Vol. XIX, Issue 3 (Summer 2012): "Wangari Maathai's Peace Paradigm" |
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BOARD: Gloria Emeagwali Walton Brown-Foster Haines Brown ISSN 1526-7822 REGIONAL EDITORS: Olayemi Akinwumi
TECHNICAL ADVISOR: Jennifer Nicoletti
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Table of Contents
Editorial
How can peace be achieved? What are some of the
indispensable methodologies and virtues that peace practitioners must
cultivate? What are some of the existing models on conflict resolution?
Do individuals have a special role to play in the peace process? What is
the role of the community? Dr. Abdul Karim Bangura addresses these
issues and others, making reference to peace philosophers such as Ibn
Arabi and Rumi in the course of discussion. He then evaluates the
philosophy and activism of the Kenyan Nobel Laureate, Wangari Maathai,
as they relate to conflict resolution and the peace paradigm.
Wangari Maathai's Peace
Paradigm
Introduction
Envision a world with no wars, no “superpowers,” no weapons of mass
destruction, and no threats to the environment. Envision a world where
color, gender, religion and residence no longer matter, and we all share
the space we call earth. Envision a world where people help one another
and recognize their connectedness. Envision a society that understands
and practices the true state of harmony. Is this vision of the world too
utopian? Is this world unrealistic in our over-industrialized and
over-polluted world? How do we overcome these burdens we have
created for ourselves and our children and reach peace? Is this even
conceivable?
This article seeks to explore and explain the Peace through Personal and
Community Transformation or Love paradigm that undergirded Professor
Wangari Maathai’s work. It begins by examining works from prominent
scholars and practitioners in the field to give the essay a theoretical
grounding. Much of the work in this area has focused on external
factors, such as middlemen, non-governmental organizations, and
international influence. By looking at different paradigms, it is
revealed that such factors are not always relevant. Furthermore, certain
aspects of each paradigm are integrated into a multi-dimensional
approach that stresses the importance of personal development to achieve
sustainable peace.
According to Jean Paul Lederach (1997), the grassroots community plays a
vital role in transformation, which must be linked to middle-range
actors that will help bridge the gap between the grassroots and
top-level leadership. This is part of a pyramid model that focuses on
the levels of leadership in a conflict scenario, which include top-level
leadership, middle-range leadership, and grassroots leadership. He
further explains that grassroots leaders include local leaders, leaders
of indigenous NGOs, community developers, local health officials, and
refugee camp leaders. Lederach explains that these individuals possess
expertise in local politics and can personally relate to the average
citizen’s everyday adversity. In order to build a relationship and
create a greater understanding between the grassroots community and the
government, the middle-range leadership, such as religious leaders,
local government officials, and the business community, must serve as an
integral part in the process of conflict transformation. Both the
government and the grassroots community are influenced by these leaders
and trust them, thereby allowing them to serve as the link between these
two levels.
Along the same lines, Chadwick Alger , as cited in Elias and Turpin (
1994), presents peace through personal and community transformation in
three phases: (1) expansion of the United Nations in the past 50 years,
which has permitted more global dialogue and numerous interpretations of
peace; (2) realization that peace cannot be achieved through a few
actors or leaders alone; (3) peace is not just an attempt to achieve
prewar conditions or a resolution to a conflict, but to also create an
environment that was better than before. Alger also emphasizes the
importance of the grassroots movement in the peace process. A significant aspect of the peace process that has been neglected and marginalized for decades is grassroots involvement. Often, individuals and communities do not value their own knowledge and experiences and, thus, will assume that power centers, such as the government, are better equipped to resolve conflict. Since these centers are the ones that often control the tools of violence, it is assumed that they would know how to stop and prevent violence. Time has shown us, however, that this is often not the case, and that achieving peace still appears to be a challenging task. Most importantly, this also suggests that peace cannot be attained through controlling or using violence.
Cynthia Sampson et al. in Positive Approaches to Peace Building
(2003) illustrate the importance of empowering people which, according
to them, remains the most important aspect of the peace process. They
developed the Appreciative Inquiry (AI) model, which emphasizes the role
of the community in conflict transformation. It focuses, however, mainly
on the empowerment of the communities to discover a more effective use
of their distributive strength and assets in constructing a better
future. The AI model concentrates on the needs of the community and how
members work collectively to achieve and sustain it, while incorporating
education, agriculture and other types of socio-economic programs.
Taking into consideration these paradigmatic foci, one must ask what is
applicable and practical in achieving peace through personal and
community transformation or love. While each focus makes significant
contributions to the peace process, all emphasize community
transformation and the roles of national and international actors, while
neglecting the value of personal involvement. Therefore, since the
community and individuals are considered to be involved in a causal
relationship, in the sense that communities can transform individuals
and vice versa, then both should be given equal attention and emphasis.
It is necessary to understand that individuals must change their ways of
thinking and acting to include a more holistic approach to peace and
link it to their daily lives and communities. The individual is the only
one who can diagnose and treat the problems that plague his/her
community. Communities must, in turn, work together and learn from one
another in order to transform their societies. For instance, it has long
been the assumption that if African nations would follow the structural
adjustment programs, which Western nations have recommended, they would
develop economically. It was thought that since the Western powers were
so affluent, then they, of course, possessed the knowledge to lead
Africa to the same outcome. Yet these programs failed, and it has been
realized that Africans are the only ones who can pinpoint their problems
and take the initiatives to begin to solve them. In other words,
personal transformation is a vital aspect of the peace process and one
that should not be neglected.
Overall, peace is a much broader term which also includes the absence of
conditions such as poverty and pollution. In fact, any peace agenda
should address economic well-being, self-determination, human rights and
ecological issues. It is essential that the knowledge, experiences,
support, understanding and participation of the people be included and
valued. While it is important to have the involvement of international
organizations and governments, it is even more beneficial to educate and
involve communities that will, in the end, be the ones to feel the full
brunt of the final decisions. Peace is not something that can be forced
upon the people; it must instead develop from the bottom-up.
For example, despite increased awareness that Islam is not equitable
with Islamic extremists or terrorists, an inaccurate and fearful stigma
has developed around Muslims and the Islamic world in general. It is
likely that this social stigma would be different if the Islamic
practice of ihsan (doing what is beautiful) were a more publicly
exposed and explored element of Islam. Sufis were and are the most
obvious practitioners of this facet of Islam and in fact devote their
lives to the development and cultivation of this internal experience and
transformation. What is Sufism? Answering this question is surprisingly difficult and complicated. Being a Sufi means and has meant different things within different times, histories, and cultural contexts. When Ali, the son of Ahmad, was asked over a millennium ago to explain what Sufism was, he was said to have replied as follows: “Today, Sufism is a name without a reality, but it used to be a reality without a name” (Chittick, 2000:1). As William Chittick wrote in his book titled Sufism,
We often hear that Sufism is ‘mysticism’ or ‘esoterism’ or
‘spirituality,’ usually with the adjective ‘Islamic’ tacked in front.
Such labels can provide an orientation, but they are both far too broad
and far too narrow to designate the diverse teachings and phenomena that
have been identified with Sufism over history. They can never do more
than hint at the reality . . . and they may be more of a hindrance than
a help, because they encourage people to file Sufism away unthinkingly
into a convenient category (Chittick, 2000:1).
In this article, unless otherwise stated, Sufis are considered to be
followers of the Islamic faith who strive for perfection and unity with
God through the practice of ihsan. Islam (submission),
Iman (faith), and Ihsan (doing what is beautiful) are
considered the three dimensions of Islam. It is important for the reader
to understand that the study of love and transformation takes place
within Islam, and not in a mystical vein outside of it (Chittick,
2000:4).
There are different paradigms that seek to understand peace by examining
the manner in which various entities such as ideologies, movements,
institutions, processes, religions and/or ethics approach peace. Upon
exploring these paradigms, it is clear that there are many competing
perspectives on a multitude of issues surrounding peace and how to
achieve it. In fact, the definition of peace itself is contested within
the paradigms.
The paradigm of interest here deals with peace through the power of
love: transformation, person, and community. In this paradigm, the
roles of spirituality, consciousness, culture and education are
considered. This paradigm posits that through inner personal
transformation, one is empowered and can then positively impact his/her
community. The process of transformation begins with an individual
attaining inner peace, which then enables him/her to respond more fully
to achieve peace within his/her community by actively engaging it.
Within this paradigm, human nature is viewed as optimistic and good. The
individual and the group are in a relationship and are capable of acting
positively. The idea of original blessing is inherent to this paradigm.
The source of power stems from inner power and attunement to the Divine.
The decision-making process in this paradigm is a movement from within
the self toward the outer world. Integrity, creativity, community,
respect and cooperation are some of the virtues and values that are
upheld and demonstrated by the behavior of the masses and of society.
Within this paradigm, it is believed that the individual or community
conscience is strong enough to act as a sanction for any wrongdoing
(Bangura, 2006).
With Sufism originating from Islam, many concepts and ideas central to
Sufis are central to all Muslims. This holds true in regards to the
Islamic concept of peace as a presence (Funk, 2001:4). The concept of
tawhid (the principle of unity) is essential to Islam. At its
core, Islam possesses a message of unity and peace that “applies to the
inner person, to society, and to the cosmos” (Funk, 2001:2).
The ‘power of love’ paradigm is about transformation of person and
community which, in the Islamic context, begins as “the process of
submission to God, through which the part—the human microcosm—becomes
reconciled to the whole, to the Universe or macrocosm” (Funk, 2001:2).
Nathan Funk discusses how peace in Islam suggests equilibrium of parts
or a pattern of harmony, while stipulating that the internalization and
upholding of this is the responsibility of every Muslim (2001:4).
Moreover, in Islam, human privilege and responsibility are intertwined,
so that it is a privilege to fulfill human responsibility (Funk,
2001:5).
In parallel with the paradigm at hand, Islam stresses the importance of
the inner struggle to pursue the greater good. The inner struggle
referred to here is a kind of jihad, which holds a special place
in the minds of millions of people, being one of the most misunderstood
Islamic concepts today. This is owed to the mainstream media’s
relentless hammering in of misconstrued definitions of jihad
paired with images of Muslim men dressed in non-Western apparel fighting
‘Holy Wars.’ Jihad literally means “striving,” and the “greater
Jihad” in the Islamic tradition had always been the inner struggle
to purify the self and behave in a manner that furthers rather than
disrupts the divine harmony (Said et al., 2001:7).
The core characterization of Sufism is a tradition that values selfless
experiencing and actualization of Truth. In addition to this, devotion
to the umma, community, has always been an important component of
the mystic vocation. In demonstrating the power of love paradigm through
the Sufi lens, Karen Armstrong quotes Louis Massignon, an expert on Sufi
mysticism, when he explains that “the mystic call is as a rule the
result of an inner rebellion of the conscience against social
injustices, not only those of others but primarily and particularly
against one’s own faults: with a desire intensified by inner
purification to find God at any price” (Armstrong, 1992:261).
Review of Various
Perspectives
While either national or international security is often based on the
possession and/or use of weapons to achieve peace, scholars and
practitioners have been trying to find new ways to realize peace with
the absence of weapons and/or war. They have developed different schools
of thought, models and assertions on how to contribute to both the
theoretical and practical viewpoints of conflict transformation. It is
against this backdrop that a new paradigm was created that emphasized
the need for transformation in individuals as well as communities in
order to create peace.
Many areas of social science research support the idea of peace through
personal and community transformation. Research in political science,
psychology, and sociology support the rationale that whole societies
need to transform before peace can be achieved. An examination of the
literature uncovers several essential characteristics that proponents of
this paradigm present. Nonetheless, they all propose different ways of
achieving this goal of transformation. A common theme among the authors
is the need for greater participation of individuals and communities in
the peace process.
In Building a Peace System (1988), sociologist Robert Irwin
analyzes government policies and the social phenomena that give rise to
these policies. He briefly discusses the social and psychological
ramifications of the war culture. He specifically looks at the impact
American culture has in creating peace and even the notion of peace.
Irwin suggests that the United States’ perspective on peace is shaped by
its violent culture and the need for “power” while also inadvertently
influencing society that peace is attained through violence. These
mutual effects produce outcomes that are cyclical and dangerous to the
pursuit of peace. Irwin notes that “people in the U.S. seek relief in
illusion from the terrifying and perplexing reality they are threatened
by nuclear weapons in a way that no unilateral measures can remedy”
(1988:79). He further explains that people understand peace as a result
of war rather than as a result of change or transformation in thinking
and acting (1988:80-84). However, it is important to note that Irwin
does not give a solution to this problem but provides several
alternatives which, perhaps, deserve more attention. For example, he
suggests motivating individuals to understand the importance of voting
and diversifying the peace movement that will in turn be more
representative of the people (1988:121-130). Although these are great
resolutions, Irwin should have focused more on what he pointed out
earlier—that our norms and values may be detrimental to the goal of
peace.
Nonetheless, Irwin’s argument is one that has been used by many who
describe the psychological paradox that society has created to pursue
peace. If this paradox is not detected and treated, the world will
continue to find non-peaceful ways to achieve peace.
Noted physicist, David Bohm, examines this paradox by looking at the
mechanisms societies construct to handle disruptions in their reality
through force or other means in his salient work, On Dialogue
(1996). Bohm presents an interesting position that scrutinizes social
structures that now drive society to act irrationally. He makes the
following observation:
People in each nation apparently understand the
need for common human feeling and truthfulness in communications. Yet,
when the nation is in danger, so strong is the reaction of fear and
aggression that everyone is immediately ready to cease to treat the
enemy as human (e.g., each side is ready to use bombs, killing children
on the other side, when individually they would be horrified at the
notion of child murder).
He continues:
And at home, they accept a censorship, which
implies that they agree to take what is false as true, because they
believe such self-deception to be necessary for the survival of the
nation (1996:64).
The absurdity in his
example is one that occurs time and time again in the name of justice
and freedom. Bohm’s proposal to solve this paradox includes a total
transformation of individuals by realizing that the paradox exists,
rectifying the problem in self, gaining spiritual awareness, and
recognizing one’s connectedness to the rest of the world (1996:63-65).
While Bohm’s suggestions to treat the paradox are insightful and
truthful, it would take generations for society to see the full picture
of his treatment. His view that individuals must participate and take
responsibility at all levels is crucial to peace through personal and
community transformation.
Along the same lines, in
“Confronting War: An Examination of Humanity’s Most Pressing Problem”
(1987), Ronald Glossop explores the values and the views that lead to
war. He states that “Since war begins in the minds of men, it is in the
minds of men that the defenses of peace must be constructed” (1987:218).
Glossop posits that although reforming people’s attitudes is the most
difficult to accomplish, it can be done in several stages. First,
individuals must become interested in social issues. Second, individuals
must become reluctant to use violence in situations of disagreement.
Third, individuals must identify with people across the world, leading
to “humatriotism.” Finally, individuals must do more than just identify
with others; they must also actively participate in international
development (1987:219, 221, 223).
From a similar perspective,
Brian Fogarty writes that “a society’s values and beliefs are often in
conflict. Thus, peacemakers find themselves in a position of not only
having to rid society of unjust structures but also of trying to
reconcile the very values and beliefs of the society” (2000:193). He
also summarizes the benefits of societies participating in the
nonviolence movement to produce a more thorough change. He cites
evidence of a superficial change brought about by coups, threats, and
violence.
Glossop, Bohm, Fogarty, and
Irwin all propose the importance of individuals and communities
harnessing the power of awareness and coalition building to create
relationships that will sustain peace. In addition, they assert that
power comes from individuals working together and not from the use of
military force to achieve an outcome of peace. Yet, it is important to
distinguish Bohm slightly from this group by pointing out the
overarching theme in his work of changing the thinking process or
perhaps one’s identity. Nevertheless, the enormity of changing people’s
attitudes toward something so foreign may cause more harm in the
short-run than scholars have stressed. The importance of recognizing the
possible implications that surround transformation of norms, beliefs and
values necessitates more work in this area.
Another characteristic of
the works is that they rely heavily on the influence of the regional
authorities and the international community to aid in transformation.
Jonathan Goodhand and David Hulme, in “Positive Approaches to
Peacebuilding” (as cited in Sampson et al., 2003), define transformation
as the promotion of institutional and socio-economic measures at the
local and national levels. They add that when local and national
institutions are developed, they will improve service delivery to
community, thereby improving the status of individuals. Lederach
concurs, but he also points out that it should be a comprehensive,
integrated, and interdependent process that includes identifying the
root causes of conflict, managing crises, building structures that will
limit violent conflict, and facilitating a new vision for the
post-conflict societies.
Brian Martin (www.uow.edu) postulates that structural change
must occur in society. He asserts that social structures influence
people’s attitudes, which in turn then shape social structures. Martin
refutes the notion of pressuring individuals to change; instead, he
assumes that changing social structures will directly affect people’s
views and, therefore, there is no pressure for individuals to change. He
stresses the importance of collective work towards peace to ensure that
the method, which the collective work creates, will be absent of a
hierarchical system. He suggests that overcoming these social structures
will mean developing long-term strategies aimed at incrementally
changing the status quo. Gareth Evans, in his Cooperating for Peace
(1993), claims that a just and fair society must be supported by a
strong criminal justice system, states respecting human rights, and the
promotion of sustainable development. He emphasizes the fact that the
community must participate in the decision-making process in order to
achieve conflict transformation, and the process starts with bringing
leaders to justice.
Conflict transformation and
peacebuilding processes are aimed at producing change in the
destructive, dominant power dynamics that prevail in society. In
“Positive Approaches to Peacebuilding” (2003), Cynthia Sampson states
that dynamics are altered into constructive relationships that are
balanced through the empowerment of all parties and by transforming
abusive power through ideology, coercive use of force, control of
resources, and utilization of power. She also emphasizes the truism that
empowering marginalized groups is an essential principle in
peacebuilding and conflict transformation. Sampson concludes that
building group confidence is a necessary component to ensure
participation by the group in the decision-making process.
Although Goodhand, Hulme,
Lederach, and others prefer a more top-down approach to transformation,
it seems that their approach is indicative of the Western way of
thinking, which claims that there must be social structures in place for
people to change and that people cannot change without those structures.
This view takes the power from the individual and places it in social
constructs that, in turn, keep people from altering their norms.
Furthermore, the emphasis placed on social structures to change
societies limits this paradigm to developed nations.
Some researchers, however,
have taken a different approach to looking at peace through personal and
community transformation. Instead of proposing blanket attributes that
societies must change, these researchers look at the power of
traditional rituals and forgiveness to initiate the transformations.
According to Mohammed Abu-Nimer (as cited in Sampson et al., 2003),
personal and community development applies a holistic storytelling
method that allows the storyteller to fully connect with his/her
audience. The stories, if told with honesty, compassion, and fervor, may
transform perception, instill the hope that change is possible and
worthy of striving. Abu-Nimer also discusses reconciliation and
forgiveness as powerful tools for transformation. Moreover, in The
Forgiveness Factor (1996), Michael Henderson uses stories of hope to
emphasize the need for forgiveness and the significance of national
reconciliation in the peace process. Henderson states that in order to
do this, people must first heal the wounds of the past. After all,
forgiveness is the key to one’s own liberation. Forgiveness allows
feelings of anger, resentment or prejudices to disappear, thereby
allowing individuals to become more peaceful themselves.
Abu-Nimer and Henderson
identify critical factors in conflict transformation that have been
neglected in this area of study. Forgiveness and reconciliation have
always been important elements of peace. Their approach highlights the
common humanity and common suffering as bases for understanding and
redemption. The limitations associated with this approach, however, may
hinder it from being a viable option for transformation. Forgiveness
focuses on cultural factors, while often neglecting structural factors.
Also, it may not be pragmatic enough for wide-scale use, as it is based
on cultural and religious traditions that many do not share. In other
words, their approach is case-specific and relies on different factors,
including cultural, depending on who is involved and, thus, is not
practical for achieving peace.
On the other hand, Ryan
Stephen, in his work, “Peacebuilding and Conflict Transformation”
(1995), sees transformation as starting at the educational level.
Stephen developed the Education for Mutual Understanding model (EMU),
which focuses on children and young adults and seeks to produce
generational changes in attitudes. Such educational programs emphasize
reason, imagination, critical thinking, and openness. Stephen, however,
cautions that while schools are only one source of influence for
children, they are unlikely to overcome negative images perpetuated by
the family, community, and media.
While the work in this area
focuses specifically on conflict transformation and rightly so, it does
not explicitly address the role of women in this process. It is vital to
address the role of women in this paradigm, especially since women are
the most impacted by conflict. After all, women are highly targeted in
war and usually comprise the majority of refugees and displaced peoples.
Most people tend to place women and men in the same category of
treatment when this is never really the case. Thus, how can women and
men work collectively if there are differences in the way women are
treated and perceived? Women possess different interests, needs
and concerns, which are rarely tackled. Hence, it cannot be expected
that women can work towards peace if all aspects of peace that relate to
them are not fully addressed. In “Good Governance from the Ground Up:
Women’s Roles in Post-Conflict Cambodia” (www.womenwagingpeace.net),
Laura McGrew, Kate Frieson and Sambath Chan acknowledge the significant
contributions made by women to good governance and peace. They also
mention that in October of 2000, the United Nations Security Council
passed Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security, which demanded that
all parties include the full participation of women in peace processes.
Whether this is actually occurring is still questionable, since not
everyone values the important role women can play in the peace process.
Donna Ramsey Marshall
produced a report entitled “Perspectives on Grassroots Peacebuilding:
The Roles of Women in War and Peace” (2000) that reflects the
presentations and comments made at a seminar in 1999. She writes that
women and men are affected differently by war, but these differences are
often not addressed as are women’s roles within the peace process.
According to Marshall, scholars have long since debated the effect
gender has on conflict. There are some who believe that women are more
peaceful than men. There are others who think that gender is socially
constructed and, therefore, it is only through education and
socialization that people delineate the roles and behavior of women and
men. Still, most scholars and researchers engaged in this debate do
agree that while higher female participation in the public realm would
change the nature of the realm, it is uncertain what type of change it
would exactly wreak.
Marshall mentions Cheryl
Benard, a scholar who is also the director of research at an Austrian
think tank and a consultant to the Austrian government and various
American-based research organizations, who explores this debate. Benard
emphasizes three major points that reflect the relationship between
women and peace (Benard as cited in Marshall, 2000:8):
(1) The conditions of war and peace affect women
differently than they do men.
(2) Such differences are not generally taken into
account in the construction of peace agreements, in post-conflict
reconstruction efforts, in the distribution of humanitarian aid, or even
in the conduct of day-to-day governance.
(3) While women are associated with peace, the
relationship of women with peace is not always a beneficial one.
Benard also highlights that
J. Ann Tickner, in her article in the International Studies Review
(Tickner as cited in Marshall, 2000), thinks that the connection
between women and peace and all the assumptions that accompany it serve
as an excuse to keep women from directly participating in international
politics and national security. Yet greater female participation
in international politics can contribute constructively to conflict
prevention, peace negotiations, and post-conflict reconstruction. Benard
explains that how women help to prevent the outbreak of war should be
emphasized. Since it is thought that women are more peace-oriented,
their supposed tendencies toward communication and cooperation would
have positive effects. Women’s rights and interests must also be heard
and taken into consideration during policy making and peace
negotiations, so that their needs and concerns can be effectively met.
Women should be included in post-war reconstruction, especially in
economic development.
At this point, research by
Western scholars has shown the importance of transforming individuals
and communities to achieve peace; the feasibility and practicality of
doing so, however, are still uncertain. The confounded state of research
translated into the applicability and feasibility of peace through
personal and community transformation stems from the disagreement about
which path to follow in transforming societies. The major Western works
in this area are unable to reach a unanimous consensus as where the
change should occur—individual or community? The research also
demonstrates the limitations of the Western perspectives on this
paradigm by overemphasizing the need for external influences such as
NGOs, intergovernmental organizations, and others in the international
community to help facilitate a transformation and the need for social
structures to play a role.
Clearly, additional
research by Western researchers is warranted. Emphasis should shift from
the community and external influences to the full participation and
minds of individuals. Individual transformation should be seen as the
advent of change that will help to sustain peace. In addition, more
studies must be conducted on the successes and failures of this paradigm
and assess the transferability to new areas. The works related to
this paradigm do not seemingly discuss enough about cultural differences
and how they may affect transformation. Therefore, it is paramount that
transferability be tested through longitudinal studies and those that
measure the application of this paradigm through cross-cultural
barriers.
In the book, The Vision
of Islam (1995), Murata and Chittick place special emphasis on
understanding Sufism within the context of ihsan and
understanding ihsan within the greater context of Islam. What is
of great import here is to understand the interpretation of the
Qur’an and the Hadith from within the context of the
prevailing worldview of that time. They write: “those who ignore the
interpretations of the past are forced to interpret their text in light
of the prevailing worldview of the present” (Murata and Chittick, 1995:
xi).
This is no simple task,
because the Arabic language allows for multiple understandings and
meanings to be derived from the texts. “Muslim thinkers often quote the
Prophet to the effect that every verse of the Koran has seven meanings,
beginning with the literal sense” (Murata and Chittick, 1995: xv). It is
believed that the final and deepest meaning of the text is one that is
understood by Allah (SWT) alone.
Murata and Chittick frame
their explanations of the beliefs, practices, and institution of Islam
from the Hadith of Archangel Gabriel, an authentic Hadith
“that Muslim thinkers have often employed for similar purposes in
classical texts” (1995: xxv). In this Hadith, the Archangel
Gabriel came to Muhammad (PBUH) disguised as a stranger and questions
him about three things: shahadah (the profession of faith by
uttering “There is no god but God,” and “Muhammad is the messenger of
God”), faith, and doing what is beautiful. It is written in the
hadith that he [the archangel Gabriel] then said: “Now tell me about
doing what is beautiful.” He [Muhammad, PBUH] replied: “Doing what is
beautiful means that you should worship God as if you see Him, for even
if you do not see Him, He sees you” (Murata and Chittick, 1995:xxv). The
context of worship, as prescribed by the Qur’an, means to orient
one’s life around “what one considers to be Real” (Murata and Chittick,
1995: xxv). It involves attention to one’s attitude and intention in the
way one approaches Allah (SWT). The authors describe the
different ways that humans approach Allah (SWT). Some approach
Allah (SWT) out of fear. Others approach Allah (SWT) in the
way that one might when desiring to be near her/his object of love.
Nonetheless, “many Muslim authorities maintain that worshiping Allah
(SWT) as if you see him means that you forget all thought of either loss
or gain” (Murata and Chittick, 1995:276).
According to the Qur’an,
people are not able to do what is beautiful without the merciful
initiation of Allah (SWT) moving them towards wholeness (Murata
and Chittick, 1995:270). A true understanding of Allah (SWT) is
impossible without divine revelation. Tawhid is the principle
that asserts this oneness with Allah (SWT), who is the only true
reality. “It recognizes that God is infinitely beyond all things (tanzih),
but it also declares that He is present within all things (tashbih)”
(Murata and Chittick, 1995:74). Wholeness cannot be developed without
the instigation of the Divine. “Establishing wholeness, wholesomeness,
and beauty depends upon the full engagement of the human being with the
Real. The truly wholesome are those who act both as God’s perfect
servants and his perfect vicegerents” (Murata and Chittick, 1995:294).
It is important to
understand what “doing,” or “being,” the beautiful means. Within this
context, “an act cannot be beautiful if it is done without the awareness
of God. God is the criterion for the beautiful, the good, and the
right.” Ihsan teaches how to “bring one’s motivations and
psychological qualities into harmony with one’s activity and
understanding” (Murata and Chittick, 1995:267). In other words, ihsan
is a verb. In this light, Allah (SWT) is seen in a way that
resembles a verb, rather than a static proper noun. Murata and Chittick
write: “They share in God’s quality of ihsan, and hence they are
near to him and participate in his gentleness and mercy. Since they do
the beautiful, they themselves are beautiful” (Murata and Chittick,
1995:271). Sufism is considered one of the manifestations of ihsan,
as it is the practice of assuming the characteristics of Allah
(SWT) as one’s own.
Murata and Chittick
describe “practical Sufism” as the practice of implementing ihsan
into everyday life. The common belief held by Sufis is that to be fully
human is to actualize the divine form. This is the essence to which
Sufism attempts to get, according to Murata and Chittick. Furthermore,
the understanding and adoption of these characteristics are not seen as
simply “attitudes, feelings, or psychological states. Rather, they
looked upon them as modes of being that bring the unreal creature into
harmony with the Real itself . . . a transmutation of human nature that
allows for a new mode of existence” (Murata and Chittick, 1995:308).
This transmutation occurs through love. As mentioned earlier, ihsan
focuses on the quality of love:
Love is typically presented as the key to Islamic
life and practice. In other words, for a large body of Muslims, love has
always been Islam’s life-blood. In their view, without the animating
spirit of love—Islam’s third dimension—the religion dries up and
desiccates, and we are left with sterile debates over the fine details
of activity, or polemical attacks on anyone who does not toe the
dogmatic line concerning issues of faith (Murata an Chittick, 1995:309).
Murata and Chittick hold
steadfast, however, in their emphasis on the import of the Shariah.
Faith and practice create the necessary framework that sustains and
supports ihsan.
Allah’s (SWT) raison d’etre for creating human
beings is in fact to actualize Love. No other creature has the capacity
to love back in the same way that humans do. The achievement of this
ideal, according to the great Sufi poet, Rumi, can never be achieved by
the human will alone. It is something that is given by Allah
(SWT) in his own time (Murata and Chittick, 1995:270).
It is evident that this
transformation is a process. One may ask: Is there an end to this
process? The answer to this question is yes and no. People are forever
changing and becoming. Murata and Chittick, however, describe the final
stage of the soul as “the soul at peace,” based upon the text in the
Qur’an that states: “O soul at peace, return to thy Lord,
well-pleased, well-pleasing! Enter among My servants! Enter
My paradise!”(89:27).
Such a Soul has attained
the Real in this life. “This is the soul that has returned to God
in this world. Such a soul belongs to those who have established
ihsan to such a degree that they worship God not ‘as if’ they see
him, but while actually seeing him present in all things, including
themselves” (Murata and Chittick, 1995:316).
Sufism (1995), written by William Chittick, is a work
that examines the process by which Sufis come into accord with Love, or
the Divine, with an emphasis placed upon sukr (intoxication) and
sahw (sobriety) thought within Sufism. The basic premise within
Sufism is that in order to find God, a person must seek to be
aware of the Divine incessantly. There exists within Sufism varying
methods of coming into accord with Love, or the Divine.
Here, I examine the
different approaches of coming into accord with the Divine as advocated
by the great Sufis, Ibn Arabi and Rumi, as interpreted by Chittick in
this particular work. Although there exists a multitude of Sufi saints
and mystics with ideological differences, Ibn Arabi and Rumi are
considered to be two of the greatest and most prolific Sufis. They
provide an opportunity to examine the basic theosophical and practical
differences and similarities found within Sufism. Before doing this,
however, I will digress a bit to provide brief biographical information
of these great Sufis. It is my hope that this information will provide a
rationale for why some ideas of the two men are different and why others
are similar. Furthermore, in order to grasp the importance of the works
of Ibn Arabi and Rumi in promoting peace through Islam, one must first
examine their origins and elements. It is necessary to identify the
relevant figures and events in the molding of their characters and
works, especially those responsible for tolerance, knowledge,
spirituality and compassion that characterize Ibn Arabi and Rumi.
When Ibn Arabi started his
mystical journey at the age of 20, he realized that the world is not
what it really seems. He had a different view of the world in which we
live. Ibn Arabi’s surrender to the Divine allowed him to have marvelous
mystical revelations that assisted him in interpreting the esoteric
expressions hidden in the teachings of Islam. Most of the writings of
Ibn Arabi were of great debate between the Islamic scholars of his time,
and many of them were considered more authentic. Ibn Arabi, however, had
influenced many at the time, and many decided to become his disciples
(Al-Araimi, 2004:69).
The passion of Ibn Arabi’s
books, the warmth of his words, and the wisdom of his sentences were
viewed as a masterpiece that could not have been created without divine
revelations. He studied the traditional sciences of Islam, becoming an
astonishingly creative author, even though his master, Abu Medyan, was
an illiterate. Ibn Arabi’s writings are estimated to be 900, of which
approximately 700-750 are extant and around 450 are probably genuine. In
most of his writings, he cites both the Qur’an and the Hadith and in
most cases would interpret their esoteric meanings, the innate wisdom,
and comment on those two main sources of Islam, as well as quoting
Islamic sages and mystics who lived before him (Al-Araimi, 2004:69-70).
The passionate writings
made Ibn Arabi the most influential and controversial mystic author of
Islamic history. The first mystical revelation of which we are aware
happened while he was meeting Ibn Rushd, the Chief Judge of Seville at
the time. The meeting of these two extreme scholars proves to us that no
matter what the approach is, it will lead through piety, sincerity and
credibility to the universal truth (Al-Araimi, 2004:70).
The writings of Ibn Arabi
were of unique knowledge and wisdom, very philosophical and deep in some
cases, but easy and flowing in others. His philosophical views did not
emerge from the Greek or any other school of anthology; rather, they
emerged from Islamic philosophy. He did not spend time reading or
studying Greek philosophy nor was he a great supporter of Greek
intellect; as a result, he had to seek another base for what he was
saying. Islamic philosophy was enriched with his experience (Al-Araimi,
2004:71).
Rumi, one of the great
mystic poets of his age, was born in Balkh, in the northern province of
Khorasan, Afghanistan, on September 30, 1207. He was originally known as
Jalal Al-Din Muhammad Balkhi, a name given to him after his father and
the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). His father, Muhammad Ibn Husain al-Khatabi
al-Bakri al-Balkhi, a considerably learned man, jurist, theologian and
mystic, claimed direct paternal descent from Abu-Bakr, the first caliph
of Islam. With the title of King of Clerics, Baha Al-Din Valad of
Balkhi, as he was also known, created the necessary environment for
Rumi’s divine thought and poetry (Loughran, 2004:249).
At the age of 12, Rumi had
been completely immersed into his father’s learning, subjected to the
various pilgrimages and spiritual travels that had taken place during
his lifetime. It was not until his journey to Nishapur, however, that
Rumi was officially instructed in the arts of the spiritual. Initiated
by one of his father’s disciples, Farid Al-Din ‘Attar,’ Rumi was
presented with a copy of the Asnar-nama, or Book of Secrets,
as the sign of spiritual greatness had been recognized in him.
Nevertheless, the marvelous period of incessant wandering and religious
pilgrimage came to an end, as the threat of Mongol invasions cast a
shadow over the city of Balkhi, then part of the Persian Empire. At this
time, Rumi and his family fled to the city of Konya, in Byzantine
Anatolia and present-day Turkey. It is from this point that Jalal Al-Din
Balkhi became known as Rumi to the West, meaning from Roman Anatolia, or
Rome, “Rum,” as Persians, Arabs and Turks dominated this geographical
area. In Muslim countries, therefore, Jalal Al-Din is not generally
known as Rumi (Loughran, 2004:250).
Konya, an ancient capital
city many times visited by St. Paul and, according to Arab legend, the
resting place of Plato’s bones, came under Muslim influence since about
1070, when Selyuk wrested Anatolia from Byzantium. Personally invited by
the Saljuk ruler, Kai-Qubad I, around 1221, to be appointed as preacher
and teacher, Baha Al-Din and his family prepared to establish a living
in the capital, Konya. It was there that he arranged a marriage between
his son, Rumi, then 18 years old, to Guahar Khaun. From this union, a
son was born, in 1226, Sultan Valad, who would later be in charge of
editing Rumi’s discourses as well as composing a biography of his father
(Loughran, 2004:250).
At his father’s death, Rumi
took over the position of Sheikh in Konya, preaching before the monarch
and teaching the sons of nobles. His spiritual progress was slow. In
this respect, during this period, and in the company of Burhan Al-Din, a
friend of Rumi’s family in Balkhi, Rumi ventured into Syria and
continued his studies at Aleppo and Damascus. He devoted the following
nine years to his spiritual advancement and initiation into the higher
mysteries of the Sufi way and doctrine. It was at this time, prior to
his return to Konya, that he met the great Andalusian mystic and
theosophist, Ibn Arabi (Loughran, 2004:250).
From 1240 to 1244, Rumi
lived and taught in Konya. As the Mongol threat abated, Rumi’s life
seemed to follow the normal path of dedication, commitment and
mediation, familiar to religious scholars. It was not until 1244, at the
age of 37, that Rumi manifested a profound interest in poetry, after
undergoing an intense emotional and spiritual experience, which would
change the course of his life. It was in the fall of this same year when
Rumi met this stranger, a figure that would shape his path and to whom
most of his poetry was to be dedicated. This stranger was the wandering
dervish, Shams of Tabriz, who traveled throughout the Middle East in
search of the one “who could endure his company” (Loughran,
2004:250-251).
It was the depth and
dedication of Rumi to this ecstatic relationship with Shams that led
many of Rumi’s students to feel neglected and forgotten. For this and
various other reasons, Shams decided to flee and rid Rumi of such
inconveniences. It was only after this disappearance that Rumi began his
transformation into a mystical artist (Loughran, 2004:251).
A second encounter with
Shams in 1248 led to more jealousy on the part of Rumi’s followers,
culminating in the final disappearance of Shams, who was never again
seen, probably murdered by one of Rumi’s sons. Nevertheless, the union
had been complete or annihilation had been achieved in the Beloved
Friend. Rumi compiled a series of works in what he later called The
Works of Shams of Tabriz (Loughran, 2004:251-252).
Consequently, after the
beloved’s death and the completed union, Rumi found comfort in a new
companion, Saladin Zarkub. Thus, Saladin became the object of Rumi’s
poetry until he died and yet another figure would succeed him, Husam
Chelebi, Rumi’s scribe and favorite student. For the next 12 years, Rumi
dedicated the six volumes of his masterpiece, the Masnavi, to
Husam al-Din Hasan. Rumi died at the age of 66 on December 17, 1273
(Loughran, 2004:252).
Indeed, a general split
exists within the Sufi orders over the perception and experience of
Allah (SWT). The differences revolve around the different states of
sukr (intoxication) and sahw (sobriety). This
difference is due to two distinctly different transformational
experiences of the Divine that have been recorded (Trimingham, 1971:4).
It is common for Sufis to
describe the experience of having the Divine fall into them as
overwhelmingly intoxicating. This experience is described and commonly
compared to the experience of falling in love with another human being.
In such instances, individuals are overwhelmed with the intense
awareness and knowing of the permeation of Allah (SWT) throughout
all things. Divisions slip away. During such instances, a person
experiences intense (almost ecstatic) yearnings that are described as
both painful and delightful. Chittick writes: “intoxication is
associated with expansion, hope, and intimacy with God. It is the human
response to the divine names that declares God’s compassion, love,
kindness, beauty, gentleness, and concern” (2000:26). Expressions of
sukr appear throughout much of Sufi poetry. It is this element of
Sufism with which the Western world is most familiar. This element is
important, but it is only a piece of the puzzle that is Sufism, which I
discuss in detail here.
Sobriety is the flip side
of the sukr coin described previously. Sobriety could be
described as the experience of Allah’s (SWT) multiplicity. It is
an experience that is quite different from that of sukr and,
indeed, is seen by some as complementary, if not an absolutely necessary
final state at which to arrive. If sukr is the experience of
Oneness and unification, sahw is the experience of separation and
the awareness of the existing veil that comes between self and God.
Sukr “correlates with the absolute distinction between Creator and
creatures and is associated with wonderment, awe, contraction, and fear”
(Chittick, 2000:26). The states of “drunkenness” and “sobriety” are both
important in developing a better understanding of the Divine. To
experience this is to experience the existing paradox.
There is a common process
of spiritual development in Sufism. It describes the initial state of
humanity as existing in a delusional, oblivious state, subscribed to by
those who unquestioningly accept the social reality with which they are
presented. After awakening to the falseness of such an existence and the
adoption of a focused and disciplined way of living and actively seeking
perfection, it is possible after some time that the individual will be
overcome by emanations of the Divine and so become aware of the nature
of the Love. This is the true experience of drunkenness.
“States are gifts whilst
stages are acquisitions” (Trimingham, 1971:140). The experience of
drunkenness passes, too, leaving the individual “sober” again. Contrary
to Western understanding, this state is one that is just as desirable
(and considered more so by some) as is the state of being drunk with
Divinity. As Chittick writes,
Sobriety represents the highest stage of the Sufi
path, (but) this does not imply that the sober are no longer drunk. What
it means is that the true Sufi, having realized fully the pattern and
model established by the Prophet, is inwardly drunk with God and
outwardly sober with the world. Of course, the joy of intoxication may
occasionally appear outwardly, but the sobriety of discernment remains a
necessary concomitant of faith. The world is the domain of doing what is
right and proper, and this needs to be established in terms of a clear
distinction between dos and don’ts. Observing the necessary distinctions
demands sober awareness of our actual situation in the world and
society. Inwardly, however, those who have reached sobriety after
drunkenness revel in the intimacy of living with God (2000:37).
The preceding
interpretation of the mystical experience of union with the Divine moves
beyond Western and pop culture stereotypes of mysticism and goes into
the realm of everyday life and practice.
The focal points of Sufi
practice vary. Most Sufi practices usually emphasize one of the
following: multiplicity, the Oneness of all things, Love, knowledge, or
an emphasis on the state of sukr. Ibn Arabi was born in
Murcia, Spain in 1165 AD. He was a contemporary of Rumi, who was born in
what is presently the country of Afghanistan, in the city of Balkh. Ibn
Arabi died in Damascus in 1240. Rumi lived out the majority of his life
in Turkey. He died in Konya in 1273. Rumi is considered the greatest
spiritual poet ever to walk this earth, just as Ibn Arabi was considered
the greatest Sufi theoretician (Chittick, 2000:62-63). Ibn Arabi is
commonly considered to have emphasized the paths of knowledge and
activity, while Rumi is considered to have emphasized the paths of
ecstatic love. Both, however, shared a common denominator in the way
that they wrote about Love. Both Sufis are in agreement in that it is
next to impossible to define love.
Another aspect shared by
Rumi and Ibn Arabi is that they both perceived love to be the
actualizing force behind Creation. Here, the cosmos is depicted as
having come into existence by Allah’s (SWT) intense love. This
vision of love being the creator force behind all that exists is taken
one step further by both of them, as they both write extensively that
all is indeed love. Rumi and Ibn Arabi also said quite directly in their
writings that the greatest love for anything, for any being, is the love
for Allah (SWT). In order to truly love, in the deepest sense of
the word, Rumi and Ibn Arabi talked about the importance of right
seeing. Ibn Arabi described different stages of love. He described the
highest realization of Divine love that an individual can experience as
the act of loving God through every action, mundane and spiritual in
orientation (Chittick, 2000:64-69).
One noticeable difference
between Ibn Arabi and Rumi is that Ibn Arabi explained love in his
writings, while Rumi contented that the experience of love cannot be
rationally transmitted; it must be experienced. One might ask how it is
possible to create the space for love in the first place. According to
the Sufis, we must first realize that we are nothing and that we do not
know who we are. Without this basic acknowledgement and understanding,
there is no space for Allah (SWT) (Chittick, 2000:63-73).
The internal, personal
experience is difficult to outline, because it is intensely personal. It
is difficult to pinpoint exactly where Sukr and Sahw are
separate and where they overlap. Different scholars hold different
conclusions on the subject through different approaches of analysis of
various texts. What can conclusively be said, however, is that both of
these states are representative of the experience of communion with the
Divine and that such experiences cannot help but transform a human
being.
Professor Wangari Maathai’s Green Belt Movement in Kenya
Fittingly, in 2004, the
Nobel Foundation awarded Professor Wangari Maathai the Nobel Peace Prize
“for her contribution to sustainable development, democracy and
peace” (The Nobel Foundation, 2004a). A profitable question for this
decision is straightforward: Why? As Jan Cottingham tells the story,
Maathai, the woman once dubbed by former Kenyan President Daniel arap
Moi as a “mad woman,” became the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize winner because
of her lifetime’s work in promoting peace, democracy and development.
Maathai also became Kenya’s Assistant Minister for Environment and
Natural Resources. The activist who fought the government for many years
found herself in the government, and she learnt a different way of
fulfilling her aspirations. Maathai, the “Tree Lady,” as she was fondly
referred to by some, became the first African woman and the first
environmentalist to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Winning the revered prize
did not changed Maathai; she remained the genuine, caring, loving and
passionate person that she always was (Cottingham, 2005).
Maathai came from the
Kikuyu ethnic group, or “micro-nation,” the term she prefered, one of 42
ethnic groups in Kenya. A strong woman, Maathai had to face conflict
bravely throughout her career and her very selection as a Nobel laureate
generated controversy. Some questioned why the Nobel Committee selected
a woman best known for founding the Green Belt Movement, a nonprofit
grassroots organization in Kenya that focuses on environmental
conservation, primarily through planting trees, for the highest of
honors—i.e. the Nobel Peace Prize. They also wanted to know what trees
have to do with peace (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel Foundation, 2004b).
The relationship between
planting trees and peace is one Maathai had to explain many times. It is
a relationship that hinges upon people’s ability to secure their living
environment. Maathai was at the forefront of the struggle to promote
ecologically viable cultural, economic and social development in Kenya
specifically and Africa generally. Her holistic approach to sustainable
development fused democracy, human rights and gender equality. While her
thinking was global, her actions were local (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel
Foundation, 2004b).
The outwardly gentle
Maathai was a farmer’s daughter who endured what appeared to be a rite
for many Nobel Peace Prize winners: beatings, death threats,
imprisonment, ostracism and scorn. She had to hide and move around Kenya
in disguises many times. Some of her partners in the Green Belt Movement
were assassinated (Cottingham, 2005).
Maathai’s eldest brother,
Nideritu, suggested to their Catholic parents that she be sent to
school, a rare act for a girl during their youth. She was taught by
Irish and Italian nuns and excelled in school. Through the financial
support of the Kennedy Foundation and other groups seeking to help
prepare African nations for independence by educating potential leaders,
Maathai received a scholarship to pursue her Bachelor’s degree in
Biology at Mount Saint Scholastica College (renamed Benedictine College)
in Atchison, Kansas. She graduated in 1964 and then went to the
University of Pittsburgh where she earned her Master’s degree in
Biological Sciences. The more than five years she spent studying in the
United States at the height of the Civil Rights Movement was a formative
experience for Maathai. As an African woman, she saw the struggle for
equal rights for African Americans as a demonstration of the power of
activism and the power of democracy or, as she called it, “democratic
space” (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel Foundation, 2004b).
In 1969, Maathai married
businessman and aspiring politician Mwangi Mathai. In 1971, she earned a
PhD in Veterinary Anatomy from the University of Nairobi, where she
eventually became an associate professor and department chair. She was
the first woman in East and Central Africa to earn a PhD, in addition to
being the first woman in the region to teach at a university and head a
department (Cottingham, 2005).
It was not until 1974 after
her husband decided to run for office in the Kenyan Parliament that
Maathai became involved in deforestation issues. While on the campaign
trail with her husband, Maathai listened to the concerns voiced by her
husband’s prospective constituents in Langata in the Nairobi Province.
She noticed a pattern in the problems expressed, particularly by the
women. The main difficulty she delineated from the comments was the lack
of jobs, despite many promises by politicians. She suggested a
tree-planting project (Cottingham, 2005).
Maathai wrote in her book,
The Green Belt Movement: Sharing the Approach and the Experience,
that perhaps because she was naive, she took the political promises that
she and her husband made to the voters seriously and agonized over
finding ways to have them fulfilled, especially if her husband won the
election. When her husband won, she felt compelled to fulfill the
promises. She launched Envirocare, a private company, based in her home,
to hire residents to do, among other things, plant trees. Lacking
sufficient capital, the company eventually went out of business. During
this time, however, Maathai had become quite involved in the
environmental movement in Kenya and with the National Council of Women
of Kenya (NCWK) that serves both urban and rural women. The members’
concerns included malnutrition, walking long distances for water, soil
depletion and erosion leading to desertification, lack of wood for
cooking and construction, lack of fodder for those who were fortunate to
have animals and, of course, lack of jobs and income (Cottingham, 2005;
The Nobel Foundation, 2004b).
As a scientist, Maathai saw
these symptoms and looked past them to identify the cause, which was
environmental degradation: i.e. deforestation. She proposed to the NCWK
a tree-planting project—as trees prevent soil erosion, protect water
sources, provide fuel and building material, provide food, provide
fodder, and provide jobs and income. She suggested naming the
tree-planting campaign Save the Land Harambee, the Kiswahili word for
“let us pull together.” On World Environment Day of June 5, 1977,
Maathai and her colleagues in the campaign and in the government planted
seven trees in Kamukunji, a part on the outskirts of Nairobi. This gave
birth to the Green Belt Movement and a journey Maathai could not have
imagined (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel Foundation, 2004).
Maathai observed that in Africa, one can see that
people fight over resources. It is either because the resources have
become extremely degraded and, therefore, they are scarce, or they have
disappeared and people get into conflict. For instance, in Marsabit, a
village in Kenya’s northern frontier, raiders had massacred scores of
villagers—the toll would eventually rise to at least 95—in violence
spawned by conflicts over scarce arable land and even scarcer water.
Maathai also pointed out that there are many other examples in Africa of
such incidents especially between grazing communities such as pastoral
and farming communities. She added that even at a national or global
level, many wars are fought over resources. So she believed that when
one thinks seriously, s/he can see that if we were to be able, if we
were to accept as a human family to manage our resources more
sustainably, more responsibly, more accountably, if we were to share
them more equitably, then we would be able to reduce conflict
(Cottingham, 2005). She further asserted that to be able to manage and
share resources responsibly and equitably, a society needs a “democratic
space”—i.e. a space that respects the rule of law and human rights. Such
a space is absent in a society that is in conflict or ruled by a
dictator (Cottingham, 2005).
Maathai, like other
Kenyans, knew something about dictators. As leader of the Green Belt
Movement, she was in frequent conflict with Daniel arap Moi, while he
was Kenya’s President from 1978 to 2002. In 1982, Moi turned Kenya a
one-party state. During this time, the Green Belt Movement sought not
only to establish “green belts” of trees throughout Kenya, it also
fought against the increasing privatization and destruction of Kenya’s
forests. The country’s forests were under threat from many directions:
powerful elites engaged in unrestricted logging or clear-cutting for
“development,” tree farmers replaced indigenous trees with
non-indigenous or evasive species that grew quickly and could be
harvested for income, poor Kenyans raided the forests for fuel and
building material, landless and desperate citizens cleared the forests
to grow crops, and the corrupt government either looked the other way or
even assisted its cronies (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel Foundation,
2004b).
One well-recorded conflict
involved Maathai leading a protest against the government’s plan to
develop Uhuru Park (Uhuru is the Kiswahili word for “freedom”), the only
large green space left in the center of the Nairobi—a city of 2.5
million residents dispersed among high rise concrete office towers and
sprawling slums of tin-roofed shacks. Moi’s business associates planned
to build in the park a 62-story skyscraper to be graced with a 60-foot
statue of Moi himself. The complex of buildings was projected to cost
about $200 million. Maathai opposed it not only for environmental
reasons but because of its exorbitant cost. Moi became furious. He
called Maathai a “mad woman” and the other women who joined her in the
legal action against the project people with “insects in their heads.”
He added that the Green Belt Movement was “subversive” and a threat to
the order and security of Kenya. The women in the movement were further
denounced as “ill-informed divorcees.” But Maathai and her colleagues
prevailed, and the project was abandoned. It was neither the first nor
the last that Maathai’s gender would become an issue. When her husband
divorced her in 1980, he stated that she was “too educated, too strong,
too successful, too stubborn and too hard to control” (Cottingham, 2005;
The Nobel Foundation, 2004b).
During the late 1980s and
early 1990s, Kenyans grew restive under Moi’s autocratic rule and began
demanding a multiparty democracy. Hundreds of people were arrested for
protesting; some were tortured, some were given long prison terms, and
some were simply held without charge. In 1991, Moi agreed to permit
other political parties, and elections were held in December of 1992.
Moi and his party retained power, but the opposition parties won almost
half of the seats in Parliament. In the middle of this, in March of
1992, mothers of the political prisoners organized a hunger strike and
requested Maathai’s support. The women, most of them in their 60s and
70s, marched to Uhuru Park, remained there, and demanded that their sons
be released. In an effort to force the unarmed women to disband, on the
fifth day of the strike, the police attacked the women, firing tear gas
and beating them. Maathai was knocked unconscious and had to spend a
week in a hospital to recuperate (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel
Foundation, 2004b).
In response to the
violence, some of the women stripped naked in a traditional African
reproach to those beating them. A mother or elderly woman to expose
herself in public is a taboo that is believed to bring on a curse, but
it was the only alternative the women had to defend themselves. The
hunger strike and protest continued in All Saints Church. After her
release from the hospital, Maathai rejoined the other women. Finally, in
1993, the hunger strike ended after 51 of the 52 political prisoners
were released (Cottingham, 2005).
On numerous occasions,
Maathai was arrested and received death threats for protesting illegal
logging. At one time, she and her children had to flee to Tanzania for
safety. In 1999, while she was replanting a forest that was illegally
cut down by property developers, security guards beat her so mercilessly
that she signed the police report in her own blood (Cottingham, 2005).
In December of 2002,
Kenyans elected Mwai Kibaki, a member of the opposition party, the
National Rainbow Coalition, as president. He ran on an anticorruption
platform. Maathai was elected to Parliament with 98 percent of the vote;
she was one of 18 women elected to the 222-member legislature. In 2003,
Kibaki appointed Maathai to serve as assistant environmental minister in
his cabinet (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel Foundation, 2004b).
Over time, in addition to
the environment, Maathai’s activism grew to include issues concerning
human rights, women’s rights, good governance and peace. Since its
birth, however, the Green Belt Movement had paid great attention to
community-building as imperative to its mission. When asked whether
community-building helps lead to democracy, Maathai evoked her favorite
metaphor: the traditional three-legged African stool. She described this
holistic approach, which the Nobel Committee recognized as creating an
atmosphere in which peace could be achieved, as follows:
If communities would manage their resources in a
way that they can respect the rule of law and they can respect each
other, we would have fewer conflicts, and it is to that extent that the
environment becomes one of the pieces in the puzzle. The three things,
or the three pillars, as I like to call them, are very linked. It is not
as if you can deal with one and not the other. In fact, I have been
using the three-legged stool, the traditional African stool...The three
legs of the traditional African stool represent the environment,
democracy and peace. Lacking these three legs, the stool cannot stand;
it cannot provide support....The seat of the stool represents
development, because the citizens who occupy that space feel secure;
they can create; they are sitting on a secure base...That to me is the
relationship. And I think that is the linkage that the Norwegian Nobel
Committee saw (Cottingham, 2005).
Maathai also recalled that
when she first started her work, she did not start out with the
understanding between the environment and development. Instead, she
started out responding to the problems that the women were identifying
and explaining to her in a practical manner. But as she developed, as
she got engaged, and as she worked with the women more and more, she
began to understand how the environment, when degraded, impacts
negatively on other aspects of society. She also came to the realization
that in order to properly manage the environment, good governance is a
necessity. This called for people who promote the right policies and do
the right things for the environment (Cottingham, 2005).
When asked if, when she
became part of the government, her approach to her work had changed,
Maathai said that her approach had not changed. Instead, she was
challenged even more. This is because in civil society, people move
fast, they make decisions fast, and they want change quickly. In
government, things move slowly. Nonetheless, Maathai was happy to be in
the government because it was a government that the people worked very
hard to bring to power (Cottingham, 2005).
When asked what kept her
going, in the face of all the obstacles—derision, beatings, arrests,
Maathai stated that it was her realization that what she was doing was
right. And that she was greatly assisted by her formal scientific
training, one that forced her to look for reasons, not just symptoms.
This propelled her to search for answers as to why some people were
opposed to her work. Thus, she realized earlier that what she was
actually doing was right and the obstructionists were not doing what
they did because they cared about the environment and the people.
Instead, their actions were motivated by their greed (Cottingham, 2005).
In her book, The Green
Belt Movement: Sharing the Approach (2002), Maathai mentioned that
she began looking for God within herself. What she found was that God is
in everyone. The problem is that people are trained to look for and to
think of God as some other person. People actually talk to God and
relate to Him as if He is another person. She believed that a piece of
God is in everyone and perhaps what people call God will become the
consciousness that is all of them. Each person has that voice and that
goodness in him/her (Cottingham, 2005; The Nobel Foundation, 2004b).
When asked what words of
encouragement she had for everyone, but for women in particular, women
in the country who are not respected, who are not given a place in the
community, Maathai offered the following response:
Well, I think it is important for us to understand
that until we get to heaven, I guess, life will always be a struggle.
Life is a struggle whether you are living in a very industrialized
country, very rich country, or if you are living in some of the most
desolate places on Earth. Ask anybody in the industrialized countries
and they will tell you, life manages to give you challenges wherever you
are. So the important thing for us is to take advantage of the
[opportunities] that life gives us and try to use those opportunities to
improve our own [lives] and, if we can, to also help to improve the
[lives] of others (Cottingham, 2005).
After reflecting for a
moment, Maathai added that “Quite often happiness, real happiness, for
us human beings comes when we go beyond ourselves and we serve others.
Real unhappiness quite often is found in people who are too preoccupied
with themselves” (Cottingham, 2005). Indeed, as Cottingham concluded,
Maathai’s legacy has everything to do with who she was. She gave her
time, a sense of who she was, an insight into her grit, stubbornness,
intelligence and plain, untempered hope (Cottingham, 2005). Maathai
joined the ancestors on September 25, 2011.
Conclusion
As isolation diminishes,
due to globalization, the range of ethical obligations extends in space
and time. There has also been an attendant increase in the calls for
individual freedom and responsibility, and a change in societal
organization. The effect of increase in scale is an enormous increase in
choice facing each group, and any choice involves ethics.
The greatest danger to
societal relations and ethics in Africa is that the old may disappear,
without some new ethical force to take its place. Unchecked
individualism, self-seeking, corruption and materialism are the greatest
threats to contemporary societal relations. Fortunately, the past has
been so thoroughly impregnated with ethics that it is difficult to
imagine how an ordered African society can be established without it.
Indeed, as the preceding discussion of Professor Wangari Maathai’s work
demonstrates, African culture is pregnant with indigenous approaches for
resolving conflicts and promoting peace. And since most Africans still
cling on to many of their traditions, conflict resolution and peace
promotion call for a revival of traditional African methods and a
mixture of approaches. Perhaps the following Bakongo tale of “How the
Wives Restored Their Husband to Life” may underscore the wisdom of such
a revival and use of mixed approaches.
A certain man named Nenpetro had three wives,
Ndoza’ntu the Dreamer, Songa’nzila the Guide, [and] Fulla Fulla the
Raiser of the Dead. Now Nenpetro was a great hunter; and one day he
killed an antelope and gave it to his three wives. They ate it, and
after time complained of hunger. Nenpetro went out shooting again, and
killed a monkey. They ate this also, but still complained of hunger.
“Oh,” says Nenpetro, “nothing but an ox will satisfy you people.” So off
he went on the track of an ox. He followed the tracks for a long way,
and at last caught sight of it as it was feeding with two or three
others. He stalked it carefully, and shot it; but before he could
reload, another angry ox charged him, and killed him.
Now in town, they knew nothing of all this; but his
wives grew very hungry, and cried for him to come back to them. Still he
returned not. Then Ndoza’ntu dreamt that he had been killed by an ox,
but that he had killed an ox before he fell.
“Come along,” said Songa’nzila; “I will show you
the road.”
Thus they set out, and marched up hill and down
dale, through woods and across rivers, until toward nightfall they came
up to the place where their husband lay dead. And now Fulla Fulla went
into the woods and collected herbs and plants, and set about raising him
from the dead.
Then the three women began to quarrel and wonder
into whose shimbe Nenpetro would first enter.
“I dreamt that he was dead,” said Ndoza’tu.
“But I showed you where he lay dead,” said
Songa’nzila.
“And I have brought him back to life,” said Fulla
Fulla, as the husband gradually gave signs of life.
“Well, let us each cook a pot of food, and take it
to him as soon as he can eat; and then let him decide out of which pot
he will take his first meal.”
So two killed fowls, and cooked them each in her
own pot, while the third cooked some pig in hers. And Nenpetro took the
pot of pig that Fulla Fulla had cooked, and said: “When you dreamt that
I was dead, you did not give me food, Ndoza’ntu; for I was not found.
And when you, Songa’nzila, had shown the others the road, I was still
unfit to eat; but when Fulla Fulla gave me back my life, then was I able
to eat the pig she gave me. The gift therefore of Fulla Fulla is the
most to be prized.”
And the majority of the people said he was right in
his judgment; but the women roundabout said he should have put food out
of the three pots into one pot, and have eaten the food thus mixed
(Feldman, 1963:217-218).
Indeed, similar to the
preceding Bakongo tale, employing a Western approach to resolve an
African conflict and promote peace may work in a particular context, but
mixing Western and African methods, or employing entirely African
methods, could prove to be the most prudent.
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About the Author
Abdul Karim Bangura is professor of Research Methodology and Political
Science at Howard University. He also is researcher-in-residence of
Abrahamic Connections and Islamic Peace Studies at the Center for Global
Peace in the School of International Service at American University. He
holds a PhD in Political Science, a PhD in Development Economics, a PhD
in Linguistics, a PhD in Computer Science, and a PhD in Mathematics. He
is the author of 67 books and more than 550 scholarly articles. He is
fluent in about a dozen African and six European languages, and studying
to increase his proficiency in Arabic, Hebrew, and Hieroglyphics. He is
the recipient of many teaching and other scholarly and community service
awards. He also is a member of many scholarly organizations and has
served as President and then United Nations Ambassador of the
Association of Third World Studies. Return to Table of Contents
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