SOLIDARITY, POWER AND DEMOCRACY

IN AFRICA

In the last fifty years, the genius of African social life has been that its philosophers, politicians, historians and theologians reconstructed its past with African words, African ideologies and African life histories, thereby moving away from exclusive reliance upon the accounts of European observers.

Here, we want to develop an analysis that will move beyond the old analytical categories into a new, rigorous interpretation that encompasses the wide varieties of the African experience in this field. We want to recapture for ourselves the vitality of oral history, not as a body of elite traditions, but as the daily testimonies of the seemingly insignificant; we want to present the social processes and transformations revealed in the remembered experiences of home and work-place. Especially, we want to be attentive to how Africans described their own lives--not as a way to explain the so-called "invisible and inarticulate," but in order to reveal the eloquent articulation discernible in commonplace accounts.

This is why the question of solidarity and power in the Mbün traditional culture as a dialectical route to African democratic socialism is to be approached in four ways or with four methods: phenomenologic, analytic, hermeneutic and inductive.

The value of solidarity (Lakwün) and the value of power (Emf'm) played different but complementary roles in the organization and the integrating of Mbün traditional culture. These two values represented respectively "ethical value" and "political value." The former aiming at a relationship along a horizontal line, the latter aiming at a hierarchy of power along a vertical line.

placed in subordinate, but always co-ordinated, relation with other participants.

The two values of solidarity and power were the two forces which determined Mbün social structure. But neither the value of solidarity nor the value of power was the special goal or the raison d'être of the community. Rather, it was by satisfying these two values that the person (Mür) gained his place in the family (Ebör), the clan (Eyör) and the tribe (Edzo). It was also from the tension and dialectic between these two values that the person (Mür) began to become a personality (Ngwä-Mür), in other words, that this psyche was newly integrated and based on the emerging, evaluating process. This integration, originally based on drives and instincts, develops gradually into an integration of values and evaluating processes which constitute the ethical consciousness.

The dynamic of the movement along the horizontal axis represented by the value of solidarity (Lakwün) and along the vertical axis represented by the value of power (Emf'm), described the dynamic interplay between "ethical value" and "political value" in the organization and the integration of Mbün community: co-operation and co-ordination between the members (Bär) were features of solidarity (Lakwün). Since it is difficult to conceive of a social group without any power hierarchy, without rules that can be maintained, the Mbün people derived for their internal political system a form of power through which the participants were not subjected to political force and threat, terror and fear, but oriented through love, sympathy, understanding and co-operation. The leader was Primus inter pares and the executives were chosen from among the members themselves. This is what we term "democracy."

Our limited study bears on three points:

2. The value of power approached through some of its general characteristics. By way of illustration, a brief analysis of recruitment of personnel for the various roles, access to property, settlement of disputes and the decision-making process will be included.

3. Dialectical interaction as a route to African democratic socialism is articulated through the treatment of three issues: a) an historical survey of democracy to a question, b) the question of how we conceive democracy, and c) an answer to that question.

By the value of solidarity (Lakwün) in the organization and integration of the Mbün community, the person (Mür) relates himself to other persons (Bär) in the family (Ebör), clan (Eyör) and tribe (Edzö). Through his tendency to form attachments with others, the person transcends himself and participates in the lives of others. This process generates a series of values such as love, sympathy, friendship, admiration, etc. One feels isolation as both a psychological and a social pressure of unbearable loneliness. One craves companionship and communication with other members, no less than he craves for food. One likes to chat, to joke and to laugh with other participants. In the exchange of impressions and feelings, in playing and working together with other members, in hunting and fishing together with his peers, he is relieved of his loneliness. To understand and empathize with others gives him satisfaction; living with others in harmony makes him happy.

The logic of solidarity in the organization and integration of the Mbün traditional culture is loyalty or fidelity.¹ Fidelity in social relationship is based on a consciousness of participating in the same values as another, or even in the consciousness of the value potential of another, in the sense that in helping the other a common value may be realized. Fidelity can also manifest itself in continuous empathy, love and responsibility shown to others in order to realize in them and with them certain constant life values.

Where people live together we witness the fact of grouping, that is to say, in order to provide for one's various needs or interests² every individual has regular social relations with several other individuals. These regular and recurrent social relations are possible, and this is the case in the Mbün traditional culture, only when social inter-action between the participants in these relations fulfills their mutual needs, interests or values. Viewed from this standpoint, the value of solidarity (Lakwün) implies a profound and vital communion between the members.

In the Mbün traditional culture individuals (Bär) live in vital communion in virtue of the things they have in common. Communion is the way in which they come to possess things in common: beliefs, aspirations, knowledge. Such things cannot be passed physically from one person (Mür) to another, like bricks; they cannot be shared as persons (Bär) would share a cake by dividing it into physical pieces. "Vital communion" ensures participation in a common understanding and secures similar emotional and intellectual dispositions--such as ways of responding to expectations and requirements.

In the Mbün worldview, this "vital communion" exists not only between human beings (Bär-e-mweng), but also and simultaneously between them and their ancestors (Ankiér/Ambsr-a-bs) and with God (Nzém-a-Mpöng). This vital communion between these instances can be represented schematically in the chart below.

All these three families live in vital communion. The family of spirits provides the goods, well-being and good fortune to the Family of Persons through the Family of Ancestors. In the same way, the Family of Persons offers sacrifices and holocausts to the Family of Spirits through the Family of Ancestors. This is to say nothing more than that the Family of Ancestors ensures the relay, the mediation between the Family of Persons and the Family of Spirits. There is no other way for whosoever desires to remain alive and healthy and thus in harmony with all these instances.

"I am created by God and I exist by my ancestors" (Me a sé nkiér a weng mbwè Nzém) is the most specific Mbün proverb expressing the key terms of this inter-communion. It points out the role or function of each instance, as well as the inter-action between them. "I (Mür-e

-mwèng: person) am created by God (Nzém) and I exist by my Ancestor (Nkiér)": the function of God is to create, that of Ancestor is to fulfill God's will in human existence.

By way of illustration of this inter-communion, which implies also continuity and harmony between spirits, ancestors and human beings, let us take the very common Mbün interpretation of a child smiling. In the Mbün tradition, when a new-born smiles while he is sleeping, it means that he is in good communion, in good harmony with God. He participates and rejoices with the new born. However, if he begins to cry while continuing to sleep, that means that the communion is affected, the harmony is broken by something bad he did. In order to restore communion and reestablish harmony, he receives from God and through his ancestors a corrective punishment. This expression Nzém y'amf'mwen-a-nza ba bobol is very significant; it means literally: "God and his guardians are beating (correcting) him."

As a result, in Mbün tradition the influence or impact of ancestors (A-Nkiér) in one's personal life is deeply stressed. When a person (Mür) comes into life, he bears the name of that ancestor through whom God gave him to his parents. That is why in Mbün culture the name of a person represents this person himself: my name is my person; it represents my proper identity. Any outrage to my name is ipso facto an outrage to my person, to my identity; it is, therefore, an offense to my ancestor from whom I have derived my name in coming to life and an offense to the family to which I belong. (Let us note in passing that, in Zaire, the political philosophy of "authenticity" is nothing more than a reevaluation of personal identity through the reevaluation of the ancestors' names and values, and, therefore, a reevaluation of his place within the family.

Mbün tradition distinguishes three levels within the human family: Ebör (small family), eyör (intermediate family) and edzö (large family). This distinction proceeds according to the criterion of complexity. The minimum number of individuals (Bär) in forming a small family is three rather than two as is common elsewhere: Ebäl (man) + Okär (woman) + Mwän (child). This minimum number of three persons is very significant in transforming a mere couple based upon an informal union (Akàng) between a man and woman to the level of a family (Ebör) founded upon the tie of blood that we term marriage (Ankwel).

This is to say, that in the Mbün conception of family a couple is not yet a family because of the presence of two persons only instead of three or more. It may become a family if and only if a child comes into life. Childbirth, as the advent of the third person who fulfills the number three, consequently transforms informal union (Akàng) between man and woman into the so-called family (Ebör), ensuring thereby the continuity of the family. In other words, in the Mbün traditional culture, the aim of marriage is not pleasure; its principal object is not the union of two beings who are pleased with each other, and who wish united to pass through the pleasures and trials of life. The effect of marriage is the union of two beings by the tie of blood, in order to produce from them a third who will be qualified to continue the family.³ The Roman sacramental formula: "to take a wife for the purpose of begetting children" (Ducere uxorem liberum quaerendorum causa),⁴ pronounced in the marriage ceremony parallels these views.

Therefore, the reality of "offspring" is stressed not less, but more as both a social necessity (requirement) and psychological pressure. The reason for this is that in the Mbün worldview no family should become extinct. As in Hindu thought,⁵ the extinction of a family causes its own ruin; the ancestors, deprived of continuity, fall into the abode of the unhappy. In the same way, De Coulanges reports that at Athens the law made it the duty of the first magistrate of the city to see that no family should become extinct.⁶ Parallel to this, the Roman law made provision that no family should fail and become extinct.⁷ We read as well in the discourse of an Athenian orator, "There is no man who, knowing that he must die, is so careless about himself as to wish to leave his family without descendants; for then there would be no one to render him that worship that is due to the dead."⁸ Thus, everyone had an interest in leaving a son after him, convinced that his immortal happiness depended upon it. It was even a duty towards those ancestors whose happiness could last no longer than did the family.

In the Mbün traditional culture, someone who has given birth to children remains eternally alive, even if he has already died. This is comparable to someone who has planted a fruit tree. Even after his death, whoever shall shelter under its shade and taste its fruits will recall the name of the planter and thus his person. In the same way, whoever did not give birth to children when he comes to die shall die forever, breaking thereby definitively the continuity of life.

In accord with these positions, we should conclude with De Coulanges that in the Mbün traditional culture man (mür) does not belong to himself, but to the family. He is one member in a series which must not stop with him. He is not born by chance, but has been introduced into life in order that he may continue a worship; and he must not give up life till he is sure that this worship will be continued after him. Hence, modern theories of family-planning or birth control certainly will take a long time before they are understood by people deeply rooted in this traditional view. Besides, the husband of a sterile wife (Okar-ekob) was compelled--within the strict limits of social norms--to marry a second wife (Mpäl) without divorcing his first wife, and this for two reasons: first, to achieve a stable family equilibrium by fulfilling the number "three"; and second, to ensure continuity through offspring. This family was called Ebör-l-ompäl, literally "rival wives family."

Carvilius Ruga, a man of rank, separated from his wife by divorce because he could not have children by her. He loved her tenderly, and had no reason to complain of her conduct; but he sacrificed his love to the sanctity of his oath, because he had sworn (in the formula of marriage) that he took her to wife in order to have children.¹⁷

But sometimes, if it is clearly demonstrated that the sterility of a marriage is due to the husband, as in the case of his death, a brother or some other relative of the husband must substitute in his place. (This is one of the reasons why, as will be shown further, a wife does not belong to one individual. She is always the wife of all the members of the family, she is "our" wife, not "my" wife). The child born of such a relationship is held to be the son of the husband, and continues his worship. Such were as well the rules among the ancient Hindus.¹⁹ We find them again in the laws of Sparta and in those of Athens:²⁰ the widow remains subject to the guardianship of her husband's substitutes--that is to say, of her own sons, if she has any, or, in default of sons, of the nearest kindred.²¹ So complete is her husband's authority over her, that he can, upon his death, designate a guardian for her, even choose for her a second husband.²²

As a result, in Mbün tradition, offspring procure for the person both prestige and respect. By giving birth to children, Ebäl (man) becomes Tär (father) and Okär (woman) becomes Mäm (mother). These two social denominations are so important that they are attributed only to one who, either man or woman, has given birth to children, even if he be younger. Consequently, to be called Tär (father) or Mäm (mother) brings prestige, consideration and respect to the person involved. This is the more stressed in the case of fathers and/or mothers of twins (A-mbwél).²³

Schematically, the notion of family and some of its implications in the Mbün tradition can be represented as below.

Altogether, the small family (Ebör or Ebör-l-ompäl) is not an isolated unit, and its system of values and norms is not a closed one. It is related to a set of several other small families on the same footing, that is, by vital communion and mutual influence. At the same time, it is a part of the so-called "intermediate family" (Eyön), which intermediate family, in turn, is a part of the so-called "large family" (Edzö). In consti-

*"Young mother" in comparison with the first wife who, by the fact of sterility, is considered to be an "old wife".

tuting an "intermediate family," a minimum of three small families is required while a minimum of three intermediate families is called a "large family." This represented schematically below.

Viewed from this standpoint, Lakwün stratification²⁴ is a pyramidal system of culture. At the apex of the pyramid, is situated the largest and most extensive entity; this is Edzo (tribe). The smaller the entity the more it approaches to Ebör or Ebör-l-ompäl (small family). The smaller unit can be called a "subfamily" and the larger a "superfamily" as it em-

braces an unlimited number of coordinated and subordinated intermediate

and small families with various kinds of systems of values and norms. In this we move from an homogeneous family to a heterogeneous family.

In thus moving from an homogeneous to a heterogeneous family, we encounter the conflicted aspect of Lakwün. Until now, we have always spoken of this complex totality of values as a paradise with well-defined membership, values and norms, and therefore with well-defined organization, integration and structure. That is true but, in fact, Lakwün is a very complicated entity. Conformity to the same system of group values and group norms does not mean that there is only harmony. On the contrary, harmony is maintained through tension and conflicts which manifest themselves from the most unconscious and gentle competition to the most conscious and ruthless strife and animosity.

Nevertheless, tension and conflict, competition and strife are not viewed here in the negative sense as leading to separation and disintegration of the unit, but in the positive sense as representing the very life and development of Lakwün. There is, by way of illustration, competition between lovers (A'mbän) and friends (A'Säm) in affection, service and sacrifice for each other. Because based on values of solidarity, this kind of positive competition manifests itself in the form of healthy and productive competition resulting in Lakwün with high morale or esprit de corps.

In Mbün traditional culture, solidarity as we-consciousness means a permanent togetherness characterized by a permanent atmosphere of belonging together. Especially in facing other groups, Lakwün fellow members feel that they form a unity. This feeling exists only because there are permanent relations among the participants. Therefore, the feeling of belonging together and the development of relations among the participants of a more than accidental (temporary) togetherness inevitably develop into an orderly form of interrelation and interaction among the participants in the togetherness.

Note that this distinction between "permanent" and "temporary" togetherness--and that by so many writers, as shall be shown below, between two types of social behavior and social relations--refers not only to the duration, but also to a basic qualitative difference in human relations and behavior founded upon the make-up of the human psyche. A social and integrated group represents a permanent togetherness, while a "contract"²⁵ among a certain number of people to achieve a certain task in a certain time can be considered to form a temporary togetherness.

Social groups which have been classified as "primary groups" by Cooley, as "groups based on organic solidarity" by Durkheim, as "community" by MacIver and as "informal groups" by Williams, are termed in the framework of our stratification theory, "permanent togetherness," that is, social groups in which the level of the heart dominates; in other words, group in which the solidarity value based on feeling plays a very important role. On the other hand, the "secondary groups" of Cooley, the "social groups based on mechanical solidarity" of Durkheim, the "associations" of MacIver and the "formal groups" of Williams are termed in the framework of our classification theory "temporary togetherness" or "accidental togetherness," that is, groups in which social behavior and social relations are dominated by the level of the mind. Their social behavior, relations, and aims, not only are more rational, calculated and planned, but also are more conscious.

In short, Lakwün can be defined as:

- primary group vs

- secondary group (Cooley)

- organic solidarity vs

- mechanical solidarity (Durk- heim)

- community vs

- association (MacIver)

- informal group vs

- formal group (Williams)

- permanent togetherness vs

- temporary togetherness

It goes without saying that interaction and relations in a social group are possible only if there exists a certain minimum of communication between the members of the social group. Communication³⁴ here is viewed as the transmission of the content of the psychological processes to different individuals, so that these individuals can participate in more or less the same knowledge and experience and consequently be able to influence each other's behavior.

The most important means of communication in Lakwün, as in most human social groups, is language. The relevant aspects of solidarity as interaction, vital communion and consciousness in terms of "us" within Lakwün are articulated in notions and judgments symbolized in language. But since language represents not only separate notions and judgments, but systems of notions and judgments which continuously come into relationship with each other in a way that is characteristic of a certain language, the total language system represents the whole of the possibilities of conceptualization and thought and their expressions within Lakwün. Hence, participating in this complex totality of symbolized notions and judgments, the Lakwün fellow-members can understand and influence each other, i.e., they can communicate with each other.

This is to say nothing more, as noted above, than that within Lakwün the person (mür) himself has an urge to communicate, to empathize and to cooperate with other persons (Bär), i.e., to satisfy his solidarity value. Mutual understanding, empathy and cooperation among the members of Lakwün, working in a standardized pattern to achieve the values of the family are made possible by communication and usually summarized, as underlined previously by the term esprit de corps.

The members of Lakwün, or Family with a high morale, experience an esprit de corps in their affective relationship, i.e., in their empathy and solidarity with their fellow members and in their loyalty to the values and norms, the symbols and other properties of the family. This latter itself becomes for them a value which at times can be higher even than the value of their own selves, so that the individual who is isolated from the Lakwün, the train of life, regardless of the reasons for the isolation, feels lonely, anxious, frustrated and thus unable to satisfy his value of solidarity. Survival in such a circumstance would be extremely difficult, not merely from an external or physical point of view, as Kingsley³⁵ pointed out, but also from an internal or mental point of view.

By way of illustration, let us proceed by a brief linguistic analysis of the Lakwün social unit.³⁶ Relations, interaction, cooperation among Lakwün fellow members are not based upon the well known pair Më-nze, "I-You," Je-Tu, "Ich und Du." On the contrary, they are built on the basis of relation "Bs-Bä", "we-they", "Nous-Ils".

The result is that in common Mbün expression, Bs (We, Nous) is prior, that is, it comes before "Me" (I, Je) in relation to "Nze" (You, Tu). However, :"Me" (I), "Nze" (you) and "Nza" (he/she) are not yet absorbed or sacrificed by Bs. They are necessarily and always already (nécessairement et toujours-déja) included in Bs in which they move freely and differently in the absolute relation of principles of dialogue. In other words, Me, Nze, Nza remain dialogical partners within Bs.

Some examples are found in the following chart. From these it results that in both English and French cultures representing here the Western culture, there is only one speaker who communicates to one other, I-You (he, him, she, her), Je-Tu (toi, il, lui), (1, 2, 3), while in the Lakwün social group, there is a spokesman or representative of the three persons or more basic small family who reports in the name or on behalf of all the persons involved (Bs) in the family to which he belongs that "we work with them"; "we are sick" and for whom your father, brother, child or children are at the same time both for you and for us (1, 2, 3). (Recall, as was pointed out above, that whosoever has given birth to children becomes father (Tär) and mother (Mäm) for everyone, even though he or she be younger.)

In addition to this, in English as well as in French culture, individual goods (a coat or a wife) are symbolized by the category of "having," which leads to a certain extent to individualism and selfishness (4, 5). In Mbün culture, the category of "being" is first so that in the Lakwün social group it makes no sense to say "I have my coat" (5) or "I have my wife (4), but "Bs eye a n'okes (a Bs)" or "We have our wife" (4) and "Bs eye a ne kadzak (a Bs)" or "we have our coat" (5).

Taking all this together, we can conclude that within lakwün solidarity is really interrelationship, interaction, vital communion and we-consciousness. It manifests itself in esprit de corps, it is a permanent togetherness made possible by communication between Lakwün fellow members specifically by means of language. The very significance of Lakwün depends upon the achievement of this primary value which is its highest value; we may even say its "ethical value." The achievement of all other values, namely, the value of power, is subordinated to it and must implement the achievement of the highest value of Lakwün. See the following chart.

It is difficult, as has been mentioned above, to conceive of a social group without power, that is, without rules which can be maintained. Even in friendship, the individuals involved must follow certain rules, although both may have equal weight. The value of power is viewed here as springing from the tendency, not so much towards self-awareness and self-assertion as pointed out by Edward Spranger,³⁷ but rather towards attachment to others.

affirmation of one's own essence, and emphasis upon one's own performance and vitality.³⁸

In general, this is the history of the rise of kingdoms as in the feudal period of history in all parts of the world, during which kings affirmed their ascendancy by claiming divine power. The invention of tools and the domestication of animals, etc., placed some of these communities in a stronger position versus other groups, which led to the conquest of the weaker groups by the stronger. The conqueror or usurper installed himself as a powerful ruler, while the conquered became his subjects and were obliged to live according to the rules of the conqueror-elite. A hierarchic social order based upon power then came into being. In modern times, we see this pattern repeated in the coming to power of the Fascists in Italy, the Nazis in Germany, and the Communists in Russia. This is the dictatorial and "totalitarian" type of social group. Nevertheless, from the feudal society, in turn, came the democratic movement which arose after the Renaissance and gained momentum until our time. Today, we see the world divided into these two systems, into the democratic countries, on the one hand, and the communist countries, on the other.³⁹

But things do not happen so in the Mbün traditional culture. Within Lakwün, since the greatest possible power cannot be gained by a momentary superiority, it is necessary to create a stable relationship between oneself and others. Thus, a real will for power is inseparable from a will to regulate and legislate; power and the "political" act of regulation are no less important than the value of solidarity. In other words, within Lakwün, the value of power is service, a shared experience based on love, sympathy, understanding, and cooperation, instead of upon force and threat, terror and fear. It is not a struggle among the members to determine which of them will be able to develop themselves more fully according to their value systems by occupying a higher place in the status hierarchy, and consequently be able to take a more important role in determining the life and especially the values and norms of Lakwün. Power comes rather through a common consensus.

Viewed from an individual standpoint, however, it is not wrong to see that through the value of power, the individual himself tried to expand his potentialities and capacities. This gives one a feeling of self-esteem and self-confidence; it provides him as well with prestige and status in social relations within Lakwün. This attitude, however, was secondary in regard to the essence of power value which was essentially a shared service.

The general characteristics of the Lakwün power system were that political authority was held either by one leader (Mfm)--not the chief--or by a council of elders (Eyö). Normally the leader was the eldest member of the clan, but where such an individual was visibly senile and inept a younger elder was chosen by the consensus of the members of the Council of Elders.

Normally, the elders were the custodians of the clan's or tribe's secrets and traditions. They jealously kept those secrets as sources of their power over the entire social group and especially over the ambitious younger generations. In the name of the clan or tribe the elders also had the absolute control over the tribal/clan property, whether it was for agricultural or grazing purposes or for livestock. The accumulation process, normally minimal, was done by the elders, through various forms of "gifts," free labor, priority in the cultivation and harvesting cycles and so on.

The age-level system worked in favor of these elders because recruitment into higher grades was done on the basis of the age-levels. There was a feeling of fraternity and freedom among the members of the same age-level, and it is probably at that level that we are enabled to talk of democracy in the sense that opinions were aired freely between co-equals.

Succession to authority followed a hierarchical pattern of grades of imitation. From the oldest member of the family and/or clan, authority went to the next dean of the oldest generation, then from the eldest brother to the youngest, from uncle to nephew and so on. The leader or the elder was the custodian of the clan or tribe heritage, and could not dispose of it at his will. Thus, the power system of Lakwün socio-political structure⁴⁰ can be classified as decentralized. For more understanding, we shall examine very briefly the four areas of recruitment into the various roles and access to property, dispute settlement and the decision-making process.

How were the members of the Council recruited? As in most traditional political organizations of the Bantu,⁴¹ there were no individuals or bodies which wielded clearly defined political authority entailing explicit rights and duties. Nevertheless, a number of ways existed in which individuals could gain greater prominence than their tribesmen or clansmen and final recognition as leaders by the group within the tribal unit with regard to certain activities. Thus, there were several ways through which individuals were recruited into certain roles.

Primogeniture (O'nswem). The eldest son (Nswem) in each family was automatically recognized as head of the family in the absence of the father.⁴² As such, he inherited a larger share of his father's property than that which went to his other brothers, whether it was land or cattle. The father paid his bride-price earlier than for his other brothers and if the cattle were not enough, the others could wait long before marrying. Indeed, when the father died, the eldest son assumed full authority over the entire family and became a member of the Council of Elders of the clan or community. He made his decisions as he saw fit, although he consulted one or two of his brothers and sometimes other elders.

It was thus in the ancient traditions.⁴³ The oldest, said the ancient Aryas, was begotten for the accomplishment of the duty due the ancestors; the others are the fruit of love. In virtue of this original superiority, after the death of the father the oldest had the privilege of presiding at all the ceremonies of domestic worship. He it was who offered the funeral repast and pronounced the formulas of prayer, for the right of pronouncing the prayers belongs to that son who came into the world first. The oldest was, therefore, heir to the hymns, the continuator of the worship, the religious leader of the family.

From this creed flowed a rule of law: the oldest alone inherited property. Thus says an ancient passage, which the last editor of the Laws of Manu still inserted in the code: "The oldest takes possession of the whole patrimony, and the other brothers live under his authority as if they were under that of their father. The oldest son performs the duties towards the ancestors; he ought, therefore, to have all."⁴⁴

We see as well that among the Spartans the patrimony was indivisible, and the younger brothers had no part of it.⁴⁵ It was the same among the Athenians in the time of Demosthenes and was called the "privilege of the elder."⁴⁵ This consisted in retaining the paternal dwelling--considerable material advantage, but still more considerable from a religious point of view.

It appears clearly that this lineage system based upon the law of primogeniture generated inequality. The senior members had more material, legal and moral privileges than the junior members in the same lineage structure. Although this did not strike the minds of the ancients, this explains why the inequality of the law of primogeniture was corrected by several of their customs.⁴⁷

Wealth (E'mväm). The second way through which individuals were recruited into certain roles within Lakwün was wealth (E'mväm). Accumulated either through heritage or trade, wealth could also enable an individual to gain prominence and thus become Mväm (a rich man), that is, a rich and influential person, because he could offer lavish feasts to the public who could eat and drink in praise of him.

Age (M'vl). This also counted for much when it came to recruitment for the Council of Elders. The members of the most senior age-group, such as the first two oldest age-groups within Lakwün, were generally selected by fellow co-equals already on the Council. All the members of the Council had to be married men with children already circumcised. Members of younger generations (A'mbél), even if some of them happened to be very brave at war (Br) and/or to be intelligent, were strictly excluded from being members of the Council of Elders. Women (A'kär) too were excluded; indeed, women never became members of these councils.

Viewed from this standpoint, the system was inegalitarian and almost despotic; at least it was undemocratic because of the very rigid age-set system which tended to thwart the aspirations of the younger generations who were left out as were women. Inter-age-group relations were the opposite of the equality which prevailed between these of the same age.

A quick survey of dispute settlement may bring out this point a little more clearly. At the "nuclear" family level, the father settled the disputes; in his absence, his eldest son by his first wife assumed authority. When the dispute went beyond the "nuclear" family but remained within Lakwün, only family heads of appropriate grade, not every family head, were called upon. At the highest clan level, small offenses were generally disposed of quickly by the Council of Elders. But when someone became a habitual offender who wronged even members of other clans, he could be ostracized and expelled from the clan; in such a case, even if he were murdered the clan did not pursue the matter. The elders usually sat at a particular place to solve disputes or talk about the affairs of the clan. This particular place was called Epäl (court) and usually they took their meals there as well. Whatever the crime: theft, adultery or murder, the basic principle underlying the judicial system was compensation.

In case of murder involving two clans, clan-solidarity played a very important role. Every member of the murderer's clan contributed towards the payment of the "blood fine" to the wronged family. If the murderer's clan failed or refused to pay the "blood fine," the wronged clan was entitled to kill a member of the opposite sex of the murderer's clan. Then, elders of the two clans sat together and ordered the members of both clans to stop the feud under the wisdom and judgment of the Council.

The elders sought the opinion of the majority of the people in the community before making a decision. Nyerere has called this procedure "the essence of the traditional African democracy."⁴⁹

But democracy itself is an idea; as a political movement it has not done well in the history of mankind. The reason is fairly obvious. Ingrained in the concept is an element of subversion against the established order of things: the right of the people to overthrow a ruler or a government (or both) who might go against the perceived general will and to restore the old order. One of the first scholars to express this idea was Marsilius of Padua, who postulated a secular relationship between the sovereign and the government, on the one hand, and the people or ruled, on the other. He argued that the people must give their explicit and deliberate consent to be ruled according to a mutually acceptable secular law before any obligation can be demanded of them. Should the sovereign break the established principle, then the people are free to remove him. His ideas embodied a fundamental democratic principle, namely, that the people have control over the rulers and the government; and that any of the citizens can be vested with the highest responsibility.

At this time the basis for a liberal state was being established; democracy as such was not yet evident in the character, policies and practices of the state or governments in Europe. Liberalism simply called upon the governments to promote free enterprise among profit-oriented individuals. The state, instead of interfering in economic matters was only to step in to help individual entrepreneurs, the capitalists or new class of owners of the means of production, to achieve more profits and secure their investments. Society was expected to benefit automatically from the accrued wealth.

Since not all workers can run the affairs of the state, or lead the proletarian revolution, however, the idea of an elite vanguard was invented to cater to the assumed interests of the proletariat. This vanguard was to be the party, which would be the basic organization. It would not be a mass party, but a party of the most enlightened echelons of the workers and would spearhead the movement through propaganda and actual seizure of power. Theoretically the people still would be the supreme authority, but in reality the elite would hold the reins of state power and governmental machinery.

In relation to these divergent orientations in political thought the present-day African situation is compounded by various dilemmas. At the outset, African leaders rejected the Western model of democracy on the grounds that it engendered selfish individualism and set in motion a whole process of differential accumulation of wealth, creating classes to the detriment of the traditional African philosophy of equilibrium. Africans rejected also the communist democratic centralism as antagonistic to the African classless harmony. African leaders were particularly unhappy with the atheist conception of the world as propounded by the supporters of scientific socialism. For them, the African is basically religious. As Senghor has argued: "Finally . . . we have a choice to make in our final option. Everything in scientific socialism is not to be accepted, especially its atheistic materialism. I do not say its dialectical materialism."⁵¹

Thus, the question may be formulated as follows: after rejecting both the Western and Eastern European models of democracy, is there anything in the African political tradition⁵² that can be called an African form of democracy on which new structures can be built? The answer to this question depends upon the conception of democracy.

As mentioned in the introduction, we conceive democracy as more than a form of government. It is primarily a mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience; it is a sentiment, a spirit and not simply the rule of the many. A government springs from a vast mass of sentiments--many vague, some defined--of instincts, of aspirations, of ideas, of hopes and fears, of purposes. It is their reflex and their incorporation, their projection and outgrowth; without this basis, it is worth nothing.

But so too is aristocracy, one might object. What is the difference; what distinguishes the ethical basis and ideal of one from the other? Aristocracy and democracy both imply that the actual state of society exists for the sake of realizing an end which is ethical, but aristocracy implies that this is to be done primarily by means of special institutions⁵³ or organizations within society, while democracy holds that the ideal is already at work in every personality and must be trusted to care for itself. There is an individualism in democracy which is not in aristocracy; but it is an ethical, not a numerical individualism; it is an individualism of freedom, of responsibility, of initiative toward, and for, the ethical ideal--not an individualism of lawlessness. In one word, democracy means for us that the person (mür) is the first and final reality. It admits that the full significance of the person can be learned by the individual only as already presented to him in objective form in society; it admits that the leadership, stimuli and encouragements for the realization of the person must come from society. But it holds, nonetheless, to the fact that personhood cannot be procured for anyone, however degraded and feeble, by anyone else, however wise and strong. It holds that the spirit of personhood indwells in every individual and that the choice to develop it must proceed from that individual.

- Liberty is not a numerical notion of isolation. We conceive of it as the ethical idea that personality is the supreme and only law, that every man is an absolute end in himself. The democratic ideal includes liberty, because democracy without initiation from within--without an ideal chosen from within and freely followed from within--is nothing.

We have used these illustrations simply for the sake of showing what we understand the conception of democracy to mean, and to show that the ordinary objections against democracy rest upon ideas which conceive it after the mode of a numerical individualism; we have tried to suggest, however briefly, that democracy is an ethical idea, the idea that every man is a person of truly infinite capacity. To our mind democracy and the one, ultimate ethical ideal of humanity are synonymous. The ideas of democracy, of liberty, equality, and fraternity, represent a society in which the distinction between the spiritual and the secular has ceased, and, as in Greek theory and in the Christian notion of the Kingdom of God, the church and the state, the divine and the human organization of society are one.

This, one can say, is idealism, and indeed it is ideal, but we are among those who believe that the real will never find an immovable basis till it rests upon the ideal. The best test of any form of society is the ideal it proposes for the forms of its life, and the degree to which it founds and realizes that ideal.

The question to which we must answer was formulated as follows: "After rejecting both the Western and Eastern European models of democracy, is there anything in the African tradition that can be called an African form of democracy and upon which new structures may be built?"

Equality, freedom, fraternity and unity--together symbols of both the highest ethical value of solidarity and the highest ethical idea and practice of democracy--have been effectively the nourishing sap of the everyday life of African communities. To the point, Nyerere argues that: "The equality of all members is fundamental to any social grouping to which an individual freely belongs--the ideal society is based on human equality and on a combination of the freedom and unity of its members."⁵⁵

West African realities are those of underdeveloped countries--peasant countries here, cattle countries there--once feudalistic, but `traditionally classless' and with no wage-earning sector. They are community countries where the group holds priority over the individuals; they are especially religious countries, unselfish countries, where money is not King.⁶¹

This, in turn, is precisely what is meant when we speak of industrial relations as being necessarily social, that is, they are to become the material of an ethical realization of the person, the form and substance of a community, of good (though not necessarily of goods) wider than any now known, and the realization of personhood through the formation of a higher and more complete African unity.

*The Mbün or Ambün are located in Zaïre.

3. See Numa Denis Fustel de Coulanges, The Ancient City, A Study on the Religion, Laws and Institutions of Greece and Rome (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980), p. 43.

4. Ibid.

5. Bhagavad-Gita, I: 40.

7. Isaias, VII : 30-32.

8. Idem., VII : 30.

9. De Coulanges, pp. 42-43.

10. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, IX: 22.

11. Cicero, De legibus, III : 2.

13. Pollux, III : 48.

14. See De Coulanges, pp. 43-44.

15. Laws of Manu, IX : 81.

19. See De Coulanges, p. 44.

20. Plutarch, Solon: 20; Laws of Manu, IX: 121; Xenophon, Gov. of the Laced.

21. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, II : 25; Gaius, I: 149, 155; Aulus Gellius, III : 2.

23. To beget triplets or more than three children at the same time was a rare phenomenon.

30. Ibid.

36. A brilliant analysis of Ujaama social unity from which our own is inspired is Tshimalenga Ntumba, "Language et Socialité. Primat de la "Bisoïté" sur l'intersubjectivité," in Philosophie Africaine et Ordre Social (Actes de la 9e Semaine Philosophique de Kinshasa, du 1er au 7 décembre, 1985; Recherches Philosophiques Africaines, F.T.C.K (Kinshasa/Limete, 1986), pp. 57-82.

38. Ibid., p. 189.

39. For the history of these two political tendencies, see Alexander Rüstow, ed., Ortsbertimmung der Gegenwart (Definition of Contemporaineity) (Zurich: Europa, 1950), Vols. I-III.

42. The significance of "Father" is here totally opposed to its originary signification in Greek, Latin and Sanskrit from which we may conclude that this word dates from a time when the Hellenes, Italians and Hindus still lived together in Central Asia. . . . In judicial language, the title of "pater," or "pater familias," might be given to a man who had no children, who was not married, and who was not even of age to contract marriage. The idea of paternity, therefore, was not attached to this word. The old language had another word which properly designated the father, and which, as ancient as "pater," is likewise found in the language of the Greeks, of the Romans, and of the Hindus (gânitar, genreter, genitor). The word "pater" had another sense. In religious language they applied it to the gods; in legal language to every man who had a worship and a domain. The poets show us that they applied it to everyone whom they wished to honor. The slave and the client applied it to their master. It was synonymous with the word "rex." It contained in itself not the idea of paternity, but that of power, authority, majestic dignity. See De Coulanges, pp. 81-82.

43. Ibid., pp. 75-76.

44. Laws of Manu, IX. 105-107, 126. But this ancient rule was modified as the old religion became enfeebled. Even in the Code of Manu we find articles that authorize a division of the inheritance.

45. Fragments of the Greek Historians, Didot's coll., t. II., p. 277.

47. See De Coulanges, p. 76.

52. By means of inductive method we move from a micro entity, Mbün, to a certain universality.

55. Ibid.

56. Ibid., p. 104.

57. Ibid.