality, as basic to human nature,
Greek, 6, 23-28, 35, 48, 177; In¬ 155-56, 162
dian, 5, 11, 22, 24, 28, 43; as in¬ Society for Psychical Research, 201
terpretation of human experi¬ sophia (wisdom), 66
ence, 8, 10, 18, 21; Islamic, 5, sophos (wise person, philosopher), 62
22, 24, 37-38, 42, 75; and lan¬ soul, 10, 27, 48, 85-101, 104, 108,
guage, 163, 169; legitimacy of 110, 112, 114, 117, 149, 168,
the idea of African, ix, 189, 191, 199; bipartite, 98; tripartite, 98-
195, 210; Oriental, 21, 27; pri¬ 99, 101
vate, xxi; public, xxi—xxiii; as tra¬ space, 70, 203
dition, 34, 37; as universal intel¬ speculative intellect, 21, 63
lectual activity, ix, xiv, 9—10; spirit, 62-63, 72, 79, 88-103, 119
Western, 4-5, 7, 10, 21, 24, 34, spirit-mediumship, 202-3, 206
36, 48, 56, 75, 120, 201, 211— spiritual being, 48, 50, 75, 79, 83, 93,
12 118, 125, 131, 133, 206
post-Socratic thought, 6 state of nature, 155
power, 72-75, 79, 93, 103, 121, 193, suban (character), 47—49, 150, 152—
196 53
precognition, 203 subject and predicate, logical distinc¬
predestination, 20 tion of, 163, 181—85
preliterate culture, xvii, xix, xxii substance, 30, 89, 97, 99, 100, 116,
pre-Socratic thought, 6—7, 10, 23, 48 177
principle of noncontradiction, 7, 20 sunsum (spirit), 47-48, 62-63, 69, 72-
proverbs, 7-8, 13-23, 28, 33, 47, 51, 75, 85, 87-103, 119, 121-22,
54, 63-67, 145, 150, 152 149, 152; as bearer of experience,
psychophysical metaphysics, 83, 199 90-91, as generic concept, 73,
psychophysical parallelism, 101 188
superego, 102, 149
rational character of African thought, supernatural beings, 69, 73-74, 81,
6-7 131-35, 137-38, 144, 146, 197,
rationalism, 27—28, 201 201, 207—8; factors of 82
rationalist, 18, 38 supernaturalism, 41, 81, 134, 143—45
rationality, 7, 126-28, 140 Supreme Being, 14, 40, 54, 68—69,
reality, 68—69, 71—72, 105; dual, 83 73, 78, 85, 108, 112, 116-17,
reflective process, 17 125, 136, 144, 155, 195-97, 199,
reincarnation, 98 200, 205

253
 Subject index
taboo, 133—35, 141 titles of God, 70
teleology, 30-31, 49 tradition, xxviii, xxix, 37
telepathy, 201, 203 transcendence, 15, 75, 196
theomorphic being, 20 translation: problem of, 52—53, 55-
theoretical alternatives, in traditional 56; radical indeterminacy of,
thought, 44—46 220nl6
thought: abstract, 13-14; as activity of tripartite conception (of soul), 98—99,
the sunsum (spirit), 62-63, 98; 101
African traditional, xi, xii, xvii-
xix, 3, 5-7, 10-12, 33-35, 44, ultimate being (existence), 8, 19, 71-
189; Akan, xv, xvi; 5, 48, 56-57; 72, 76, 199; cause, 78, 198; real¬
categories of, 32—33, 35; collec¬ ity, 197, 201
tive, xvi—xix, 9, 24, 25, 35, 45— unanimism, xvii-xix, xxi, xxiii
46, 51; communal, 24, 46; as unconscious, 91—92, 102, 111, 117
comprehensive concept, 3; as unified cultural life, xxxi, xxxii
product of individual minds, 24, unity of soul and body, 27, 99
29, 46; rationality of African, 6— universal causation, 77, 82
7; reflective, 141; religious, 8, 68;
speculative, 14 Weltanschauung, xix, xxi, 38
tiboa (conscience), 126, 142 wisdom, 14—15, 33, 50. See also phi¬
time, 70, 110, 163, 177, 203; as ab¬ losophy, Akan conception of
stract notion, 170; African con¬ wonder, human capacity to, xiv
cept of, 169, 170, 190; in Akan world of spirits (asamando), 86—87,
philosophy, 170—75; as cosmic 100,166, 175
power, 172; infinite, 70, 174; worldview, xix, xxvii, xxviii, 8, 11,
linear concept, 172, 174 50, 194-95

254
 o
►
o
I
Philosophy/African American Studies

n this sustained and nuanced attempt to define a

genuinely African philosophy, Kwame Gyekye rejects
the idea that an African philosophy consists simply of
the work of Africans writing on philosophy. It must,
Gyekye argues, arise from African thought itself, relate
to the culture out of which it grows, and provide the
possibility of a continuation of a philosophy linked to
culture. Offering a philosophical clarification and
interpretation of the concepts in the ontology, philosophical psychology,
theology, and ethics of the Akan of Ghana, Gyekye argues that critical
analyses of specific traditional African modes of thought are necessary to
develop a distinctively African philosophy as well as cultural values in the
modern world.

Winner of the Ghana Book Development Council Award

“I find [Gyekye’s] work brilliant in its approach, in its ideas, and in its
argument. He asks courageous questions concerning the idea of an
African philosophy and he not only succeeds in exposing the shallowness
of some skeptical claims regarding that question but also clarifies the lines
along which answers might properly be sought...His work is the most
massive in a new generation of thoughtful approaches to an important
question regarding human culture.”
—W. E. Abraham, University of California at Santa Cruz,
and author of The Mind of Africa
“The author builds an impressive case for an indigenous African philoso¬
phy which is different from but not inferior to European philosophy. This
text is valuable because [of its] insights into the relationship between life
and thought, philosophy and experience.”
—James H. Evans, Jr., Religious Studies Review
“...anyone interested in questions in the philosophy of culture—especially,
though by no means only, in Africa—should profit from Gyekye's
work...This book is rewarding reading.”
—Kwame Anthony Appiah, Times Literary Supplement

Kwame Gyekye, who obtained a Ph.D from Harvard University with a

specialization in Graeco-Arabic Philosophy, is professor and chairman,
Department of Philosophy at the University of Ghana, and the author of
numerous articles and books, including The Unexamined Life: Philosophy and
the African Experience. He has been a Fellow at the Woodrow Wilson Interna¬
tional Center for Scholars, Smithsonian Institution, and is a lifetime Fellow of
the Ghana Academy of Arts and Sciences.

ISBN 1-56639-380-9

Cover design: Amy Blake Designs, Ltd.

Printed in U.S.A.
Tempie University Press
Philadelphia 19122
cloth ISBN 1-56639-383-3
paper ISBN 1-56639-380-9