INTRODUCTION

From a logical point of view, it is a tautology to say that everything is identical with itself. In other words, it is a logical truth that everything is what it is and not another thing. Accordingly, any problem Africa may have as to her identity cannot be whether Africa is what she is, but only whether she is what she ought to be. The problem, that is, is normative rather than descriptive.

But why is there a problem of identity in the first place? Individuals, let alone nations and whole continents, do not start wondering whether they are what they ought to be if everything seems to be going well. It is when things go wrong that critical self-analysis tends to begin. However, not everything that goes wrong with a people precipitates a crisis of self-identity; it is only the kind of reverse that injures human dignity and saps self-confidence that causes that type of soul-searching. In Africa colonialism has been such an adversity.

Colonialism is not necessarily racist in the sense in which the concept involves claims of racial superiority on the part of the colonizer; but it frequently goes with some sense of superiority. The Roman colonizers of Britain were not of a different race, but they had a poor opinion of the level of civilization of the Britons. This was, by the way, in marked contrast to the Romans' appreciation for Greek civilization in spite of their conquest of Hellas. But when one race comes to dominate another of a different skin color by virtue of a superiority in science and technology, then a conqueror's racism is fairly inevitable. European colonialism in Africa has been true to this form. The racism associated with it was not just a state of mind, but an active programme which sought to change the African's supposedly inferior way of life to conform to European models in some important areas of human experience, such as education, religion, economics, politics, etc. It was therefore natural that the anti-colonial struggle should take the form of both a cultural and a political nationalism.

African political nationalism aimed at regaining national independence and then building viable modern states, while cultural nationalism aimed to restore to Africans their confidence in their own culture. This latter was particularly urgent as colonial racism had succeeded in alienating many Africans from their own culture.

In so far as cultural nationalism implied a rejection of foreign cultural influences it tended to take the form of a traditionalism. Thus the question of identity was, in effect, posed as "Are we what we used to be?' The obvious fact was that we were not; consequently the solution proposed was that we should discover what we were previously and take steps to become such again. There is a suppressed premiss in this reasoning, since, as we have seen, the question of self-identity is a normative one. The premiss in question is: `What we ought to be is what we used to be."

There are problems of principle with this mode of self-definition. It is obviously not true in general that what we ought to be is what we used to be. We were children to start with, but that hardly supports a nostalgia for infantilism. The concept of self-improvement implies that we ought to become something other than what we are currently or were in the past. Thus, unless we make the strange assumption that culture is not open to improvement, the premiss under discussion must be acknowledged to be faulty.

So, given that we do have a crisis of self-identity, the following question must press itself upon us: `Why should we be other than we currently are?' The answer of anti-colonial nationalism is: `Because we became what we are now, not of our own free will, but rather through a colonial imposition'. But suppose what we are now happens to be better than what we used to be? Or suppose that, even though what we are now is no good, still what we were in the past was either no good or, if good in its time, ill-suited to the present time. Then what?

These questions, though not framed in exactly these terms, begin to make themselves felt in post-independence reassessments in Africa. This is connected with the fact, noted early in this discussion, that independence was sought with the aim of building viable modern states in Africa. This purpose, of course, is the purpose of modernization. But modernization involves changing old ways of doing things. Thus, a tension develops between cultural nationalism and the quest for modernization in post-independence times. On the one hand, there seems to be a desire to return to the roots, to old ways of life; yet, on the other hand, there seems to be a desire to change the old ways along lines established, in some cases, by foreign peoples. The question is: `Is there a real incompatibility here?'

THE EXAMPLE OF JAPAN

Consider the case of Japan. This nation seems to have been able both to achieve modernization and preserve her distinctive culture. This would seem to suggest that modernization and cultural conservatism are not incompatible. There is something in this; but it can be misleading. Cultural conservatism is perhaps too strong a phrase. The striking thing about the Japanese is not their cultural conservatism, but rather their cultural adaptability. They are famous for their capacity to learn things from other peoples and adapt them to their own purposes. Modernization has certainly modified their culture, and this has come, not by the sheer force of events, but through a deliberate national policy. It was through a deliberate and systematic policy that the Meiji rulers of Japan in the second half of the 19th century worked to abolish Japanese feudalism while retaining (even by law) their traditional values based on the family. The absorption of Western science, technology and learning generally was done with open utilitarian

eyes.

The point, then, is not that modernization can go on without changes in a traditional culture, but rather that it need not involve the indiscriminate jettisoning of the elements of such a culture. Not only this. As far as cultural self-identity is concerned there is an important distinction still to be noted. Regarding the idea of indiscriminate changes in a culture, there is a difference between changes of this sort that are off one's own bat, so to speak, and ones that come about semi-consciously through impregnation with foreign cultural models inculcated by way of imposed systems. Indiscriminate conduct is, of course, not commendable in any sphere of life. Nevertheless, it seems better, if one is going to tamper with one's traditional culture indiscriminately, to do it by one's own decision than through foreign pressures. It is better because it displays a greater degree of free will, and free will is a basic human ideal. It is better, moreover, from the point of view of the present discussion because it does not necessarily generate an identity crisis. If you change aspects of your culture and adopt in their place new ones of your own devising, then, even when there is trouble, any malaise would not be owing to a sense of compromised identity. The question then to be asked might still take the form: "Are we what we ought to be?" and the solution to be adopted might consist in returning to tradition. At all events, however, the crisis of identity can pertain only to perceptions of the self in its distinctness from others.

We can distinguish at least three types of cultural change: (1) Change which is deliberate and self-initiated and which substitutes something original for an old cultural element; (2) Change which is deliberate and self-initiated, but which involves foreign substitutes; (3) Change which is neither self-initiated nor original in its replacements. From the point of view of the problem of identity, the first type is the least, and the third the most problematic. Japan's experience approximates the second, while Africa's seems at some stages to have been of the third type. It is understandable, then, why Japan, unlike Africa, has not suffered too deeply from a sense of subverted identity.

It is tempting, accordingly, to commend the example of Japan to Africa: `By all means import and assimilate Western science, technology and other forms of knowledge as the Japanese did, but be sure to decide for yourselves, just as the Japanese did, which elements of your culture to retain and which to dispense with in the process'. In principle, this advice is, of course, sound. But an over-enthusiastic recommendation of the Japanese model could betray an a-historical as well as an unanalytical underestimation of the problems underlying Africa's crisis of identity. Japan has indeed had her own period of nationalistic soul-searching, but she has never had an identity problem to anything like the extent of Africa's. The reason lies in a number of circumstances. Japan, unlike Africa, was never subjected to conquest or colonialism prior to her break-through in modernization. Unlike Africa, again, she is a homogeneous nation with a single national language⁽¹⁷⁾ and a national religion which has developed in its own way, assimilating foreign influences at its own pace. Besides, Japan, unlike most of Africa, had a long tradition of writing and literary learning which, coupled with her possession of an indigenous national language, facilitated her appropriation of Western knowledge in her own conceptual medium. Added to all this is the fact that even before the concerted push towards modernization in the second half of the 19th century Japan had a reasonably sophisticated system of agriculture, which, in fact, proved to be the source of capital accumulation during the intense formative period of industrialization.

Nevertheless, one thing at least can be learnt from the case of Japan; it is that to maintain national self-identity it is not necessary to remain the same as in ancestral times. Some important elements of Japanese culture were consciously borrowed from other peoples. Thus Japanese religion and ethics are an eclectic combination of a native Shintoism, a Chinese version of Indian Buddhism and a transplanted ethic of Confucianism--all these pragmatically hinged onto a scientific attitude more recently acquired from the West.

THE PROBLEM OF COLONIAL MENTALITY

It follows, by analogy, that the answer to Africa's problem of identity in the contemporary world does not lie in a cultural traditionalism but in a critical and reconstructive self-evaluation. This self-evaluation is made extremely difficult, even now, decades after independence, by the colonial mentality induced in our people during colonial times. This is the mentality which makes a formerly colonized person over-value foreign things coming from his erstwhile colonial master. `Things' here is to be interpreted widely to include not only material objects but also modes of thought and behavior.

Were the dominance of this colonial mentality absolutely complete, there could not, of course, have been so much as a sense of identity crisis in our people. The obvious fact of this consciousness in Africa shows that indigenous modes of thought and action have not been totally eclipsed by colonialism. One circumstance that has limited the psychological penetration of colonialism is that the colonialists did not trouble themselves much to `educate' the populations in the rural interior of the African countries they colonized. Consequently, these people still retain large parts of their indigenous world-outlook. This has ensured, thanks to our `extended family' system, that even the educated class have never been completely cut off from their culture. But the problem is that elements of the colonial mentality have been so deeply ingrained in the consciousness of the African people that it is not unheard of for even the fiercest denunciation of colonialism or the most fundamentalistic affirmation of indigenous culture to betray unconscious traces of that mentality. The present writer does not claim exemption from this plight, and this essay can be considered as one personal exercise in the struggle for African mental decolonization.

It is important at the outset to understand why colonialism was able to make such deep inroads in the psychology of our people in most parts of Africa. The basic reason is that, as remarked earlier on, the colonialists came with superior science and technology. In many places they brought literacy where there was none. In these respects the gap was decisive; which, in the particular case of technology, is why the invaders were able to subjugate our ancestors in the first place. It was, of course, no mistake on the part of our ancestors to recognize this superiority. I mean the superiority in science and technology as manifested in the techniques and products of the colonialists. But the question is not so clear-cut when it comes to the religion, law, state-craft, mores, language, etc., which came as part of the colonial package. Having accepted one part, our people were led to transfer their approval to the other parts of the package. How were they `led' to this? It was principally through the teachings of the missionaries who came along with the colonialists to `civilize' us and save our souls. Their campaign was only too successful. The result? A formidable distortion of the African identity. Since the days of the anti-colonial struggle we have been witnessing a struggle to restore the sense of authenticity. But the problems have not only been many but also have frequently been buried beneath the surface of our experience.

CHRISTIANITY AND GHANAIAN CULTURE

Take the sphere of religion, and consider the case of Christianity. This religion is completely alien to most parts of Africa (In Egypt and Ethiopia its status is, of course, somewhat more complicated). By some estimates, approaching a third of the whole population of Africa is Christian. This large mass of Africans adhere to a Europeanized form of the Judeo-Christian religion complete with its own world-view and ethics. The question might be asked: Since Africa has her own religions and systems of morality, why should an African forget them in favor of alien ones? There is something misleading about this question in as much as it might seem to suggest that Christianity has usually been consciously chosen by its African flock. On the contrary, the modern African is frequently born into a Christian family; he attends a Christian school and becomes a Christian As a matter of course (rather than of conscious reflection) in the very process of his socialization. As for his forebears, they were, as we have seen, ingratiated into Christianity through importunate evangelism and the dazzle of certain aspects of the colonial package. Nevertheless, some form of the question posed has made itself felt in the consciousness of many an African Christian. He is now asking, `How can I be both an African and a Christian?'

The answer that seems to be being canvassed in the most influential circles of African Christians is that Africans can be Christians in good conscience only by Africanizing Christianity. But how can this be done? Well, where there is a will, there apparently is a way, and some Africans have even thought to Africanize Christ himself, witness those artistic representations in which the Son of Man is depicted as a black man; which shows, by the way, that the wisdom of the way that opens to a will cannot always be taken for granted. There have, of course, been more level-headed forms of Africanization; but, as far as one can see, they have been mainly concerned with the externals of the religion: liturgy, forms of apparel, personnel, etc. One should not underestimate the gains that have been made in the Africanization of these aspects of the Christian religion. It is not so very long ago that a African preacher in the Presbyterian church in Ghana was disciplined for mounting the pulpit in his native attire. Now, in the eighties, even the Catholic church permits songs in African rhythms and idiom, actually punctuated with drumming, right in the process of worship, a phenomenon which, a few years ago, would have seemed more inconceivable than that a donkey should transport itself through the hole of a needle. No one who observed the subdued demeanor of Africans during worship in the more rigidly colonized modes can help noticing the contrasting spontaneity and joy with which many of our people participate in Christian worship electrified with African music.

Nevertheless, it may be questioned whether such African admixtures in externals with the foreign doctrinal content intact can amount to any serious Africanization of the Christian religion. The nearest that I know any church to have gone toward doctrinal concessions in recent times is in their more relaxed attitude towards certain African customs. A very pervasive such custom is the practice of pouring libation to our ancestors at ceremonies of any importance. In the past not only was such a ritual out of the question inside chapel walls--it remains so to this day, but it was also forbidden to African Christians even in their cultural activities far outside church environs. Now, however, an African Christian can pour libation to his heart's content without fear of episcopal reprisals.

But, even here, relevant questions remain unpursued. The ritual of libation presupposes a cosmology which is inconsistent with the Christian one. The traditional Ghanaian does not bifurcate the world into a natural and a supernatural world. Life after death is, for him, in a world closely continuous with the present one; and our departed ancestors are conceived still to be participating members of their families, rewarding good conduct and punishing its opposite in their own spacial way. The pouring of libation is, accordingly, intended as an invitation to them to come and take part in important undertakings of the living and to grant them their propitious auspices. Very far removed from such conceptions is the Christian doctrine of a supernatural world of heaven and hell existing in metaphysical isolation from this world.⁽¹⁸⁾ The question then arises: Does the mellowing of the Euro-Christian authorities in their attitude to the practice of libation imply the belief that the related cosmology is compatible with the Christian cosmology? There is no evidence that this is their frame of mind. More curiously, there is no evidence that the African Christians in Ghana who seem glad to be able to pour libation without any anxieties about clerical censure have considered the cosmological complications.

As far as the question of Africa's self-identity or self-identification is concerned, the crucial issue here is not as to which of the two cosmologies is the more viable intellectually or whether any of them is viable, but rather whether the contemporary African Christian has made a conscious and reflective choice between his own traditional cosmology and that of Christianity or has forged some kind of a selective synthesis of the two. No African Christian can lay much of a claim to authentic African identity if he adheres to an unexamined jumble of Euro-Christian and African cosmological conceptions. On the other hand, if, on due reflection, a modern African concludes that the Euro-Christian cosmology or conceptual frame-work, more generally, is preferable, this need not compromise his African authenticity just as the conscious adoption of Buddhism has not made the Japanese any less authentically Japanese. The present position in many parts of Africa is that in spite of much earnest and sincere nationalistic protestations, the African Christian has hardly started to think of a critical reappraisal of Christian doctrine vis-a-vis his own native religion. Until he can do so, all claims to African authenticity in this sphere must be suspended.

CULTURAL IDENTITY IN GENERAL

This is the appropriate place to call attention to a somewhat paradoxical condition for cultural identity. A culture can shed off many of its traits and gather foreign accretions without sacrificing its identity, provided that it does not lose its contingent features. The contingent is normally contrasted with the necessary, but in this case the contingent becomes the necessary. The explanation is as follows. Any culture has procedures, customs and usages that have no essential bearing on questions of either human well-being or truth or falsehood. Style of apparel or of address, for example, is frequently (though not invariably) of this nature. Adopting one style rather than another often makes no objective difference to human well-being or to one's beliefs about the world. Specifically because of this there cannot be any compelling reason to change such elements of a culture in favor of foreign ones.

It might be useful to mention a few more of such facts of culture here. Language, dance, music, recreation, style of courtship--all these and more are contingent in this sense in some of their aspects. Since it is not rational to give up such components in preference to foreign substitutes, to do so is a sure sign of the loss or diminution of cultural self-identity.

This is not to overlook the fact that cultures do evolve and that no part of a culture is immune to this process. The contingent elements of a culture can change imperceptibly over a long period of time or, on occasion, more abruptly without prejudice to identity. Such changes may be due to indigenous whims and caprices; and why not? What a people's cultural identity will not survive unscathed is foreign substitutions in this area. It should be noted, furthermore, that it is not being contended that to be authentic a culture ought not to accommodate some contingent elements from abroad along side its own. The conquest of distance through the tremendous developments in communication in the present century will see to it that there is an unceasing process of intercultural exchanges across the globe. But only weak cultures will permit this to eclipse what we might call, with an appearance but only an appearance of contradiction, their contingent essence.

Such components of culture as philosophy and religion, on the other hand, are anchored to truth value. Philosophy necessarily involves claims about what things are or should be and about what relations hold between various objects of thought. Basically, the same thing is true of religion. If it should turn out, for example, that it is not true that God exists (given some intelligible and stable conception of God, surely, certain religions would lose their foundation. Now, suppose, only for the purposes of argument, that unbeknown to a certain culture, God does not exist and that it has been shown in another culture that this can be conclusively proved. Then, for the first culture willfully to ignore the proof in the name of cultural self-identity would demonstrate nothing more glorious than a collective pigheadedness. It is obvious that this can be generalized for all beliefs as to what is or is not the case. Therefore it can be asserted that religion and philosophy (as also other domains of thought in which truth is sought, such as science) are areas of human experience in which the effects of cultural differences could conceivably be eliminated through the peaceful give-and-take of dialogue among cultures. It is conceivable, consequently, that the time might come when only humanly contingent features will individuate cultures. Should there be any qualms on this point, they can be blamed on the fallacies of relativism.

CONCEPTUAL PROBLEMS IN REALIZING

AFRICAN IDENTITY

Any interaction among cultures, however, has to be on the basis of equality; otherwise some cultures are compromised, as ours has been in Africa. It is not only at the levels of our social, economic, political and religious institutions that the unequal cultural relationship with the colonialists has affected our life but also at the deeper levels of our fundamental conceptual frame-work. And this I take to be the most far-reaching explanation for the tardiness of our African Christians in seeing the necessity for a critical reassessment of Christian doctrine. Such concepts as `God', `Spirit', `Soul', `Salvation', `the Mystical', `the Supernatural', `Creation', `Omnipotence' have wormed their way deep into our scheme of concepts and are used by us, Western educated Africans, especially the Christians among us, as if their intelligibility or internal coherence in all human language and thought can be taken for granted. So that the exposition of even our own traditional religious thought is couched in these terms without a thought of possible conceptual incongruities. I happen to think that these concepts have the most imperfect fit, if they have any fit at all, with our indigenous categories of thought. But the issue here is not whether this is true or false but rather whether the relevant question has been seriously raised and considered. To the extent to which we use cardinal concepts assimilated through a foreign education uncritically, to that extent is our African identity thrown into question.

The conceptual problems in defining our African identity are not restricted to the sphere of our religious thinking; they range, in fact, over the whole gamut of our intellectual life. It is a well-known fact that, intellectually, we think in the metropolitan languages in which we were educated. As far as concepts such as `Being', `existence', `Entity', `Nothingness', `Substance', `Quality', `Truth', `Fact', `Reality', `Matter', `Body', `Mind', `Person', `Space', `Punishment', `Free Will', etc., are concerned, we might, many of us,just as well be called Europeans. Yet, there are very radical differences between the manner in which the matters involved are conceived in our indigenous languages and thought, on the one hand, and in the metropolitan languages and thought, on the other. This being so, the least that an African of an abstract bent, mindful of his own cultural identity, ought to do is to elicit these conceptual differences through a comparative analysis and try to assess them objectively. That an objective assessment of such things is possible is a substantial thesis. Here I cannot even begin to argue it; I can only throw it up as a plausible presupposition. But it is relevant to note that if an objective treatment of such conceptual disparities were not possible, there would be little point in any attempt at intellectual dialogue between different peoples.

The considerations of the last paragraph bring it out clearly, I hope, that, at its most fundamental level, Africa's problem of identity is a philosophical problem, a thought which should strengthen our sense of the importance of the current debate among African philosophers and others about how best to define African philosophy itself. This question is, in fact, one to be answered, at this historical juncture, not with a definition per genus et differentia but rather with a programme for intellectual construction and reconstruction in the service of Africa and ultimately the world. Any such programme will have, at the very minimum, to include the conceptual exorcising of the colonial mentality alluded to at various points in this discussion. It emerges, thus, that in properly defining the African identity of their calling, African philosophers will be ipso facto helping to define and establish Africa's identity in the contemporary world.

POLITICAL IDENTITY

In approaching the close of this discussion, let me touch on an issue in the political field that has an obvious relevance to Africa's quest for identity. It is the question of African socialism. Almost all African countries have now won their independence. But, if anything, they have been faced with problems that are, intellectually, more difficult than any faced in the struggle against colonialism; and our leaders, not necessarily philosophers to start with, have been constrained to do some quite fundamental thinking. Some of the most important of these problems may be formulated as follows: What form of social organization is best suited to Africa, having regard to her history and aspirations and to the requirements of social justice in general? And what political forms are to be adopted for the achievement of these social aims. Many African leaders have declared an adherence to socialism as the best social system. Generally, this choice has been predicated on the contention that socialism is the only system that avoids `the exploitation of man by man'. But an additional reason of the greatest significance has been the claim that this system is but a natural development of traditional African communalism. This is sometimes exaggerated into the assertion that the latter was in fact already a form socialism practiced in Africa in precolonial times. Be that as it may, it is clear that the reason why our leaders have linked their socialism with the communalistic past of Africa is that they are anxious to demonstrate to the world that they did not struggle for independence only to imitate the social and political forms of either the East or the West (ideologically speaking). Accordingly, the term `African socialism' has been used to contrast socialism in Africa with socialism elsewhere.

Unfortunately, serious conceptual problems have arisen in the elaboration of this contrast. The impression is sometimes given that African socialism is different in concept from other socialisms. But there cannot be one definition for socialism in Africa and a different one elsewhere. What may conceivably differ in socialism from place to place is the way in which the basic concept of socialism is developed and implemented. As a minimum, socialism must be a system in which the main means of production and distribution are owned and controlled by society as a whole and in which distribution is conducted on egalitarian principles. A little reflection on this definition will disclose why attempts to realize this concept in actual practice result in the well-known proliferation of brands of socialism. The point is simply that concepts such as social ownership and (more notoriously) egalitarianism invite different interpretations from different thinkers.

The question then is: when one talks of African socialism is one referring to particular African interpretations of the concept of socialism or to particular African routes to socialism? Considerable confusion has arisen due to the apparent inability cf various analysts to distinguish between an interpretation of the concept of socialism as a social form and a route through which some interpretation of the concept might be pursued in practice. Thus it is frequently said that one respect in which African socialism differs from Marxist socialism is that the exponents of the former do not believe in the doctrine of class struggle. [Senghor of Senegal and Nyerere of Tanzania come to mind here. The late Nkrumah of Ghana, was not an enthusiast of the class struggle prior to his overthrow, but become one afterwards.] But the question of the class struggle is really only relevant to the way in which socialism might be achieved. Of course, if, as some have claimed, there is no class struggle in Africa or, more breath-takingly, if there are no classes in Africa, then the quest for socialism will not go through the stage of the dictatorship of the proletariat in Africa. But this would not necessarily disclose a different interpretation of the concept of socialism as a form of society from that of Karl Marx. The difference here would only be between the African and the Marxian routes to socialism.

An even more subtle confusion in the way in which African socialism has been contrasted with Marxist socialism is displayed in the habit of citing the rejection of dialectical materialism by some leading African socialists as a difference between the ideologies of African socialism and Marxist socialism. Lost here is the distinction between an ideology and a theory of reality. Dialectical materialism is a theory of reality, not an ideology. The same is true of even historical `materialism'. These are theories of what the world is, has been, and will be like, not what it ought to be like. An ideology is a conception of what society ought to be like. Of course, if any such conception is to have a chance of being realized in the world, it will have to take full account of what the world is like. But what the world is like does not logically prejudge the issue of what it ought to be like. The general relationship between "is" and "ought" is a contentious philosophical issue, but it seems clear from the considerations just adduced that if a given African thinker rejects dialectical materialism as an account of reality,that does not logically preclude his believing in Marx's conception of the classless society of the socialist millennium. For the same reason the play made on the contrast between Marxist atheism and the alleged pervasive piety of the African is not to the point.

The comparison of African socialism with Marxist socialism is sometimes beset by even grosser errors. Thus the suggestion has been made that one distinguishing characteristic of some forms of African socialism is that they give room for a substantial private component in the economy. But in view of the definition of socialism, an economic system, in Africa or outside Africa, which harbors a substantial permanent private component can never be called a type of socialism in any full sense.

CONCLUSION

In all this what is of paramount relevance to our concerns in this paper is that the faulty comparisons noted above seem, at least in part, to be motivated by what might be called the fallacy of uniqueness. It seems to be supposed that for Africans to have an authentic identity, they need to be unique in their social and political forms and in many other things besides. As suggested earlier on, however, in questions of truth or falsity as also in questions of what does or does not minister to human welfare there is no particular virtue in being different. What is required for authentic identity is that belief, decision or choice should be based on one's own conscious reflection. The important issue, then, is not necessarily whether socialism in Africa is of a peculiarly African species but rather whether, if socialism is chosen, this is done on due reflection. The same holds, of course, with respect to any other choice of ideology. To be sure, if Africa had a unique ideology of her own, in no way indebted to either the East or the West, no one could possibly quibble about her identity, politically speaking; but it is of the last consequence to understand that an African nation's identity need not be jeoparized by the choice of a social ideal already known and pursued elsewhere, such as social democracy or liberal democracy or Juche, provided that it is based on her own reflective thinking.

But now, how can Africa do her own thinking when, as pointed out already, the minds of very many Africans remain colonized in the deepest reaches of their conceptual framework? This brings us back to our earlier finding that Africa's problem of identity is at bottom a philosophical problem.