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Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies in West Africa: Beyond Right and Wrong
 9780739192597, 9780739192580

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Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies in West Africa

Conflict and Security in the Developing World Series Editor: Dr. Akanmu G. Adebayo Since the end of World War II, there have been more intrastate than interstate conflicts—and most of the violent conflicts have occurred in the developing world. Many conflicts are over complex issues of governance and development while others have been over ethnicity, politics, religion, and other cultural issues. They have often resulted in fragile, uncoordinated, failing or collapsed states, and grave global security concerns prompting massive peacekeeping, peacebuilding, and other conflict transformation efforts. This series publishes works that expand our understanding of, and that propose possible solutions to, issues of conflicts and security in the developing world. The series conceives the “developing world” broadly as transitional societies and emerging markets in Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Caribbean, and Oceania. The series publishes works that are interdisciplinary and cross-cutting, that combine Western and local perspectives, and that employ a diversity of research methods, theories, and approaches. Examples of topics include youth vulnerability and exclusion, police and policing, terrorism, small arms, genocidal wars, drug and human trafficking, security sector reform, natural resource governance, faith and violence, democratization and governance, gender and development, regional organizations and peacebuilding, electoral issues, and indigenous conflict management mechanisms. These works may cut across the region or focus on a country or community.

Advisory Board Dr. Fouzieh Melanie Alamir, Head of Competence Center, Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ) Dr. Isaac Olawale Albert, Director, Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan Dr. Robin Dorff, Dean, College of Humanities and Social Sciences, Kennesaw State University Dr. Tara Ney, School of Public Administration, University of Victoria

Recent Titles Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies in West Africa: Beyond Right and Wrong, edited by Akanmu G. Adebayo, Brandon D. Lundy, Jesse J. Benjamin, and Joseph Kingsley Adjei

Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies in West Africa Beyond Right and Wrong

Edited by Akanmu G. Adebayo, Brandon D. Lundy, Jesse J. Benjamin, and Joseph Kingsley Adjei

LEXINGTON BOOKS

Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Lexington Books An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www.rowman.com 16 Carlisle Street, London W1D 3BT, United Kingdom Copyright © 2015 by Lexington Books All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Library of Congress Control Number: 2014951489 ISBN: 978-0-7391-9258-0 (cloth) ISBN: 978-0-7391-9259-7 (electronic) ∞ ™ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992. Printed in the United States of America

To Osagyefo Kwame Nkrumah (1909–1972) and Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela (1918–2013) Paragons of cultural emancipation and indigenous African modes of thought and action

Contents

List of Illustrations

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Preface and Acknowledgment

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1 Introduction: Reconciliation and Conflict Management in West Africa through Cultural Traditions Brandon D. Lundy and Joseph Kingsley Adjei

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PART I: GENERAL AND CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORKS

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2 Conflicts in Africa: Negotiating Space for Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies in the Contemporary Age Olutayo C. Adesina

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3 Exploring Indigenous Mechanisms for Peacemaking in West Africa 35 Serwaa Brewoo and Mustapha Abdallah 4 Border Disputes in Africa and Traditional Approaches to Resolving Them Joan Mbagwu

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5 “. . . in the Name of the Son”: The “Son” as Scapegoat in African Literature Kolawole Olaiya

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PART II: GHANA

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6 The Role of the Chieftaincy Institution in Ensuring Peace in Ghana from Precolonial Times to the Present Joseph Kingsley Adjei

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7 Colonial Justice and Conflict Management: The Case of Chief Seniagya and the Ashanti Golden Stool Joseph Kingsley Adjei and Akanmu G. Adebayo 8 Homegrown Crises, Homegrown Solutions? The Efficacy of Indigenous Conflict Resolution/Management Approaches in Ghana Sarah Okaebea Danso and Joana Ama Osei-Tutu PART III: NIGERIA 9 Women’s Involvement in Indigenous Conflict Management: An Analysis of the Role of Umuada in Conflict Management in Traditional Igbo Society of Southeastern Nigeria Felix Chinwe Asogwa

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10 The Role of the Umunna and Age Grades in Traditional Conflict Management in Igboland Luke A. Amadi and James E. Agena

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11 Communication and Conflict Management in Igbo Traditional Society Emmanuel Chukwuma Duru, Silk Ogbu, and Ifeanyi F. Didiugwu

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12 Ilepa Among the Yoruba of Western Nigeria: What do the Dead have to do with Peace and Conflict? Olutayo C. Adesina

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13 Indigenous Methods in Conflict Resolution: The Example of Yorùbá Society Lérè Adéyẹmí

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14 Sparks of Resistance, Flames of Change: Orature in Reconciliation and Conflict Management among the Yorùbá Olusola George Ajibade

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15 The Challenges of Conflict Transformation: Amnesty in the Niger Delta Region of Nigeria in Retrospect Willie Aziegbe Eselebor

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16 From Militancy to Amnesty: An Exploration of Nigeria’s Indigenous Conflict Management Strategy in the Niger Delta Region Severus Ifeanyi Odoziobodo and Ifeanyi F. Didiugwu

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Contents

17 Alternative Dispute Resolution Strategies, Undergraduate Student Union Leaders, and Conflict Management in Selected Tertiary Institutions in Ibadan Clement O. O. Kolawole and Toluwalope O. Kolawole

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PART IV: CAMEROON

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18 Beitonghekeh: People’s Power and Conflict Resolution in Cameroon Henry Kam Kah

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19 Indigenous Peacemaking among the Banso People of Cameroon: Bonyang as a Conflict Resolution System Solomon Losha and Stephen Ojong Agbor

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20 Bekem in Peacemaking in Nweh Society Achankeng Fonkem 21 Conclusion: Implications of Epistemic Diversity for Conflict Management in West Africa and the World  Jesse J. Benjamin and Akanmu G. Adebayo

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References333 Index363 About the Editors/Contributors

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List of Illustrations

FIGURES Figure 15.1 Map of Niger Delta Region in Nigeria234 Figure 15.2 Thomas-Kilmann’s Conflict Mode Instrument240 Figure 15.3 The Pyramid—Three Level Triangles247 Figure 18.1 A Cross-Section of Menchum/Boyo Divisions Showing the Laimbwe Polities 292 TABLES Table 16.1 The Amnesty Program Table 17.1 Profiles of Selected Student Union Leaders Table 17.2 Preference for an Alternative Strategy that Prevents Conflicts/Violence Table 17.3 Awareness of ADR Strategies by Students Union Leaders Table 17.4 Would You Use ADR in Resolving Your Group Conflicts? Table 17.5 Do You Believe ADR Will Better Help to Resolve Conflicts on Campuses?

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Preface and Acknowledgment

A companion to our Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies: Global Perspectives (Lexington Books, 2014), this book explores indigenous approaches to conflict management in West Africa. With reference to the administration of justice and the management of conflicts, scholars and perceptive observers have been fascinated by the dualism that exists in West Africa. West African countries exhibit the modern or “Western” and the traditional or “indigenous” or “customary” in almost every aspect of life. In virtually every country, there is the “official,” Western rational-legal approach bequeathed by European colonizing powers; at the same time, there is the indigenous, “unofficial,” customary approach that is rooted in the region’s rich and dynamic history that is orally transmitted from one generation to another. The violent conflict in Hohoe in 2012 demonstrates the existence of this dualism vividly. Hohoe is a small town in the Volta Region of Ghana with a population of about 60,000. Administratively, Volta Region is under a Regional Minister. Hohoe’s location in the beautiful mountain ranges close to the Togolese border makes it an important center for tourism and trade in the region. The town attracts migrants from all over who take advantage of its cross-border commerce and beautiful environment. Many of these migrants are from Northern Ghana and, by extension, are mostly Muslims. As is the case in many West African cities, these migrants settled in a separate part of town known as Zongo. Hohoe soon developed into a dual-city; the major part is occupied by the indigenes, the Ewe, while the other part is the Zongo. The traditional ruler with suzerainty over both communities is the paramount chief of the Gbi Traditional Area, Chief Togbega Gabusu VI (at the time of writing).

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Although there were signs of a simmering conflict, the eruption of violence in June 2012 was quite unexpected. Newspaper reports are sketchy about what led to the violent conflict, but it was clear that the conflict pitted the Hohoe hosts against their Zongo guests. Besides those who died, 6,000 people fled their homes; houses and shops were burned; the hospital and the palace of the paramount chief were vandalized; and the remains of the recently deceased and buried Chief Imam of Hohoe was exhumed and dumped on the roadside—an act that was considered a sacrilege by all Ghanaian traditions. As could be expected, the government of Ghana stepped in to end the violence and restore order. Government also appointed a commission of inquiry, and humanitarian organizations provided aid for the victims of the crisis. A year later, in June 2013, the community marked the anniversary of the conflict. The Gbi traditional authorities marked the occasion by performing rituals to the gods to purify the community and prevent such a crisis from ever occurring in the future; the Muslim community, on the other hand, observed a day of prayers for the dead and the living, and asked Allah for peace and prosperity. Meanwhile, the two communities were still waiting for the government to release a White Paper on the report of the “official” commission of inquiry. The dualism demonstrated by the Hohoe case is self-evident, but it is not isolated. Like in Hohoe, elders, traditional and religious authorities, peacebuilders, and other participants knew what system to use when faced with a serious breach of the peace. As the crisis in Hohoe was undergoing “official” investigation by the government, the peoples of Hohoe and Zongo were utilizing their cultural and sacral tools, including appealing to and appeasing the ancestors, in their handling of the conflict. This case reveals some element of the dualism: while the formal approach was distal, the indigenous was proximal; and while the Western approach was adversarial, the indigenous was familiar, being intent on reconciliation and the restoration of broken relationships. It is for this reason that this book is subtitled Beyond Right and Wrong. The indigenous approach is not simply about who is right, who is wrong, and a set punishment for the wrongdoer. Indeed, the indigenous approach goes beyond right and wrong. Reconciliation is one of its overarching objectives: to heal the land and the people and to create the milieu for the wronged and the wrongdoer to dwell harmoniously in the same community or polity. It will be fascinating in itself to further explore and juxtapose the two systems of this dualism. However, this book focuses on the indigenous system. Chapters address indigenous conflict management strategies in West Africa from numerous disciplinary and theoretical perspectives. What they lack in geographical breadth (chapters present cases from Ghana, Nigeria, and Cameroon), they make up for in their depth of scholarly engagement with



Preface and Acknowledgment

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the topic. The chapters are suffused with details; they demonstrate the value and strength, and question the efficacy and sufficiency, of indigenous conflict management approaches in contemporary West Africa. This is our second book on indigenous conflict management strategies. The first, referred to above, takes a global approach to the subject to which we return in this volume with an in-depth look at West Africa. We remain grateful to the editors at Lexington Books for their commitment to the project. Chapters in both the former Global Perspectives and this current Beyond Right and Wrong are selected from the papers presented at the international conference on “Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies” hosted by the Center for Conflict Management at Kennesaw State University (KSU) in April 2012. We thank all participants at the conference. In addition, this is the first publication in the newly established “Conflict and Security in the Developing World” series by Lexington Books. Our gratitude goes to Justin Race for his interest in the theme, and to Brian Hill, Kathryn Tafelski, Kelly Shefferly, and other staff of Lexington Books for their assistance with the production process. In the editorial process, we received tremendous help from several people at KSU, our institutional home. Our gratitude goes to Dr. Robin Dorff, Dean of the College of Humanities and Social Sciences; to Rosezetta Bobo and Ellen Lahtinen, our colleagues in the Center for Conflict Management (CCM); to Chinonye Nwachukwu and Genius Gc for last-minute typing; and to our graduate research assistants, especially Muthoni “Mo” Richards and Etsegenet “Mimi” Endale. As always, we are grateful to Ms. Betsy RhameMinor for copy-editing the manuscript. Akanmu G. Adebayo Brandon D. Lundy Jesse J. Benjamin Joseph Kingsley Adjei Kennesaw, 2014

Chapter 1

Introduction Reconciliation and Conflict Management in West Africa through Cultural Traditions Brandon D. Lundy and Joseph Kingsley Adjei

Cultural tradition is a key component of conflict transformation and peacebuilding (Comaroff, 2013; Jackson, 2013; Lederach 1995). We view indigenous conflict management and resolution strategies broadly as a process that utilizes local actors and traditional community-based judicial and legal decision-making mechanisms to manage and resolve conflicts within and between communities in the larger global context (Adebayo, Benjamin, & Lundy, 2014; Ramsbotham, Miall, & Woodhouse, 2011; Ramsbotham & Woodhouse, 2013). Every conflict is local inasmuch as the local environment sets the stage and the local people endure the consequences. Scholars have found homegrown conflict management strategies in the Americas (Jackson & Warren, 2008; Warren & Jackson, 2003; Wehr & Lederach, 1991), Europe (Encarnación, 2004; Manners, 2006), Asia (Jandt & Pedersen, 1996; Leung, Koch, & Lu, 2002), and Africa (Nader & Grande, 2002; Zartman, 2000). On every continent, the approach to mitigating, managing, solving, or resolving conflict is built on a carefully constructed cultural foundation, particular to a local context, discrete event, or specific milieu (Avruch, 1998, 2011; LeBaron, 2003a). Yet, we would be remiss if we did not acknowledge JeanFrançois Bayart’s (2005) careful observation that cultural traditions are illusions. This paradox frames this volume on indigenous conflict management in Africa: cultural traditions are both the hallmark of conflict transformation and peacebuilding, while at the same time, they are largely illusory. Because of the long-term effects of global power differentials bombarding the most isolated of locales around the world, many non-Western societies have adopted Western-style approaches to development, governance, peacebuilding, and conflict resolution (Richmond, 2004: Tidwell & Lerche, 2004; Wallensteen, 2011). The dialectical nature of these universal and particular forms of conflict management is summarized by Francis B. Nyamnjoh as 1

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local populations “modernizing their indigeneities and indigenizing their modernities” (2006, p. 293). To remain sustainable and relevant, conflict management strategies must be rooted in a society’s traditions, whether these traditions are of ancient origins or they are recently invented (Hobsbawm & Ranger, 2012). This volume rejects the political relativist stance that denies “Africans access to the universal” (Bayart, 2005, p. 33). Instead, we argue for a grounded approach to dealing with conflict that understands the complex nature of discord as both local and global simultaneously involving persons and institutions with interrelated and sometimes conflicting histories, cultures, politics, needs, and ideologies. Beyond Right and Wrong seeks to fully appreciate the power of indigenous perspectives, utilizing local actors and traditional community-based judicial and legal decision-making mechanisms, to manage and resolve conflicts originating from and occurring in West Africa.1 The chapters in this volume utilize agentive, historical, and structural approaches to indigenous conflict management; remove any one of these and the frame collapses (Frake, 1998, p. 41). Therefore, a work of this nature must be multivocal, multipositioned, and multitemporal. Olutayo C. Adesina reminds us, “There is no doubt that conflicts have usually multiplied in Africa because the mechanisms of conflict management have largely neglected the components of culture and tradition” (chapter two, this volume). The incredible contribution of this volume is that working from diversity, the authors all reach a similar message, unity through social control. This work is one of localizing discourse—a challenge “to dismantle, deconstruct, and decolonize Western epistemologies [related to conflict management] from within” (Denzin & Lincoln 2008, p. ix). But, from within what? Kwame Anthony Appiah professes, “Africa is various” (1992, p. ix), implying that even African indigeneity is constantly refashioned in an ongoing process of fixity and change—either through custom, coercion, independent adaptation, environmental swings, or through the intervention of (internal or external) forces. This tension-filled identity conflict is rooted in histories, societies, and cultures that promote unique conflict management strategies that may or may not be adaptable to other contexts. These questions of identification of, engagement with, and portability of West African models of conflict management and resolution are developed in this volume. In the Geist of Kwame Anthony Appiah (1992), Peter P. Ekeh (1975), Clifford Geertz (1963), Edward Shils (1957), and Ferdinand Tönnies (2011[1887]) among others, this book tackles the distillation of Gemeinschaft (community) and Gesellschaft (society) interface, or what Ekeh refers to as the “two publics,” privileging the hybrid community-perspective as a crucible of cultural diversity where solutions to complex global problems often originate, are given form, and are solved.

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Further, Durkheim (1964), in distinguishing between mechanical solidarity (traditional societies) and organic solidarity (modern societies), argues that it is the nature of society that informs the conflict management and resolution approaches adopted by that society. The social organization of a traditional society is highly undifferentiated, characterized by similarity of functions, resemblances, and a common consciousness (Hale, 1990). Consequently, law is repressive or penal, expiatory and diffuse, functioning not through specialized institutions such as law courts and public tribunals but the whole society. Durkheim (1964, p. 25) stated that the collective decision to punish those who deviate from the norms of the traditional society (mechanical solidarity) is not only to bring justice to bear on the offender, but also to give credence to the collective conscience espoused by the community. On the other hand, many African societies, owing to colonization and postcolonial hegemonies, have inherited or are working hard to develop into complex industrialized societies that, according to Durkheim, are characterized by the form of social cohesion that is based on the division of labor and the resulting interdependence. In this setting, according to Hale (1990), law is restitutive and cooperative; social forms create the legal rules which permeate civil law, commercial law, administrative and constitutional law, all of which operate specialized organs such as administrative tribunals and an anonymous magistracy. These developments have had tremendous influence on the choices available to developing societies of West Africa in conflict transformation and peacebuilding. Therefore, this volume begins from the assumption that colonial and postcolonial political enterprises have shaped the “traditional” West African indigenous conflict management strategies and vice versa. Simultaneously, agentive, structural, and historical perspectives also influence contemporary thoughts and actions about social and political tensions, conflicts, and violence. Councils of elders adopt formal alternative dispute resolution strategies (ADR) (Ahorsu & Ame, 2011; Asouzu, 2005; Crook, 2008; Greco, 2009; Nader, 2001), chiefs are brought into the formal legislature of the state government apparatus (Berry, 2013; Ray, 1996), age grades are coopted to enforce laws or campaign for local politicians (Njoku, 2013), local judiciaries are modified and adopted on a grand scale to deal with national crises, and secular and spiritual forms of informal and formal social control get codified as theory (Coe, Palmer, & El Shabazz, 2013; Onyeozili & Ebbe, 2012; Radcliffe-Brown 1952; Stevens, 2011). Beyond Right and Wrong explores the ways people in West Africa establish and maintain societal order, concentrating on the region’s exceptional contributions to conflict management and resolution. The title suggests that in West Africa, there is a prevalence of indigenous judicial and legal structures that are less interested in determining guilt or innocence, perpetrator and

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victim, or plaintiff and defendant. Instead, there are localized mechanisms (e.g., secret societies, age groups, councils of elders, gacaca-like courts, and truth and reconciliation commissions) that work to maintain harmony and balance the social order through various forms of community sanctioned social controls. The ultimate aim in most cases is reconciliation. West African indigenous forms of conflict management often concentrate on lineage and legitimacy. Kinship manages conflict. Resolution often takes place at the most basic level, i.e., the extended family unit. As conflict intensifies, social networks are mobilized. At each level, the apical elder is sanctioned to mediate and pass judgment. Respect and authority go hand in hand; yet, these apparatuses of conflict management remain localized and dissolve upon resolution. They are organic in the most literal sense as fleeting and flexible as well as institutionalized—integrated into the larger social fabric. Spiritual sanctions are also a powerful form of indigenous conflict management and resolution in West Africa. From the go-between role of ancestors, witchcraft accusations, and the power of divine kingship, these spiritual sanctions promote social harmony and conflict resolution through the power of belief; with spiritual agents serving dual roles as both “judge” and “jury”— pronouncing judgment and meting out punishment. One does not steal because the spirits, including one’s own ancestors, can punish at a distance. One becomes his or her own keeper, a morality of both external and internal proportions. Randomized negative behavior modification through instances of “bad luck,” illness, natural disasters (such as lightning, storm, or flood), fire, tree fall, and even death go a long way in mitigating conflict in African “traditional” society. Beyond these three West African indigenous conflict management strategies identified here, (1) reconciliation, (2) lineage and legitimacy, and (3) spiritual sanctions, there are many additional areas of indigenous conflict management inherent in West Africa, which have the potential to be ineffective in treating conflict through evidence-based, empirical research. The contributors in this volume provide exactly that evidence-based “treatment” to violent outbreaks of conflict in local contexts formulated in a collaborative, local, and grounded way. These approaches fashioned out of centuries of experience provide wisdom, insights, and workable models to other conflicts taking place around the world. Ultimately, the question is not, are there indigenous conflict management strategies found in West Africa (there are!), but instead, what do the indigenous conflict management strategies of West Africa look like, how are they influenced by nonindigenous approaches, and, how can they inform conflict management and resolution in other parts of Africa and the globe? As Ekeh acknowledges, “Africans are citizens of two publics in the same society. . . .  The dialectical tensions and confrontations between

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these two publics constitute the uniqueness of modern African [indigenous conflict management]” (1975, p. 108). At once, there is the impact of colonialism and neocolonialism and globalization on African cultures, communities, and societies. In reaction, there has been a move, both positive (i.e., “re-Africanization,” Cabral, 1974) and negative (i.e., tribalism) to remobilize an indigenous worldview. These attempts to reconstitute a primordial past have both positive responses of solidarity and belonging as well as negative outcomes of “othering,” nepotism, and factionalism. This volume, then, is titled Beyond Right and Wrong to confront African indigeneity directly to prevent overt idealization or, equally damaging, pessimism when engaging conflict, its management and cessation. What follows is a discussion of the chapters found throughout this volume and their significant contributions made to better understanding indigenous conflict management in West Africa, Ghana, Nigeria, Cameroon, Africa, and the world. CHAPTER SUMMARIES Beyond Right and Wrong is divided into four sections, General and Conceptual Frameworks, Ghana, Nigeria, and Cameroon. These three case countries were purposefully selected because they offer both unique insights based on local forms of indigenous conflict management approaches as well as representing more broadly an “Anglophone” West African culture area, the West African region, and the continent as a whole. This peculiarity and comparability provides the authors throughout the volume both contextual depth and theoretical space to engage with local, regional, and global contributions to the scholarship of indigenous conflict management. What results is a multidisciplinary work that advances the studies and practices of literature, law, conflict management, peace studies, policy analysis, history, and sociology. The first part of this book takes a general, conceptual look at West African indigenous conflict management strategies. Olutayo C. Adesina leads off the volume with his chapter, “Conflicts in Africa: Negotiating Space for Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies in the Contemporary Age.” Adesina advocates for the inclusion of “old world” African approaches to resolving conflict. He pushes these dynamic practices to the fore as exemplary lessons of experience, admixing, successes, and failures. Africa as a sociological laboratory has faced intra- and intergroup conflict; interpersonal and interstate conflict; ethnic, religious, and identity-based conflict; short-term flare-ups and protracted conflict; genocide; and virtually any other conceivable permutation of conflict and violence. As such, it has also successfully mitigated, managed, quelled, balanced, and resolved these conflicts over centuries and even millennia of human interface. The ongoing search for peace, dialogue,

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social justice, equity, fairness, human rights, development, respect, and autonomy and unity has led to the reconsideration of expensive Western punitive approaches to dealing with conflicting parties. In many cases, experts and local juridical system representatives (both formal and informal) are instead reconsidering experientially based and deep-seated approaches to conflict management where unacceptable behavior is lessened through social pressures and reintegration trumps outright punishment or cyclical retribution. Adesina finds that the time has come; we have reached “a favorable juncture” to infuse the discourse with locally embedded and historically forged mechanisms for managing conflict that seek “enduring solutions to these intractable problems.” He argues, in line with the premise of this volume, that Africans value peace as “a state of cooperation, freshness, well-being, harmony, and tranquility” with justice rendered through the promotion of “compensation, restitution, and arbitration.” Adesina’s weighty contribution adeptly shows how all members of society including women must share in the task of community building and maintenance by upholding a humanistic moral order. In conclusion, he argues that conflict management scholars, practitioners, and advocates can no longer ignore the deep contributions of history and culture in both sparking conflict and tamping it underfoot. As the birthplace of the human family, Africa has much to offer in this regard. The third chapter, “Exploring Indigenous Mechanisms for Peacemaking in West Africa,” by Serwaa Brewoo and Mustapha Abdallah supports Adesina’s conclusions about the applicability of African conflict management and indigenous mechanisms for peace, particularly in Africa-based conflict. Adversaries are brought to the negotiating table through familiar cultural practices and third party intermediaries versed in the historical roots of the area and dispute. This “thick” contextual understanding allows for a nuanced look at the problem, which has the potential to realize empathy and realistic and culturally appropriate results such as using ethnic joking relationships within the protracted Casamance conflict of Senegal. Using both Ghana and Senegal as case studies, Brewoo and Abdallah’s contribution fits nicely with the other chapters on Ghana (see chapters six through eight). Additionally, by bringing Senegal into this conversation, a bridge is forged with Cameroon (see chapters eighteen through twenty) as representatives of former French colonies. According to the authors, most African conflicts wherever found on the continent tend to have shared characteristics—intrastate, identity-based, protracted, low intensity, communal, with a tendency to escalate into violent wars. As a result, African conflict often befuddles external interventionists. Brewoo and Abdallah see “traditional/indigenous peacemaking systems” as complementary to “Western-oriented approaches to conflict management in West Africa.” The chapter uses the Dagbon conflict among the Asante, similar to Danso and Osei-Tutu’s chapter, to illustrate the potential for blending these

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two approaches. They then go on to explore joking relationships between the Diola and Serer ethnic groups as a way to manage and even resolve the Casamance conflict along the southern border of Senegal. The Serer, by sharing a joking relationship with the Diola, are culturally appropriate, accepted, and expected mediators who have the right and the obligation to reduce tension and create the “right atmosphere” to resolve differences with, for, and on behalf of the Diola. By recognizing that “the objective of dispute resolution and conflict management mechanisms is usually to forge a settlement between disputing parties in anticipation that it will achieve full reconciliation among the conflict parties and establish relationships which are robust enough to forestall future conflicts,” Brewoo and Abdallah find that cultural affinity has an important role to play, one that cannot be ignored or overlooked by Western-oriented approaches. Next, Joan Mbagwu considers an additional attribute of African-based conflict omitted by Brewoo and Abdallah: borders and their accompanying disputes. State borders and associated boundaries are critical relational zones that territorialize historical and political permutations of difference. This makes border areas ideal locations for considerations of conflict and its cessation. In much of the African continent, contemporary borders resulted from colonial geopolitics, often bisecting and dissecting local communities and societies. While largely arbitrary, African nation-states capitulated in allowing these lines to endure after independence because the potential continental upheaval over changing them deterred territorial revisions. Still, border disputes flare up throughout the continent with autochthonous challenges, separatist movements, cross-border smuggling, ethnic politics, sovereignty challenges, and civil war, making boundary conflicts a major concern for African conflict management. Mbagwu argues that African mediators should look to indigenous mechanisms for settling border disputes such as restorative justice techniques with their roots in traditional forms of African conflict resolution that focus more on “reconciliation and restoration of social harmony than on punishment of the conflict parties.” These mechanisms use social control through public “truth-telling” to assist in shaming, forgiveness, humanizing, and eventual reintegration of disputing parties. Through its participatory nature and cultural grounding, whole societies and not just individuals can achieve catharsis and those affected can help each other cope with wrongs for the good of social harmony and community healing. Ultimately, Mbagwu presents African characteristics of traditional society as the location for broadening the conflict management toolkit. Experience, respect, face, belief, compensation, and consensus building each has a role to play in reducing border disputes and conflict intensity on the continent. The chapter “ ‘. . . in the Name of the Son’: The ‘Son’ as Scapegoat in African Literature” by Kolawole Olaiya takes a humanities track to African

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indigenous conflict management by reflecting on the literary legacy of Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, and Ngugi wa Thiong’o. Olaiya uses the allegory of the “son” from four perspectives to show how “the son” (i.e., Jesus Christ) disrupts and supplants the stories of three well-known indigenous sons of Africa. Olaiya uses their stories to represent the ills, politics, and cultural and spiritual health of the continent as a whole. They become symbols of the contact, cataclysm, and combination of these unequal encounters. Ultimately, this chapter is about displacement of and the need for reclamation of the indigenous sons of the continent. Olaiya argues through these literary giants that colonial outsiders with emergent stakes in local communities “hijacked” local problems and as such, stripped away the agency of the traditional institutions established to mitigate these indigenous conflicts resulting in a proverbial nanny state through a relentless invasion of, in this case, Christian kudzu. For example, in Achebe’s Arrow of God, the native son Ezeulu loses his traditional authority and ultimately his mind by holding tight to those very same traditions. Put another way, the traditional polytheistic acceptance of Igbo religion for other’s gods, ultimately seals their fate when faced with the intolerance of monotheism—“there is only one true God.” By accepting the latter, you can no longer hold the former. Olaiya reasons, “the sacrifice of the ‘authentic’ son triggers the emergence of a new set of dislocated and alienated political upstarts who preside over the journey of political, religious, and economic destruction, a lamentable foundation of the present political crisis that is ravaging African nations.” The scapegoated sacrifices become unavoidable as these societies transition from periods of cultural stress to a new imperially “modernized” steady state. The unfortunate result of this colonially catalyzed process according to Olaiya, however, is the reorientation of African societies away from sacrosanct indigenous cultures and customs and toward homogenous Western-centric ideals bereft of localized agency. The second section of the book presents Ghana as a vantage to consider both traditional leadership in Africa and the value of locally sourced solutions to contextually based crises. In Chapter Six, Joseph Kingsley Adjei presents the roles and challenges of chieftaincy institutions in upholding social security in Ghana. Adjei takes a historical approach by tracing the chieftaincy through precolonial to contemporary iterations arguing that the legal-rational governance system of Ghana has supplanted, but not completely replaced, the country’s historical leadership structure. According to Adjei, if the chieftaincy structures are to be reconstituted in a meaningful way, they will need legitimate access to power and resources. Adjei argues that the chieftaincy leadership structure was founded in societal needs for “cooperation, peace, and security.” Chiefs in Ghana emerged through autochthony and hereditary succession, conquest, spiritual sanction, or through exemplary deeds.

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These rulers held traditional authority and were consented to lead by and on behalf of their constituency based on customary law. The chiefs of Ghana are expected to uphold peace through “a matrix of complex norms and traditions,” which is “based on the sanctity of tradition and custom.” Peace for Adjei is synonymous with social harmony and domestic tranquility, human opportunity and equality, security and defense, the settlement of disputes without resorting to violence, and fairness or the elimination of “structural violence.” As a vestiture of the power of the people, chiefs mitigated land disputes and other secular concerns; as a vestiture of spiritual power, these same chiefs were also spiritually endowed to deal with supernatural concerns such as determining suspicious causes of death. The British colonial apparatus through cooptation and the development of parallel institutions forced the Ghanaian chieftaincy into redundancy, or worse, collusion. Adjei laments that by the close of the colonial chapter in Ghana, “the power of the chiefs and their elders to enforce peace diminished.” The chiefs’ political and economic authority had eroded. Adjei traces the decline of chieftaincy through time and space in Ghana; he concludes by suggesting that at the local levels chiefs retain some remnants of their former roles as peacebuilders and community arbiters. Ultimately, Adjei sees great potential in reconstituting the traditional rule of the chieftaincy in Ghana as a check on state power: one built from the ground up, sanctioned by divine right, and vested in the land and its people. In the chapter “Colonial Justice and Conflict Management: The Case of Chief Seniagya and the Ashanti Golden Stool,” Joseph Kingsley Adjei and Akanmu G. Adebayo continue the historical dialogue of encounter from the previous chapter between the Ashanti of the Gold Coast (contemporary Ghana) and the British colonial regime. In particular, this chapter explores the British colonial justice system’s handling of the desecration of the Golden Stool in 1921. The Ashanti king, or Asantehene, held supreme authority by occupying the Golden Stool, which was a symbol of the unity of the Ashanti Empire. As a symbol representing the divine authority of kingship and the Ashanti people themselves, any affront to the stool was a condemnation of the Ashanti nation itself. This is exactly what took place in 1921 when sub-chief Seniagya desecrated the Golden Stool alongside four elders charged with its protection. The catalyst that led up to this extreme act began years earlier when the Ashanti kingdom under Asantehene Prempeh I refused to peacefully submit to British imperialism. The governor of the Gold Coast went to Kumasi, the Ashanti capital, and had the leadership exiled to the Seychelles Islands. Affronted by this colonial show of force, Ashanti militants selected Queen Mother Nana Yaa Asantewaa to lead them in battle against the British usurpers. The 1900 War of the Golden Stool or Yaa Asantewaa War ultimately ended in defeat for the Ashanti sending the Golden Stool underground.

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But why did those charged with the protection of the stool carry out such an act of desecration? Further, Adjei and Adebayo question why Seniagya and the others were exiled to Nigeria by the British judiciary without recourse to the traditional Ashanti laws where this case clearly seemed to belong since it was a case of Ashanti cultural heritage. Adjei and Adebayo argue, “By ignoring Ashanti customary law and using the British justice system, the British showed that the Ashanti people had lost it all.” British actions were a show of dominance in the face of mounting public pressure and public opinion. In the end, military might and the supplanting of the traditional leadership was both an effective colonial strategy against the centralized leadership and a powerful disruptor of strong cultural beliefs among the staunchest Ashanti citizenry. The final chapter of the Ghana section looks at the effectiveness of advocating for homegrown solutions to homegrown crises. Sarah Okaebea Danso and Joana Ama Osei-Tutu discuss “indigenous-driven interventions” in the guise of actor-centered approaches to restore disrupted relationships. In other words, these authors argue that renewing cordial interactions between conflicting parties through dialogue is attainable as an alternative form of dispute resolution. Danso and Osei-Tutu selected two conflict cases in Ghana, the Alavanyo-Nkonya land dispute and the Dagbon chieftaincy crisis to test their theory about the applicability of indigenous conflict management in localized crises. The authors suggest that African-oriented conflict resolution and management (CRM) processes work at “improving future relations or restoring strained relationships, hence the active participation, integration, and engagement of the conflict parties in such processes.” Interlocutors have a direct voice in the juridical practice. Powerful tools of empathy, forgiveness, dialogue, valuation, and validation take precedence in an effort to expose truths by gaining perspectives. The Dagbon protracted conflict case offers insights into indigenous conflict management while the AlavanyoNkonya land dispute in the Upper Volta Region is an example of a relatively successful conflict resolution through indigenous ADR. Using the transformational model as a frame emphasizing the need for intersubjectivity, a deep-seated understanding of the cultural heritage, historical circumstance, and contextual milieu becomes necessary to realize positive social change. Valuing local conditions is essential in indigenous-driven interventions. For example, in the Alavanyo-Nkonya dispute, neighbors realized that a mediation framework might succeed where the courts had not. This acknowldgement of a need for reconciliation on both sides of the dispute actively brought stakeholders to a point where they were able to listen, cultivate awareness of the issues, sensitize, and build trust. In the Dagbon chieftaincy conflict, however, political interference stalled successful outcomes. Based on this split decision, Danso and Osei-Tutu conclude that both legalistic and ADR

Introduction

11

approaches to conflict resolution and management must be applied concurrently to be most effective in managing future relationships between disagreeing neighbors. The third section on Nigeria as a country case straddles eight wellresearched thought-provoking chapters. Though they vary in content and detail, the chapters generally focus attention on Nigeria’s inextricable marriage to the primacy of tradition and application of indigenous conflict management strategies in containing intrastate conflicts against the background of so-called Western-centered approaches. The cases presented are from the southern parts of Nigeria. In the opening chapter to this section, Luke A. Amadi and James E. Agena explore the role of umunna (the kinsmen or village central meeting) and age grades in traditional conflict management in Igboland. Tracing the argument for the “invasion” and popularity of Western conflict management approaches, Amadi and Agena explain that the upsurge of intrastate conflicts in Africa and elsewhere after the Second World War created the urgent need for developing strategies to resolve them in order to enhance development. In response, many promising theories including the ripeness theory, theories of mediation, theories of reconciliation, power-sharing theories, and credible commitment theory, among others, emerged from the Western world. However, the positive expectations that greeted these theories and their practitioners as the magic wand to deal with local conflicts were dashed soon after, when it was discovered that they lacked the potency and relevancy that could contain the core issues of indigenous conflict. Pushing this argument further, Amadi and Agena contend that Western approaches have been found to be “largely Western-centric, and could provide panacea only to Western conflicts with minimal application and relevance to non-Western local indigenous conflicts.” Consequently, their effects on indigenous conflict management is minimal; it may even be safe to state that the increase in intrastate conflicts in recent times is attributable to the ineffectiveness of western approaches as panacea for healing the wounds of affected communities. The case for indigenous conflict management strategies in resolving local conflicts has therefore become pertinent. First, indigenous conflict practitioners understand the dynamics of African indigenous cultural values. Amadi and Agena contend, and rightly so, that “it is only when indigenous conflicts are understood in their socio-cultural contexts that they can be resolved effectively.” Using the case of umunna and the age grades of Igboland, they demonstrate, with a clear sense of Igboland indigenous culture, the potency and effectiveness of indigenous approaches that these age-old institutions have when applied in local conflicts to bring about peace. They describe the umunna as represented by “all male descendants encompassing the heads of extended families which form a collectivization of male descents and

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represents the Igbo gerontocracy.” The modus operandi of the umunna is anchored on arbitration in which members at their meeting have the right to speak for consensus building. This approach is within the purview of accepted conflict resolution practices in which arbitration has been tested to be the best approach to resolving community conflicts (Best, 1996). The age grades, on the other hand, are associations formed by persons within certain age groups. Though they vary from community to community, their common aim is to serve as “veritable instruments for effective mobilization and realization of common goals such as funds for development through development levies.” The basic aim of the age grades approach is to satisfy the needs of the Igbo society. No doubt, among the theories that explain the causes of conflict, the inability of society to meet human needs has been acknowledged as a major factor in conflict escalation (Azar, 2002; Burton, 1990). The indigenous strategies espoused by the umunna and the age grades make the second case for indigenous conflict management, that is, it facilitates local participation. This is complementary to Danso and Osei-Tutu’s “homegrown solutions to homegrown crises” (see final chapter in the section on Ghana). In concluding the chapter, Amadi and Agena reiterate the fact that “modern strategies are failing to contain local conflicts due largely to wrong approaches and poor grasp of the dynamics of local conflicts.” While not calling for a devaluation of modern approaches to local conflicts, they advocate for the incorporation of indigenous conflict resolution strategies to achieve more comprehensive solutions to intrastate conflicts. Emmanuel Chukwuma Duru, Silk Ogbu, and Ifeanyi F. Didiugwu continue the discourse on Igbo society with the chapter “Communication and Conflict Management in Igbo Traditional Society.” The authors provide insight into how communication channels in traditional Igbo societies were used to effectively prosecute indigenous conflict management techniques in the past and how these societies were able to create and maintain social order in an acephalous society. Communication, they argue, forms the basis of all conflicts and “it is at the heart of most conflict management efforts in any society.” It provides the platform for conflicting parties to ventilate pent-up emotions that often aggravate conflict. Duru, Ogbu, and Didiugwu mention and describe the modes of communication that are used in conflict resolution in Igbo society including specific trees with cultural significance, verbal communication through incantation, invocation, prayer, oath taking, and rituals. These have been very effective in addressing indigenous conflict; relegating them to the basket of history will create a vacuum that modern conflict management approaches cannot fill. To avert this lacuna, Duru, Ogbu, and Didiugwu like Amadi and Agena in the previous chapter, argue in conclusion that conflict resolution and peacebuilding will be better served if practitioners of the modern and the indigenous conflict management work in tandem.

Introduction

13

Occupying the third chapter in this section is a piece that questions the relevance of the dead in the affairs of the living. Olutayo C. Adesina aptly answers this core question using the phenomenon of ilepa among the Yoruba of Western Nigeria. Thus, he shifts the discourse on Nigeria from Igboland to Yorubaland. The ilepa, a piece of earth from an orori (burial mounds belonging to ancestors or deceased members of particular families) “is an age-old conflict resolution mechanism” that addresses conflict holistically. Unfortunately, its importance, potency, and relevance have not been recognized due largely to the introduction of modern conflict resolution mechanisms and the proliferation of new religions such as Christianity and Islam in Yorubaland. In spite of this, Adesina explains that “Shrines, forests, burial mounds, crossroads, entrances, and other places have remained significant in the universe of the Yoruba.” These cultural artifacts, coupled with the strong filial relationships that exist between the living and the dead, feed into Yoruba folkways and mores. Social order in Yorubaland is dictated by laws that are couched within the confines of the spirit world. This explains the resilience of indigenous conflict resolution mechanisms in Yorubaland. Concluding the chapter, Adesina affirms the relevance of the dead among the living; he also holds, among other recommendations, that in the face of mounting challenges posed by modernity, the introduction and promotion of ADR mechanisms should be heightened. Lérè Adéy mí continues the Yoruba discourse with an interesting chapter captioned “Indigenous Methods in Conflict Resolution: The Example of Yoruba Society.” Using a descriptive approach, he identifies various types of conflict and narrows the discussion down to conflict resolution strategies in Yorubaland. He engages various Western theories including structural, realist, innate, and frustration–aggression to explain the general causes of conflict. Beyond this, Adéyemí settles on the traditional view of the causes of conflict in Yoruba society. According to Yoruba oral tradition, conflict started when humans deviated from the rules and regulations which Olodumare (Almighty God) had formulated for them. Thus conflict in Yoruba society is viewed as the cause of man’s own moral turpitude. This traditional view is symbolized by the mythical personality of Esu who is illustrated “as the mischief maker” and the first person to have disobeyed Olodumare. Like the devil in the Bible and Quran, Esu is believed to be the architect and orchestrator of all conflicts and “sins” in Yoruba society. Adéyemí extends the discussion to the levels of conflict in Yoruba society, namely, domestic, community, national, and global. Traditional approaches are effectively used to settle family and community conflicts without recourse to violence. Adéyemí recommends that conflict resolution practitioners at the global level should imbibe the Yoruba traditional approaches as lessons to enable them to resolve national and global conflicts effectively.

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“Sparks of Resistance, Flames of Change: Orature in Reconciliation and Conflict Management among the Yoruba” by Olusola George Ajibade provides another dimension to indigenous conflict management strategies among the Yoruba. He analyzes the role of Yoruba orature, especially their folklore in conflict resolution and management. Ajibade maintains that proverbs, satire, and various genres are strategies that elders in Yoruba society apply in conflict resolution. He explains that “oral literature is not just an instrument for aesthetic pleasure of the hearers, it is also a force for reconciliation, interpersonal, and cross-cultural understanding.” Oral genres are weapons of cultural indoctrination, the ultimate purpose of which is the preservation of group identity, maintenance of peace, and harmony within the society. Ajibade argues that the power of orature in conflict resolution transcends all levels of conflict in Yoruba society, namely, family, economy, chieftaincy, social, and religious conflicts. Conflict in Yoruba society goes beyond the physical into the realm of the spiritual and oral literature is not only present in the two spheres, but it is also effective as a strategy in resolving and managing the inherent conflicts. Ajibade concludes that in light of the omnipresence of oral literature, relegating it to the background will create a gap in conflict resolution and management. Post-Amnesty Niger Delta engages the attention of Willie Aziegbe Eselebor in his chapter on Nigeria. Eselebor focuses on the imbalances in the amnesty approach to resolving the intractable conflict in the Niger Delta and the need for the application of African indigenous conflict approaches as a prospect for peace in the region. He points out that the amnesty approach to the problem focused exclusively on Western strategies (directed from outside) without recourse to indigenous conflict strategies. Consequently, communities in post-amnesty Niger Delta view resolution activities directed from outside as unresponsive to indigenous concepts of justice and reconciliation. The communities prefer to resolve the Niger Delta conflicts within their jurisdiction, considering the cultural dynamics epitomized by the web of relationships that bind them together. However, Eselebor holds the view that even the application of the best conflict resolution strategies may not bring lasting peace to the region without the federal government consciously addressing the underlying socio-political problems that continue to plague the region. Writing in the same vein but differing in depth and assessment of impact of the federal government’s amnesty program in the Niger Delta, Severus Ifeanyi Odoziobodo and Ifeanyi F. Didiugwu opine that though the amnesty program cannot be said to have solved all the problems in the region, “it is an unprecedented action in the history of political engineering in Nigeria.” As they put it, “the offer was a masterstroke in terms of giving Niger Deltans a sense of belonging in the Nigerian project,” among other positive outcomes. Odoziobodo and Didiugwu trace the causes of the conflict and the militancy

Introduction

15

of the Niger Delta youth to the socioeconomic and political deprivations that resulted from the oil exploration and exploitation by multinational companies in collaboration with the Nigerian government. Clement O. O. Kolawole and Toluwalope O. Kolawole lower the curtain on the Nigeria section with a chapter that discusses conflicts in tertiary institutions of Nigeria. Writing under the title “Alternative Dispute Resolution Strategies, Undergraduate Student Union Leaders, and Conflict Management in Selected Tertiary Institutions in Ibadan,” Kolawole and Kolawole reveal that tertiary institutions in Nigeria are replete with conflicts between tertiary students’ union leaders and tertiary institutions management teams. These conflicts, which are often violent, arise from laws and policies which students deem inimical to their interests. These violent conflicts have often led to loss of lives, wanton destruction of property in a whole community, general insecurity, and political instability, among others. No doubt, these conflicts have been a bane to the development of manpower as a major objective of tertiary education. Using the 2008 Ibadan University conflict resolution approach in which both students and management approached the issues with honesty, Kolawole and Kolawole advocate for building “alternative conflict resolution mechanism into the lexicon of university management.” When this is done, they are optimistic that campuses in Nigeria “would soon be returned to the part of a peaceful and stable academic environment.” The closing country case under consideration in this volume is that of Cameroon, a bipartisan nation that bridges French, German, and British coloniality as well as the regionalisms of west and central Africa. As such, Cameroon is a critical location, context, and lynchpin to continue considering the value of African indigenous conflict management’s role in a contemporary world that already exports sophisticated models for controlling, transforming, managing, preempting, resolving, deterring, mitigating, lessening, and negotiating conflict. Henry Kam Kah’s chapter explores the role of the ethical (and even spiritual) reprimand known as beitonghekeh among the Laimbwe of Cameroon. Lasting peace is inclusive peace. Therefore, beitonghekeh is literally a gathering of the community (male and female) that was moderated by community leaders to discuss “security, stability, peace, justice, and food self-sufficiency.” Children also gathered in this space to be taught “tradition, custom, and history” by the community elders. Beitonghekeh was also the sites of hospitality where outsiders could find food, lodging, and entertainment within a Laimbwe community. As a communal and public space, rallies, protests, masquerades, and initiations were commonly held there. “The significance of the beitonghekeh was that it provided the Laimbwe people with an opportunity to come together, discuss common issues affecting them, and socialize.” Collective adjudication by the village head and an inter-lineal

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council of elders discreetly investigated and determined guilt at the beitonghekeh as well, which led to a dismissal, public reprimand, fine, flogging, or in extreme cases, exile. Cases included witchcraft, adultery, or other heinous crimes deemed deplorable to the community writ large. This localized judicial approach allowed the accused to both plead their case and, if found guilty, to pay a fine or provide restitution in some other fashion directly to the members of their own community. This institution helped create the “durable peace” of the Laimbwe. With the influence of the German and British colonial systems, Christianity, and Western education, however, the beitonghekeh is now in decline and considered redundant to many. Instead, villagers are encouraged by the state to take their complaints to “officially” sanctioned village councils and customary courts. “The greatest impact of the decline of the beitonghekeh” according to Kah is “that instead of collective moral censure” individuals can now negotiate their cases in secret, losing the “veritable institution of moral censure” that is the beitonghekeh. “Indigenous Peacemaking among the Banso People of Cameroon: Bonyang as a Conflict Resolution System” by Solomon Losha and Stephen Ojong Agbor is an anthropological investigation of the Nso kingdom located in the Bamenda grassfield of the northwestern province of Cameroon. More than 200,000 Banso people rely on the Bonyang System to maintain “community peace, community education, and institutional stability.” Class and cultural divisions are sources of conflict along with an “absolutist view” that invites conflict with neighboring groups. According to Losha and Agbor, the Banso thrive on the “abnegation of otherness, thus inciting social conflicts.” Since conflict abounds in Banso society, a family traditional council system emerged at the village level to promote peace. These Bonyangs now operate at two levels, the village level through traditional councils of elders made up of lineage heads and the palace level presided over by the king or fon assisted by notable advisors. In Nso kingdom, conflict invites natural and spiritual disaster and must be resolved quickly to diminish consequences. The ancestors are responsible for ensuring “peace and progress” within society. Therefore, conflict disrupts social harmony. Lineage elders or heads represent the litigants by presenting their cases to the Bonyang after an investigation is carried out. The parties then speak their case to the presiding authorities, the public, and the “gods of the land.” Again, similar to Kah’s previous chapter, this judicial process involves public shaming of the conflicting parties; they are socially admonished “irrespective of who caused the conflict” for disturbing “the peace and harmony of the society.” Both offended and offender are responsible for providing some form of compensation on the “day of reconciliation.” Ultimate compensation is provided through the lineage proxy to the offended party. The entire family seeks forgiveness from the wronged, his or her family, and the entire community at large. Attendant women then sing

Introduction

17

about “how beautiful, how honorable, and how great it is to forgive” before the disputants symbolically reconcile and speak their intent and willingness to forgive one another, thus restoring social harmony, which is signified by a feast reinforcing the Banso group cohesion. Achankeng Fonkem examines the hierarchical Nweh society in the final chapter on Cameroon. Fonkem explores how “intercultural capacity” can be built through third-party roles, in this case, the bekem, who are responsible for policing, mediating, and reconciling conflicting Nweh, the largest ethnic group in the southwest region of Cameroon. Bekem are nobles within Nweh society responsible for directly fostering “peace and harmony.” Peacemaking is comprehensive and non-adversarial, similar to the previous chapters discussed; in other words, personal relationships are called upon to help settle disputes. The Bekem act as a judicial group and as advisors to the chief or king as respected members of traditional society. They have a privileged position from which to view, pass judgment, and conciliate conflict cases for the good of their society. Fonkem shows that the bekem emphasize “trust, community, and harmony in relationships.” Fonkem concludes by emphasizing that the deep roots of cultural practices continue to be significant including the power of ritual to enact closure. His remarks reemphasize the importance of a volume such as this in which many cultural “survivals” and cultural “inventions” related to conflict management are shown to play important roles in maintaining functioning societies throughout the continent. Several authors also show that it is through cooperation between both indigenous and contemporary approaches to conflict management that hope for resolving serious conflict can emerge. These illustrations, examples, approaches, critiques, and models, whether based on custom and tradition or recently invented, offer practitioners around the world options for their toolkits when it comes to trying to solve complex conflict-related problems that inhabit diverse environments and stem from historically and culturally based contexts. Only by understanding the specific histories, traditions, and cultures that helped fashion creative forms of indigenous conflict managements, can we hope to harness their theoretical and practical power for understanding and resolving conflict around the world. It is in the concluding chapter by Jesse J. Benjamin and Akanmu G. Adebayo that the deep implications of epistemic diversity for conflict management are considered holistically; they ask, what is at stake when customary systems of thought and action are recentered? They begin by distilling indigenous conflict management strategies as experiential, gerontocratic, conciliatory, ritualistic, immediate, cost effective, contextual, and localized. These features are rooted in cultural traditions, which are in turn rooted in African systems of thought. The difficulty for many Western scholars in

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trying to grasp this path to restorative conflict management is that it seems to hold fast to a seeming contradiction as both deeply rooted in society and simultaneously highly fluid and flexible in approaches and outcomes. “But these [paths to restorative conflict management] have been severely overlaid by the colonial grid, forming a series of multivariate cultural amalgams that form the starting place for any conversation of this kind.” Similar to the Anambra State case in Nigeria discussed in the chapter where community shrines were coopted for nefarious political wrangling, the results of syncretic conflict management can be coopted to bring about discord or harmonized to bolster effectiveness and offer alternatives in the resolution of conflict. Thus, Benjamin and Adebayo explore both the efficacy and the challenges of turning up the volume on “African voices and modes of formulating conflict resolution dynamics” while also seeking to “find a better balance between the two broad streams of thought” (i.e., Western and African). They ultimately conclude that a recentering is in order where the largely untapped epistemological resources of the many (i.e., the “bottom billion” or the Global south) can create a more effective global balance where conflict management and resolution is the responsibility of all, not the plight of a few. Beyond Right and Wrong pushes the boundaries of the discourse on indigenous knowledge. The work defines, characterizes, and explains indigenous conflict management strategies. It provides several examples and case histories of indigenous conflict management strategies in West Africa, particularly in Ghana, Nigeria, and Cameroon. The book critically evaluates indigenous conflict management strategies with a view to determining their effectiveness in the context of the history, of the ethnic group, or of the broader regional contexts, and their relevance and adaptability in contemporary contexts. This book takes a scholarly approach, avoiding romanticizing or idealizing indigenous conflict management strategies in West Africa. It develops a set of mechanisms by which the best elements of indigenous knowledge and skills in conflict management may be deployed to settle contemporary disputes, and made portable for adoption and adaptation by other complex societies in the region and beyond. NOTE 1. This manuscript takes an expanded view of West Africa to include Cameroon— which is typically classified with Central Africa. This is both for convenience and to take advantage of the cultural and historical connections between English-speaking Western Cameroon and its immediate neighbor, Nigeria, in precolonial and colonial times.

Part I

GENERAL AND CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORKS

Chapter 2

Conflicts in Africa Negotiating Space for Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies in the Contemporary Age Olutayo C. Adesina

The capacity of the modern world to understand the roots of conflict and to manage these conflicts has become severely circumscribed. Today, an overwhelming majority of the countries in the Western hemisphere and their sympathizers are united in the “obsolescence of old world approaches” to resolving conflict. The modern world has therefore failed to take advantage of opportunities available to it from a multiplicity of approaches in the “old world.” For instance, the African continent has, for centuries, served as a laboratory for experimenting with different conflict management strategies. As the site of both small- and large-scale conflict and violence of every kind, Africans have adopted both formal and informal, traditional and modern mechanisms and processes to search for enduring solutions to these intractable problems. Some of these have worked well and some have failed. Thus, through its tried and trusted traditional conflict management strategies, and based on the world’s continued search for strategies for managing conflict despite the development of a rash of donor-driven Western-moderated approaches, it is important that the continent’s traditional (indigenous) tools and mechanisms of managing conflict are not relegated to the background in the task of searching for peace, facilitating dialogue, and promoting justice and equity in a global age. INTRODUCTION Africa’s own experience and achievements could teach nothing: it was “only evil and evil continually.” And this was a lesson that gathered behind 21

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it the full force of whatever the outside world, with all its technical skills and military power, seemed able to teach (Davidson, 2000[1992], p. 43). The conflict in northern Uganda has been shown to be part of the chronic “conflict corridor” traversing the Horn and Great Lakes Region of Africa, and is a manifestation of the “new wars” that have tormented sub-Saharan Africa. Conflict research has generated the concept of “new wars,” based on examination of the mode of warfare, the goals and the resource bases of the conflicts encountered in Angola, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), Liberia, Somalia, Sudan, Uganda, and elsewhere. Africa is seen to be witnessing wars which thrive on primordial social-ethnic identities and metaphysical belief systems and seemingly by implication, lack clear-cut ideological agendas. The goals are characterized as bizarre, irrational, and even crazy. Often the same characterization is extended to the leaderships themselves (Latigo, 2008, p. 93). This chapter is based on the premise that there is now a global agenda of interdependence in the development of conflict management strategies. There is a complex change arising in which “among other things, from the supersession of the conception of societies and cultures as distinct, unified islands by the conception of them as pragmatic demarcations of large-scale units within a complex and fluid field of practices, discourses, and institutions change” (Schatzki, 2003, p. 1). This change constitutes a favorable juncture at which to interrogate the conviction that human life is sociohistorically constituted. From that assumption, the work then explores and explains how and why African conflict management strategies can and should be granted a pedestal in contributing to the search for an enduring global peace and well-being. This work is also predicated on certain fundamental assumptions. First, it is important to stress that although conflicts are not confined to Africa, the continent has for centuries served as a laboratory for experimenting with different conflict management strategies. So Africa has become an expert of sorts. Second, as the site of both small- and large-scale conflict and violence of every kind, occasioned by mistrust and revenge, different parts of Africa have adopted both formal and informal, traditional and modern mechanisms and processes to search for enduring solutions to these intractable problems. Africa is a continent with vast human and material resources. It also has well-established customs and traditions that have combined to make it a continent that had for centuries lived up to its extraordinary promise of being home to profound human values and beliefs not found anywhere else in the world. Unfortunately, the most notable narratives about Africa that have survived are those that paint the continent in a gloomy light. These often-subjective interpretations of history and events have in turn produced socio-critical commentaries distributed widely by the media outlets of the



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advanced world. While precolonial European explorers and adventurers portrayed the deep African past as static, primitive, and populated by semihuman barbarians (Hall, 1993, p. 177), their modern compatriots have been equally critical of the pace and patterns of development in the postindependence period. The immediate consequences of these portrayals were obvious. The continent for a long time remained outside the realm of the civilized world in the consciousness of people. Therefore, to various scholars and commentators, Africa remained a metaphor of bestiality and retrogression. Fortunately, there are those who were able to see beyond the web of myth that had enveloped Africa for centuries. Quoted in Gilbert and Reynolds (2011, p. xxi), the eminent British historian Basil Davidson argued that “far from being a kind of Museum of Barbarism whose populations had stayed outside the laws of human growth and change through some natural failing or inferiority, Africa is now seen to possess a history which demands as serious an approach as that of any other continent” (1991). At the beginning of the twenty-first century, the realization had become pronounced that if human progress was to be sustainable, the human race must transform the surviving aspects of our cultural heritage—customs, beliefs, and practices—into something more relevant to the global age. The contemporary search for conflict management strategies resonates with the desire to adopt a more inclusive approach to the management of conflict in a global age. Obviously aware of the potentials of the more humane and timetested indigenous approaches and cultures in resolving thorny issues in the contemporary world, African scholars and practitioners began to call for a more inclusive approach in advancing the course of humanity. Olurode and Olusanya (2005) have succinctly put this: The realization that if human development is to be sustainable, then it cannot afford to ignore or relegate cultural heritage to the background has now dawned on the global community and its key institutions. The talk about human capital in development is about the role of culture in human development. Culture simply does not give way or become obliterated on coming in contact with the west nor are the western ways or views more superior. (p. 1)

The foregoing gives an indication that humans in the global age are now even more attuned to the desirability of extending the frontiers of cooperation and human well-being. The conviction is so extensive that despite the widespread nature of contemporary globalization, it is still exclusionary. But, we remain assured that the phenomenon of globalization “describe[s] a process, not an end-state” (Habermas, 2001, p. 66). Since it is a work in progress, it has continued to

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embrace and manage all forms of products and perspectives. This is because the deepening of social relations and institutions across space and time are also increasingly influencing events and processes happening on the other side of the globe. In this atmosphere, those practices and decisions of local groups or communities can and do have significant global reverberations (Held, 1995, p. 20; see also Held et al., 1999, p. 15). This thinking is expressive of a commitment to the connectedness of the human race. In essence, there now seems to be an overall concern for understanding other societies (or cultures). Conflict is an inevitable aspect of human interaction (Zartman, 1997, p. 197). But the dynamics of contemporary conflict, the spirals of violence, and the knowledge of growth and decay, compel us to secure, understand, and adopt useable mechanisms and strategies provided by different parts of the world in managing conflicts. Effective conflict management and resolution processes assist parties in conflict to develop improved relations and reach mutually beneficial and lasting solutions that meet the basic needs, interests, and aspirations of the concerned parties (Okolie-Osemene, 2011, p. 2). Our humanness and our identity as stakeholders in the global age therefore endorse, without any qualification the need to act collectively. It is this collective humanity that gives bold expression to the oneness of nature and to man’s natural need for freedom from fear. The existence of largescale violence—from the so-called clash of civilizations to ethnically driven and politically manipulated violence (Latigo, 2008, p. 65), religious crises, interethnic and intra-ethnic conflicts, and even isolated cases of cattle raiding and struggle over water resources—have continued to create acute tension in different parts of the world. All these have made the search for strategies to manage conflict one of great importance. In other words, the prevalence of these conflicts in the last two decades or so has made the search for conflict management strategies a compelling mission. Thus, based on its experiences, the African continent, which has garnered so much skill in conflict management, is indeed in a position to contribute to the world stock of conflict management strategies. History and logic appear to be on the side of multiculturalism in the search for enduring conflict management strategies. Several questions are however apposite here. First, is it appropriate to speak of “generalizable” conflict management strategies? This becomes valid when it is recognized that the world is made up of peoples of diverse historical and sociocultural backgrounds and as such, the solutions to the problems they face must of necessity be unique to their peculiar cultural and political conditions (Farawe & Britto, 2012, p. 96). Second, and as is often claimed by pessimists, can anything good come out of Africa? Third, does globalization give room for inclusiveness and self-expression? All of



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these questions have become valid when it is realized that in spite of the seeming “flatness of the world” (see Friedman, 2005), global relations are sometimes characterized by tension, mistrust, and exclusion. Momoh (2009) has adumbrated this: When the claims of Fukuyama, Huntington, and Friedman are taken together, they provide an interesting context for the discourse on globalization and how to situate Africa in it. The first clear indication of the new ideology of globalism is that there is no alternative way of viewing the world outside the (neo) liberal paradigm. And this is so accepted by neo-liberals because events in Eastern Europe had proved so. The clear implication of this claim is that it is mundane and archaic for anybody to lay claim to any alternative worldview; there is only one world and it is Western and neo-liberal. Globalization, viewed from whatever perspective, begins with this ideological and political assumption. (p. 17)

I challenge some of the cultural and theoretical ideas that undergird relations in the contemporary world and emphasize that dominant ideologies imposed by the West have often led to the uncontested adoption of Western-oriented approaches in conflict management. Consideration must be given to viable alternatives and tools emanating from other parts of the globe. The relegation of these alternatives has often confused or limited the capacities of other parts of the world in coming forward with credible and useable alternative approaches. CAN WE SPEAK OF AFRICAN CONFLICT-SOLVING MECHANISMS? There is no doubt that over the years, Africa has sustained a culture of impunity bolstered by years of endemic corruption and dictatorship. It was a continent in which political, economic, and social factors reinforced acute social dislocation. What then comes to mind every time Africa is mentioned is “problems” rather than “solutions to any problems.” For instance, the whole world watched in horror as the Hutu during an extraordinary tragedy hacked down almost a million of their Tutsi compatriots in an unprecedented genocide in 1994 (Prunier, 2008). There are rival militias daily shooting at each other in the Democratic Republic of Congo; virulent xenophobia that gripped several townships and pitched South Africans against their African guests in the cities of Johannesburg, Durban, and Cape Town in May and June 2008; the recent Libyan crisis; constant deadly conflicts between Christians and Muslims in Nigeria and deadly Boko Haram insurgency; and separatist tendencies of the

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gun-wielding nomadic Tuaregs of Mali, effervescence of the Al-Qaeda in the Maghreb, and of Al Shabbab in Somalia. Africa does not suggest itself as a continent that has all of the solutions to its own problems or for other parts of the world. Make the challenges worse, the continent is bedeviled by a plethora of other problems such as debilitating disease. According to Ali A. Mazrui (2000): The disease is Africa being at the bottom of the global heap, with the Western world at the top. Africa has the largest percentage of poor people, the largest number of low income countries, the least developed economies, the lowest life expectancy, the most fragile political systems, and is the most vulnerable continent to HIV and AIDS . . . . What is more, the Western world created the international caste system which reduced Africans to the “Untouchables” or Harijans of global injustice. (p. 6)

He further affirmed, “Africa has mineral wealth which is exploited for the benefit of others, fertile land which is under-cultivated, rich cultures which are being destroyed, and brain power which is being ‘drained’ to other parts of the world” (Mazrui, 2000, p. 6). He concluded his exposition with a question: How will Africans get out of this condition in the twenty-first century? From the foregoing, what then is left for Africa to contribute? If the continent is that impoverished and its vitality is being sucked out, if its rich cultures are being destroyed and her brain power is being drained to other parts of the world, then the continent may be too weak and disoriented to be able to provide succor to the world in any respect. That position may, however, turn out to be a hasty conclusion as it betrays an understanding of several other giant strides being made to provide a useful template for managing conflicts and also to make the continent a productive part of the civilized world. In recent years, Africa has been undergoing significant changes that open up a new vista for the understanding of the continent and its roles and position in the global age. From that perspective, the attempt to build that bridge of understanding both within the continent and between the continent and the other parts of the world must be based on a cultural approach. This is informed by James Ojera Latigo’s position: Cultural norms and values which are often at the core of human development and informed co-existence are founded and bonded on specific sets of principles that guide human behaviour in favourable ways. Resort to culture should therefore not be seen through the lenses that depict primitive undertones but rather in such a way as to identify the values that will be useful to humanity. (2008, p. 85)

This is even more appropriate in light of developments in the aftermath of the Cold War. Although the “why” and “how” of conflict vary from place to



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place, for Adebayo Adedeji, the hands of the past are inevitably present in many of the conflicts in different parts of the world: Throughout the world, conflicts are the consequence of the “fear of the future,” lived through the past. It is the collective fear of the future based on a history of social uncertainty, due to the failure of the state to arbitrate justly between or provide credible guarantees of protection for groups, resulting in emerging anarchy and societal fractures. Understanding the origins of conflict means, therefore, developing a framework for comprehending: (i) how the various causes of conflicts fit together and interact; (ii) which among them are the dominant forces at a particular moment in time; and (iii) what policies and strategies should be crafted to address these causes in the short, medium and long term. (1999, p. 10)

Culture has crucial implications for human progress. Iṣọla writes: It is that intangible aspect of cultural heritage that sustains the tangible aspect because it is the intangible through stories, folktales, proverbs, idioms, taboos, and poetry, that teaches those valuable ideas as dignity, hope, sense of duty, hard work, faithfulness, accountability, transparency, honour and other humane qualities. (2010, p. 29)

In 1993, Samuel Huntington, in an article in the influential American journal Foreign Affairs, had argued that conflicts after the Cold War would be less and less between states and ideological blocs and more and more between civilizations and coalitions of culture (see also Mazrui, 2000, p. 8). As much as one would not want to be drawn into the pros and cons of the argument, I will argue that many of the conflicts experienced in the last decade or so were neither interstate conflicts nor major superpower spats, but internal convulsions based on the redefinition of society’s structures of power, appropriation, and exploitation. Several of the conflicts emanating in the post-Cold War period are therefore rooted in ethnic rivalry and hegemony, acts of political brigandage, and reprisal attacks (Abaagye & Bah, 2005, p. 281). Other conflicts revolve around minority rights (Obi, 2001, p. 51), self-determination, and fiscal federalism, all of which are sometimes characterized by intense violence. Based on these, several conflict outcomes have emphasized certain aspects such as development, equity, and social justice. In the last decade or two, several societies that have experienced violent conflicts had been torn between trying to recreate social harmony and making efforts to punish perpetrators of social convulsions and human rights’ abuses. This chapter does not offer a continent-wide experience in conflict management. I merely hope to draw examples from successful strategies derived from different parts of

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the continent. In spite of that, Africa stands a good chance in providing the template for resolving conflict in a profound and orderly manner. Partly because of the continent’s history and the experiences of its people generally, African perspectives on any issue have not received the deserved attention. From the period of European contact with Africa, there appeared a deep suspicion of the capacity of the African people to develop profound structures and institutions capable of enhancing human civilization. There is no evidence that this suspicion has been rolled back significantly. With Africa rediscovering its potentials, there now appears a new optimism on the side of Africans that they are in a position to contribute in significant ways to the making of the modern world. One of the ways in which the continent may contribute to global development is in lending to the world usable mechanisms of conflict management. Thus, based on the foregoing, a contemporary African scholar has argued that the continent is capable of providing the framework for creating viable solutions to the problems facing the contemporary world. The continent, he argued, “is capable, under certain conditions of providing the outside world with an inspiring new dimension of philosophic thought and emancipative actions especially within the purview of justice and dispute resolution and reconciliation . . . it is another aspect of Africa which can be harnessed to foster African solution to global problems” (Jegede, 2011, p. 4). AFRICAN CONFLICT MANAGEMENT STRATEGIES There appears to be a fundamental lack of understanding of the complexity that attends African conflicts and conflict management strategies in a globalizing world. Knowledge of African values and beliefs has continued to shrink and vanish due to inadequate attention being paid to them. The outcome is a wrong diagnosis and prescription. Conflict management strategies and mechanisms can be considered an appropriate lens through which we can view the shifting dynamics of the global age. Culturally speaking, Africans see peace as a state of cooperation, freshness, well-being, harmony, and tranquility (Okolie-Osemene, 2011, p. 2). In traditional African society, the criminal justice systems promote compensation, restitution, and arbitration. These among others form alternatives to imprisonment. A major question linked to this is, should Western approaches be the sole or major strategy in a world that is desperately looking for peace, order, harmony, and friendship? This question is valid because the prevailing structures leave little room for an analysis of persisting structures. In traditional African societies, certain principles, which relate to kinship, equitable distribution of justice, and maintenance of law and order are



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observed in the process of resolving conflicts. The Yoruba of southwest Nigeria have developed age-old mechanisms for preventing, managing, or resolving conflict. Such mechanisms, however, are based on the traditional cultural values of trust, justice, fairness, kinship, and affinity. Kinship was and has remained a very important factor in Yoruba social relations. These have for example received attention in Akiwowo’s (1983) derivative concepts of ajobi (family) and alajobi (society/kinship) (Makinde, 1988, p. 1). Many of the problems associated with conflict are used by the Yoruba to establish, sustain, or reaffirm kinships and affinal relationships not only among the living but also between the living and the ancestors. In this way, the dead have continued to play a crucial role in human affairs. The concept of alajobi (society/kinship) has over the years played a crucial role in conflict management and resolution efforts in Nigeria. This has been succinctly explained by Akinjogbin within the ebi (kins) framework: The smallest social unit among the Yoruba is the Ebi. The Ebi is a much larger version of the Euro-American mini family and includes everyone who can be traced to be related by blood, no matter how far removed in time and space. What is more, it includes the dead ancestors whose remains are buried inside the house and who are regarded as being constantly present with and watching over their living part of the family. It also includes the unborn children who are sometimes regarded as incarnations of departed ancestors. What binds the people together is blood relationship which is regarded as being stronger than any other connection . . . . Every activity that any Yoruba man performs, in civil, military, economic or spiritual affairs, is performed within this Ebi circuit . . . the belief being that whatever good or ill befalls any member of the Ebi befalls all. (2002, p. 116)

To the Yoruba therefore, the philosophy that undergirds their total existence remains immutable and this has no doubt contributed to the stock of strategies available in conflict situations. Suggestive of the following is that every opportunity must be explored in managing conflict with the context of people who share a common vision for corporate life and shared interests within a cultural or geographical location (Albert, 2001). UNDERSTANDING WOMEN’S AGENCY IN AFRICAN CONFLICT MANAGEMENT The role of women intervention in conflict management is central to an understanding of African mechanisms for managing conflicts. Women are directly or indirectly affected by conflict. It has been variously affirmed by scholars and peace activist that during conflicts, women and children suffer

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the most casualties (African Union, 2013). Since nature and tradition have combined to build the capacity of women to play active and visible roles in conflict management, they have been known to use this approach in parts of the Niger Delta since 2002 (Oriola, 2012) and in Yorubaland to stave off anarchy. As mothers, wives, and friends, the deployment of their anatomical resources most especially through the baring of breasts in cultures where it was regarded as taboo for angry mothers to do so have had the capacity to significantly roll back the course of conflict. In her work entitled “Amazons Go to War without Weapons: Women and the Conflict in Escravos, Niger Delta,” Joy Ngozi Ezeilo (2007) has documented the involvement of women in conflict management by intervening in a conflict that was hitherto male-dominated. Women intervention in July 2002 in the Escravos area of Nigeria set a new dimension in conflict management that was later to spread among the Ijaw, Ilaje, and Itsekiri women. It was conducted in a nonviolent and dialogic manner. The bare-breasted approach to conflict management has resurfaced in the northern town of Kafanchan, Kaduna State, Nigeria where communal bloodshed led to nonsensical curfews imposed on the area by the Kaduna State government. A national tabloid reported the episode in the following way: Hundreds of women in Kafanchan and surrounding villages, on hearing the news, took to the streets bare-breasted to protest the killing and the incessant attacks on their villages. They also deplored what they regarded as the failure of the security agents to protect them and at the same time busy arresting their children. The protesters demanded the immediate release of those in security detention. An eye witness told The Nation on the phone that the protesting women “are coming from Kafanchan town, Kanikon village, Ungwan Rimi, Katsit, Takau, Ungwan Masrara and other villages around Kafanchan on foot. I don’t know who is coordinating them. But I can see that they are not wearing any clothes over their chest. I have never seen this kind of thing in my life. “They are singing Christian funeral songs and carrying placards. They are saying that soldiers are killing their youths and raping their daughters. They say that soldiers are aiding and abetting the attacks on their communities by Fulani gunmen. They say they don’t want any soldier in Southern Kaduna again.” (Akowe, 2011)

UGANDA AND THE USE OF THE INDIGENOUS MORAL ORDER Traditional leaders and elders, based on their cultural roles have provided guidance for the pursuit of peace in Uganda. The mechanism adopted not only contributed to peace efforts, but also played a vital role in Acholi traditional reconciliation processes in preparing the community to receive



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former combatants (Afako, 2006). In Uganda where the struggle for power has for years generated the rise of ethnically based fighting, the creation of some unique mechanisms of conflict management is remarkable. The most devastating and enduring of the conflicts is the one playing out in Northern Uganda through Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). The government tried to play down the problem as the action of terrorists supported by opportunists. Propaganda therefore became the ammunition for shooting down or preempting understanding and explanations of the rebel’s viewpoints, political agenda, and programs (Latigo, 2008). The government has tried the iron fist approach to end the rebellion, but this failed abysmally. This led the Parliament in 2002 to pass the Amnesty Act of 2000, establishing the Amnesty Commission to facilitate the return and reintegration of excombatants into civil or army life. The sense of betrayal felt by the people of the region has made them suspicious of any overtures from the government to end the crisis in the region. However, in order to garner popular support, spiritual forces became an extension of politics. Spiritual actors were brought into play to explain events, provide a moral basis for new forms of action, and bring a semblance of moral order. To give teeth to the conflict management of a protracted problem, the traditional system called mato oput was revived in communities affected by conflict, as a central part of the framework for accountability and reconciliation. Mato oput (literally drinking the bitter root) was put together in 2006 as part of the peace process between the government and the LRA. It is regarded as the ritual climax of an Acholi justice process for bringing reconciliation in the wake of homicide, abduction, rape, and sexual enslavement within the community. It reflected the earnest search for alternatives to address the grave crimes that have characterized two decades of war in northern Uganda (Afako, 2006). Like many African communities, the Acholi believe that deep social rifts are caused by killings and require elaborate reconciliation mechanisms to restore fractured relations. Mato oput is performed after a mediated process has brought together two families and clans. The offender accepts responsibility, asks for forgiveness, and must make reparation to the victims. The perpetrator and the victim’s family then share the root drink from a calabash to recall and bury the bitterness of the soured relations. Another Acholi ritual, gomo tong— the bending of spears—symbolizes the ending of hostilities between groups and is also preceded by discussion and truth-telling. Other cleansing rituals are already used to welcome former LRA combatants into the communities. This option, however, is threatened by the war crimes indictments issued by the International Criminal Court for four senior LRA commanders. In spite of the preceding, however, conflict resolution strategies may have become part of the overall hegemony facilitated by globalization and the emergent world order. Globalization has been considered a sweeping strategy

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unleashed by the Western world, which aims at enforcing the continuation of the supremacy of the developed North over the developing South in the global system (Adebayo, Adesina, & Olaniyi, 2010). In the developing world, the challenge now centers on how best to integrate its values and traditions into the world system, in such a manner that these also become useful for the human race. This becomes more obvious when viewed from the fact that modern models of conflict resolution have not shown much significant signs of success in some parts of the world. This development is neglecting the recognition of the alternatives embedded in all other cultures to maximize the potentials of conflict management in the global age. The problems of recurrent conflicts and chaos have now imposed a realization that more practicable models of conflict resolution and conflict management from different parts of the world should be tried. What does Africa have to offer in this respect? The continent has a multiplicity of approaches to offer. Whatever views of Africa that may have developed in the contemporary period could have been reinforced by the age-old view of the continent and its institutions as backward and unprogressive. The African continent has since the decade of independence in the 1960s experienced civil wars, intraand interethnic crises, and disorder of all kinds. But, most of these conflicts were generally handled with modern, Western or so-called conventional approaches in mind. However, it is becoming clear that conflicts in Africa may be a different kind of problem requiring different responses. One major doctrine of conflict mechanisms in Africa is that humans should understand themselves within the context of their relationships not only with their environments, but also with their spiritual realms. COMPARATIVE EPISTEMOLOGY Each society’s view of existence and their social arrangements has been conditioned by centuries of engagement with reality. It is therefore unrealistic to speak of a society’s existence in static terms. Nevertheless, some groups of scholars have tended to regard Africa in static terms. The reasons for these are obvious. According to Akinjogbin (2002), “their basic standard of measurement and judgment is the European society, and therefore, their main interest is in discovering how the different African societies tend to fall short of European norms. Secondly, they treat the concept which they observe at a particular given period as having been the same for all time, unchanging and unchangeable” (p. 105). At this juncture, a major question comes to mind. Is it possible to speak of homogenization and hegemonization—both offshoots of the



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globalization process? Globalization has become a new way of legitimizing the ideas and practices of relations of superiority and inferiority (Adesina, Adebayo, & Olaniyi, 2010, p. 259). The conflation of discourse and hegemony is noticeable in the preeminent position occupied by the works of Euro-American scholars on global conflict discourse. Many European historians and jurists therefore believed that Africans lived in a state of anarchy without laws before the arrival of Europeans. Zeleza spoke about the “epistemic and economic hegemony of the EuroAmerican world system” (2007, p. 88). The discursive politics of conflict management mechanisms has imposed a Euro-American–centered model on the complex world. Conflicts in Africa persist because the epistemological foundations for understanding them remain largely Western. In the territories colonized by the European powers, African criminal law was abolished and the administration of criminal justice systems prescribed crime and punishment statutes. Subjecting the legality of customary criminal systems underscores a correspondingly low level of understanding of African indigenous cultures and values (Olatunbosun, 2011, p. 690). Olatunbosun (2011) referenced the work of Popoola (2010) regarding the need to study a society, its beliefs, customs, and values with a view to bringing out the contributions that these thoughts made and are still capable of making to knowledge (p. 694). It is critical for African scholars on the continent to become more engaged in diaspora studies, to help in mapping out the histories and geographies of African global migrations, dispersals, and diasporas, which are critical to deepening our understanding of both African history and world history for intellectual and ideological reasons, and developmental and cultural considerations (Zeleza, 2007, p. 89). CONCLUSION Threats to cultural identities are now greater than at any time in history (Gilbert, 2006, p. 64). Paradoxically, there is no greater moment in history when culture has become more crucial to human existence than now. I have tried to demonstrate the saliency of the handshake across the globe in the crucially important search for viable and workable conflict management strategies. The fluidity and complexity of multiculturalism, transnationalism, and even multiple identities have energized the need for emotive dialogues and relationships. Every society has its way of looking at existence (Akinjogbin, 2002, p. 104). This shapes and gives direction and meaning to its essence and aspirations. All these are being redefined within the context of the global space. However, a major question remains: in our quest for global citizenship, how should Africa, and African values and ideas find and feel at

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home in the world? I have explored the basic principles that undergird human experience in contemporary Africa. Thus within the context of history and culture, we as members of the human race must begin to understand the need to use our consciousness to help us define our existence and therefore stake a claim to existence in the twenty-first century. There is no doubt that conflicts have usually multiplied in Africa because the mechanisms of conflict management have largely neglected the components of culture and tradition. However, with the development of a common consciousness of human society on a world scale we should begin to invest in and consider traditional but neglected tools to cope with present realities. This will serve as an opportunity to help the contemporary world not only to understand itself, but also to define itself within the context of its tradition and future trajectories. If this position is clear, the African continent must be allowed to contribute its quota to the tools for resolving conflict. Africa’s interface with the world must be constructed on mutual respect. Thus, if we begin to see in a positive light Pliny the Elders’ oft quoted statement, Ex Africa semper aliquid novi (“Out of Africa, always something new”),1 we must then begin to imagine Africa as a land full of not only negative, but also positive possibilities. Cultural norms and values, which are the building blocks of societies, should now be used to set principles that will guide human behavior and understanding in the modern age (i.e., cultural safety nets). In this regard, building trust and expanding the space for local tools of conflict management remains the key to the happiness of the greater number in this age. This is central to local and global understanding in an age of great and profound change. To put this on the front burners, pilot projects using indigenous frameworks of conflict management must be positioned and enhanced as key ingredients for the success of our collective future. NOTE 1. Pliny the Elder (Gaius Plinius Secundus, 23 AD-August 25, 79 AD). The quotation has also been variously attributed to Rabelais, Pliny, Aristotle, and Herodotus. Feinberg and Solodow (2002, p. 255) have examined the different metamorphosis in its meaning and significance.

Chapter 3

Exploring Indigenous Mechanisms for Peacemaking in West Africa Serwaa Brewoo and Mustapha Abdallah

This chapter explores the inter-linkages between indigenous cultures and peacemaking in West Africa. In the past two decades, West Africa had witnessed conflicts in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Cote d’Ivoire among others. While these attracted external interventions aimed at their resolution, other states have creatively transformed conflicts by applying indigenous conflict resolution mechanisms for peace. In West Africa, cultural practices and indigenous third party interventions have contributed to getting conflict parties to agree to negotiate. Similarly, several communal conflicts have been averted through indigenous peacemaking mechanisms. While a myriad of literature abound on contemporary Western-oriented conflict management methods, little documentation of indigenous mechanisms for managing conflicts and restoring peace to communities exist. Using Ghana and Senegal as cases, this chapter examines indigenous mechanisms and their relevance for negotiating peace and resolving conflicts in West Africa, and highlights some of the challenges inherent in the application of such mechanisms. INTRODUCTION Traditional African societies are known to have social systems and structures well suited for conflict resolution and peacemaking. However, the effects of colonization and the influence of modernization seem to have disrupted the functioning of these systems and structures. In the last two decades, Africa has been the epicenter of internal conflicts arising from power struggles, ethnic conflicts, and religious dissensions (Aning & Atta-Asamoah, 2011). West Africa has also witnessed the devastating effects of conflicts in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea, and Cote d’Ivoire. The futility of efforts 35

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to resolve these conflicts necessitated the extensive deployment of international, regional, and subregional intervention forces to halt the violence and seek an end to the conflicts. Between 1991 and 2014, the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) deployed at least seven different United Nations peacekeeping missions to West Africa alone (UN, 2014; Zartman, 2000).1 In addition, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) has intervened in several West African crisis situations (Aning & Atta-Asamoah, 2011). Over the past decade, the UN, regional organizations, and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) have employed various mechanisms to either mediate conflicts or negotiate peace deals, yet conflicts in the region remain impervious to these interventions. Apart from notable conflicts such as the civil wars in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Cote d’Ivoire, many of West Africa’s conflicts are communal and low intensity in nature (Ben-Mensah, 2004). However, they have the tendency to escalate into violent wars. Despite these challenges faced by large international interveners, some communities in Ghana and Senegal have applied indigenous peacemaking mechanisms to creatively transform conflicts and prevent community-level disputes from escalating into violence. Considering the fact that these conflicts had the potential of developing into nationwide civil conflicts, it is imperative to investigate the efficacy of traditional or indigenous peacemaking systems, not as an alternative, but as a complement to Western-oriented approaches to conflict management in West Africa. While a myriad of literature exists on conflict management mechanisms, there is little documentation on traditional and indigenous peacemaking approaches. What does exist needs to be interrogated and the relevant portions integrated into the Western-oriented models to adequately respond to conflicts in the region. The chapter proceeds in five sections. The first section examines the role of culture in dispute resolution and conflict management. Using empirical and desk research from Ghana, the second section discusses the Dagbon conflict, one of the longest-standing conflicts in the northern part of Ghana between two Royal Gates, the Abudus and Andanis. The latest manifestation of the conflict occurred in 2002, which led to the assassination of Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II in Yendi, with outstanding issues regarding the performance of funeral rites of the late Ya-Na Mahamadu IV and Yakubu Andani II at old and new Gbewa palaces (Asiedu, 2008). In an effort to restore peace, Asante’s concepts of conflict resolution are applied in a subsequent section. In section three, the chapter explores joking relationships as an indigenous mechanism in managing the Casamance conflict, with particular reference to the Diola and Serer ethnic groups in Senegal. The fourth section highlights the limitations and challenges associated with traditional and indigenous conflict resolution mechanisms and how best they can be improved upon and be integrated to complement modern and Western-oriented methods of dispute



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resolution and conflict management in Africa; and the final section provides some concluding remarks. CONCEPTUAL UNDERPINNINGS OF THE ROLE OF CULTURE IN DISPUTE RESOLUTION AND CONFLICT MANAGEMENT According to Shonk (2014), negotiating across cultures tends to yield lower outcomes as compared with negotiations conducted within the same culture. This is so because cultures are defined by unique behaviors, communication styles, peculiar traditions, norms, and value systems. The failure to, therefore, acknowledge these differences often results in misunderstandings and a lower likelihood of reaching a common desirable outcome. It should be noted that these common mistakes do not only pertain to business negotiations, but are also translated into international diplomacy and the resolution and management of conflicts, including communal and local conflicts. Isenhart and Spangle (2000) describe conflict as an inescapable part of human life. Deutsch (1977) also affirms that conflict is an inherent part of human existence. If this is true, then it is important that conflicts are understood in their social and cultural contexts, and questions asked about how they can be effectively resolved. From a constructionist perspective of social conflict, people act based on the meaning they ascribe to things and the importance they have for them. As a result, meaning is created through shared and accumulated knowledge (Lederach, 1995). In other words, people from different cultural backgrounds have ways of creating and expressing conflict and in the same way have developed ways of interpreting and resolving their conflicts. This buttresses Lederach’s argument that in understanding conflict and developing appropriate response mechanisms, it is important that these response mechanisms are rooted in and draw on the cultural knowledge of the people. In recent times, scholarly debates on conflict resolution and peacemaking have endorsed the application and the integration of indigenous approaches to dispute resolution and conflict management. For example, the concept of Ubuntu among some South African societies is now being expanded beyond its original scope and extended into national peacemaking structures (Masina, 2000).2 Similarly, the National Peace Council (NPC) of Ghana also represents an innovative concept with indigenous elements. So far, it has been effective in responding to conflict and national crises. In the 2012 elections in Ghana, the NPC played a key role in mediating electoral disputes prior to the declaration of results by the Electoral Commission (EC). At the global level, international institutions and NGOs are also promoting the integration of indigenous knowledge systems and practices into

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development and peacemaking techniques. The World Bank, for instance, has developed a training video on “Building Social Capital through Peacemaking Circles.” This project focuses on indigenous traditional mechanisms for communication and building shared values and consensus for conflict resolution (MacGinty, 2008). Similarly, conflict resolution practitioners and scholars have also highlighted the value and wisdom behind traditional peacemaking techniques such as the Gacaca traditional justice system in Rwanda and the Mato-Oput among the Acholi people of Northern Uganda (Brock-Utne, 2001). In Ghana, anthropological concepts of Asantes’ conflict resolution, namely, Abusua dua, yentwa (a family tree which is the basis of societal formation should not be destroyed) has been advanced as another successful form of indigenous conflict management. In other words, family units should coexist peacefully and not undermine the other expressed through the local concepts of Nkonsonkonson (interdependence) and ese ne takyerema (teeth and tongue), which is discussed in detail in a subsequent section. Spangler (2003) describes dispute resolution as primarily concerned with upholding established social norms which aim to bring a dispute to an end. This is also based on the assumption that disagreements involve negotiable interests and can be settled through negotiation, mediation, or adjudication. Conflict management on the other hand deals with the application of intervention mechanisms aimed at reducing the effects of the conflict such that it becomes more constructive and less destructive to the parties involved (Spangler, 2003). In both cases, the aim of conflict intervention processes are to end violence and to settle the dispute in question, but they do not necessarily deal with fundamental causes. While both approaches adopt problemsolving techniques to resolving conflicts, they however assume that people everywhere reason the same way regardless of their cultural differences (Avruch & Black, 1993). This then leads to the assumption that conflicts, regardless of the social context, can be resolved through negotiation, adjudication, arbitration, or mediation. Within the African context, dispute resolution and conflict management mechanisms often take the form of long-term interventions, which go beyond just resolving the dispute at hand or just finding favorable solutions to a present problem (MacGinty, 2008). They often involve principles and processes aimed at healing and restoring relationships. This perhaps explains why some dispute resolution mechanisms involve elaborate rituals and traditional ceremonies. The objective of dispute resolution and conflict management mechanisms is usually to forge a settlement between disputing parties in anticipation that it will achieve full reconciliation among the conflict parties and establish relationships that are robust enough to forestall future conflicts. This implies that these mechanisms take into account the peculiar setting of



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the conflict as well as the cultural affinity and common social and historical context of the conflict (Osei-Hwedie & Galvin, 2012). Conflicts are not isolated events within a social setting. It is the daily interactions between individuals and communities that give rise to conflict and the form of these interactions vary from one social context to another. It is also the percieved differences which give rise to conflicts. In the same way, just as the root causes of conflicts vary from one context to another, so also do the techniques and principles of conflict resolution and peacemaking. As Osei-Hwedie and Rankopo (2012) suggest, these social contexts within which conflicts may arise include the values and beliefs, fears and suspicions, interests and needs, attitudes and actions, and relationships and networks. Cultural contexts are therefore particularly important to understanding the context and dynamics within which a conflict is situated in the first place before one can attempt any intervention. CONFLICTS AND PEACEMAKING IN GHANA: UNDERSTANDING THE INDIGENOUS ASANTE CONFLICT RESOLUTION CONCEPTS It is not for nothing that comparatively, Ghana has been described as an oasis of stability within an area of chaos and instability. This is in part because Ghanaians have learned to use their cultural values, traits, and attributes, which have contirbuted to peace and stability in the country since independence (Opoku, 2011).3 While the above statement is largely true in the context of West Africa, none of Ghana’s ten administrative regions is immune from one form of conflict or another. In a paper entitled “Identities, Inequalities and Conflicts in Ghana,” Tsikata and Seini (2004) noted that between 1990 and 2004, Ghana recorded over 100 conflicts; however, the frequency of occurrence and intensity of violence varied from one region to the other. In most recorded cases, the three northern regions, namely Northern, Upper West, and Upper East regions led in the frequency of occurrences, including the 1994 ethnic conflict otherwise known as the Guinea Fowl War between the Konkomba and Nanumba ethnic groups; the 2002 Dagbon Chieftaincy crisis between the Andani and Abudu Royal Gates; and the 2008 Bawku crisis between Kusasis and Mamprusis. In the southern part of the country, the Nkonya-Alavanyo conflict over land remains an issue that threatens the peaceful coexistence of the two communities in the Volta Region. These localized conflicts have sometimes assumed a protracted nature with occasional flare-ups of violence (Bukari, 2013). This has negative impacts on local development with the potential of undermining national peace and security. Nevertheless, they are not comparable with other

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countries in the subregion, as conflicts in Ghana do not escalate into levels that require external intervention. Consequently, the assertion that Ghana is relatively stable in a turbulent West Africa is increasingly gaining currency. The following part of this section examines conflict resolution concepts among the Asantes and their utility in the management of the Dagbon crisis.

CONCEPTUALIZING CONFLICT RESOLUTION AMONG THE ASANTE Asante belong to an umbrella ethnic group called the Akan—the largest ethnic group in Ghana.4 According to Adusei Opoku, conflict resolution among the Asante is based on the traditional methods of arbitration in the chief’s court, where arbitrators engage disputing parties in lengthy conversations as a basis for obtaining first-hand information on the background and causes of the conflict as well as grievances of the disputing parties. This phase provides ample information and prepares arbitrators to engage in a deeper analysis of the conflict situation, and develop scenarios to undertake diligent, transparent, and balanced arbitration. In so doing, disputing parties are given adequate time to express their worries and frustrations, not interminably though. This enables arbitrators to learn more about the conflict and make deductive reasoning and conclusions toward developing strategies for resolving conflicts. In some cases, parties to the conflict are made to swear the Asante oath (Ntam) to live in peace and never revisit whatever brought their misunderstandings again. The Ntam (swearing) is significant in that it binds disputing parties to the ruling of the Asante King and is ultimately intended to restore peace through reconciliation (Opoku, 2011). The need to arbitrate with the view to finding an amicable solution is founded on the Asante’s notion of family as a unit of society. As noted by Adusei Opoku, The basis of our approach towards conflict resolution, crisis management or diplomacy within Asante kingdom is that, the unit of society which is the family must never be broken apart or must never be undermined because the Asante concept of societal living is that society is made up of individual families, as and when they grow up, they become more, it becomes a society and that society must be protected, must be kept intact at all times. (Opoku, 2011)

From the above, Adusei Opoku derives three anthropological concepts that form the foundations for sustainable peace and conflict resolution among the Asante people. The first concept known as Abusua dua, yentwa literally translates as “A family tree is the basis of societal formation and should not be destroyed.”



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It presupposes that, individual family units within a given society should love and not destroy the other either through verbal abuse or through violent conflict. This adage emphasizes the centrality of family units in building societies and nation states. In other words, families should not undermine each other. The continued growth of families forms the foundation of societies (Opoku, 2011). Connected to the above is the concept known as nkonsonkonson, which literally translates as unity or interdependence. The term nkonsonkonson means a chain linked up by various angles of strands that can make a full end chain. The inter-linkages between the various angles of the chain stress the strength in unity and interdependence of one family on the other (Opoku, 2011). The third concept is ese ne tekyerema (the teeth and the tongue), which denotes peaceful coexistence. The Asante consider the teeth and the tongue to mean two interwoven features, which coexist peacefully in spite of occasional disagreements. This concept is underpinned by the belief that, in any setting where individuals and social groupings interact, there are bound to be disagreements. The teeth and the tongue living in the same mouth exemplify this. In the process of eating, the teeth sometimes bite the tongue to the extent that one might want to spew out the food, indicating existing friction between the two organs, and yet eating and chewing the same portion of the food continues. In a practical and real life situation, this presupposes that, no matter the atrocities committed by one individual against another, one family against another, or one community against another, there should be an avenue for redress and reconciliation (Opoku, 2011). Historically, these anthropological foundations have guided and shaped peaceful coexistence among clans and families among the Asante. However, the success of this is contingent upon a deeper understanding and analysis of a conflict and ability of arbitrators to employ communication skills to effectively resolve disputes and conflicts. EXPLORING THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE APPLICATION OF ASANTE CONFLICT RESOLUTION APPROACHES TO THE DAGBON CONFLICT The Dagbon crisis is one of the longest standing, cyclical, intra-ethnic as well as chieftaincy conflicts in Northern Ghana between the two Royal Gates, the Abudu and Andani families. Although the conflict dates back to precolonial times, the recent disputes are believed to have originated in 1948 when the throne was vacant following the death of Ya-Na Mahama II from the Andani clan. His son, who was the regent, failed in three successive attempts to be

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selected as the Ya-Na because his move was in clear violation of the established alternating system of succession (Asiedu, 2008). This failure generated tensions between the two royal families, and the Andanis refused to accept Ya-Na Abudulai III as king.5 This was because according to the rotation system that was being practiced, an Andani should have at least been selected after two members from the Abudu family were selected successively as kings of Dagbon. Since then, two major incidents (1969 and 2002)6 have occurred (Albert, 2008; Tsikata & Seini, 2004). As acknowledged by the Wuaku Commission Report, both incidents occurred when the Abudu Royal Gate believed to be pro-Busia-Danquah were in power under the Progress Party of 1969 and the New Patriotic Party (NPP) government in 2002, respectively (Asiedu, 2008; Tsikata & Seini, 2004). Following the violence in 2002, which led to the assassination of Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II, several peace initiatives were undertaken by several actors namely, the Wuaku Commission established by the Kufuor administration, civil society organizations (CSOs) including faith-based groups, NGOs, and specialized UN agencies (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). In most cases, the establishment of committees and commissions by various governments complicated the crisis precisely because they were intended to appease one of the rival gates at the expense of the other, to the detriment of achieving peace in Dagbon (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). Interviewees in the Dagbon traditional area confirmed political interference as the major cause of the Dagbon conflict and together with resort to the court of law, remained an obstacle that impeded the conflict resolution process. In separate interviews, Suleyman and Atia noted that the major challenge with the Dagbon conflict was political interference, political elites having interests in the conflict.7 They particularly emphasized that the National Democratic Congress (NDC) and the New Patriotic Party (NPP) have interests in the Dagbon conflict. Atia Akita, Secretary of Yendi Peace Centre, said, “If these two parties don’t leave tradition to people who matter in the tradition, the indigenes, Dagbon shall never know peace” (2011). Undoubtedly, the challenge of political interference in the Dagbon conflict is not a recent development, but traceable to the immediate post-independence era when the Convention Peoples Party (CPP), under the leadership of Kwame Nkrumah, was in power. Having openly supported the CPP government and contributed to its success in the election, the Andani family was able to use its newly acquired political clout and pressured the government to have Ya-Na Abudulai III dethroned and replaced by Mion Lana Andani, the head of the Andani family (Ladouceur, 1972; Tsikata & Seini, 2004). Despite the continued pressure, Ya-Na Abudulai III remained on the throne until his death in 1967 (Asiedu, 2008; Tsikata & Seini, 2004).



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THE ROLE OF EMINENT CHIEFS: APPLICATION OF THE ASANTE CONFLICT RESOLUTION APPROACH After a series of interventions failed to restore peace to Dagbon, the Kufuor Administration then constituted a Committee of Eminent Chiefs in 2003. Under the chairmanship of the Asantehene Otumfuo Osei Tutu II, the King of the Golden Stool in Kumasi, the Committee was tasked to examine the cultural issues relating to the conflict, and to help find indigenous homegrown solutions to the Dagbon dispute (Asiedu, 2008). In pursuit of these objectives, the committee assembled representatives of the Abudu and Andani families, the United Nations Development Program (UNDP),8 and the Ministries of Interior and Chieftaincy for peace talks. According to Ahorsu and Gebe (2011), what resulted was the Wuaku Commission’s Report that interpreted the traditional issues through consultation with the various parties to the conflict. This then formed the basis of the “Roadmap for Peace,” which outlined benchmarks for peace in Dagbon. These benchmarks included: the burial of the late Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II; the installation of the regent of the late king; the performance of the funeral rites of the deposed Ya-Na, Mahamadu Abdulai IV; the performance of the funeral rites of Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II; and the selection and enskinment of a new Ya-Na for Dagbon (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011; Asiedu, 2008). The committee served as third party mediators between the two disputants in order to undertake negotiations toward the resolution of the conflict. In pursuance of this goal, reference was made to various committee reports on the Dagbon crisis and these served as a basis for the commencement of the peace process. Consequently, the series of dialogues with both warring parties culminated in the drafting of the “Final Peace Agreement,”9 which was signed and released on November 18, 2007 (Asiedu, 2008). Nevertheless, the burial of Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II, the slain overlord of Dagbon in 2002, and the performance of the final funeral rites of the late Ya-Na Mahamadu IV (which the Wuaku Commission had identified as constituting the root cause for the March 2002 crisis) remained outstanding (Asiedu, 2008). Thus, the Committee of Eminent Chiefs employed the three interconnected Asante concepts discussed earlier in managing the conflict. According to Adusei Opoku, similar to Akan and Asante, the Abudu and Andani families belong to the same ethnic group, Dagbani, which according to the first concept should not be undermined by either. The second concept links the two families together as one unit of society. Each family depends on the other for security as well as social, economic, emotional, and psychological support. The interdependence of the two families means that, in times of difficulties or aggression by external forces, the two families come together and coordinate efforts to defend the integrity of their community rather than fighting among

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themselves. This interconnects with the third concept of teeth and tongue that emphasizes peaceful coexistence between the two families in the Dagbon traditional area. After these narrations, the King of Asante emphasized the importance of peaceful co-existence as a necessary prerequisite for development, not only for the Dagbon traditional area, but Ghana as a whole. Moved by the King of Asante’s appeal, the representatives of the Abudus and Andanis requested a recess for a confidential discussion. Upon their return, they resolved that they belong to the same ethnic group and need to coexist peacefully in spite of occasional disagreements. This paved the way for the burial of the Ya-Na and brought relative peace to the Dagbon traditional area. However, there are still outstanding issues relative to the celebration of the funeral rites of both chiefs at the old and new Gbewa palaces. A second example of invoking traditional conflict management, this time in Senegal, follows next. INVOKING TRADITION IN THE MANAGEMENT OF THE CASAMANCE CONFLICT: JOKING RELATIONSHIPS AMONG THE DIOLA AND SERER PEOPLE OF SENEGAL The rebel insurgency in the Casamance region of Senegal is currently one of the longest on-going conflicts in West Africa and has attracted various forms of interventions. The conflict pitches the separatist group, the Mouvement des Forces Démocratique de la Casamance (MFDC) against the Senegalese State. The main reason behind the rebellion is the MFDC’s claim for the independence of the Casamance region. The Casamance conflict, also referred to as l’Affaire Diola, is rooted in a mix of very complex issues. The Casamance is predominantly populated by the Diola ethnic group who comprise about 5% of the Senegalese population. The Casamance is distinctively different from the rest of Senegal in terms of culture, ethnicity, geography, and even experiences of colonization.10 Casamance is located in the southwestern part of Senegal, but is largely separated from the rest of the country by Gambia and connected to the rest of the country by the east. The geography of the region makes it rich in mineral and ecological resources and it produces most of the country’s food and cash crops, making it a strategic asset of the Senegalese State. Culturally, the Diola ethnic majority in Casamance are mainly Christians and animists compared to the majority of Senegalese who are Muslim (Fall, 2010). Besides, the Diola by nature practice highly decentralized and egalitarian structures of social organization compared to the decentralized polities and hierarchical caste societies of the rest of Senegal. This makes the Diola opposed to any form of central authority (Fall, 2010). It has thus led the Casamançais to reject public and political



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office in postindependence Senegal. Consequently, government administrators of the region have been appointed from different parts of Senegal. They comprise people who are not Casamançais and are often not well acquainted with the concerns of the people resulting in the alienation of the Casamançais from political and economic governance. These factors among many others have resulted in their strong opposition to the government and hence, the formation of the MFDC to fight for the independence of the region. Although the fight for independence has been going on since 1982, to date it has failed to achieve its goal. Several negotiation processes have been initiated between 1991 and 2004 in an attempt to resolve the conflict, but to date there is still no clear solution to the problem. What these interventions have been successful at doing is keeping the conflict from escalating into largescale violence. Although this conflict is ongoing, it is worth examining some strategies that have been adopted to get some members of the rebel groups to agree to ceasefire and negotiate with the government. For the purpose of this chapter, we examine some indigenous mechanisms that have been employed to manage the Casamance rebellion. Joking kinships or joking relationships exist between many ethnic groups across Africa (Wilson-Fall, 2000). Joking relationship as defined by anthropologist Radcliffe-Brown (1940), “is a relation between two persons in which one is by custom permitted, and in some instances required to tease or make fun of the other, who is required to take no offence” (p. 195). It consists of widely held notions of perceived relatedness that may link large extended families or ethnic groups (Galvan, 2006). They are useful in reducing tensions between otherwise bitter enemies and help to create the right atmosphere for conflict parties to resolve their differences. These relationships are highly recognized and valued such that even in current times, a person from one ethnic group or lineage cannot refuse to help another person with whom he shares such relations. These relationships can also be invoked to peacefully settle disputes among people who share such relationships. In some West African societies, joking relationships signify the successful resolution of a past conflict and has therefore established a ritualized acknowlegment that former enemies are now friends (Wilson-Fall, 2000). If this is the case, then one has to be more tolerant of those with whom one shares such relationships. For instance, persons who share joking kinships have the right to playfully tease, insult, or provoke each other, but in principle are not supposed to react aggressively or revenge such exchanges (Wilson-Fall, 2000). Second, joking relationships imply a sense of mutual assistance between ethnic groups or clan lineages and symbolize a taboo against any form of treachery against each other (Jong, 2005). This kind of tie prohibits each member of this relationship to figuratively, “see the blood of the other.” In other instances, joking relationships denote bonds between cousins or

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quasi-kinship alliances which are meant to redirect historical incidents of past conflicts or emphasize a sense of common suffering between ethnic groups with an aim to form an alliance meant to mitigate potential future conflicts between the two groups (Galvan, 2006). There are many anecdotes about the origins of joking relationships among various ethnic groups across West Africa. What is of interest here is the joking kinship between the Diola and Serer people of Senegal. Some accounts have it that the Diola and Serer people are cousins who originate from the same family lineage. This story, which is popular among both the Diola of Casamance and the Serers, has it that two sisters, Aguène and Diambogne, set out in a boat on the Sin-Saloum River. While they were sailing down the river, they encountered a terrible storm which broke their boat into two pieces. Each of the sisters held on to one part of the boat. Aguène landed on the right side of the river and Diambogne landed on the left side of the river. They both married, had children, and became the progenitors of the Diola and the Serer, respectively (Sambou, 2005). This story, for example, illustrates a relationship of common suffering and the need for the groups to see themselves as one people and to support each other. It also obligates each of the two groups to desist from acts which could destroy the other and equally puts a responsibilty on each of the two groups to intervene to save the other from harm. The conflict between the MFDC and the government of Senegal reached a critical point in 1991. The government’s initial position was to repress the rebels. They carried out several arrests and detentions (Fall, 2010). This made attempts at negotiations difficult and led to a further fractionalization of the MFDC into various splinter groups which could not be controlled, thus making the negotiation to the conflict difficult. While one group agreed to sign a ceasefire agreement with the government in 1991, another faction felt betrayed and increased violence against the military and civilian population. There were also alleged abductions and killings carried out by members of the various factions of the MFDC. In the search for peace in Casamance, some government officials and regional administrators decided to explore the Diola-Serer relationship to faciliate peace talks and help integrate the Casamance into the Senegalese nation-building process. According to the principles of their joking relationship, the Serer have an obligation to intervene to save the Diola. The Diola in turn have a duty to heed any offer made by their kin as a sign of mutual respect of their common ancestry. Therefore in 1993 and 1994, the governor of Fatick, a region mostly inhabited by Serers, organized a cultural festival (Festival d’Origine) to commemorate and re-invoke the sacred ties between the ancestors of the Diolas and Serers (Aguene and Diambogne). Several hundred Diola travelled from the Casamance to Fatick to participate in this



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festival. Government officials, mediators, and representatives of the MFDC were also invited to participate in the event. The festival featured traditional dances, music, recitals, and rituals, which portrayed the interrelatedness of the Diola and Serer and to commemorate their reunion. The participants also visited Sangomar, a peninsula on the Sine-Saloum River, where the legendary sisters are thought to have been separated by fate. The objective was to emphasize the fact that Diola and Serer are one people and hence identify themselves as one with the rest of Senegalese people. These ties therefore forbid them to “spill the blood of each other” and equally obliged the Serer to intervene or mediate the conflict to avoid further deaths. Subsequent events were also organized in 1995 and 1999 as a means of reducing tensions and facilitating talks between the MFDC and the government. For instance, in 1993, the leaders of the MFDC called for a ceasefire, while the government released over 100 prisoners who were in detention. Several other reforms and integrative programs were rolled out to demobilze the rebels and reintegrate them into society. In 2004 another negotiaton process began between the MFDC and the government after violence resumed again between government forces and some factions of the MFDC. However, after consultations with mediators and government officials, the political leader of MFDC made a public declaration that there was no longer a reason for the group to continue fighting since they recognized Senegal as their “homeland.” In summary, traditional dispute resolution and conflict management techniques are useful resources for mediators to draw upon to initiate peace negotiations. They draw upon the local people’s norms, values, and belief systems of peacemaking and peace. They are therefore familiar to the communities involved (Murithi, 2008), and consequently, the local people can appreciate the utility of the mechanism being employed for the resolution of a dispute and are likely to yield success. THE LIMITS AND CHALLENGES OF INDIGENOUS DISPUTE RESOLUTION AND CONFLICT MANAGEMENT SYSTEMS Indigenous peacemaking mechanisms are obviously valuable and offer a range of progressive values even in contemporary times. All the same, it is important that we avoid over-romanticizing indigenous peacemaking mechanisms and avoid the tendency to offer them as a wholesale application to dispute resolution and conflict management. Indeed, indigenous processes have shortfalls in how they can be employed in contemporary peacemaking processes. Dispute resolution and conflict management as described by Osaghe (2000), is preliterate; thus, some practices and methods employed in dispute

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resolution are often undocumented. They usually originate from established social practices and are promulgated and preserved through folklore, songs, rituals, and cultural and religious practices. They therefore lack a codification system that may render the interpretation and delivery of justice subjective. As traditions and cultural practices are passed on from one generation to the other, they are bound to lose some valuable elements and meanings. There is also the introduction of new concepts that may not be authentic or even helpful. Besides, some traditional practices are shrouded in rituals, religious observances, spirit mediums, witchcraft, and secret society activities, which make their credibility, accessibility, and applicability questionable. In cases where some of these practices are applied to dispute resolution techniques, disputants are likely to agree to negotiate an unfavorable deal due to the fear of the consequences associated with the nonadherence to the practices rather than genuine efforts on the part of disputants to resolve their differences. This may not necessarily respond to the objective of resolving the dispute in the long term. Second, indigenous dispute resolution and conflict management systems are sometimes rooted in traditions and customs that do not always ensure equitable rights to all. Some practices tend to be patriarchal and hierarchical in nature and thus may tend to marginalize vulnerable groups such as women and the youth. Murithi (2008), however, notes that this is not exclusive to the African context or peculiar to indigenous processes alone. In fact, some Western and Eurocentric traditional practices have also historically excluded women from political decision making and peacemaking processes, which have resulted in undermining the role of women in peace processes. Even in contemporary times, women’s concerns and participation in peace processes have often been relegated to the background. Additionally, Osaghe (2000) concluded that the absence of a generalized model of dispute resolution and conflict management presents a weakness to indigenous and traditional peacemaking systems. Indigenous dispute resolution and conflict management strategies are usually particularistic and localized. In other words, they are peculiar to certain localities only and their applications can pertain to and be appreciated by only a particular group of people. Therefore, these conflict management systems cannot be generalized beyond their local boundaries. Any attempts to apply one form of dispute resolution mechanism to another group even within the same region is bound to generate mistrust and suspicion of ethnic domination from groups who do not share the same values and belief systems. Finally, a challenge to the application of traditional conflict management strategies to modern conflicts is that in recent times, traditional institutions have been compromised by corruption and national politics. Chiefs and traditional rulers who were once respected and revered by the people are now



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being manipulated to serve partisan interests of some politicians (Osaghe, 2000). For instance, the paramount chief of the Ahanta traditional area in the Western region of Ghana was nominated as a member of the Council of State in the late President John Attah-Mills’ government in 2009. Although this was a noble assignment, the chief was perceived as a crony of the National Democratic Congress (NDC) party and therefore lost credibility as a neutral traditional ruler in the eyes of the locals who belong to other political parties. It also reduced the local people’s confidence in the traditional ruler to deliver justice dispassionately (Aning et al., 2014). Again, in November 2012, just a few weeks before the general elections, President John Mahama donated twelve Toyota Land Cruisers to members of the National House of Chiefs to help facilitate the discharge of their duties (Essel, 2012). Some critics view these actions as attempts to buy the support of traditional rulers. It therefore diminishes the respect accorded to these institutions. Furthermore, traditional rulers, especially in Ghana are recognized as the custodians of stool and skin lands; however, in recent times, traditional rulers have been compromised to deliver justice in favor of people who can offer the highest pay-offs or bribes and these actions have significantly reduced not just the reverence accorded to them, but also their authority and legitimacy (Osaghe, 2000). As a result, people, especially urban dwellers, prefer to resort to judicial and other modern methods to resolving disputes. INTEGRATING INDIGENOUS AND CONTEMPORARY PEACEMAKING MECHANISMS INTO DISPUTE RESOLUTION AND CONFLICT MANAGEMENT SYSTEMS IN WEST AFRICA Indigenous peacemaking mechanisms are valuable and can be well suited to contemporary dispute resolution and conflict management strategies. As a result, there have been persistent calls during international workshops and conferences on regional and subregional organizations to rethink the thesis of concentrating on Western-oriented models for peacemaking and revisit indigenous mechanisms, which formed the foundations of peaceful coexistence before colonization. However, we do not suggest that the application of indigenous peacemaking mechanisms alone will solve Africa’s conflicts. Rather, it is important that we explore the means by which relevant aspects of indigenous mechanisms can be integrated and harmonized with contemporary conflict resolution methods to effectively respond to Africa’s conflicts. The cases presented in this chapter demonstrate that local communities possess capacities for resolving conflicts. It is, therefore, important that first, international and regional organizations, national governments, and local communities as well as scholars with interest in conflict resolution in Africa identify and

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elaborate progressive indigenous practices that emphasize restoration and reconciliation. They can be incorporated into modern justice systems which only establish judgments on who is right and who is wrong, or systems which encourage further divisions among conflict parties. Second, the origins of certain conflicts are rooted in historical contentions of culture and identity. It is, therefore, important that contemporary peacemaking mechanisms as well as actors in dispute resolution and conflict management are able to draw on local traditions and customs to identify and analyze the historical antecedents to particular conflicts and explore valuable traditional strategies that have the potential to facilitate negotiations and promote reconciliation of conflict parties. The role and influence of traditional institutions and traditional leadership in dispute resolution and conflict management cannot be ignored. Traditional authorities are still revered and respected by local populations and are able to draw upon such influence to intervene in community and national level conflicts. African governments and policy makers can therefore create avenues in modern political systems to accommodate aspects of traditional authorities for conflict resolution. Such “hybrid approaches” will involve diverse best practices and benefit from a combination of values and norms of tradition and modernity through interactive problem-solving workshops (Murithi, 2008). Nonetheless, traditional authority alone is not enough to respond to conflicts. They can only be fully effective if they possess the requisite skills and capacities to intervene in modern conflicts. It is necessary to therefore train and build the capacity of traditional institutions to effectively resolve and manage conflicts. CONCLUSION This chapter has demonstrated the importance and relevance of culture and indigenous mechanisms for dispute management and conflict resolution in West Africa, focusing on Ghana and Senegal. In Ghana, reference is made to the Asante’s conceptualizations of conflict resolution and its utility in the management of the Dagbon conflict, while in Senegal, the joking relations between the Serer and Diola ethnic groups were examined relative to the Casamance conflict. Although it has become apparent that global, regional, and subregional organizations increasingly focus on Western approaches in their conflict resolution mechanisms, this study has shown that cultural processes and values are equally pertinent and have thus been understood and accepted in communities where they are applied. Therefore, they should not be disregarded as obsolete or outmoded. At least, in low intensity and communal conflicts, indigenous mechanisms have proven to be more



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effective as exemplified in the application of three interconnected Asante concepts in managing the Dagbon conflict in Ghana and joking relations in the Casamance conflict in Senegal. In most cases, however, these cultural approaches are context specific and thus limited by lack of regional or global applicability. As a result, while the Western-oriented approaches in conflict resolution will continue to dominate, we propose that an integration of the relevant portions African cultures and indigenous mechanisms into the western models is absolutely imperative. This will go a long way in managing disputes and resolving conflicts at their very outset.

NOTES 1. The UN Mission in Western Sahara (MINURSO) from 1991 to 1999; UN Mission in Liberia (UNOMIL) from 1993 to 1997; UN Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) in 2003; UN Mission in Sierra Leone (UNOMSIL) from 1998 to 1999; UN Operations in Cote d’Ivoire (UNOCI) from 2004 to date, and the UN Multidimensional Integrated Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) from 2013 to date. 2. An indigenous social philosophy of Southern African societies which expresses notions of “collective personhood,” group support, acceptance, co-operation, caring, sharing, and solidarity. 3. Interview with Nana Adusei Opoku, September 8, 2011. He is a former officer at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Ghana and currently serves as the Akyempemhene at the Manhyia palace, Kumasi. His role within the palace set up is like that of the Chief of Staff or a prime minister in a modern office arrangement. Among his responsibilities as the Akyempemhene are that he represents the king at most functions where the king cannot attend personally. Opoku is also one of the four chiefs that enjoy the status of a paramount chief in the Ashanti Kingdom. 4. According the 2000 Population and Housing Census (PHC), the Akan are the largest ethnic group in Ghana constituting about 49%. They include, Akwapim, Akim, Brong, Fante and Kwahu, Akwamu, Assin, Denkyra, Sefwi, Wassa, Guan, and Asante (Okrah, 2003, quoted in Osei-Hwedie & Rankopo, 2012; see also Gedzi, 2009). 5. Third Abudu successor of Ya-Na Mahama II. 6. Following the death of the incumbent King Ya-Na Andani III in 1969, his son, Yakubu Andani became the Regent (GbonLana) to be named and confirmed the Ya-Na. However, the assumption of power of the Progress Party, led by K. A. Busia, scuttled the entire process by declaring the installation null and void. Rather, it recommended the immediate installation of the Gbon Lana Mahamadu Abudulai (from the Abudu Gate) as the rightful Ya-Na. See Ladoucuer, 1972; Albert, 2008; Tsikata and Seini, 2004. Ya-Na Yakubu Andani and forty others were killed in 2002. 7. In an interview with Bishop Lodonu, he noted that: “[When] the courts make definite decisions without reference to traditional peace processes remains our problem in Ghana. Our land problems, our chieftaincy problem should not be decided

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that ‘the court says this’ and the court is only trying to see visible documents and say you have the land and you don’t have the land. Anytime the court gives a decision, then the fight starts because the other side feels that they cannot do anything apart from violence. Court action is our biggest problems in this country (Interview with Bishop Francis Anani Lodonu, Catholic Bishop, Ho Diocese, September 15, 2011). Interview with Alhaji Alhassan Iddid Suleyman, Director of Bang-gu Manga Integrated Rural Development Society (BIRD), Yendi (September 10, 2011). 8. Main facilitator of the peace process. 9. Agreement was spearheaded by the Committee of Eminent Chiefs. 10. For further details, see Fall (2010).

Chapter 4

Border Disputes in Africa and Traditional Approaches to Resolving Them Joan Mbagwu

This chapter examines African traditional mechanisms in conflict management regarding border disputes. It argues that the different indigenous peacemaking approaches confirm that the traditional African societies value peaceful living and are pursuing it both at the traditional personal levels and at organizational rational levels. INTRODUCTION: CONFLICTS IN AFRICA Africa has experienced intrastate and interstate wars, which have hindered development in the region. According to Deng (2005), 20% of the subSaharan population lives in countries suffering from civil wars or internal conflicts. In addition, “over the last 40 years, nearly 20 African countries [or 40% of Sub-Saharan Africa] have experienced at least one period of civil war” (Elbadawi & Sambanis, 2000, p. 2). The situation in Africa is devastating, as it threatens not only the regional development but also the lives of people in the continent. Eighty-eight percent of conflict-related deaths from 1990–2007 occurred on the African continent, which clearly explains the seriousness of the conflicts in Africa (Kim, 2010, p. 1). According to Mouiche (2009), the impact of conflicts on countries undergoing the devastation are many and varied. Conflicts have negative effects on the individuals and families as they make life a constant process of adapting to basic insecurity and permanent crises. According to Conflict Prevention Forum’s article “Costs and Causes of Conflict in the Greater Horn of Africa,” (2002), deaths recorded in Angola’s and Mozambique’s wars, for example, are estimated at one million casualties each; battle-related deaths 53

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from active conflicts in 1993 alone are estimated at over 68,000; internally displaced persons (IDPs) were 24 million and the number of refugees increased from 2.5 million in 1970 to 17.5 million in 1992, most of whom were women and children. Compounding the crises, wars prevent people from meeting their basic needs by destroying crops, land, and the environment, as land mines are planted in farmland, livestock are destroyed, and water is poisoned. Conflict Prevention Forum’s article further argued that the effects of war on society’s social fabric are destructive as civilians’ coping mechanisms are directly affected; returning to normal community life can take years following the deliberate destruction of social institutions and ways of life. Support provided by wider family and kinship systems are disrupted, divisions between groups are exacerbated, and intra-group insecurity and hostility worsens. In addition, the people become more vulnerable to diseases. For example, after the killings subsided in Rwanda in mid-1994, deaths continued as refugees and IDPs fell victim to diseases from lack of food and portable water. Wars also affect national economies as complex emergencies have profound short- and long-term consequences on economic resources and institutions. Wars destroy physical and social infrastructure, human capital, and local economic institutions. Also, political institutions are not left out; war destroys national political systems, kills current and future leaders, sows bitterness and divisions between communities, destroys or alters traditional political institutions, and changes power relations and national political institutions. Wars also impact other countries in the area leading to regional instability and insecurity as seen throughout West Africa. In most cases, international institutions bear the cost of humanitarian and reconstruction aid, which can be very expensive. For example, in 1993, international emergency humanitarian assistance was $6.2 billion in which the United States provided a quarter of this amount (Conflict Prevention Forum, 2002). Armed conflict is very costly on multiple levels, and, by implication, boundary conflicts are no different. BOUNDARY CONFLICTS IN AFRICA Nordquist (2002) defines a border as the line separating two states, irrespective of its degree of implementation (i.e., delimitation or definition on paper, and demarcation or marking on the ground). Boundaries are interesting phenomena because they bring states together whether they want it or not. Countries with a common boundary share at least a minimum degree of “relation,” and cannot claim to be able to ignore each other completely. Boundaries define a state territorially and, in this way, provide a condition



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for state sovereignty, yet their very nature as relational is an infringement upon the same sovereignty. Thus, a boundary can be a potential source of internal disputes as well as a root of an interstate dispute in itself. Therefore, Nordquist (2002, p. 22) further argued that boundary conflict is over a boundary line that, at a minimum, is defined, or is in the process of being defined, by the parties involved, by implicit consent or explicit agreement. This means that all stakes and issues leading to disputes and armed conflicts are related to once agreed-upon boundaries. Borders are imagined lines that are rarely demarcated on the ground, therefore, showing that they are artificial, historical constructions and alleged political inventions. Borders in Africa were introduced at the level of the nation-state during the colonial era. Scholars like Bentsi-Enchill (1976), Asiwaju (1984), Jackson and Roseberg (1982), and Davidson (1992) have indicated that the colonial borders were created without the knowledge and consent of or consultation with the African people. Due to their colonial origins, the boundaries of contemporary Africa are usually considered arbitrary (Ajala, 1983; Atzili, 2006, 2007, 2011; Barbour, 1961; Bello, 1995; Brownlie, 1979; Davidson, 1992; Kum, 1993; Touval, 1969). According to Loisel (2004), “borders in Africa [are] arbitrary and artificial, delineated by exogenous colonial powers with little knowledge of the local communities, dividing pre-existing and homogeneous ethnic groups and thereby stirring frustrations and conflicts” (p. 4). There have been many controversies and arguments among scholars concerning the arbitrary nature of African boundaries. As Davidson (1992) argued, the arbitrariness of the colonial borders and the dissection of ethnic groups and tribes (and even sometimes families) in the colonial era are the major causes of African conflicts. Consequently, the ethnic wars that are caused by the arbitrary nature of African boundaries are the major causes for instability on the continent. Griggs (1995, 1997) said that the mismatch between nations and states is responsible for the continent’s instability, civil war, and genocides. In addition, Loisel (2004, p. 4) pointed out that these borders are not only arbitrary, but they were also the product of continental and global rivalries among European powers. According to Miles (1994): Borders were drawn essentially according to the geopolitical, economic and administrative interests of the colonial powers, often taken into account at a global scale. The most often cited example is that of the division of the Hausaland, between today’s Niger and Nigeria. The Franco-British treaties of 1904 and 1906 redrew the border in favor of the French side, in exchange for France’s renunciation of fishing rights off the coast of Newfoundland. (p. 68)

Odugbemi (1995) and Clapham (1996) argue in favor of African borders’ artificial nature by saying that the case of Africa is not different from others.

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And Nugent (1996) and Bach (1999) argue that though African boundaries are arbitrary, they also have advantages; they reinforced this argument by stating that African boundaries are assets for state consolidation. Touval (1969) and Ottaway (1999) suggested that the arbitrary nature of African boundaries has few disadvantages. Barbour (1961) also advocated for the status quo of African colonial boundaries despite their arbitrariness because attempting to reshuffle states is more costly than the hypothetical benefits. Finally, there are those scholars who advocated for territorial reconfiguration of African boundaries (Bello, 1995; Herbst, 2000; Nkiwane, 1993; Sambanis, 2000).  Even though the African Union (AU) acknowledged the imperfections of the national boundaries of African countries, which were the by-products of colonialism, it decided to accept the inviolability of the national boundaries in its 1964 resolution (DFID, 2001, p. 6; see also Atzili, 2006, 2007, 2011). Michel-Cyr Wembou (1994) cited Francois Borella as saying: Many resolutions adopted by the OAU continually strengthen the territorial foundation of the African States and their respective frontiers. Resolution A.G.H/16.1 of July 21, 1964, to cite just one, incorporates the rule of uti possidetis: All the member States are committed to respect the frontiers existing at the time of their independence. (p. 16)

Therefore, after the disintegration of colonialism, all African governments except Morocco and Somalia agreed to maintain colonial boundaries. Marker (2003) maintains: Most colonial and Soviet satellite borders were created either through conquest, negotiation between empires, or simply by administrative action, with little or no regard for the social realities of those living in the areas. Nevertheless, many of the leaders and governments of postcolonial and post-Soviet states have fought to keep the territorial boundaries created by past imperialist governments. As a result, a number of boundary conflicts have arisen within post-colonial and post-Soviet territories. Parties to these conflicts justify and legitimate their side’s position, using different historical boundaries as evidence for their claims. For example, the Libya-Chad conflict involves a dispute over 114,000 square kilometers of territory, known as the Aouzou Strip. Libya justifies its claims to this territory based on ancient historical boundaries, while Chad justifies its stance based on boundaries established during the colonial period. (p. 2)

Boundary conflicts in Africa are many and various with a range of causes. There are some very popular ones like the Bakassi conflict between Nigeria and Cameroon, which got some respite with the intervention of the International Court of Justice (ICJ) judgment of 2002, and the Eritrean–Ethiopian border war, which has for many years become one of the conflicts in the Horn



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of Africa. These examples establish the fact that border disputes are destructive and often require international intervention. RESOLUTION PROPOSALS Some Basic Traditional Methods of Conflict Resolution Non-Western societies are known to hold secrets of peacemaking embedded in their customs and traditions. Africans, educated and illiterate, rural and urban dwellers, still fall back on traditional methods for dispute resolutions. Cases of rituals and consultations from both spiritual agencies and elders are frequent. These approaches work for political stability; therefore, they could be applied to other areas as well. Traditional methods are still relevant. The traditional administration of justice in Africa was aimed at resolving conflicts rather than pronouncing judgments. Emphasis was placed on reconciliation and restoration of social harmony rather than on punishment of the conflicting parties. The administration of justice was made an open affair where all adults freely participated. Truth was the object of the delivery of justice. These are some of the guiding principles of restorative justice today, which are appreciated in the field of conflict resolution. Although Africa is a continent of 55 countries, too many in the West think it is a homogenous society. Then, why should there be some commonalities in the conflict management mechanisms of Africa if Africans are not a homogenous people or do not belong to a homogenous society? Even though there are differences in the cultural patterns of the people of the continent, there are certain principles which have been found to be present in many of the conflict resolution mechanisms identified in the different cultures, making them important to be recognized. But, it is also necessary to note that these similar principles are not practiced in the same ways. Some of these principles are delivered through a participatory nature of justice delivery, gerontology, oaths, or spiritual social harmony. Participatory Nature of Justice Delivery In parts of Africa, there is a communal participatory approach in settling disputes. Non-principal parties to the conflict can participate in justice delivery, unlike in the West. When there is a dispute, normally the resolution process is held in the open. It is often in the square where other villagers can come and make contributions in the settlement, even though they were not invited to do so. According to Uwazie (2000), the Igbo of Nigeria believe that people who are not directly involved in a case can participate in the peace process, maybe

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as historians or custodians of cultural values that are needed in resolving the dispute. Even in the opening remarks by the mediators, they expect people who have true information on the case to come out and say so, otherwise they will be considered accomplices to crime. Gerontocracy This is another African conflict management approach, which emphasizes the important role of elders in the community. Africans believe that the older members of society are wiser through experience, making them the custodians of cultural laws and customs. Therefore, elders are in the best position to make intelligent contributions in cases of conflict. Also, they believe that the oldest member of the family takes responsibility for the wrongs committed by members of his family or community; therefore, the onus falls on the elder to make peace. This is normally done without legal representation, because the elders are wiser (i.e., learned) in the knowledge of traditional laws and customs and therefore can disentangle the complications that caused the quarrel, give the best judgment, and recommend the best deterrents for the future to allow harmonious coexistence. Oaths and Spirituality All over Africa, there is the belief that swearing an oath in resolving disputes is important because it makes the parties in the dispute to speak the truth. Also, the invocation of the ancestors as part of the mediators or arbitrators is widely practiced as they are believed to be part of the living. Parties to the conflicts are made to believe that if they tell lies, they could be killed or harmed by the ancestors who were present at the time of the resolution of the conflict. Social Harmony Dispute resolution is based on the principle of seeking communal harmony. All the mediators aim to resolve disputes between parties and promote social harmony. When the guilty are made to pay for crimes committed, it is hoped that the compensation restores harmony and peace in the society; it is not aimed at punishing the offender. UBUNTU AND GACACA Having identified the common characteristics of the traditional methods of conflict management in Africa, I propose methods for resolving border



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disputes between two villages. I therefore present the Ubuntu strategy that is found in east, central, and southern Africa. The concept of Ubuntu is a cultural worldview that tries to capture the essence of what it means to be human. In terms of its definition, Tutu (1995) observes in his book No Future Without Forgiveness that: Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a Western language. It speaks to the very essence of being human. When you want to give high praise to someone we say, “Yu, u Nobuntu;” he or she has Ubuntu. This means that they are generous, hospitable, friendly, caring and compassionate. They share what they have. It also means that my humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in theirs. We belong in a bundle of life. We say, “a person is a person through other people” (in Xhosa Ubuntu ungamntu ngabanye abantu and in Zulu Umuntu ngumuntu ngabanye). I am human because I belong, I participate, and I share. A person with Ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good; for he or she has a proper selfassurance that comes with knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when other are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are. (pp. 34–35)

The Ubuntu principle argues that we are “human beings through other human beings,” which means that what we do to others through the interwoven fabric of social, economic, and political relationships eventually impact upon us as well, and, therefore, we have to be cautious because we will also be beneficiaries of our actions. Because the notion of Ubuntu sheds light on the importance of peacemaking through the principles of reciprocity, inclusivity, and a sense of shared destiny between peoples, it then provides a value system for giving and receiving forgiveness. It also provides a rationale for sacrificing or letting go of the desire to take revenge for past wrongs. It serves as an inspiration and suggests guidelines for societies and their governments on how to legislate and establish laws, which will promote reconciliation. In short, Ubuntu can “culturally re-inform” our practical efforts to build peace and heal our traumatized communities in Africa because it calls on the consciousness of the people in dispute to remember that whatever they do during a conflict will affect them; so the idea of going all out to destroy is not the best approach, because they will suffer the consequences as well. So, even in border disputes between villages, it is important that they address the issues with the understanding that their neighbors are humans like them from whom they derive their identity and any effort to destroy them is not proper based on the ubuntu value system that their cultures teach and they practice. Another traditional method I propose in resolving border disputes is Gacaca, which is a Kinyarwanda concept, literally meaning “justice on the grass.” This Rwandese endogenous dispute resolution system involves people sitting

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outside on the grass to settle their disputes in the presence of community members. Leah Werchick (2001) notes that in the Gacaca precolonial form, it was used to moderate disputes concerning land use rights, cattle ownership, marriage, inheritance rights, and petty theft, among other interpersonal disagreements, but it did not deal with terribly complicated issues such as mass murder which had other mechanisms in place to deal with these more serious offences. The Gacaca system rests upon the voluntary confession, demonstration of remorse, apology, and request for forgiveness by perpetrators. Because Gacaca emphasized morality as the basis for adjudication traditionally, the courts were run by members of the community known as the inyangamugayo, or “persons of exemplary conduct,” who were renowned for courage, honor, justice, and truth, so that they were deemed to be above reproach, and they were given this role based on their high moral and ethical standards. When a dispute had been resolved, a ritual or ceremony would be held to reflect the symbolic and practical importance of the process. Gacaca sessions often ended with the parties sharing a traditional libation and a meal as a gesture of reconciliation, but serious offences would result in the offender being ostracized from the community. The beauty and relevance of Gacaca principles in resolving border disputes is that the valued principles of justice and morality as the basis for adjudication lead to the voluntary confession, demonstration of remorse, apology, and request for forgiveness by perpetrators that promotes peaceful resolution of disputes. When disputants voluntarily come for mediation and justice is sought within the premise of morality, knowing that remorse and apology attract forgiveness ensures that the peace sought is sustainable. The principle of openness and the participatory nature of justice delivery, guided by the elders whose aim is to promote social harmony, help detangle the complex nature of borders and boundaries that can cause conflict. Therefore, the Gacaca method of resolving conflict is another approach to resolving border conflicts in Africa. RESOLVING CONFLICTS OUTSIDE CULTURAL VALUES Any attempt to propose a method(s) of resolving conflicts in any setting or especially in the African setting without respect for tradition will not only be ineffective, but it will reveal both the incompetence and hypocrisy of the peace expert and the insincerity of the peace process. Any honest scholar who wants to resolve any conflict must seek to understand what the conflict situation means to the people involved because it is crucial in how to approach that particular conflict. Therefore, the following questions must be addressed to ascertain the status of the conflict: What are the parties’ understandings of the conflict?



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What are the contributing factors affecting their perceptions and shaping their assumptions about the situation? Have they had the opportunity to check these assumptions and, if yes, was their interpretation impacted by their cultural understanding of what constitutes right from wrong? If the situation requires assistance from others who are not party to the conflict, how can we identify them and what is the criteria of their selection? These questions help navigate a way into understanding the conflict and these questions help design models that assist in managing conflict situations. It may not be an exaggeration to say that all conflicts need a cultural analysis of the parties and the context in which they take place. Cultural analyses help us in the design of a process that makes sense and helps create meaning for all those involved with the conflict. So, proposing an intervention plan that does not respect the traditions of the conflict environment is a recipe for disaster. The theory of culture and conflict as postulated by LeBaron (2003b) is that cultural awareness leads to the application of the Platinum Rule in place of the Golden Rule. Rather than the maxim “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” the Platinum Rule advises, “Do unto others as they would have you do unto them.” Culture is an essential part of conflict and conflict resolution since it is like the underground river that runs through people’s lives and relationships, giving messages that shape perceptions, attributions, judgments, and ideas of self and other. Even though cultures are powerful, they are often unconscious, influencing conflicts and attempts to resolve conflicts in both perceptible and imperceptible ways. Knowing how cultures work is a must for us if we are to have success in dealing with people because when others do not meet our expectations, it is often a cue that our cultural expectations are different. It is easy for us to mistake differences between them and us as evidence of bad faith or lack of common sense on the part of others, not realizing that common sense is also cultural, as what is common to one group may seem strange, counterintuitive, or wrong to another. There is a strong connection between cultures and conflicts as they are embedded in human relationships, because they affect the ways we name, frame, blame, and attempt to tame conflicts. Whether a conflict exists at all is a cultural question, as it depends on cultural perceptions. So, culture is always a factor in conflict, whether it plays a central role or influences it subtly and gently, even though it is like an iceberg, largely submerged. It is important to include culture in our analyses and interventions, as an unacknowledged iceberg can be dangerous, especially if we do not know its size or placement. Therefore, acknowledging culture and bringing cultural fluency to conflicts can help all kinds of people make more intentional, adaptive choices. It is not possible for me to make a proposal to a government for the resolution of a conflict without respecting the traditions of the people when resolving any conflict in Africa, including border conflict.

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TRADITIONAL APPROACHES TO RESOLVING BORDER DISPUTES This section describes the practical approaches or step-by-step process of making peace using the traditional mechanisms. Many critics question the issue of coordination of the traditional process, arguing that the African approaches have no coordinated system, and therefore have no good procedure, which means that if the process is bad, the product will be bad also. But, research into how the Africans arrange the dispute resolution process shows that it is very procedural and therefore can respond adequately to the challenges of process. Ubuntu societies or African societies place a high value on communal life, and maintaining positive relations within the society is a collective task in which everyone is involved. Disputes between fellow members of a society are perceived not merely as a matter of curiosity with regards to the affairs of one’s neighbor, but, in a very real sense, an emerging conflict belongs to the whole community. The notion of Ubuntu argues that each member of the community is linked to each of the disputants, be they victims or perpetrators. Due to this linkage or relationship, a law-breaking individual thus transforms his or her group into a law-breaking group, and the same goes for a disputing individual who transforms his or her group into a disputing group. Therefore, if an individual is wronged, he or she may depend on the group to remedy the wrong, because in a sense the group has also been wronged. The nature of the group relationship makes it easy for any group member to initiate a peacemaking process, because when one is hurt, others are hurt too. So, with this understanding, Ubuntu societies developed mechanisms for resolving disputes and promoting reconciliation with a view to healing past wrongs and maintaining social cohesion and harmony. Murithi (2006) records that the nature of the disagreement or dispute determines at what level the conflict resolution process could take place—at the level of the family, at the village level, between members of an ethnic group, or even between different ethnic nations situated in the same region. In Murithi’s case, disputes in southern Africa are resolved through an institution known as the Inkundla/Lekgotla, which serves as a group mediation and reconciliation forum with a communal character in the sense that the entire society was involved at various levels in trying to find a solution to the problem that was viewed as threatening the social cohesion of the entire community. The proceedings are led by a Council of Elders and the Chief or, if the disputes are larger, by the King himself. The traditional approach to settling disputes in these contexts tends to involve five stages. The first stage is a fact-finding process in which the views of victims, perpetrators, and witnesses are heard; mediators listen to



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all concerned parties. When a complaint is brought to a family or community head for resolution, he calls all the parties involved to listen to each side of the story. Family members related to the victims and perpetrators, including women and the young, are part of the process of ascertaining wrong-doing and finding a resolution. The mechanism allows members of the public to share their views and to generally make their opinions known; even the larger community could be involved in the process of conflict resolution and can put questions to the victims, perpetrators, and witnesses as well as to put suggestions to the Council of Elders on possible ways forward. The second stage involves the persuasion of the perpetrators to acknowledge responsibility or guilt, demonstrate genuine remorse, or to repent if they are considered to have done wrong. They are encouraged, both by the Council and other community members in the Inkundla/Lekgotla forum to do so. Third, perpetrators are encouraged to ask for forgiveness and victims in their turn are be encouraged to show mercy. The principle guiding Ubuntu was based on the notion that parties need to be reconciled in order to rebuild and maintain social trust and social cohesion, with a view to preventing a culture of vendetta or retribution from developing and escalating between individuals, families, and the society as a whole. So, the community appeals to both parties to do the “right” thing for the sake of social harmony. The fourth stage involves, where possible, restitution by the perpetrator. Where the offense committed requires compensation, at the suggestion of the Council of Elders, perpetrators are required to pay an appropriate reparation for the wrong done. Although, this act of compensation is more of a symbolic act than a repayment in-kind, the aim is to reinforce remorse in the perpetrators so impunity is not encouraged, even though amnesty could be granted. The fifth stage seeks to consolidate the whole process by encouraging the parties to commit themselves to reconciliation. This process of reconciliation is not just between the victim and the perpetrator, but it tends to include the victim and his or her family members and friends as well as the perpetrator and his or her family members and friends. The two groups are encouraged to embrace coexistence and to work toward healing the relationship between them and thus contribute towards restoring harmony within the community, which is vital in ensuring the integrity and viability of the society. Healing and reconciliation are vital in that they symbolize the willingness of the parties to move beyond the psychological bitterness that prevailed in the minds of the parties during the conflict situation. It is important to note that this process is not always straightforward, and there are occasions of resistance in following through the various stages of the peacemaking process. Sometimes the perpetrators tend to prefer that past events were not re-lived and brought out into the open. Also, there are instances where the victims would not always find it easy to forgive.

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In instances where forgiveness is withheld, the process is held up in an impasse, with consequences for the relations between members of the community. However, when forgiveness is granted, it generates such a degree of goodwill that the people involved, and the society as a whole, can then move forward even from the most difficult situations. The reason for this process lies in the recognition that it is not possible to build a healthy community at peace with itself unless past wrongs are acknowledged and brought out into the open so the truth of what happened can be determined and social trust renewed through a process of forgiveness and reconciliation. It is believed that a community in which there is no trust is ultimately not viable and gradually begins to tear itself apart. Therefore, with reference to the notion of “I am because we are,” and that of a person being a person through other people, the above process emphasizes drawing upon these Ubuntu values when faced with the difficult challenge of acknowledging responsibility and showing remorse, or of granting forgiveness. CONCLUSION It is possible to resolve any kind of conflict in Africa using traditional peacemaking processes including boundary disputes based on a society’s view of itself. The Council of Elders acts as an intermediary, has an investigative function, and plays an advisory role to the Chief. As they listen to the views of the members of the society, the Council of Elders advises on solutions that promote reconciliation between the aggrieved parties and thus maintain the overall objective of sustaining the unity and cohesion of the community or communities, even when constituted across borders.

Chapter 5

“. . . in the Name of the Son” The “Son” as Scapegoat in African Literature Kolawole Olaiya

This chapter explores the use of “the son” both as a scapegoat and as the site of political struggle for the cultural and spiritual health of Africa in the works of Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, and Ngugi wa Thiong’o. It critically examines the encounters between the “Son” (Jesus Christ) and three “sons” of Africa, Ezeulu (Arrow of God), Olunde (Death and the King’s Horseman), and Waiyaki (The River Between), and explores how the imposition of one “Son,” initially portrayed as a symbol of love and reconciliation, heralds the ascendancy of Western hegemony over many aspects of African culture and customs. Under this configuration, the British Empire used Christianity to alienate Africans from their culture and exacerbate otherwise resolvable local conflicts under the pretense of reconciling Africa to a peace-loving God. Christianity, as an important arm of Europe’s mission of emancipating the natives from their “barbaric” ways, deserves a closer look. This will help us to understand how Africa’s unequal encounter with the British changed, and in some cases, destroyed the African concept of sacrifice; and this was done in most cases in the guise of maintaining law and order. Early Christian Missionaries, who were the “untouchables,”1 became complicit, wittingly or unwittingly, in the scuttled development of Africa. A critical exploration of the different reasons behind the replacement of indigenous “sons” as scapegoats used to purge the land of its iniquities, with the “only begotten Son” (John 3:16, The New King James Version) of an alien God, who died for the remission of the sins of “strangers” (Ephesians 2:19, The New King James Version) shows how Christianity fits into the scheme of the empire and helps to perpetuate the imbalance of power between Europe and Africa. The writings of Achebe, Soyinka, and Wa Thiong’o reflect the encounters between Africa and the West at different times. These writers articulated, 65

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in differing ways, how and “when the rain began to beat us,” to borrow Achebe’s (1964, p. 160) words. Abiola Irele underscores the importance of African writers as the chroniclers of African fictional history when he argues that the tensions represented in the creative works of African writers, who serve as the “conscience” of society, are fictive ways of grappling with the unpalatable realities of the “African community in its moment of historical crisis” (2001, p. 117). He contends, like some scholars,2 that African creative writers “document” fundamental questions about the colonial and postcolonial condition in their writings. There is a way in which the questions raised by these writings can help us appreciate the past and repair the present. The last sentence in Achebe’s Arrow of God states, “any yam harvested in his fields was harvested in the name of the son” (1969, p. 230). This signals an important paradigm shift in power relations within and between Umuaro and its neighbors; it raises important questions about the relationship between the colony and the empire. Harvesting new yams in “the name of the son” is not as innocuous as it sounds, for it is the culmination of the internal crisis and power struggle between the orator, Nwaka, and the philosopher priest, Ezeulu, which has disastrous effects on their culture. It introduces alien ways of reconciling the Umuro people with nature, and displaces Ulu as the most important deity that regulates their life cycle. In addition, it displaces the native son as the custodian of Umuaro culture, a displacement consistent with the history of the self-confessed jealous Christian God,3 as I will show later. The events that led to the relegation of traditional yam festival into desuetude were not due entirely to external forces. However, the colonial masters, who are “the outsider that wept louder than the bereaved,” to borrow Achebe’s words (1994, p. 185), catalyze and hasten the degeneration of such conflicts to unmanageable proportions. Because the strangers, who have vested interests, are not only content with consoling the bereaved, they appropriate the right to fix the problems of the bereaved. In the process of doing so, they instigate many crises in Arrow of God, Death and the King’s Horseman, and The River Between. Precisely because the internal crises in these texts are hijacked by external sources with vested interests, the traditional institutions available to the various communities under study could not resolve the problems; in almost all the cases, the communities lost their agencies to the invading powers. In all the cases, religion plays pivotal roles and the native “sons” are the victims. Arrow of God (1969) tells the story of Ezeulu, a priest and moral philosopher battling for survival in a struggle with ambitious rivals, Nwaka, on the one hand, and Captain Winterbottom, the District officer on the other hand. Nwaka, the wily orator, instigates the people to rise up against Ezeulu for telling the truth in a land dispute. He persuades a section of the community that Ezeulu decides to bear witness against his people in the case of the



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land dispute between Umuaro and Okperi, for which he has earned the derisive title of being the white man’s surrogate, because his mother hails from Okperi. On the other hand, Captain Winterbottom wants Ezeulu to become his warrant chief because of his sincerity in the land dispute, even though the Captain could not fathom the motive behind Ezeulu’s sincerity. It should be noted that poor Captain Winterbottom is trying to obey his superiors because he has his doubts about the efficacy of warrant chiefs. But Ezeulu refuses the offer, arguing that he can only be the chief of Ulu, his God. Captain Winterbottom sees this as an insult from a “native” who thinks he can treat “the administration with contempt” (Achebe, 1969, p. 150). He imprisons Ezeulu for two months, making it impossible for him to perform his monthly ritual of eating the scared yam. Smarting from the betrayal of his people and the unjustifiable punishment from Captain Winterbottom, Ezeulu refuses to eat the two surplus yams caused by his incarceration. He would not be persuaded to eat the yams, partly because it has never been done before, and out of determination to punish his people for supporting Nwaka. But then, not eating the yams has dire consequences on the community, since the harvest season depends on Ezeulu’s announcement of the beginning of a new season, which in turn depends on his eating of the twelve yams of last season. Racked by hunger and the fear of famine, and encouraged by the Christians looking for converts, the people of Umuaro believe that the white man’s God will protect them from the wrath of Ulu. They then take token thanksgiving yams to the church and harvest their yams in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, abandoning the god Ulu, and his chief priest Ezeulu. Due to this and other personal calamities, Ezeulu runs mad. The Igbo society represented in Achebe’s Arrow of God (1969) was an egalitarian society, which recognized the individual based on his or her personal achievement. Unlike the western and northern parts of Nigeria, Umuaro did not have a central government or an established monarchy. It was ruled through the decisions taken in the meeting of titled elders of the clan. Some of these elders, like Ezeulu, were also priests of important deities. These priests came from different parts of the clan. This was the system of government in place when the British government ruled Nigeria through the Indirect Rule system of government. The indirect rule system appropriated customary laws that made it easier to govern the people relatively cheaply and generate revenue. The British government ruled the eastern part of Nigeria through appointed paramount chiefs. Ambreena Manji (2000), quoting Lloyd (1975), describes the paramount chiefs as “agents in recruiting labour” (p. 66). The authority of the British appointed paramount chiefs displaced existing traditional laws. Yet, these paramount chiefs were corrupt opportunists, partly because of their pedigree. Most of them owed their position to their ability to speak passable English and their conversion to Christianity, the religion

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of the colonial masters. Yet, the life of the converts often did not reflect the moral values of their new faith. Captain Winterbottom’s description of James Ikedi, a corrupt paramount chief as “a complete nonentity” who “now carries on as though he had been nothing else all his life” (Achebe, 1969, p. 108) reflects the contradictions represented by the warrant officers.4 Nevertheless, the likes of the James Ikedis have to be retained because it saves money to use the locals in the administration of British territories. However, the subordination of traditional laws and their structures to the authority of warrant chiefs encourage the use of force. Oftentimes, this power alignment shows the limits of traditional power in the face of the military might of the colonial masters. Ezeulu, the priest of Ulu, is the most important chief among the elders. He is distinguished by his almost naïve understanding and adherence to truth and morality. But Nwaka, a suave and brilliant orator, is not happy with the rising power of Ezeulu, the contemplative and strong-willed priest. Nwaka dislikes his apparent consciousness of the power he wields over the clan. To spite him, Nwaka attempts to separate Ezeulu the man from his god, Ulu: “The man who carries a deity is not a king. He is there to perform the god’s rituals and to carry sacrifice to him” (Achebe, 1969, p. 27). Despite Nwaka’s attempt to separate Ulu from Ezeulu by portraying him as a messenger rather than a powerful priest, he still grudgingly acknowledges Ulu as “our protector” (Achebe, 1969, p. 27). But Ulu, whom Ezeulu serves, is, as their history shows, created out of necessity. The people of Umauro decided to make Ulu the most important deity in order to create harmony among the tribes, even though it is the youngest deity. Nwaka’s main grouse with Ezeulu is the fear that Ezeulu’s closeness to the colonial masters would boost his own political power. However, Ezeulu is not interested in becoming the errand boy of the British, as his rejection of the white man’s post illustrates. He is only interested in serving Ulu and enjoying the veneration and honor that comes with his office. His refusal to serve mortals should be understood in the context of the way he apprehends the moral and political purity of his god. This is what it means to be Ulu’s messenger, and not take instructions from mortals as Captain Winterbottom wants. Even before his defeat, the perceptive and visionary Ezeulu has seen a glimpse of the future. Although not anticipating his sudden fall from glory, he decides to send his son to the white man’s school. This is the way he rationalizes it: The world is changing, I do not like it. But I am like the bird Eneke-nti-oba. When his friends asked him why he was always on the wing he replied: ‘Men of today have learnt to shoot without missing and so I have learnt to fly without perching.’ I want one of my sons to join these people and be my eye there. If there is nothing in it you will come back. But if there is something there you



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will bring me my share. The world is like mask dancing. If you want to see it well you do not stand in one place. My spirit tells me that those who do not befriend the white man today will be saying had we known tomorrow. (Achebe, 1969, p. 46)

This statement above comes from a visionary and a priest philosopher. But in dealing with the white man, the above logic contains a major error; it is “a miscalculation because the white man, contrary to many of his initial claims, was not there for friendship” (Olaniyan, 2001, p. 24). Winterbottom does not need a friend! Even if he needs a friend, his utterances show clearly his disdain for the natives. In his views, they are “like children,” they lie habitually, they can “spoil a good case by a pointless lie” (Achebe, 1969, p. 37), and they cannot be trusted. The empire pretends to befriend the natives only as a ploy to exploit them. This explains why Captain Winterbottom seeks out to work for him the “priest-king” who “has a fierce taboo working on him” (Achebe, 1969, p. 37) that marks him as different from the others.5 It is therefore a mistake for Ezeulu to think that he can please the white man, who is the new god. The pragmatic act of sending his son to attend the white man’s school, which appears a perceptive calculation at first, is also fraught with problems. It confirms that Ezeulu harbors the blasphemy of thought and inadvertently acquiesces to the plan of the white men to capture the minds and the future of the Umuaros. This is a “bad” political calculation, which in an ironic twist may yield “good” results in the future, but spells immediate danger for Ezeulu.6 To Nwaka and his allies, Ezeulu’s action confirms the suspicion that the chief priest is a betrayer. While Oduche’s mother resents the sacrifice of her son to an alien God and Edogo is unhappy with the decision, Ezeulu is hardly bothered by what people think about his actions or inactions. And what did it bring him in the end? Of course, it can only bring defeat, since it signals the symbolic handover of the clan to the white man. This gives credence to Olakunle George’s (2005, p. 354) speculation that Oduche is the inheritor of Ezeulu’s power. However, Oduche can only inherit the power given by the new order. To send his son to a Christian school is to endorse the conversion of Oduche to an alien religion. This is indeed a big mistake because Christianity, the religious arm of British imperialism, is a monotheistic religion. This fundamentally contradicts the Ibo worldview that acknowledges and thrives on the duality of existence. As Achebe explains in Morning Yet On Creation Day (1975),7 to deny the existence and potency of other powers beside one’s power is ignorance, which also exposes the arrogance of Christianity. It would be considered selfish in Igboland. Ezeulu sacrifices his son Oduche to this religion. Even while he refuses to be anybody’s chief but Ulu, he has sacrificed his son to the white man, who now holds the key to the future of the country.

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This recalibration of authority introduces the second problem. Olaniyan (2001) observes that the structures set by the colonial masters have already determined the next generation of African leaders, and these crops of emerging new leaders are the dregs of the dying political structures. The new leaders are selected because they can serve the interests of their colonial masters and not the interests of the community. It is worth emphasizing that the community did not prepare these new leaders for leadership roles, and as such, did not have any hand in their selection. Therefore, the sacrifice of the “authentic” son triggers the emergence of a new set of dislocated and alienated political upstarts who preside over the journey of political, religious, and economic destruction, a lamentable foundation of the present political crises that are ravaging African nations. Events surrounding the rejection of the post of the warrant officer by Ezeulu show his complexity as an individual as well as the arrogance of the British Empire. The ignorance displayed in the way the representatives of the British Crown handled the situation is telling. They blocked all avenues for dialogue and resorted to intimidating tactics to force Ezeulu to change his mind. The punishment of Ezeulu for refusing to work for the British shows the limit of customary law and traditional power. Moreover, it shows that the white man is the final arbiter, even when he does not have all the facts or is ignorant of the issues at stake. Captain Winterbottom and his staff are more interested in the enforced peace, provided it leaves an atmosphere congenial to economic transaction that serves British interests. But Ezeulu did not come out of the situation unscathed. His strong will and obstinacy that served him well in the past when fighting a just cause fails him on this occasion. He becomes mad, leaving a polluted land in the hands of a foreign “Son” and a confused people groping for survival. Perhaps his God abandoned him in order to punish him for abandoning his people. The message in the end of the novel shows that it will take another set of people to clean the land, and if this is not done successfully, it portends a sad development for the culture. Writing on the stunted “political and structural development” of Africa, Basil Davidson notes that “in every crucial field of life, the British had frozen the indigenous institutions while at the same time robbed colonized people of every scope of freedom for self-development” (1992, p. 72). Despite his hubris, Ezeulu’s death illustrates how internal and external factors lead to a break in the progress of a once peaceful community that used to have a mechanism to resolve its internal disputes. Soyinka dramatizes a similar problem in Death and the King’s Horseman (1975), a play based on actual history, myth, and fiction. The play responds to the continual denial of an African world by those Soyinka calls “aliens and alienated Africans” (1976, p. ix),8 and is, thus, like most of Soyinka’s writings, an attempt to restore African dignity through the exposure of



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Yoruba culture to make it universally comprehensible. The play dramatizes Elesin Oba’s failure to die in line with tradition, which stipulates that Elesin must die three months after the death of the king. The abdication of his duty becomes possible because of the actions of the district officer, Mr. Pilkings, who uses force to stop what he considers a “barbaric” act of ritual murder. Even though Soyinka cautions against any reductionist tendencies that presuppose “a potential equality in every given situation of alien culture and the indigenous on the actual soil of the latter” (Soyinka, 1975, see the Author’s Note) in his note to the play, the role of the district officer, Mr. Pilkings, in the unfolding tragedy of the people of Oyo cannot be ignored. This is not to reduce the import of Soyinka’s attempt to privilege the experiences of the people “as material subjects of their own history” (George, 2003, p. 262) over the imperial might of Britain represented by the District officer, Mr. Pilkings. Regardless, however “catalytic” (Soyinka, 1975, see the Author’s Note) or “peripheral” the “colonial intervention” (George, 2003, p. 210) to the action of the play is, it exposes the willful misunderstanding of Yoruba culture, and its destabilization by the colonial masters. Like Arrow of God, the use of sacrifice as a ritual of transition from one season to the other is at the center of this play. However, here we are dealing with human sacrifice, and a willing sacrificial object. Elesin’s self­immolation is unique because it represents Yoruba society’s highest form of sacrifice, a sacrifice designed to help in the regeneration of his community. In this sense, his death, as Olunde later confirms, is a patriotic duty that he owes the community because of his birth. But to willingly submit one’s life is not easy. To successfully perform his duty, he has to sublimate his human side to the important spiritual journey at hand. But Elesin fails, putting the future of his community in peril. This is where his son, Olunde, who sojourns in England, comes to the rescue. He dies in place of his father, in spite of his Western education, and his bravery saves his community. It is important to note the similarity between the two heirs to the throne of their respective families in Achebe’s and Soyinka’s narratives of the encounter with the West. While Oduche acquires Western education because of the foresight of his father, Elesin Oba did not have the patience or the contemplation of Ezeulu. It takes Mr. Pilkings’ intervention for Olunde to be allowed to travel to England to study medicine. The knowledge acquired during the sojourn of Olunde in England becomes instrumental in exposing what Soyinka considers the hypocrisy and double standard of Britain. The altercations between Jane Pilkings and Olunde help to see the latter’s knowledge of Western values and the ignorance of the encroaching empire. It also reveals the disrespect for local traditions and culture, and the willful refusal to accept that things can be done differently. This deliberate refusal to understand Olunde’s points of view is responsible for the way Jane dismisses

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Olunde’s criticism of the British system. Soyinka sets up the conflict between Olunde and Jane as a way to provoke a discourse on the disturbing claim to inherent superiority by the West. Edward Said’s Orientalism (1979) shows how the Occidental world falsely constructed the Oriental world for the purpose of demonizing the latter and providing the enabling environment for their control. This stereotypical construction of the other as inferior was replicated when European cultures were exposed to Africans, the only difference being that the European had, by now, mastered the art of deception and divide and rule. By setting up this discourse on culture and the different sense of duties, Soyinka shows the complexity of a situation that involves two parties (the representation of the British and the Oyo people) that are convinced that their ways are right. The impatience of Jane Pilkings reflects the ways in which the colonialists conflate difference and dissent with rebellion. She cannot understand why Olunde should categorize certain aspects of the British ways of knowing as “decadence” and refuses to accept the necessity for the death of Elesin, which does not make any sense to her: OLUNDE: Yet another error into which your people fall. You believe that everything which appears to make sense was learnt from you. JANE: Not so fast, Olunde. You have learnt to argue I can say that, but I never said you made sense. However cleverly you try to put it, it is still a barbaric custom. It is even worse—it is feudal. The king dies and a chieftain must be buried with him. How feudalistic can you get! (Soyinka, 1975, p. 43)

But Jane’s conversation with Olunde is important in other ways. On the one hand it gives Olunde the chance to explain many things about his culture, even when she disagrees with him. This is an opportunity that he could not have had with the overbearing and impatient Mr. Pilkings, who would have seen Olunde as an upstart. On the other hand, this discourse on culture brings to the forefront the epistemological standpoints of the characters, and by extension, the philosophical underpinnings behind Elesin’s death. It shows that Olunde’s brief sojourn in England did not make him a Briton; it also demonstrates that he is not an assimilationist.9 Olakunle George argues that Olunde’s sojourn in England not only makes him “a mere defender of local traditions” and that his “Westernization” also “comes across here as an effortless secularization” (2003, p. 221). The importance of the paradox of Olunde’s defense of his father’s self-immolation to my argument is that his exposure to Western culture appears to make him appreciate, rather than become alienated, from his culture. His exposure to the double standards of the British helps him to see his father’s death as a patriotic call of duty, rather than suicide, as the British would have it. His argument with Jane shows that his sojourn abroad helps him to appreciate his identity.



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The refusal of Mr. and Mrs. Pilkings to accept Olunde’s explanation is important for other reasons. Mr. Pilkings is interested in the affairs of the Yoruba people to the extent that it did not affect the smooth running of his Majesty’s government. Neither is he interested in the life and death of Elesin Oba. Like Captain Winterbottom in Arrow of God, what matters to the imperial power are the maintenance of law and order and the further strengthening of colonial control. Elesin Oba, Olunde, and the entire community are interested in maintaining the peace for different reasons. The maintenance of a peaceful and harmonious society is precisely the duty of Elesin Oba; his journey to the world beyond is for the spiritual and physical well-being of his community. However, the representative of her majesty has another idea of law and order. In other words, law and order is aligned to the way each of the two parties understands their duties. Richard Quinney observes that law is ideological, and to see law as “something that operates outside of particular interests for the good of the whole society” is naïve (2000, p. 41). Laws are made to protect the interests of those in power in every society. He argues that: Law incorporates the interests of specific persons and groups in society. Seldom is law the product of the whole society. Rather than representing the interests of all members of society, law consists of the interests of only the specific segments of the population. Law is made by men, particular men representing special interests, who have the power to translate their interest into public policy. (Quinney, 2000, p. 41)

The disruption of Elesin Oba’s journey to the world beyond and arrest, his eventual demise, as well as Olunde’s death shows that the imperial masters have the “power to translate their interest into public policy” (Quinney, 2000, p. 41) and, in this case, they did. This is why Mr. Pilkings refuses to see the merits in the “barbaric” ways of the Yoruba. Ngugi Wa Thiong’o’s novel, The River Between (1965), refracts another period of transition in Kenya and the attendant conflicts that resulted in the immolation of the first son. He deploys the metaphor of the river as a boundary to explore the conflicts between two communities, the Kameno and Makuyu, and shows how Christianity becomes a subterfuge to intensify the traditional rivalry between them. Perhaps more than the other two texts, Wa Thiong’o’s novel situates the rivalry between Kameno and Makuyu as a local jostle for power, and economic and spiritual resources in the communities. But then, these rivalries are subsumed in the struggle for the chosen one and couched in religious tones. Even before the arrival of the British, religion—which was supposed to be a reconciling factor—was a dividing factor and a major instigator of the crisis. The two communities

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had been fighting a war of supremacy. This is illustrated by the travails of the descendants of Sege. When the British came with Christianity, it added to the problems of the people. Joshua, the “outsider who wept louder than the bereaved” (Achebe, 1994, p. 185), to use Achebe’s words, embodies the entire fundamentalist’s face of the Christian religion that sees other ways as totally wrong. Joshua is attracted by both the enormous power of Mr. Livingstone, the leader of the church, and the coincidence of interest between patriarchy and his new faith that allows him to rule his home with an iron fist. Joshua is completely enamored by the new faith and would do anything to atone for what he considers his past sins. But as events in the novel show, he selectively uses those sections of his new faith to further his agenda. Wa Thiong’o situates the tensions in the novel on individual and familial relationships in ways that implicate all the major characters. The Christians, led by Reverend Livingstone, and his local surrogate, Joshua, are pitched against the traditionalists who are led by Kabonyi, a former Christian convert and the Waiyaki-led liberals. These groups are fighting for the religious, economic, and social soul of the community and the future of the country. Wa Thiong’o weaves the conflict around the lives of these individuals and shows their personal investments in the struggle even as they pretend to fight for the interests of the community. But then, the tension is couched in religious tones. This is significant for two reasons. First, the myth of the redeemer and the chosen one, which is the cause of the fight for supremacy between Kameno and Makuyu, is based on religion. The redeemer in this case can be likened to the Biblical Moses, who will lead the people out of economic, social, and political oppression. Second, both traditional religion and Christianity are concerned with issues that affect the present and future of the individual and the community. Wa Thiong’o presents the way in which individuals in both camps use religion as redemption and salvation for selfish reasons. Godwin Siundu and Busolo Wegesa point out how each group seeks to show the rightness of its cause through appeal to primordial instincts and the invocation of blood: For both camps, the image of blood and prophecies of redemption . . . justify their continued concern for the future of the people . . . . Whereas the camp of Reverend Livingstone is propelled by the biblical story of Jesus—the Son’s— the sojourn on earth and the salvation that belongs to all who believe in and follow his teachings, the traditionalists on the other hand draw inspirations from the ancient Gikuyu myth that promises a form of salvation for the Gikuyu people. Chege, the last in line of the Gikuyu seers reveals a prophecy to Waiyaki, his son: “Salvation shall come from the hills. From the blood that flows in me, I say from the same tree a son shall rise.” (Siundu & Wegesa, 2010, p. 297, emphasis in the original)



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The healing power of the blood is central to the argument of both camps; it is either the blood of Jesus or the blood of Chege that can save the people. Their blood confers on them the power to perform a duty that can be performed by nobody else. Implicit in the narration of the blood as a license and the power to save is a subtle struggle for supremacy between the two representatives of the different religions. Whereas the narrative of Chege’s lineage as the chosen one and savior causes jealousy and rage between Kabonyi and Waiyaki, who loathes the divine concentration of power in Chege’s lineage, the arrival of the Christian missionaries complicates and drastically alters the narrative. Now the competition takes a global dimension, and a duel for superiority and domination starts, as in Arrow of God (Achebe, 1969) and Death and King’s Horseman (Soyinka, 1975). The myths of the potency of the blood are significant for other reasons. They show the arrogance of colonial power, its disregard for African tradition and culture, and disdain for African traditional religion. Reverend Livingstone, the head of the Christians, sees Kenyans as the insignificant Other, and like Captain Winterbottom, he defines them as children who must be saved from themselves. Frustrated that he “was not making as much progress as had expected,” he is bitter at this people who are “entrenched in their blind customs” (Wa Thiong’o, 1965, p. 55). To him, the “barbarity of Gikuyu customs” (Wa Thiong’o, 1965, p. 55) can only be exorcised through evangelism, and he is determined not to allow an upstart like Wiayaki to destroy the little progress he has made. Reverend Livingstone, like Captain Winterbottom and Mr. Pilkings, symbolizes the arrogance of the invading power. He does everything in his power to promote his faith and undermine the religion and customs of the people, and encourages Joshua, his surrogate, to do so. The death of Muthoni in The River Between, the estranged daughter of Joshua, who is an ardent advocate of the marriage of Christianity with traditional practices, gives Joshua and Reverend Livingstone the opportunity to further demonize traditional practices. Yet Muthoni remains, apart from Waiyaki, one of the most positive advocates of reconciliation. Muthoni, like Olunde in Death and King’s Horseman, shows that one can have the knowledge of Western ways and still be traditional. But they also show that knowledge and redemption could lead to death. Muthoni’s attempt to harmonize Christianity and traditional culture makes her the first object of sacrifice in the novel.10 But only a few recognize her sacrifice. While Waiyaki presents an argument in favor of the merging of positive elements within both religions and cultures, Muthoni decides to act, based on her conviction that Christianity does not preclude participation in traditional rites of passage. She says, “I say I am a Christian and my father and mother have followed the new faith. I have not run away from that. But I want to be initiated into the ways of the tribe” (Wa Thiong’o, 1965, p. 43). She is at pains to emphasize

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that being a Christian is not tantamount to losing one’s cultural identity. She seems to be arguing for the recognition of Christian and traditional rites as necessary for achieving spiritual wholeness in modern Kenya. But she succumbs to the warring powers that are contending for supremacy. Olunde advances a somewhat similar argument for the understanding and recognition of African ways of seeing in a different context in Soyinka’s Death and the King’s Horseman.11 Waiyaki attempts to bring the two warring groups together and make peace, but he falls victim to two powerful groups in the process. The intrigues and jostle for power among the traditionalists and the inordinate ambition of Kabonyi ultimately lead to the immolation of Waiyaki, the only rational voice among the feuding groups. Yet Wa Thiong’o’s narrative shows that Waiyaki holds the key to the future of the community. Selfless and possessed with messianic fervor, Waiyaki has been divinely programmed by his blood to defend the helpless. In personal, familial, and communal relationships, Waiyaki demonstrates his love for his community. The descendant of Chege is fated to be the Messiah. But he refuses to be burdened by the need to assert his superiority, and instead, sacrifices his personal education to work and educate the children in his community. In place of the traditional prophetic insight into cryptic historical lore, Wiyaki displays both traditional and modern knowledge that illustrate his keen understanding of the role of Western education to the development of his community. He did not seek power; yet, he is powerful without being conscious of it. Perhaps this humility makes him a natural bridge-builder. Just like Ezeulu and Olunde, Waiyaki ends up a scapegoat. His contemplations and intelligence could not help him survive the internal and external intrigues of power that enveloped him. He recognizes the danger of separation and the strength that his community can derive from unity, and therefore risks his life in order to save Joshua and his brethren from the wrath of Kabonyi and his group. He ends up being executed by members of his community for supporting their enemy. His death is a great irony, in the sense that while he is considered a heathen by Joshua and the Christian religion, he pays the supreme sacrifice, like Jesus, in order to save the life of Joshua and his family. Thus, like Ezeulu in Arrow of God and Elesin Oba/Olunde in Death and The King’s Horseman, Waiyaki becomes the scapegoat. The only difference here is that the silence at the end of the novel is ambiguous: it suggests the continuity of the lingering crisis without showing a clear ascendancy of Christianity. Wiyaki did not prevent Joshua and his family from being killed just because of his love for Nyambura, Joshua’s daughter. He believes that Western culture and religion are not essentially bad. However, he also believes, like Muthoni, that Christianity has to be anchored on the culture of the people for it to be meaningful. He argues that:



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A religion that took no account of people’s way of life, a religion that did not recognize spots of beauty and truths in their way of life, was useless. It would not satisfy. It would not be a living experience, a source of life and vitality. It would only maim a man’s soul, making him fanatically cling to whatever promised security, otherwise he would be lost. (Wa Thiong’o, 1965, p. 141)

Waiyaki’s insightful statement reveals the contradiction in the intolerant and exclusionary practices of the church. But he fails to realize that the failure of the Christian church to acknowledge the “beauty” and “truth” of traditional culture was not fortuitous. At this time, the Empire still operates on the mistaken belief of philosophers like Hegel who declares that the “Negro . . . exhibits the natural man in his completely wild and untamed state” and concludes that “there is nothing harmonious with humanity to be found in him” (Hegel, 1956, p. 208). To extend hands of friendship to someone whose ideas of Africa are largely derived from philosophers that believed that Africa was outside of history is unrealistic. Christianity is part of the larger scheme of getting rid of the “barbaric” ways of the life of the natives, and an important part of the civilizing mission. This is why the likes of Reverend Livingstone who are merely interested in educating African children and winning their souls for Christ are co-opted into the grand scheme of conquering the body and soul of Africa. What becomes clear in the encounters between the West and the major characters in these three texts is that the protagonists end up as scapegoats. The scapegoat—also known as the carrier—is a sacrificial offering to the gods, usually a human being, in most cultures. The sacrifice is offered to appease and reconcile the gods with the community. In some communities, the scapegoat is a stranger, as Rene Girard (1977) explains: The victim is not a substitute for the particularly endangered individual of particularly bloodthirsty temperament. Rather, it is a substitute for all members of the community, offered up by the members themselves. The sacrifice serves to protect the entire community from its own violence, it prompts the entire community to choose victims outside of itself. (p. 8, emphasis in the original)

But there are also some communities where the scapegoat is a member of the community. The death of the scapegoat purifies the land, restores cosmological balance, and temporarily oils the wheel of peace, progress, and economic prosperity. In other words, the scapegoat serves as one of the ways in which human beings seek to reconcile with nature or transcendental elements by acknowledging their sins. In some African cultures, the sacrificial object usually atones for the sin committed over a period of time, which is usually a year. This is why the scapegoat, who usually ends up dying, performs a labor of redemption. Because of this, the scapegoat is set apart, seen as different, and

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in most cases, seen as ordained by their blood. A scapegoat is also considered an extraordinary being surrounded by mystic aura: Ezeolu is half-human, half god; Elesin Oba is ordained by his blood, and thus, a strong breed; Waiyaki is the only living descendant of Sege, the seer of his tribe and a prophet who has the ability to foretell the future. Like Moses and Jesus, he received his power on the mountain where he literally witnessed the transfiguration of his father. All these characters are conscious of their roles as saviors and are willing to perform their duty. They appear to have no choice; they are born into that role, and therefore, cannot escape from their destiny.12 The inevitability of their situation is the reason why scapegoats are admired and venerated by their societies. Achebe, Soyinka, and Wa Thiong’o show that the scapegoat is limited to certain families, and that the role of the scapegoat is very important to the past and future of their communities. Scapegoats act as transitional figures because they play important roles of serving as the link between the past, present, and future. These bridge builders carry the health and power dynamic of their society in their DNA because their roles straddle religious, historical, and political terrains. This is perhaps why they are usually upstaged by a similar character from the West in the person of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. All the scapegoat characters in the Arrow of God, Death and the King’s Horseman, and The River Between share similar attributes with Jesus, except that Jesus, from the point of view of Christians, is “the way, the truth, and the life,” and the only way through which man “cometh to the Father” (John 14:16, The New King James Version). Achebe frowns at this statement and argues that any religion that lays claim to the only route to salvation and fails to acknowledge the existence of other religions is fundamentally flawed: Whenever Something stands, Something Else will stand beside it. Nothing is absolute. I am the truth, the way, and the life would be called blasphemous or simply absurd, for is it not well known that a man may worship Ogwugwu to perfection and yet be killed by Udo? (Achebe, 1975, p. 94, emphasis in the original)

However, the ability to protect its adherents from the power of other gods is the selling point of the Christian religion. The Christian God is a jealous God, who punishes, and even kills, an unfaithful and unrepentant convert. This is what Joshua invokes to justify the death of Muthoni. Harvesting yam “in the name of the son” in Arrow of God is also a subtle claim that Ulu has no power over the Christians. A faithful convert is considered absolutely safe because such a convert is covered by the blood of Jesus, the scapegoat who knew no sin but died for the sins of all converts. This worldview considers the “Son” of the Christian God as the only Son. The claim to exclusive rights to spiritual redemption has other far-reaching implications. Christianity did not recognize any religion or power other than



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the power of the Christian God. Rather, it preaches that the blood of “the only son” shed on the cross of Cavalry contains universal power of salvation. This claim displaces the myth of origins and scapegoats in the indigenous cultures; it is a call to monotheism. Monotheism lays the foundation for the displacement of African traditional religion and culture, since it consigns other religions into the sphere of irrelevance, and invalidates the basis for any other person to perform the sacred duty of saving their communities. The myth of the Christian carrier as the only way to reconciliation between human beings and their maker, then, signifies the death of the traditional carrier. The transition from traditional to alien ways signals the end of an era, and leads to a paradigm shift. Replacing the traditional myth of the carrier with the sacrifice of the Christian Son in Arrow of God, Death and the King’s Horseman, and The River Between invalidates the works of Ezeulu, Olunde, and Waiyaki. The idea of Jesus as the “only way,” reinforces the idea of the Western view of law and order used by the Captain Winterbottom, Mr. Pilkings, and Reverend Livingstone to victimize Ezeulu, Elesin Oba, and Waiyaki. The desecration, humiliation and immolation, and displacement of the first sons in Africa by the empire are not arbitrary. Neither is their replacement with another first son with similar characteristics in the Christian ritual of sacrifice. The use of the Christian “name of the son” is a political masterstroke. The first sons are used because they stand out as the representatives of the people, those who are seen to be divinely chosen to fight for the right of the majority. These are the people on whose shoulder rests the future of the people. Ezeulu, Elesin Oba, and Waiyaki are sacrificed, their blood used to nurture the seeds of the precarious future of their communities. To invoke Girard, people in the category of Ezeulu and Elesin Oba are scapegoats. They are vulnerable people who not only stand out but also are vulnerable “because they bear the signs of victims” (Girard, 1977, p. 21). In this way, they are different and special, even among their own people, and are often seen as the solution to whatever problem the society is facing, even when they did not contribute in any way to causing the problems. Ezeulu and his God, Ulu, are abandoned for the Christian son and faith, due to a myriad of problems that originated from the community and not from Ulu; Elesin Oba and Olunde because of problems that cannot be directly traced to them; and Waiyaki is taken away to be killed for doing the right thing, while Jesus Christ is hanged on the cross for the sins of the world even when he committed no sins. Yet, they all died because they are seen as the cause of the problems. They are all scapegoats. The Bible details the genealogy of the importance of sons in transitions and in negotiating relationships and partnerships between cultures. The relationship between Abraham and Yahweh shows the son as a signifier of continuity and inheritance with strong political and cultural significance. For instance, God destroyed the first sons of the Egyptians and every living creature in

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Egypt in order to force Pharaoh to allow the Israelites to go. Before then, God asked Abraham to sacrifice his first and only legitimate son, Isaac, to him as a mark of covenant. Although God miraculously replaced Isaac with a ram in the last minute before he was slaughtered, the significance of the first son in this period of transition is not lost on the descendants of Abraham. This sacrifice dramatically changed the fortune of Abraham. Jesus Christ, the first and only son of God, who the Christians claim to have been sacrificed for the world, is a descendant of Abraham and Isaac. It is significant that the acceptance of Jesus Christ becomes the only condition to convert African communities to Westernization (i.e., modernity). Conversion to Christianity became the first means of negotiation to be accepted by the colonial masters as a civilized person—missionary schools are the physical structures on the ground to actualize this. Hence, in all the three texts, the first sons—who represent the strength of the communities—become the political and religious grain of wheat that must die in order to grow in a different form. Ezeulu fits perfectly into this mold. Planting and harvesting is Ezeulu’s duty—at least, the preservation of the sanctity of crops and the maintenance of the cycle is his job. Both deal with the annual cycle of rebirth; so also is Elesin Oba, whose death is necessary for the continuation of the Yoruba cycle of the unborn, the living and the dead, and Waiyaki’s history shows his lineage as a re-generating force within the community. All these characters are involved, wittingly or not, in sowing the seed of Western education in their domain before their eventual sacrifice. This chapter has argued that the deviation from traditional ways of transition to planting and harvesting “in the name of the son” is one of those ways in which Christianity has been used to undermine African culture by imperial Britain. It has demonstrated that the harvest of the yam “in the name of the son” in Achebe’s Arrow of God (1969) signifies a major paradigm shift with cultural and political implications for the negotiation of physical and spiritual relationships in Africa. Soyinka and Wa Thiong’o record similar experiences and how the interventions of colonial masters catalyzed these crises into bigger problems that changed the cultural and political landscapes of Oyo kingdom and Kenya, respectively. The introduction of the only Son continues the tradition of disrespect for Africa, and perpetuates a European mindset that sees African culture and customs as inherently inferior. NOTES 1. I use “untouchable” here, not in the sense of the caste system in India, but in the equally derogatory sense of those the Ekitis call Asemolu, which literally refers to someone who commits offence with impunity, someone above the law. I reconceived the elastic liberty of the missionaries in Nigeria in nineteenth-century fictions in this



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sense because they were almost always described as untouchable. This is because the might of the British forces were used to protect them and the new converts, even when they were the aggressor. The role of Reverend Smith and the eventual suicide of Okwonko in Achebe’s Things Fall Apart is a good example. 2. See Patrick Chabal’s (1992) Power in Africa: An Essay in Political Interpretation and Tejumola Olaniyan’s (2001) “Chinua Achebe and an Archaeology of the Postcolonial African State.” 3. The Ten Commandments, given to Moses, admonish the Israelites to not have other gods; in addition, the Bible records in Exodus 20:5 (The New King James Version): “Thou shalt not bow down to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me” (emphasis in the original). 4. It must be emphasized that Captain Winterbottom had his doubts about the relevance of appointing warrant officers. His discussion with Mr. Clarke shows his frustration with the timid, “half-hearted” approach of the British. But then, these are part of the contradictions of the system (see Achebe, 1969, pp. 34–36). 5. It is important to note that Captain Winterbottom doubts whether the “strange” Ezeulu is a native. Perhaps this is why he goes to the ridiculous extent of speculating that his fair complexion links him to the Red Indians, to explain why Ezeulu does not lie habitually like the other natives. 6. Olaniyan writes about the irony of Ezeulu’s correct logic and his political mistakes (2001). Sending Oduche to school is one of those ironic mistakes that are logically right and a wrong political step. 7. This is the way Achebe puts it: “Whenever Something stands, Something Else will stand beside it. Nothing is absolute. I am the truth, the way and the life would be called blasphemous or simply absurd, for is it not well known that a man may worship Ogwugwu to perfection and yet be killed by Udo?” (1975, p. 94). 8. Some critics believe that Death and the King’s Horseman dramatizes Soyinka’s idea of African tragedy articulated in Myth, Literature, and the African World (1976) (see Appiah, 1992; Jeyifo 2004; Olaniyan, 1995). 9. Soyinka makes it clear that Olunde’s attitude in this play is a conscious attempt to show that British culture is not in any way superior to Yoruba (see Soyinka, 1988). This way, Olunde then becomes the mouthpiece of Yoruba tradition. 10. It is significant that this is the only instance where a woman becomes the “scapegoat” in the three texts under study. This is not common in African culture. 11. Circumcision goes beyond the mere excision of the foreskin. The process entails a long process of education and teaching the new initiates some secrets of the tribe. Emma in The Strong Breed (Soyinka, 1964) stresses the importance of transition in terms of how it increases his sense of individuation. It is in this sense that we should see the statement of Muthoni that she “wants to become a woman made beautiful in the tribe” (Wa Thiong’o, 1965, p. 44). 12. Old Man, a character in The Strong Breed (Soyinka, 1964), puts it forcefully when he says to his reluctant son, Emma, “It is strong medicine which only we can take. Our blood is strong like no other” (p. 134). And it was emphasized in the case of Elesin Oba by Woman: “It is not he who calls himself Elesin Oba, it is his blood that says it” (Soyinka, 1975, p. 28).

Part II

GHANA

Chapter 6

The Role of the Chieftaincy Institution in Ensuring Peace in Ghana from Precolonial Times to the Present Joseph Kingsley Adjei

This chapter discusses the role and challenges of the chieftaincy institution in the attainment of peace in Ghana. It examines the origins and types of traditional roles played by chiefs in ensuring peace, and how the advent of colonialism and the consequent introduction of modern governance systems (legal-rational authority) have relegated the chieftaincy institution to the background. The chapter concludes that peacemaking requires power and resources, which chiefs do not have because of the dynamics of modern politics in Ghana. Thus it is imperative for chiefs to be empowered and resourced by government so that they can contribute meaningfully to the achievement of peace in Ghana. INTRODUCTION One of the factors that influenced the establishment of the chieftaincy institution in Ghana was the quest for cooperation, peace, and security. In early times when the Gold Coast (now Ghana) had not been established, the people were hunters and gatherers. In their daily experiences they were exposed to the dangers of rival predators. Sometimes a whole band was either extirpated or taken captive and enslaved by a stronger band. In order to survive these precarious conditions and enhance individual security, humans came together, and sealed and legalized a social contract to which the inhabitants consented. In this contract, the collective security and peace of the inhabitants of the state were entrusted to a sovereign (Bluwey, 2002). In other words, the people looked up to the most powerful individual in the group for their protection. In return, the sovereign demanded obedience which the people obliged. The social contract theory provides a framework within which the 85

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chieftaincy institution can be located. In the rest of this chapter, the origins, types, and structures of the chieftaincy institution in Ghana are discussed. In addition, the concept of peace and the role played by the chieftaincy institution in ensuring peace in pre-independence and postindependence periods are examined. Finally, the way forward is discussed and some conclusions drawn. ORIGIN OF CHIEFTAINCY IN GHANA In the main, chieftaincy in Ghana originated from three sources (Abotchie, 2006). Historically, a person became an automatic chief if he successfully led a group to be first settlers of a territory. The territory so occupied was appropriated as his state. This was during the periods of external and internal migrations when groups searched for suitable and peaceful places to settle. Also, during the precolonial tribal wars, a person became a chief through conquest. The conquered group came under the authority of the leader of the victorious group. A person could also become a chief through military distinction and gallantry in times of war or traditional emergencies such as famine, drought, or floods. Such individuals were deemed extraordinary ambassadors of peace. Their names were immortalized in oral traditions. In most cases, they were rewarded with the highest honor as chiefs. Thus chieftaincy, a traditional institution with precolonial roots in Ghana, not only continues to occupy politico-social and cultural space, it also shares that space with modern statal structures and the pan-ethnic institutions that have come into existence since the colonial era. CENTRALIZED AND ACEPHALOUS SYSTEMS Before colonial rule, Ghana as we know it today comprised many independent states and kingdoms. Some could be described as city-states. Others, including Akwamu, Bono, Denkyira, and Asante (some ethnic groups in southern Ghana), were large and powerful kingdoms with a number of vassal and satellite states. Each kingdom was headed by a supreme ruler who acquired his position through hereditary succession, either, as with the Akan, through the maternal lineage, or among the other ethnic groups such as the Ewe and Ga-Adangbe of southeastern Ghana, through the paternal lineages (Buah, 1980). These rulers operated under centralized political systems. Apart from the supreme ruler, there developed over time subchiefs who complete the hierarchy. For example, the Akan army formation depicts not only the chiefly hierarchy, but also one way in which subchiefs were organized. These subchiefs were, more than anything else, in charge of various sections



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of the army. Among the Akan, there is the Krontihene who commands the army in the absence of the chief-at-war, with the Akwamuhene as the secondin-command. Other commanders include the Nifahene and Benkumhene responsible for the right and left flanks, respectively. The Twafohene leads the advance guard; the Adontenhene commands the main fighting body; and the Ankobeahene leads the chief’s personal bodyguard. Others are the Kyidomhene, commander of the rear-guard, and the Gyasehene who controls the attendants at the palace. Notably, these are all chiefs of particular settlements within the territory in which they render military or other services to the Omanhene or King. Customarily, a chief is forbidden to speak directly to the people; he does so through an Okyeame, an individual with powerful oratory skills (Nukunya, 1992). Apart from this centralized system of traditional rule, there was also the acephalous system. This system operated in societies without obvious powerholders beyond the level of family groupings, known as “clans” or “lineages.” The Tallensi, Dagare, and Konkomba, all in the northern part of Ghana, practiced this system before colonial rule (Arhin, 1985). Arguably, a third system controlled by ritual or spiritual leaders existed concurrently with both the centralized and acephalous systems. Such leaders represented shrines and were revered throughout the land. Their words transcended the physical world into the spiritual realm because they were believed to represent gods or deities which the colonialists called fetishes. They could be described as Ghana’s answer to the biblical prophets and prophetesses of Israel. Many of these were found in Eweland and among the Ga-Adangbe. WHO IS A CHIEF IN GHANA? From the brief introduction to the origins and systems of types of traditional rule, it is possible to delineate the chieftaincy institution as a collectivity of all those exercising traditional authority recognized as such by the people they ruled. It is important to note that since the period of British rule, a chief’s position is legitimized when it is recognized by the government. Who then is a chief? According to Arhin (1985), a chief is “a person selected or elected in accordance with customary usage and recognized by the Government to wield authority and perform functions derived from tradition or assigned by the central government within specified areas” (p. 1). This definition has come under scrutiny by some scholars led by Abotchie (2006). Abotchie’s contention is that this definition lost its validity with the promulgation of the 1992 constitution. The constitution defines a chief in Article 277 as “a person who, hailing from appropriate family and lineage, has been validly nominated, elected or selected and enstooled, enskinned or installed as a chief or

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queen mother in accordance with the relevant customary law and usage” (p. 168). This constitutional provision is very significant because it captures all the processes that culminate in describing an individual as a chief. A chief must come from a royal family. The validity of a royal’s nomination to be chief lies in the proper constitution of the kingmakers, that is, elders of the royal family led by the queen mother or Obaapanin. They must not overlook any bit of the customary procedures and practices involved in the matters of selection and installation of a chief. The constitution uses the words enstooled and enskinned to denote installation of chiefs in the southern and the northern parts of Ghana, respectively. But this definition has also been taken to task by Odotei and Awedoba (2006) for being inadequate for the understanding of who actually is a chief. To them, the definition is circulatory because it defines a chief by referring to a chief or queen mother. They also argue that it is imprecise in its reference to “family” and “lineage.” They cite, for example, that one may belong to the appropriate lineage and yet not be nominated or elected to become chief if it is not the turn of one’s lineage to claim the chieftainship, or if one has been disqualified through some other criteria. I argue that not until Article 277 of the 1992 constitution is amended to incorporate the various relevant criticisms and concerns, will it accurately serve as the legal provision for delineating a chief in Ghana. Generally, a chief in Ghana operates within a matrix of complex norms and traditions. The authority exercised by a chief is based on the sanctity of tradition and custom, and it is reserved for a particular group. Among the major expectations of the people in a chiefdom or in a traditional area is the ability of a chief and his elders, including the queen mother, to ensure and maintain peace. THE CONCEPT OF PEACE “Peace” defies a single definition. Consequently, the concept has been peddled around in several guises. This chapter aims to show how peace is conceptualized with respect to chieftaincy. However, I deem it important to explore the various meanings of the concept “peace” in order to sharpen its focus. Peace is often conceptualized as the absence of war, and by logical extension, war is viewed as the absence of peace. In other words, peace and war are viewed as two sides of the same coin. This definition of peace is considered inadequate because it ignores the fact that peace is independent of war. That is, there can be peace in times of war and vice versa. For example, in spite of the intractable violent conflict between the Israelis and Palestinians, they have negotiated a peaceful use of their water resources (Best, 2006a). The definition also fails to address what Galtung (1990) calls



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structural violence, which has to do with social aberrations such as oppression, poverty, exclusion, alienation, intimidation, want, illiteracy, fear, squalor, disease, and ignorance. Obviously, a society experiencing these in the absence of physical, open, and direct violence cannot be said to be peaceful. Philosophically, peace has been conceptualized as the original, natural, Godgiven state of human existence. It is the state in which man was not corrupted and the earth was a perfect replica of God’s kingdom. Writing in similar vein, St. Augustine conceptualizes peace as the city of God in contradistinction to the city of man manifested in appetitive and possessive impulses (Bluwey, 2002). To Jean Jacques Rousseau (1917), humans were born into a free state without desires, but through their own moral turpitude, they fell into a corrupt world and lost their peace. Plato, a political philosopher, in his Republic (1968) views justice as the basis of peace. To him, justice exists where each member of society is given his or her due. He argues that society requires the functions of production, security, and political rule to achieve harmony. Correspondingly, these functions require the aptitudes of appetite, courage, and knowledge in the populace and by extension the roles of workers, soldiers, and rulers. To Plato, justice and peace demand that society systematically determines the endowment of each member and ensures that they are placed in each of the three functions according to their endowments. Thus persons of appetite should engage in the production of society’s material existence; those with courage should defend the society, while the knowledgeable rule. Justice, peace, and harmony are distorted when the functional system overlooks the bent of individuals and puts “square pegs in round holes,” for example, if those who are not knowledgeable or appetitive are made to rule. According to Best (2006a), peace is a process involving activities that are directly or indirectly linked to increasing development and reducing conflict both within specific societies and in the wider international community. Concluding, it must be noted that in general, six meanings of peace are agreed on by many peace scholars. They include the following: 1. Peace as the absence of war, that is, the absence of direct violence. 2. Peace as justice and development, that is, a system devoid of direct violence. 3. Peace as respect and tolerance between and among the populace and the upholding of human rights. 4. Peace as Gaia, that is, balances in and with the ecosphere. 5. Inner peace which means spiritual peace. This is given by God and cannot be attained by the secular world. 6. Peace as “wholeness” and making whole or “becoming whole” that is, achieving self-fulfillment and satisfaction with personal development.

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In addition to these, Galtung (1996) has delineated peace in two major ways—negative and positive types of peace. According to him, negative peace denotes the absence of direct violence (wars), fear, and conflict at individual, national, regional, and international levels. Positive peace, on the other hand, is constituted by the presence of justice and inner peace and the absence of unjust structures and unequal relationships. With regard to chieftaincy and peace, I delineate peace as the use of recognized traditional power or authority to create structures that enforce harmony, that creates opportunities for all, and seeks to improve the human condition; that accepts democratic tenets as the rule of life, and that seeks to remove structural violence in society and settles disputes without resorting to physical violence. Thus all the efforts by the chieftaincy institution can be summed up in one word: peacemaking. CHIEFTAINCY AND PEACE IN GHANA: THE PRE-INDEPENDENCE PERIOD Historically, pre-independence spans the period before and during colonial rule, that is, the period before Ghana’s independence in 1957. As indicated earlier, before colonial rule, the territory now known as Ghana was made up of independent states headed by powerful chiefs or kings and their subchiefs (commanders of the traditional army formation) including queen mothers. Together, they constituted what is today known as chieftaincy. The role of the chieftaincy institution in peacekeeping, peace enforcement, peacemaking, and peace-building, that is, peace in general in precolonial times, was manifested in the functions of the institution in general and the chief in particular. In the first place, a fundamental obligation of a chief was to maintain internal peace, domestic tranquility, and security. In this regard, he and his council of elders had to maintain law and order. As the states grew larger in size, each state had a number of sub-rulers. Each state had a court of justice presided over by the king. The sub-rulers also ruled over local courts. The metropolitan courts had jurisdiction over major matters, and were courts of appeal for the provincial courts. Summons relating to both civil and criminal cases were delivered by a court official who carried a gold-plated sword-like staff or horse tail as his authority or warrant. It was a damnable offence for any accused to refuse or fail to attend to such summons. The individual could be banished from the kingdom or locality. The courts were attended by the king or chief and his counselors as well as any citizen who cared to be present (Buah, 1980). Fines ranging from poisoned drinks to the payment of money were imposed on the guilty party. Such fines were commensurate with the degree of seriousness of the case and also the age and status of the guilty



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party. The king retained one-third of the fees and fines, one-third went to the stool or skin, that is the state treasury, and the remaining third was shared among persons who assisted with the trial. Settlements were usually capped by an acceptance speech from the guilty party who then shook hands with the aggrieved party. It must be noted that the chieftaincy institution operates within societies of mechanical solidarity and applies penal or repressive laws in the settlement of disputes. Repressive law is oriented toward behavior that violates the collective conscience of the community of people. The societal function of punishment is not primarily to take revenge against the perpetrator of a crime, but to publicly reaffirm collective conscience itself. In other words, because most people feel the offence and believe deeply in a common morality, an offender is likely to be severely punished for any action that is considered an offence against the collective moral system. This way, peace is restored for the people and reconciliation between the living on one hand and the ancestral spirits and the lesser gods and those yet unborn on the other. Chiefs were also responsible for defending and protecting their people against external aggression. In fact, the chief was the commander-in-chief of the armed forces. He physically led his people in war and became the primary target for the enemy. His capture meant a defeat and surrender of his military forces. The history of chieftaincy in the pre-independence period is replete with wars of expansion in which kings or chiefs lost their lives, all in a bid to ensure peace for their people. The deaths of King Osei Tutu of Ashanti Kingdom (1695–1717) in 1717 and Ntim Gyakari of Denkyira State in 1701 serve as examples (Buah, 1980). Furthermore, the chief’s legislative and administrative functions were all geared toward peace. The chief’s legislative power derived from his position as the legal embodiment of the community and as either the founding father or representative of the founding father of the community or kingdom (Kludze, 2000). Consequently, the person of the chief could not be accused of mistakes or defaults because such accusations would reduce him to the level of ordinary citizens and pierce the aura around him. It would also centralize the potency of his sacred personality as the representative of the will of the ancestors and the ancestral spirits. Thus as the symbol of identity of his community, kingdom, or chiefdom, all the citizens were his dependents. The social and political cohesion of his subjects was a major preoccupation. Consequently, he presided over a council which made laws with the sole aim of protecting the people both in their internal and external relations in order to give them peace. The chief’s administrative function primarily focused on the land. This was because a lapse in land administration could disturb the peace of the people. It must also be noted that the chief’s position was inextricably tied to land

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ownership. Among the Akans and the Gas for example, the paramount title or allodia title to lands was vested in the paramount stool. Disputes over land ownership were quickly settled to ensure peace. In the process of land administration, chiefs also protected the land from traditional emergencies such as famine, drought, land degradation, and distorted climatic conditions in general which affected the peace of their subjects. In this regard, certain regulations which found expression in taboos with severe sanctions were laid bare to all the people in the community, chiefdom, or kingdom. For example, apart from instituting sacred days, which forbade people from working on the land, some sacred forests were carved out. Entry into these forests was forbidden and anybody that entered them either faced the pain of instant death in the forest or severe physical and spiritual sanction. In order to ensure posthumous peace and tranquility, chiefs had the power to make inquests into the death of any of their subjects. Such inquiry covered the relationship between the immediate as well as the extended family and the deceased before his or her death. It also covered the kind of disease that led to the person’s demise and whether he or she died peacefully and qualified to be an ancestor or not. Deaths resulting from a falling tree, lightning, childbirth (Kludze, 2000), and suicide were considered “bad deaths” and special purification rites were performed before the victim was buried; hence the chief had to be sure of the causes and circumstances of a citizen’s demise. If a chief failed to purify the land from “bad deaths,” which defiled the land, his inaction could attract the wrath of the gods and ancestral spirits and disturb the peace equation. On a larger scale, a chief was responsible for spiritual purification of his town or territory for spiritual peace, on specified days and periods. This is because many taboos such as rape, homosexuality, sexual intercourse in the bush, fighting in the bush, and adultery may have occurred secretly, but equally defiled the land. In such cases not even the death of the transgressor removed the stain. Therefore the earth had to be purified and the gods and ancestral spirits propitiated. This way, spiritual peace was ensured. CHIEFTAINCY AND PEACE: THE COLONIAL PERIOD Ghana’s relations with Europeans began in January 1471 when the Portuguese adventurers were received at Elmina by Nana Kwamena Ansah, the thenchief of Elmina. However, it was the British who formalized the hitherto undetermined relations when they signed a convention, known as the Bond of 1844, with some chiefs of the Gold Coast. By this convention, the people of the Gold Coast in no way surrendered their sovereign rights to the British. According to Buah (1980), the bond merely confirmed the pledge the people



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made at the tripartite treaty of 1831 to give up human sacrifies and other unwholesome practices such as panyarring, and to remit criminal cases for trial in courts composed of both British officials and rulers of the land. This was on the understanding that such trials would be based on native customary laws in as far as these did not go counter to the principles of British laws. This position was, indeed, confirmed on September 3, 1844 by the Crown when constituting the Cape Coast castle as a place for the trial of criminal offences. The signing of the Bond of 1844 was a move toward achieving peace. It sought to abolish certain “uncivilized” practices as perceived and detested by the colonialists, that is, the British and thus established a peaceful relationship between them (the British) and the people of the Gold Coast. However, the colonialists (British) subsequently took certain measures that directly or indirectly weakened the powers and functions of chiefs and the chieftaincy institution in general. In the first place, the colonialists carved arbitrary boundaries, that is, districts, to suit their administration without recourse to ethnic and tribal boundaries. Consequently, many ethnic groups which hitherto were independent and autonomous were brought together as one entity. In many of these cases one ethnic entity lost its powers and this sparked off struggles for territorial and political hegemony. Second, the colonialists established strategic political, legal, and military structures that weakened the powers of chiefs and their elders. Politically, the office of the district commissioner was established. This was an effective instrument of colonial domination. Nukunya (1992) argues that the District Commissioner became the most powerful individual in the district and his white helmet reminded both the chiefs and their subjects of their servitude to colonial rule. In addition, traditional councils were established and given the mandate to settle matters relating to chieftaincy, customary laws, usages, and problems of local concern only. This was done under strict supervision of colonial authorities. Similarly, Joint Provincial Councils, and in Ashanti the Asanteman Council made up of Paramount Chiefs, were formed. The sad fact is that many of the chiefs appointed to these bodies became stooges of the colonial administration under indirect rule. In fact, many chiefs were so impoverished that they took loans from banks and other businesses operating in their regions, guaranteed by the colonial officials even when they knew there was no assurance that the loans would ever be repaid (Buah, 1980). Indirect rule was introduced into the Gold Coast by Sir Frederick Gordon Guggisberg who was Governor of the Gold Coast from 1919 to 1927. The system of indirect rule in the country worked as follows: within a traditional state, or a group of smaller states, the paramount chief, their leading subchiefs and important counselors were constituted into a Native Administration, later named a Native Authority, presided over by a paramount chief. The powers and functions of the Native Authority covered matters relating mainly to traditional

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and customary institutions and practices. These authorities operated under the general direction and control of the colonial district commissioner (Buah, 1980). In the same vein, societies such as Tallensi, Kokomba, and Lo Dagaba, which were previously acephalous, had chiefs appointed or rather new political functionaries created to serve the colonialists’ purposes. In all these, the educated (also at that time called “the intelligentsia”) were ignored by the colonialists. The reason was that the intelligentsia was agitating for independence. With regard to law and social control, colonial courts of law were set up. The subjects were thus enabled to ignore the chief’s courts and settle their cases in colonial courts. As if this was not enough, a new police force and an army modeled on the British equivalent institution were formed. Prisons were established to complement these instruments. Perhaps the most significant instruments that took the chieftaincy institution to the hangman’s noose were Christianity and classroom education. These not only established the colonial presence, but they directly and indirectly attacked and destroyed long-standing cultural traits on which the chieftaincy institution rested. Some of the chiefs themselves were converted together with their subjects to Christianity or Islam. Thus the part they played in ritual and traditional religious practices, which offered spiritual peace and kept the people together, withered into oblivion. Notably, Christianity was accompanied by formal or classroom education. In the main, formal education focused on literacy, numeracy, and cultural traits that were largely European. Many royals who had formal education repudiated the institution of chieftaincy as heathen. Thus with these powerful institutions exerting their presence on traditional institutions, the power of chiefs and their elders to enforce peace diminished. It must be noted, however, that some of the powerful chiefs in Denkyira, Asante, Assin, and Akyem (states in the Gold Coast) still had some considerable control over their people. CHIEFTAINCY AND PEACE: POSTINDEPENDENCE TRENDS After independence in 1957 the power to enforce or keep peace rested on who had power over the Ghanaian nation. Obviously, legal-rational rule headed by an executive president held sway over traditional rule. It is observed that the ability to influence peace efforts also depended on sound economic status. The basis of the chief’s economic power was land. Unfortunately, the Convention Peoples Party which came into power immediately following independence passed many acts which, to a large extent, deprived the chiefs of Ghana of their lands, and hence reduced their economic power and influence over their subjects. This emanated from the widely held perception that



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some chiefs, through indirect rule as alluded to earlier, had supported the colonialists in the fight for independence. In fact, Kwame Nkrumah, the first president of Ghana, is reported to have said that “the chiefs would run away and leave their sandals behind them” (Arhin, 1985). True to this, many acts including the Local Government Ordinance of 1951, the State Council Ordinances of 1952, the Municipal Council Ordinances of 1953, the Administration of Lands Act of 1962 (Act 123), and the Concession Act of 1962 (Act 124), the Akim Abuakwa Stool (Stool Revenue) of 1958 (Act 8), the Ashanti Stool Act of 1958 (Act 28), and the Stool Lands Control Act (Act 79) were passed to subjugate chiefs by depriving them of their major source of income, land. But perhaps one act that attacked the existence of the chieftaincy institution itself was the Chiefs (Recognition) Act of 1959. By this act, the minister was empowered to withdraw recognition of chiefs, direct any chief to refrain from the exercise of his functions, and even prevent the chief from residing in a specific area (Boafo-Arthur, 2000). Thus the chiefs’ economic livelihoods in the form of land as well as their political authority had eroded. In their place was a new phenomenon of political party which had assumed the responsibilities and functions of chieftaincy. Pinkney (1970) puts it rather forcefully: “The gong-gong, which was used to summon the people, was often beaten by a party official. Party officials competed with traditional durbars, party drumming groups competed with those in the chiefs’ courts, and village development committees were chaired by party officials” (p. 31). Having been stripped of their bases of power and functions, chiefs became toothless bulldogs barking without biting. In order to survive, chiefs had to align themselves with the government. Thus chiefs and the elders themselves did not have peace that could trickle down to the people. The 1969 and 1979 Constitutions sought to overturn the measures taken by the First Republic on chieftaincy with particular reference to land. The 1969 Constitution provided that “all stool lands in Ghana shall be vested in the appropriate stool on behalf of, and in trust for, the subjects of the stool” (Article 164[1]). This was complemented by the same constitution with, “no property of any description shall be compulsorily taken possession of, and no interest in or right over property of any description shall be compulsorily acquired by the state” (Article 18[1]). The spirit and letter of these provisions were enhanced by the establishment of a Stool Lands Act that protected the interest of the chiefs against encroachment by the state. By 1979, it was clear that lands in the northern part of Ghana were still vested in the state. This was because the colonial law that made this possible had not been expunged from the statute books. To reverse this trend, the 1979 Constitution provided that “For the avoidance of doubt it is hereby declared that all lands in the Northern and Upper Regions of Ghana which immediately before the coming into force of this constitution were vested in

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the Government of Ghana . . . all lands . . . shall vest in any such person who was the owner of any such land before any such vesting or in the appropriate skin” (Article 188[3, 4]). Thus the 1979 Constitution restored lands in the northern regions to their original owners. And yet the power to wage war, protect the people, and take decisions to improve the lives of the people still rested with the central government. The major point that has been made in this section is that the dynamics of governance after independence indicate that the control of national wealth is inextricably tied to the power to enforce any decision including the maintenance of peace. Therefore, once chiefs lost hold of the land, which had hitherto been their major source of economic power through policies of subjugation and usurpation, they naturally lost the power to control and enforce peace. They themselves became stooges to a higher legal-rational authority which saw traditional rule as an impediment to development. The chieftaincy institution did not fare any better under military governments of Ghana (Boafo-Arthur, 2000). Military governments were not selective in the usurpation of power; they took away power from every institution including the chieftaincy. One military government that can be used as a representative case for military governments of Ghana was the Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC), which ruled Ghana from December 1981 to January 1993. Established in the wake of what has come to be known in the political history of Ghana as the 31st December Revolution, the PNDC was the government that had the longest period of rule since Ghana’s independence in 1957. An important signal to the challenge and usurpation of existing power structures was the creation of new organs of popular power or people’s power as they were called. This was meant to effect the societal transformation envisaged by the revolutionaries. As Hansen (1991) argued, “if one accepted the postulate that the people were to be the main instruments of the transformation process and the architects of their own destinies, then it was necessary to create certain structures and institutions through which their collective energies could be mobilized and channeled into social action in accordance with the dynamics of the transformation process” (p. 27). The creation of institutions such as Workers’ Defense Committees (WDCs), the Peoples’ Defense Committees (PDCs), the National Defense Committee (NDC), the Citizens’ Vetting Committee (CVC), the National Investigative Committee (NIC), and the Public Tribunals was to ensure parallel state institutions to counter existing ones. However, so far as the chieftaincy institution was concerned, it was the PDCs, later re-christened Committees for the Defence of the Revolution (CDRs) that threatened the traditional power base of chiefs. By virtue of being at the grassroots in towns and villages, the PDCs challenged chiefly authority. Although initially the membership of the new institutions was limited



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to workers, peasants, and the revolutionary intellectuals, other classes were allowed to join the revolutionary organs later. But that could not stop occasional clashes with chiefs, especially over land and the disbursement of revenues that accrued from them. The 1992 constitution that ushered in the Fourth Republic devoted considerable attention to the chieftaincy institution; Chapter 22 of the Constitution deals with chieftaincy exclusively. A critical look at the provisions of this chapter however reveals that when it comes to power, chiefs are relegated to the background. Article 276(1) provides that “a chief shall not take part in active politics; and any chief wishing to do so and seeking election to Parliament shall abdicate his stool or skin” (p. 168). This is reinforced by Article 94(3)(c) which provides that “a person shall not be eligible to be a Member of Parliament if he is a chief” (pp. 74, 75). It must be noted that “taking active part in politics” and being a member of Parliament are two routes to legal-rational power. Holders of legal-rational power such as the president, the member of Parliament, the minister, or the district/municipal/metropolitan chief executive are not only the custodians of the wealth of the nation, but also control the instruments of peace and war. These instruments include the police service, the military, the prisons, customs, excise and preventive service (CEPS), and immigration. The point has been made earlier that without these instruments, no institution can maintain or enforce peace in the modern world. It is clear that by their preclusion in legal-rational power, chiefs are deprived of access to these instruments. Consequently, their power to enforce peace or maintain it is a mirage. Chiefs now look up to political leaders to maintain or enforce peace in their areas of jurisdiction. Perhaps their only consolation is found at the rural level, where societal conflicts are referred, first and foremost, to the traditional ruler for arbitration. Even so, dissatisfied parties after settlement do not take their cases to a higher traditional arbitration system, but seek settlement in a court of law, a legal-rational instrument of peace. Some have argued that the chieftaincy institution itself is not peaceful. It is bedeviled with many conflicts some of which are intractable. The KokumbaNanumba conflict, the Mamprusi-Kusasi conflict, and the Abudu-Andani conflict, all in the northern part of Ghana, and the Anloga and Peki-Tsito conflicts in southern Ghana bear names of ethnic groups—indicating they are ethnic conflicts—but are all rooted in chieftaincy disputes. Some of these disputes are over a century old and because the chieftaincy institution is unable to settle these cases, chiefs have resorted to law courts for settlement. By this, chiefs have demonstrated that they cannot maintain peace among themselves. Commonsense knowledge indicates that “if you do not have it, you cannot give it out.” Thus since the chieftaincy institution has been turned into a terrain of disputes, it cannot handle the question of peace.

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However, it is important to note that the current predicament of the chieftaincy institution is the result of the many calculated attempts by constitutionally elected governments since independence to subjugate the institution, and the indirect usurpation of the power of chiefs by military governments. In the case of the military, the argument holds that during military rule, all avenues of political power are pitilessly blocked with the singular exception of chieftaincy. In other words, with the overthrow of the government and its consequent proscription of the constitution, abolition of parliament, and all other structures of power, the chieftaincy institution becomes the only leeway or avenue for power seekers to realize their ambitions. Thus the elite in the Ghanaian society who would otherwise have held legal-rational power in government in general found chieftaincy the only avenue to exercise power during these periods of militancy. This resulted in nonroyals usurping stools and skins of royals. Indubitably, this remains a source of conflict. In some traditional societies the struggles for political hegemony between clans and lineages have traversed several generations leaving in their trail underdevelopment characteristics such as poverty, disease, illiteracy, and death. Thus blaming the institution solely for its current predicament does not fit the facts. THE WAY FORWARD The chieftaincy institution can be made very vital not only in peacemaking, peace enforcement, peace-building, and peace-keeping, but also in governance in general. This requires a critical look at the governance structures in relation to the chieftaincy institution. Currently in Ghana, there is a National Peace Council made up of eminent personalities of the state whose mandate it is to maintain peace in the country. In addition, there are the Regional Security Coordinating Councils throughout the ten regions. These are complemented by 138 District Security Coordinating Councils. It is noted however that all these structures operate under the direction of government. In all these security councils, chiefs are not given recognizable portfolios. In fact, any chief appointed to any of these councils is there at the behest of the government and not as a representative of the chieftaincy institution. Thus the role of chiefs in maintaining peace has gradually been relegated to the background. Also, resources constitute the cog around which the maintenance of peace revolves. These resources are managed and distributed by government to state institutions such as Parliament, judiciary, the military, the police service, and the security services in general. At the local level, it is the metropolitan, municipal, or district assembly that are resourced to deal with conflicts and keep the peace. Their capacity is strengthened by security



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coordinating bodies. Unfortunately, both the 1992 Constitution and the revised Chieftaincy Act do not grant chiefs access to these perks. By extension therefore, the chieftaincy institution is not recognized by the state as a formal manager of peace. Similarly, peace maintenance depends on the ability of the source of power to command obedience. This is also related to the benefits derived by those obeying from the one commanding obedience. Thus people would obey the commands of the institution or individual that provides them with water, electricity, formal education, roads, and employment rather than anybody else whose command “carries no weight.” This is the predicament in which chiefs find themselves. It is the government agencies and institutions as well as political activists who provide the resources and amenities some of which have been mentioned above. Consequently, the members of Parliament and the district chief executives who facilitate the provision of infrastructure and basic amenities in the districts and constituencies are held in higher esteem than the chiefs. This is not strange, for it is said that “whose food you eat, whose slave you become.” Thus the chieftaincy institution, which used to be a very powerful institution in the past, now holds paled power without authority. In other words chiefs now hold power that is not generally recognized. To reverse this trend, the first thing that I consider most appropriate is for the state to recognize the pivotal role that the institution of chieftaincy can play in governance and in matters relating to peace in particular. In this regard, it is suggested that chiefs should be given part of the District Assemblies Common Fund to be known as the “Royal Fund.” The District Assemblies Common Fund is provided for in the 1992 Constitution of the Republic of Ghana. Article 252(1) and (2) provide that “There shall be a fund to be known as the District Assemblies Common Fund. Subject to the provision of this Constitution, Parliament shall annually make provision for the allocation of not less than five percent of the total revenues of Ghana to the District Assemblies for Development; and the amount shall be paid into the District Assemblies Common Fund in quarterly installments” (p. 154). The Royal Fund, as proposed, can be disbursed in a similar manner. This way, chiefs can take part in meaningful developments that can restore their power and authority. Second, Royal Awards Day should be instituted to honor chiefs of Ghana annually. Chiefs, queen mothers, and elders who have distinguished themselves in maintaining peace and enhancing development in their traditional areas should be given the recognition and awarded accordingly. Such awards should be in the form of projects that would benefit the people of the awardwinning chief’s traditional area. The most prestigious national award should be given to any paramount chief whose traditional area records the least number of conflicts. This way, conflicts among chiefs and their people would

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be reduced drastically. Chiefs would also develop a sense of inclusion and commitment to the country’s peace efforts. Furthermore, national and regional royal colleges should be established to give periodic training on peacemaking, peacekeeping, peace enforcement, and peace-building. In addition, the rudiments of development and the pivotal role of peace in development, customs, and usages should be included in the royal curricula of the colleges. Finally, the 1992 Constitution of the Republic of Ghana should be amended to create a second chamber in which chiefs would be part of the government structure. Recruitment of chiefs to the second chamber should be based on meritorious service in the area of peace and development and should rotate among the ten regions of Ghana. Membership should also include former inspectors-general of police, diplomats, and other eminent and well-meaning Ghanaians. This way, the chieftaincy institution would be accorded its due recognition as part of modern governance. More importantly, commitment to peace would become an important issue and point of consideration for kingmakers in selecting candidates for enstoolment, installment, or enskinment. CONCLUSION The foregoing discussion has demonstrated that before colonialism the chieftaincy institution was the sole governing institution for the states across the territory now known as Ghana. The ability to maintain peace was not only a prerequisite for qualification as a chief, but it also indicated the goodwill of the candidate for his people. The arrival of the Europeans on the soil of Ghana (then Gold Coast) and the resultant colonialism subjugated the chieftaincy institution through varying degrees of calculated official neglect and usurpation of the power of the institution. The institution did not fare any better under independence. Many of the acts passed in respect to chieftaincy sought to subjugate the institution. Consequently, the institution has been alienated from mainstream governance and its popularity has been forced to pale into notoriety with conflicts or disputes being its major characteristics. To reverse this trend and make the institution more relevant, there is the need for the state to recognize the need for a symbiotic relationship between legal-rational rule and traditional rule. In this regard, resources that are given to legal-rational structures to enhance their capacity to maintain peace should be extended to traditional rulers to make them more relevant to modern governance. This way, the chieftaincy institution would not only win back its power but also its authority to enforce and maintain peace.



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However, the chieftaincy institution cannot be presented as an innocent lamb whose blood is being sought by remorseless predators. The various land and succession disputes that have led to violent conflicts in some cases and led to the death and maiming of many of their subjects have contributed in a large measure to their unpopularity and inability to maintain peace. In other words, by its acts of omission and or commission, the chieftaincy institution is largely perceived as troublesome and not peaceful. It is important therefore for the institution to look inward and correct these anomalies in order to reclaim its former glory as a peace-loving relevant institution in Ghana’s quest for development.

Chapter 7

Colonial Justice and Conflict Management The Case of Chief Seniagya and the Ashanti Golden Stool Joseph Kingsley Adjei and Akanmu G. Adebayo This chapter examines the British colonial justice system as applied in the case of the desecration of the Golden Stool in Ghana (then called the Gold Coast) in 1921. The chapter traces the historical developments involving the British, the Ashanti, and the Golden Stool. These events not only culminated in the British colonization of the Gold Coast, but also the exile of the Asantehene, Prempeh I, with significant impact on the Ashanti people and society. The chapter also discusses the curious case of a prominent subchief, Seniagya, his role with respect to the desecration of the Golden Stool, and his expulsion to Nigeria. By using a stronger military strength and power and socalled superior legal regime, the British dominated the Ashanti people. The British deported the King, the Queen Mother, and some elders; demanded the Golden Stool; used British law without recourse to Ashanti traditional law to pass judgment on desecrators of the Golden Stool, and sent them into exile. The chapter concludes that the justice system as applied by the British in the particular case of Chief Seniagya was a mere show of dominination carried by superior military might.

INTRODUCTION Before the Gold Coast was colonized, justice was administered by traditional rulers. Indeed, the court or palace of chiefs, in the case of centralized systems, and that of clan heads in the case of acephalous systems, symbolized justice. Conflict management—the process of reducing the negative and 103

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destructive capacity of conflict—was a major preoccupation of traditional authority. The traditional ruler and his council of elders wielded legislative and judicial power. All laws, to the extent that they emanated from human authority, were formulated by the chief and his elders. The chief was the supreme judge of his people. In criminal or quasi-criminal proceedings, the chief was also the principal prosecutor (Kludze, 2000). In the case of Ashanti, the Asantehene wielded the final authority in all matters. His supreme authority resided in the Golden Stool, which was not only revered by all the people of Ashanti but also served as the symbol of unity, authority, and power of the Ashanti Kingdom. Therefore, any attempt at desecrating the Golden Stool was a direct attack on the Ashanti nation. It is against this background that the demand in March 1900 by the British colonial officer, Sir Frederick Mitchell Hodgson, for the Golden Stool and, subsequently in 1921, the attempt at stealing and desecrating it by Chief Seniagya and four others, sparked unrest among the Ashanti. This chapter examines the British colonial justice system as applied in the case of the desecration of the Golden Stool. The chapter traces the historical developments that led to an attempt by the British demanding the Golden Stool, the resultant exile of the Asantehene, Prempeh I, and its impact on the Ashanti people and society. It also discusses the curious case of a prominent subchief, Seniagya, his role with respect to the desecration of the Golden Stool, and his expulsion to Nigeria. The chapter is structured in six parts. This introduction is followed by a discussion of the significance of the Golden Stool. Next, the chapter looks at the exchanges between the British colonial authorities and Ashanti and their impacts on the Golden Stool. In addition, the chapter discusses the exile of the Asantehene and its effects. Furthermore, it traces the events leading to the exile of Chief Seniagya and his accomplices and how British colonial law was applied. SIGNIFICANCE OF THE GOLDEN STOOL The symbol of political authority in Ashanti is the Golden Stool. Every political unit in Ashanti—division, vicinage, village, or lineage—has a stool which is the symbol of the authority of its leadership. All such stools are parochial symbols which focus attention and sentiment on segmental identities and factional interests. The Golden Stool is the sole exception to this. As the symbol that stands for the widest expanse of political authority (all other stools fall under it), the Golden Stool enshrines the common fundamental values that all the segments of society espouse and cherish. It is the focus of the collective sentiments which the people of Ashanti feel as members of one nation.



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The Ashantis believe that it contains the collective spirit of the whole nation (Boahen, 1996). To the Ashanti, the Golden Stool is the source of the nation’s vitality and strength. The fruitfulness of the earth, the fertility of men and women, freedom from famine, drought, and plagues—these do not only depend on the natural causes of nature and follow the seasonal cycles of the year, but also reflect the spiritual strength of the Golden Stool. This belief in the intrinsic power of the Golden Stool is expressed in the special invocation which the King of Ashanti directs to the stool on the occasion of the festival of national purification, the Odwira: “Friday, Stool of Kings, I sprinkle upon you, may your power return sharp and fierce . . . May the nation prosper, may the women bear children, may the hunters kill game. We who dig for gold, let us get gold, let us get gold to dig, and grant that I get some for the upkeep of my kingship” (Boahen, 1996, p. 14). This invocation by the King demonstrates the intimate connection between the Golden Stool and the fortunes of the nation of Ashanti. This has social implications. Ashanti believe that when individuals’ actions conform to the norms and values of the society, the Golden Stool waxes strong. There is abundance of crops and meat, and women are blessed with many children. On the other hand, when individuals depart from the traditional rules of behavior, they defile the stool, that is, the values which the Golden Stool stands for are defiled and the vitality of the stool becomes infringed. The consequences of these acts are plagues, draughts, and famines which endanger the life of the nation (Gluckman, 1962). The belief that every social action has an immediate utilitarian result binds all segments of the nation into a single moral corpus in which the various parts owe it to the whole to conform to the ideals enshrined in the national symbol. When the Asantehene purifies and honors the Golden Stool in the Odwira and Adae festivals, he evokes and reaffirms the nation’s belief in the ideals, the observance of which is the condition of an ordered national life. It is noted that the acts that most seriously injure the spiritual life of the nation and therefore defile the stool are those that infringe the basic principles of social organizations. These include intercourse with a maiden who has not had her puberty rites, incest, and adultery. It is quite clear that by being made to rest on the bond between the Golden Stool and the individual, the general rules of social intercourse—of the kingship and political relationship in the society—are guaranteed the backing of an enduring collective sentiment. The Golden Stool thus functions as the bedrock of Ashanti institutions and ensures their continuity and stability. From this discussion, it is clear that the very existence of the Ashanti nation is rooted in the presence, sanctity, cultural, spiritual contagion, and power of the Golden Stool. Therefore, it was not only desecrating, but also a threat to the Asante nation for the British to ask for the Golden Stool.

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EVENTS LEADING TO THE DEMAND FOR THE GOLDEN STOOL It is important to look at the background of the British’s demand. In 1821, the British government steadily began the expansion of their colonial power through the invasion of local kingdoms, particularly the Ashanti and Fanti confederacies. Abolishing the African Company of Merchants, the British seized privately held lands along the coast, taking over the remaining interests of other European countries, annexing the Danish Gold Coast in 1850 and the Dutch Gold Coast, including Fort Elmina, in 1871. The British’s desire to control the Gold Coast, now Ghana, was mainly motivated by the insatiable wish to control trade in gold and slavery. Consequently, the Golden Stool became a major target not only for its value, but also, as noted above, its capture meant dismantling the unity of the Asante Kingdom. The Ashanti people, who had controlled much of the territory of Ghana before the Europeans arrived, started to resist the British and fought three wars with the British colonial invaders in 1823, 1853, and 1874. Believing the Stool to be the rallying force of the Ashanti and the cause of the people’s continued resistance against colonial rule, the British governor demanded the stool, which was also desired by the British for its legendary beauty and obvious value. Topped with a curved seat that is 46 centimeters high with a platform 61 centimeters wide and 30 centimeters deep, the Golden Stool’s entire surface was inlaid with gold. Between 1896 and 1900, the main British concerns were revenue collection for financing their administration, exacting compulsory labor for public works, and getting accepted by the Ashanti such “humanitarian” acts as the abolition of domestic slavery. The British also thought that, impress upon the Asante people that the Osei-Poku Dynasty had, in the words of Fuller, “vanished” forever (Fuller, 1965), they ought to secure for themselves the Golden Stool, the supreme symbol of Asante kingship and unity. Apparently, in British thinking, the loss of this national symbol, with its accepted mystical attributes, would destroy the sentiment felt toward it and hence the bonds of unity among the Asante people. THE EXILE OF PREMPEH I AND ITS EFFECTS To protect the stool, Asantehene Prempeh I surrendered himself and was sent into exile in 1896. The Asantehene in 1893 had rejected an invitation from Frederick Hodgson, then colonial secretary and acting governor of the Gold Coast Colony to Asante to become a British protectorate, so that Asante would not suffer any attack from the British. The rejection was captured in the following words: “I may say this in a matter of very serious consideration



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and which I am happy to say we have arrived at this conclusion, that my kingdom of Asante will never commit itself to any such policy: Ashanti must remain independent as of old; at the same time being friendly with all white men” (quoted in Boahen, 1996, p. 15). Consequently, in January 1896, Sir William Maxwell, the governor of the Gold Coast, went to Kumasi, and at a public meeting ordered the arrest of the Asantehene, his mother, and a number of subordinate rulers and advisers. The captives were thereafter sent successively to Elmina, Freetown, and the Seychelles Islands. The kingdom of Asante was declared a protectorate. The colonial authorities proceeded to dismember the Ashante union by signing separate treaties with the constituent states and insisting that they were and ought to act, particularly in judicial matters, independently of the Kumasi rulers. Now certain of victory, the British governor, Lord Hodgson, demanded that the Ashanti turn over to the British the Golden Stool. Below is a record of Hodgson’s speech to the people of the Ashanti Kingdom at a meeting between the British and leaders of Ashanti, as reported by Adu Boahen (1996): Your King Prempeh I is in exile and will not return to Ashanti. His power and authority will be taken over by the Representative of the Queen of Britain. The terms of the 1874 Peace Treaty of Fomena, which required you to pay the costs of the 1874 war, have not been forgotten. You have to pay with interest the sum of £160,000 a year. Then there is the matter of the Golden Stool of Ashanti. The Queen is entitled to the stool; she must receive it. Where is the Golden Stool? I am the representative of the Paramount Power. Why have you relegated me to this ordinary chair? Why did you not take the opportunity of my coming to Kumasi to bring the Golden Stool for me to sit upon? However, you may be quite sure that though the Government has not received the Golden Stool at his hands it will rule over you with the same impartiality and fairness as if you had produced it. (p. 18)

Fuller (1965) reports that the listeners were stunned and “the meeting broke up quietly” (p. 20). Nana Yaa Asantewaa, who was present at the meeting in the absence of her grandson, Afranie, the Ejisuhene in exile with Nana Prempeh, taunted the Asante rulers by enquiring how they could sit there and listen to all that “nonsense,” and asked, had they been turned into women or not? Whether or not the people were stirred into action by Yaa Asantewaa’s taunts or, as has been suggested by Donald Stewart, the British Resident in 1900, the Asante resolved to fight (Fuller, 1965). The leaders of the resistance held a meeting in the evening of the day of the “palaver” at the house of the Gyasewahene, Opoku Mensah, where a resolution was adopted or, in the words of Fuller (1965, p. 189), they “drank fetish” (nom abosom) to submit no longer to British rule.

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Additionally, the Governor’s speech clarified the nature of Asante-British relations for the Asante rulers. British rule was no longer to be considered a temporary episode, but an enduring ordeal. Their own king, triumphant after a bloody, three-year civil war from 1885 to 1888, was gone forever. The Asante were to pay what amounted to tribute to foreigners, and give up existing long-established institutions; and the Golden Stool was to become a trophy or a toy of the British Queen, or an exhibit in the British Museum. The moving spirits of the resistance were, reportedly, Kofi Fofie of Nkwansan (possibly Nkonson), Antoa Mensa or Antoahene Mensa, Kwame Afrifa of Atwima, and Osei Kwadwo Kruni. But they chose Nana Yaa Asantewaa to lead the resistance (Fuller, 1965). Fuller suggests that she gladly accepted the responsibility because as noted, her grandson, Kwasi Afranie the Ejisuhene, had been sent into exile with Nana Prempeh I. The question is why the men chose a woman, Nana Yaa Asantewaa, albeit a Queen Mother, to be the war-leader and commander of the Asante fighting force. There is, expectedly, no record of the proceedings at Opoku Mensah’s house, so there can be no definite answers. It may well be that it was considered strategically unsafe to assign the leadership to Kumasi, the capital of Greater Asante and now the seat of the British colonial administration, which would keep a sharp eye on the movements and activities of the leading political figures; therefore, conspiracy would be difficult to sustain in Kumasi. Jealousy among the men may also have led them to choose a woman, who had already shown a keenness to defy the British and, perhaps, unusual leadership qualities. What is certain is that Nana Yaa Asantewaa had outstanding qualities and qualifications as a war leader. Thus as a final measure of resistance, the remaining Asante court not exiled to the Seychelles mounted an offensive against the British residents at the Kumasi Fort. From March 28 to late September 1900, the Ashanti and British were engaged in what would become known as the War of the Golden Stool or Yaa Asantewaa War. In the end, the British overpowered the Ashanti, and Yaa Asantewaa and other Asante leaders were also sent to the Seychelles to join Prempeh I. In January 1902, the British finally added Asante to its protectorates on the Gold Coast. THE THEFT OF THE GOLDEN STOOL: COLONIAL JUSTICE IN THE CASE OF SENIAGYA AND OTHERS A very clear case of British colonial justice was demonstrated in the case of the desecration of the Golden Stool of Ashanti. To understand the colonial justice system, it is imperative to discuss the nature of legislation used by the British. According to Bennion (1962), throughout the colonial period primary



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laws made in the Gold Coast took the form of ordinances, and a threefold system was developed to make the ordinances available to those who needed to refer to them. The first stage was the publication in the gazette of the text of each ordinance as it was made. The second stage was the publication soon after the end of each year of a bound volume containing the ordinances made in that year. The third stage was the publication every few years of a collected edition, printed in England, of the ordinances currently in force. Subsidiary legislation, Imperial Acts applying to the Gold Coast, Imperial Orders in Council, Letters, Patents, and other relevant instruments were treated in much the same way, the collected editions including these as well as the ordinances were published. Ten of these collected editions were published in the century preceding the attainment of Ghana’s independence: the years of publication being 1860, 1874, 1887, 1898, 1903, 1910, 1920, 1928, 1937, and 1954–1956. As the number of volumes required grew from one in 1860 to 11 in 1954–1956, so to did the method of treatment grow more elaborate, and special ordinances were passed to enable the form of the law to be revised and to make the resulting edition the authorized statute book (Bennion, 1962). Thus the colonial justice system used in the Gold Coast was based on written laws as opposed to the customary laws which were oral. How were these ordinances applied in the Golden Stool theft case of 1921? In 1921 it was reported that the Golden Stool, which had been kept and guarded in secrecy after the Ashanti war, had been destroyed and the golden ornaments and insignia attached thereto stolen. This created an outrage among the people of Ashanti and the British administration. An initial investigation revealed that the desecration act had been committed by two Ashanti chiefs, Asubonten and Bandoh. The British administration, sensing that the accused chiefs and their villages could be attacked and such attacks might be extended to the British, the chief commissioner and the officer commanding called for reinforcement of troops from Nigeria to deal with any possible attacks. Further investigations showed that the offence had been committed by Seniagya, Danso, Yenkyira, Kojo Poku, and Yogu. Seniagya was head of the carriers of the Golden Stool; Danso, Odikro of Abuakugya and guardian of the stool; Yenkyira, next to the Odikro; Kojo Poku, a goldsmith; and Yogo, an ordinary young man. They were found guilty of the offense and jailed for two years. This is confirmed in a letter written by the governor of the Gold Coast dated July 20, 1922: “The Secretary of State has at present approved of the imprisonment of these persons for a period of not more than two years in a prison in Ashanti or in a neighboring colony, if one is willing to receive them, and to pass legislation for their reception and safe custody” (National Archives of Nigeria, CSO 26, 09565 Vol 1, Unrest in Ashanti, 1922, paragraph 7). The governors of the colonies of Nigeria and the Gold Coast agreed that part of their sentence could be served in Nigeria. Consequently, Seniagya

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and the four others were taken to the James Fort Prison in Accra, pending their deportation to Nigeria. Danso, one of the prisoners, died soonafter. The arrangement for the detention of the prisoners and eventual deportation had to be reported to the secretary of state for the colonies, as the colonial administrative and legal regime demanded. In a reply to a letter written by the governor of Nigeria to that effect, the governor of the Gold Coast wrote: “I have now received, in the Dispatch of which I enclose a copy, the Secretary of States approval of the deportation of the remaining four offenders to serve the remainder of their sentence and of their subsequent detention as exiles. I shall be grateful therefore if your Excellency will inform me when the necessary legislation has been passed in Nigeria, so that the prisoners can be sent to Calabar, as soon as possible” (National Archives of Nigeria, CSO 26, 09565 Vol 1, Unrest in Ashanti, 1922, p. 30). In response to this request the governor in Nigeria passed the Gold Coast Delinquents (Imprisonment and Detention) Ordinance in 1922. The main provisions of the ordinance were the following, inter alia: 1. That it shall be lawful for the Governor by warrant to order that the persons named respectively, Seniagya, Danso, Yenkyira, Kojo Poku, and Yogo, be conveyed to and confined to the prison in Calabar and shall there be kept to hard labor. 2. That at the expiration of the said term the said persons shall be released from prison but shall be detained at Calabar during His Majesty’s pleasure and shall there be under the lawful custody of the Commissioner of Police who shall have power to impose such restrictions upon the liberty of the said persons as he may think necessary, provided that none of the said persons shall by reason of the provisions of the ordinance be detained in a prison or other place of confinement except as hereinafter provided. 3. That the governor may at any time after the expiration of the said term by order under his hand direct that the said persons, or any of them, shall be removed from Calabar to any other place in Nigeria and shall there be placed under the lawful custody of such officer as the Governor may by such order appoint who shall have all the powers conferred upon the Commissioner of Police at Calabar by Section 2. 4. If any of the said persons shall escape or attempt to escape from any lawful custody as aforesaid, it shall be lawful for any police officer to arrest him without warrant and any magistrate before whom such person is brought shall order him to be kept in custody in the nearest prison and shall report the matter for the order of the Governor. The Governor may order such person to be confined in any prison during His Majesty’s pleasure and no such person shall be kept to hard labor.



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5. No writ of habeas corpus or other process calling in question the legality of the imprisonment or detention of any of the said persons under or by virtue of the provisions of this Ordinance shall have any effect within Nigeria. (National Archives of Nigeria, CSO 26, 09565 Vol 1, Unrest in Ashanti, 1922, pp. 31–32) In consonance with these provisions, Chief Seniagya and the four other desecrators were deported to Nigeria and to prison custody in Calabar. On requests from Seniagya, their dependants were sent to join them in Nigeria. As noted above, Danso, one of the five, died soon after. After serving the sentence, Chief Seniagya and three others were released and made to stay in Calabar where they reported to the police once every month. Ex-Chief Seniagya later settled in Lagos with his daughter, Mrs. Olurunkoya, who looked after him, and his two grandchildren, Safuratu and Ekwe. These names, no doubt, are Nigerian names and they signify how ex-Chief Seniagya had been integrated into the Nigerian society. He continued to report to the police once every month. At the time Ghana gained independence in 1957, ex-Chief Seniagya was the only survivor of the desecrators at the age of 80, and was still living in Lagos. The government of Ghana requested the governor in Nigeria to cancel his monthly report to the police and to allow him to return to Ghana if the ex-chief wanted it (Governor-General, 1958). A letter to the effect of his return from Nigeria to the Gold Coast was written and signed by the acting high commissioner for the United Kingdom in Ghana on July 26, 1958. The letter reads, “I have now heard from the Ministry of External Affairs that the Ghana Commissioner in Lagos has informed them that arrangements are being made for ex-Chief Seniagya’s return to Ghana with his daughter and two grandsons by M.V. Aureol, leaving Lagos on 29th of this month. In view of this information I shall not press the Ministry for information asked for in your telegram unless I hear from you that the abovementioned sailing arrangements have been altered” (Government House Document, 1922, p. 38). THEORETICAL EXPLANATION According to Rwemamu (1992), a good theory is judged by its empirical validity and theoretical adequacy. In other words, any good theory should be able to adequately explain practical phenomena that fall within its purview. Based on this criterion, this chapter uses realism and domination theory to explain the reason behind the British colonial justice system as practiced in the case of Ashanti and in the particular case of Chief Seniagya and the four other desecrators of the Golden Stool. Realism is based on a view of the

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individual as primarily selfish and power seeking. Individuals are organized in states, each of which acts in a unitary way in pursuit of its own national interest, defined in terms of power (Mingst, 2008). Morgenthau (1973) argues that the imperfection in the world, namely conflict, has its roots in forces that are inherent in human nature, and that human nature is selfish, individualistic, and naturally conflictive. Similarly, states pursue their national interests defined as power—the ability to make others do what they would not normally do. Such interests clash with those of other states leading to the inevitability of conflict (Best, 2006a). Why did Chief Seniagya, the traditional Stool Carrier, desecrate the stool with the four elders by stealing lumps of gold from the Golden Stool? The realist theory shows that Chief Seniagya and his accomplices desecrated the Golden Stool for their selfish ends. The proceeds realized from the theft were to help them pursue their individual goals independent of the Ashanti nation. The chief thus used his position and power vested in him by the Ashanti state wrongly. On the other hand, Seniagya could be viewed as a realist. The British occupation of Ashanti and their subsequent demand for the Golden Stool, to him, meant that the power and uniting symbol of the Stool was over. In addition, the Stool could be captured by the British. If so, why not benefit from it as the carriers and guardians of the precious edifice? Similarly, the actions taken by the British are adequately explained within the purview of the realist perspective. They demonstrated a combination of selfish behavior and power. Their major interest in annexing Ashanti as a colony was to control the people and seize the Golden Stool. This culminated in the demand for the Golden Stool, which was a symbol of Ashanti power and unity. Thus their interests clashed with those of the Ashanti people resulting in the Yaa Asantewaa War of 1900. The British demonstrated their high level of power to protect their interest when they sent Nana Prempeh I, Yaa Asantewaa, and all the elders who were perceived to be stumbling blocks in their quest to control Ashanti into exile. Similarly, the deportation of Chief Seniagya, Danso, Yenkyira, Kojo Poku, and Yogo to Nigeria leading to the demise of Danso, and keeping Chief Seniagya and the three others there even after serving their sentences were done without recourse to the effects on their cultural background and personal well-being. This was a clear show of superior power against a weaker one—the weakened Ashanti nation. As Mingst (2008) quotes Thucydides, the father of realism, in a matter between two opposing forces, “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must” (p. 64). Thus the British did what they could to protect themselves, their interests, and power as colonialists by using power seen in terms of their military might and justice system (legal regime) while the people of Ashanti and their leaders suffered the most devastating consequences.



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Why did the British not allow traditional justice to be applied in the case of Seniagya and the four others? This question is pertinent in view of the fact that desecrating the Golden Stool was an assault to the tradition of Ashanti. Thus one would have expected that traditional law would have applied. In traditional justice, law is repressive or penal, expiatory and diffuse, functioning not through specialized institutions such as law courts and public tribunals, but the whole society. Durkheim (1964) puts it in a rather brief but powerful style: “In primitive (traditional) societies . . . law is wholly penal; it is the assembly of the people which renders justice” (p. 64). Again, Durkheim uses the collective pronoun to good effect in summing up the essence of repressive law in traditional societies: “when we desire the repression of crime, it is not we that we desire to avenge personally, but to avenge something sacred which we feel more or less confused by outside and above us” (1964, p. 65). This statement indicates that the collective decision to punish those who deviate from the norms of traditional society is not only to bring justice to bear on the offender, but also to give credence to the collective conscience of both the living and the dead and maintain the status quo. So when an offender is made to provide a sheep, for example, or banished from the community for breaking a taboo, it is to appease both the living and the spirit world. It may be correct to argue that the British used legal-rational law (modern courts and prison system) without recourse to traditional law because by doing so they demonstrated clearly that the traditional authority in the Ashanti nation had succumbed to legal-rational authority, and with it, the new justice regime. It also implied that Ashanti customary law had no relevance anymore—the British occupation of Ashanti was thus comprehensive. This was within the framework of the British colonial policy, which saw the African way of life as “primitive.” Indeed, this was part of the “civilizing” mission of colonialism which was enforced by all colonialists. No doubt, the “civilizing” mission is captured within the modernization perspective. An important component of modernization theory is that for “backward” nations to develop, they must jettison their “unproductive,” “uncivilized” cultures and acquire the so-called modern way of life. Thus the theory focuses on the diffusion of so-called modern ideas. By ignoring Ashanti customary law and using the British justice system, the British showed that the Ashanti people had lost it all—a new legal regime had been set for them as long as they remained subjugated by the British. The British national culture was displayed abroad—in the form of legal and military superiority without moral considerations. Indeed, the foreign image of a state and its people is an intangible, but powerful underpinning of their influence in other states and among other peoples (Freeman, 2010). It also showed that British colonial justice was designed to satisfy the British and not the people of the colonies, and in this case, the Ashanti people.

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Why were the desecrators not kept in the Gold Coast, but sent to Nigeria? On the surface, the decision was laudable since it averted the possibility of harming the culprits since there had been earlier attempts by some Ashanti groups to attack and kill them, including the threat of arson in their villages. It is true that keeping them in Accra would have served the same purpose: they would still be in the Gold Coast and their lives would still be in danger. So it could be said that by deporting Seniagya and his group to Nigeria to serve their sentences, the British acted in consonance with the saying “out of sight, out of mind.” A critical examination of the action would however reveal that by deporting them to Nigeria, the British established the fact that both the Gold Coast and Nigeria were their colonies and did not only have the same legal regime, but they did not also acknowledge cultural differences among the colonial people. Indeed, this had been amplified during the partitioning of Africa when European powers including the British had carved arbitrary boundaries and divided ethnic group members into different nations. CONCLUSION In all, the British colonial justice system applied as a conflict managing style in the theft case involving ex-Chief Seniagya and the four others of Ashanti can be described as a show of domination. This style of dealing with conflict is derived from the disposition of people to assert themselves in conflict situations. Here, there is little or no interest in the well-being or interest of the other party; it is all about the person or party alone. In a given conflict then, one party that is assertive tries to totally “eclipse” (Best, 2006a, p. 121) the other party. In short, it is an attempt to deny the rights of the other party. The primary motivation in domination is the desire to win, and therefore, make the other party lose. No doubt, this is the style the British applied in the Seniagya case. By using a stronger military strength and power and so-called superior legal regime, the British dominated the Ashanti people by deporting the King of Ashanti, the Queen Mother and some elders, demanded the Golden Stool, used British law without recourse to Ashanti traditional law to pass judgment on the desecrators of the Golden Stool, and deported them to a destination alien to their culture.

Chapter 8

Homegrown Crises, Homegrown Solutions? The Efficacy of Indigenous Conflict Resolution/Management Approaches in Ghana Sarah Okaebea Danso and Joana Ama Osei-Tutu This chapter looks at the return to and adoption of more indigenous approaches, and the inclusion of traditional institutions as alternative dispute resolution measures to homegrown conflicts. These may take the form of mediation, arbitration, facilitation, conciliation, and dialogue. In employing cultural and traditional systems to address conflict situations, anticipated outcomes of indigenous-driven interventions are more often intended to improve future relations or restore strained relationships hence the participation, integration, and engagement of the conflict parties in the processes. This is discussed through the lens of two of Ghana’s conflict cases: the Alavanyo-Nkonya land dispute and the Dagbon chieftaincy crisis. INTRODUCTION While every country or region is susceptible to conflict occurrences with its attendant effects of violence, state insecurity, and instability, the subject or event of conflicts, war, and other security crises has, however, been very much profiled in Africa. Beleaguered by a plurality of security crises, the continent has in the post-Cold War era invariably attained notoriety as a veritable theater of incessant conflicts, democratic and political challenges, civil disturbances, developmental setbacks, and economic challenges. The continent’s post-colonial history has been replete with a number of intense, protracted conflicts or uprisings with devastating effects across states such as Sierra Leone, Liberia, Côte d’Ivoire, Democratic Republic of Congo, 115

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Guinea-Bissau, Nigeria, Sudan, Mali, and some North African countries as a result of the recent Arab Spring uprisings (Aning & Aubyn, 2012; Williams, 2011). Consequently, Africa has been the recipient of several conflict resolution and management (CRM) interventions and processes, aimed at drawing the continent out of its conflict quagmire. The spate of such interventions notwithstanding, several countries remain impervious and still grapple with internal internecine warfare. While appreciating and acknowledging the relative importance of conflict prevention in the conflict discourse—after all, prevention, they say, is better than cure—this study limits itself to conflict resolution and management approaches. Midodzi and Imoro (2011), quoting Clapham, argue that “even though international agencies, governments, and private organizations have entered the ‘business’ of conflict resolution in ever increasing numbers, it is clear that most interventions in African conflicts have done little to prevent the continent from taking the debilitating course it has traversed over the last decade” (p. 196). Even for some of those that have emerged peaceful, their peace may be described as fragile or unstable for the reason that, at the slightest trigger, such as an election, political assassination, or even a major accident, the conflict can be reignited. The inability of Western-oriented CRM interventions to yield the desired results in several African conflict situations raises critical questions and necessitates an examination of why this is so. The contradiction of the continent receiving a multitude of CRM interventions yet having little to show for it causes one to wonder if the problem lies with the efficacy of the most-often adopted Western-oriented interventions or if, without casting an air of pessimism, Africa’s quest for peace, security, and stability is an elusive one. If we are to go by the first, could it then be that the Western-oriented CRM interventions are alien to the continent (in terms of culture, ideals, and values), hence their ineffectiveness? Alternatively, is it that they merely serve as palliatives thereby contributing to the perpetuation of conflict or its chronic recurrence? If these are so, does the panacea then lie in a more African-oriented, indigenous process as a sustainable or viable means of ensuring peace and development in the region? To what end, therefore, would or have such homegrown or African-oriented CRM processes proven effective where contemporary Western approaches have seemingly proved ineffective or produced minimal success? In addressing these critical questions, this chapter, as its major recommendation, proposes a consideration perhaps for more local pragmatic approaches in dealing with the region’s ubiquitous conflict challenges. That is, the return to, adoption, or promulgation of more indigenous approaches and the inclusion of traditional institutions as alternative dispute resolution measures to



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homegrown conflicts. These may take the form of mediation, arbitration, facilitation, conciliation, and dialogue. This is because the application of cultural and indigenous-driven interventions to conflict situations and outcomes is most often intended to improve future relations or restore strained relationships, hence the active participation, integration, and engagement of the conflict parties in such processes. Based on primary and secondary data culled from scholarly publications, newspaper reports, and a field report on mediation and conflict analysis, the chapter spotlighting the West African state of Ghana examines, not comparatively, two local conflict situations as unique case studies: the Dagbon chieftaincy crisis in the Northern Region and the Alavanyo-Nkonya land dispute in the Volta Region. Both cases explore the conflict history, causes, and dynamics, as well as (indigenous) CRM mechanisms that were or have been employed. The Dagbon conflict, one of the most retrogressive and protracted conflicts in the country’s history with seemingly political undertones, provides an example of an intractable conflict situation, while the Alavanyo-Nkonya conflict on the other hand exemplifies a relatively successful conflict resolution story made possible using the Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) mechanism. Following this introduction, the study is set in four sections: the first section provides a broad overview of Ghana’s “conflict” situation, highlighting some major conflicts that have occurred in the country. Section two looks at various indigenous CRM measures. It evaluates the Western-oriented processes vis-à-vis the role of traditional institutions, particularly in impacting on outcomes. Section three narrows down the argument to two conflict case studies mentioned above. In addition to providing some historical background to the conflict to better understand their dynamics, the section also identifies indigenous CRM processes and their efficacy particularly where external interventions failed to produce desired success. The final section provides recommendations and a conclusion. THE SITUATION OF “CONFLICTS” IN GHANA Nestled in a subregion teeming with violent intrastate conflicts and other security and economic crises, Ghana has remained a relatively peaceful and stable democracy, earning it the accolade of being “one of the best functioning democratic systems in Africa” (Bonsu & Daannaa, 2011, p. 7). This notwithstanding, “the reality is that like any Third World developing country, Ghana though not a conflict state, grapples with the selfsame security challenges that inundate other African democracies” (Danso, 2011, p. 1). In the area of conflict, Ghana has not been entirely immune to strife; parts of the country

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have suffered or continue to suffer episodes of internecine conflicts. The only difference is that its conflicts have not graduated to the levels of full-blown nationwide conflicts as has been the case in other neighboring states. Without exception, each one of the country’s ten administrative regions has experienced one form of conflict or another. According to Tsikata & Seini (2004), between 1990 and 2004 the country witnessed over 100 conflicts, albeit some more violent than others. Major violent conflicts worthy of mention are the 1994 ethnic war most popularly referred to as the Guinea Fowl War between the Konkomba and Nanumba ethnic groups; the 2002 Dagbon Chieftaincy crisis between the Andani and Abudu royal gates; the 2008 Bawku crisis; and the Alavanyo-Nkonya land dispute. Emanating from or fueled by a myriad of reasons such as misunderstandings, intolerance, or incompatible interests, Ghana’s conflicts are often premised on ethnic, political, or cultural factors, with few occurring as a result of religious intolerance. Ethnocentrism, chieftaincy succession, land titleship/ownership, and politicization or political contestations are usually the key proximate causes of these conflicts, while remote causes are often historical antecedents steeped in traditional or cultural factors. In terms of conflict prevalence, escalation, and protraction, the northern half of the country, comprising the Upper West, Upper East, and Northern regions, have in total recorded the highest number of conflicts. Corroborating this, the District Capacity Building Project (DISCAP) points to the fact that “in the Northern Region, significant inter-ethnic fighting has occurred in every decade for the past century, with minor skirmishes occurring with far greater frequency” (DISCAP, 2002, p. 1). All these conflicts have so far been at the local level; however, it does pose a potential threat to national peace and security if not wholly addressed or resolved. To these conflicts, there have been a series of CRM interventions; however, given that Ghana’s conflicts, as stated earlier, have not graduated to full-scale nationwide crisis or civil war to necessitate intervention by international or regional blocs such as the United Nations (UN), African Union (AU), or the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), interventions have generally been at the micro or communal levels (Abdallah & Amedzrator, 2011). The interventions that have been employed in responding to the country’s localized conflicts have included legislations and court litigations, mediation efforts, negotiated settlements, curfews, security institutions’ “peacekeeping” efforts, establishment of peace advisory councils and chieftaincy institutions, and capacity building workshops. These functions have generally been carried out at the local, regional, and national levels by such critical actors or institutions as clan/community leaders, chiefs and queen mothers, civil society groups, nongovernmental, and faith-based organizations, as well as by various governments.



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INDIGENOUS VERSUS WESTERN CRM INTERVENTIONS AND THE ROLE OF CULTURE In the event that violent conflicts do occur, if proper conflict management interventions are not applied or are misapplied, the escalation of the conflict to such levels characterized by devastating casualties and the wanton destruction of properties and materials becomes manifest. The application of the “wrong” CRM intervention may also contribute to the protraction or recurrence of conflicts. This is why the issue of effective CRM has increasingly emerged as an important subject of discussion. Within this broader context, the discourse on indigenous mechanisms for addressing conflict issues has become quite critical particularly when placed within growing debates on the sustainability and suitability of Western-oriented CRM interventions in local conflict situations. Conflict resolution by way of definition looks at the ways or the mechanisms for resolving or settling conflicts, while conflict management “focuses on measures aimed at reducing the intensity of violent conflicts” (Pkalya et al., 2004, p. IV). Conflict resolution or management is therefore not about preventing conflict, but about working with or supporting institutions that are able to resolve or manage conflicts in an inclusive and nonviolent way. In explaining indigenous CRM, Pkalya et al. (2004) describe it as mechanisms that “use local actors and traditional community-based judicial and legal decisionmaking mechanisms to manage and resolve conflicts within or between communities” (p. 3). Local actors include traditional authorities such as family heads, elders, chiefs, civil society organizations, and local institutions. Going beyond conflict resolution or management, Lederach offers another framework within which to address conflicts (intractable or otherwise), the conflict transformation model, which sees conflicts as a motor for change. Whereas the approaches of resolution and management are quite often fixated on providing quick solutions to deep social and political problems, Lederach’s transformative model moves beyond these to the broader relational and structural patterns that take cognizance of cultural dynamics. Thus, its underpinning orientation is to generate or promote creative platforms or responses for constructive change processes, inclusive of, but not limited to, immediate solutions (Lederach, 2003). Cultural factors are essentialities that need to be dealt with or incorporated into conflict intervention approaches because “underlying each culture is its own specific though usually tacit agreement or system that determines how to resolve disputes” (Midozi & Imoro, 2011, p. 196). For instance, in approaching conflicts with the transformative model, which is relationshipcentered, identifying and building on existing cultural resources and mechanisms for handling conflict is paramount because culture (invariably) affects

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the development of processes to handle and respond to conflicts, impacting on its success or failure. Regarding culture recognition hinged on face-toface dialogue for instance, the ADR response to complex multidimensional conflict finds its place. This is because more often than not, in such homegrown conflict situations as the communal ones, the conflict actors (victims and perpetrators alike) must go back to live and interact with each other. It is thus important that as a basis for generating creative conflict responses and solutions that can simultaneously address surface issues and bring about transformational social change, the deeper relationship patterns that form the conflicts’ context, content, and relationship structures must be examined (Lederach, 2003). As is with many African societies, traditions and cultural systems feature prominently in every facet of Ghanaian societies, even in the areas of conflict manifestation, conflict resolution, conflict management, and even conflict transformation. Indigenous CRM approaches are thus usually framed in cultural systems or traditions. As such, the effective resolution or management of conflicts in local situations requires an understanding not only of the surface dynamics, but also an in-depth knowledge, understanding, and appreciation of the unique societal or cultural traditions upon which the conflict was most likely founded. A weak grounding of conflict situations will invariably impact negatively on the outcome of CRM interventions, particularly the Western-oriented ones, contributing to their failure or inefficacy. The essence of cultural considerations in CRM interventions is also necessary to make sense of why in local conflict resolution settings, indigenous CRM processes or outcomes are consequently more accepted or favored over contemporary Western-oriented ones; locals, in brief, can better relate to or understand dispute resolution processes that take into account their cultural values and beliefs. Societies in Ghana have always had unique indigenous ways of resolving conflicts before they escalated to such levels with highly devastating outcomes. Within individual societies were, and still are, several intervention or escalation points to address issues of conflict or seek redress. For instance, in times past and even still today, the extended family, which is seen as the unit of society and thus held in high regard in most African societies, becomes the first point of call for resolving conflict, disputes, or grievances. Disputes or contentions are therefore brought before family heads to settle and if, for one reason or another, an amicable solution was not reached, it then graduated through to clan heads, community heads, divisional chiefs, and paramount chiefs until an agreement or resolution was achieved. The extract below culled from an interview with the spokesperson to the Asantehene (Ashanti King), Otumfuo Osei-Tutu II, points to the reverence for family and how this is inherent in the resolution of local disputes:



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The basis of our approach towards conflict resolution, crisis management or diplomacy within Asante kingdom is that the unit of society which is the family must never be broken apart or must never be undermined because the Asante concept of societal living is that the society is made up of individual families . . . [T]hat is why the Asantehene decides to arbitrate on cases and settle them amicably in the hope that once a case is settled the two parties are made to swear an oath that they will live in peace and will never revisit whatever brought their misunderstandings again. That concept has helped us to maintain the peace and tranquility that we see in the Asante Kingdom. (Abdallah & Amedzrator, 2011)

Also, even though present day Ghana is headed by a president, the institution of chiefdom as established by its customary law is very much entrenched and exists alongside Ghana’s democratic structures of governance. Having encapsulated chieftaincy institutions within its democracy, chiefs or traditional rulers in Ghana have the mandate to arbitrate and confer on political, economic, or social issues as it affects the people in their traditional areas. Thus, across several communities, there exists the longstanding respect and recognition of traditional rulers as symbolic and revered personalities who wield considerable power and authority. There are instances where these eminent institutions have been influential in peace processes. Furthermore, civil society groups and faith-based organizations have played instrumental functions in indigenous CRM processes. The works of the West Africa Network for Peacebuilding (WANEP), an NGO, and the Ho Catholic dioceses, in paving a road map for peace in the Alavanyo-Nkonya dispute, are cases in point. The advent of Western-oriented models of dealing with conflict has, however, systematically reduced considerations for, or the authority of, some of these traditional CRM practices. Traditional ways of resolving indigenous conflicts are oftentimes glossed over in the resolution or management of internal conflicts, the preference being for Western-oriented approaches such as litigation. However, such Western-oriented mechanisms for addressing conflicts do not lend themselves to a win-win outcome, but rather deliver a “winner takes all” justice, which is a problem when disputants must continue to live together (Bombande, 2011). Bombande further argues that with the legal justice system, which is undoubtedly very much Western-oriented, “there is a rigid and structured form about how to tackle the issues . . . . Very little space if any at all is available for the parties to engage in a facilitated dialogue in which perceptions, fears and assumptions are clarified. [In such spaces,] the possibilities for a human reconnection from conflict are shut in court” (Bombande, 2011, p. 33). The failings or shortcomings of the legal system as a CRM intervention approach are demonstrated in both conflict cases presented below, which are then subsequently discussed, particularly

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in the Alavanyo-Nkonya instance. The Supreme Court system’s shortcoming to end the simmering conflict between the disputing factions necessitated the need for an alternative dispute resolution that took into account local or traditional factors. Pkalya et al. (2004) posit that indigenous mechanisms offer a solid framework for resolving conflicts at the local level, which “helps the community take control over the outcome of the dispute resolution . . . . [Also it] provides a low-cost, empowering means of resolving conflicts within a relatively short timeframe” (p. 94). In ensuring sustainability and viability, the CRM process must be owned by the indigenous people with minimum “external” support or over-dependence on external dispute resolution/management structures. Indigenous conflict management approaches as solutions to homegrown conflicts also submit a win-win outcome that reduces the likelihood of a conflict recurrence or its transformation into deadly protracted conflicts. By design, the success of a conflict resolution intervention applied elsewhere cannot automatically be replicated when applied in a different conflict situation even though they might share similar characteristics or causes. This is to say that even though some applied Western-based CRM approaches might have proven highly successful in Western situations, local conditions and cultural factors might undermine their success in indigenous conflict situations. As a result of a disconnect in cultural and societal values, the proposals and outcomes of some Western-oriented CRM interventions are not easily accepted by locals. It has also been argued that another weakness of some Western CRM processes is contained in the fact that root causes of indigenous conflicts are not explicitly addressed or factored. Brock-Utne (2001) summarizes: Potential and actual conflicts are often not understood in their social contents. Values and beliefs, fears and suspicions, interests and needs, attitudes and actions, relationships and networks have to be taken duly into consideration. Origins and root causes of the conflicts need to be explored, so that a shared understanding of the past and present is developed. (p. 6)

For instance, in an attempt to resolve a homegrown conflict situation, “a western mediator may begin the exploration by retracing the steps of the parties to the point of the initial conflict. But an experienced African elder, considering the social realities, may start from a vantage point further back and try to form a frame of social reference” (Brock-Utne, 2001, p. 9). From this, it is observed that the mediation or facilitation of local conflicts must be carried out by local authority figures or individuals trusted by the local people and who possess a better understanding of the cultural factors, which they bring into play in the dispute resolution process.



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Furthermore, with Western-oriented CRMs, there is always the danger of imposing “solutions” on the indigenous people without realizing that what might seem right and fair to the “outsider” CRM team might not necessarily be seen as such by the locals. In steering clear of this, and in ensuring a highly successful outcome, it is imperative that affected parties be involved in the designing or execution of such interventions. For the purposes of peaceful coexistence and lasting peace, the anticipated outcome should allow the possibility “for the transformation of the parties in the conflict to engage one another not on the grounds of antagonist but cooperation” (Bombande, 2011, p. 33). An indigenous approach to CRM is especially important because it allows for the consideration and integration of local people’s perspectives, interests, needs, experiences, concerns/grievances, culture, and attitudes of which “the end result is, ideally, a sense of unity, shared involvement and responsibility, and dialogue among groups otherwise in conflict” (Pkalya et al., 2004, p. 3). THE ALAVANYO-NKONYA CONFLICT A prime rich forestland of about 10 square miles is at the center of the Alavanyo-Nkonya Conflict, which spans over nine decades, having begun in 1923 (Midodzi & Imoro, 2011). Demarcated by the colonial German government as part of the Volta Togoland, the disputed land runs through the Alavanyo and Nkonya ethnic communities. In 1958 a supreme court ruled over the contested land in favor of Nkonya, a decision which was challenged by the Alavanyos on the basis that they had not been duly involved in the decision making (Midodzi & Imoro, 2011). Aside from sharing the disputed land as a common boundary, the exact nature of the relationship between the Alavanyo and the Nkonya is not fully documented and hence not known. However, it is widely believed that the former with the consent of the latter settled on the Nkonya land many decades ago. The two groups are of different tribal and ethnic origins; the Alavanyos are Ewes based in the Hohoe District and the Nkonyas are Guans based in the Jasikan District, both in the Volta Region. Most of the discussion here is based on secondary sources including a field project report on mediation and conflict analysis jointly undertaken by the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Center (KAIPTC) and Crisis Management Information (CMI) institutions.1 Specifically, and related to that, we conducted an interview with one of the researchers who participated in the field project. In addition, due to the absence of or deficit in scholarly documentation on the conflict, information was also gleaned from newspaper reports. The conflict between the two groups dates back to the colonial era with the first violent incident recorded in 1923. Since then, violent clashes have

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persisted on and off until a mediated solution was enforced in 2006 creating an atmosphere of relative peace. In the latter part of the 1990s, there was an escalation of violence between the two communities that resulted in the death of five persons (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). The Nkonya chiefs in 1997 made a report to the Hohoe Divisional Commander of Police about some Alavanyo persons who had encroached on Nkonya land and were not only illegally felling trees, but had created a blockage preventing inhabitants of Nkonya from accessing their farms. Meetings with both communities were held by the police in an attempt to mediate the complaints. Following this, a counter-complaint was then made by the Alavanyos claiming a group of persons suspected of being Nkonya had been sighted on their farms cutting timber and thus requested an investigation be conducted. As a verification and follow-up action, the police moved to the reported area and indeed, it was as had been reported. A gun battle ensued between the police and the woodcutters; there were no casualties (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). Both the Hohoe and Jasikan District Chief Executives (DCEs) corroborated this story.2 The late 1990s and early 2000s saw both parties accusing each other of illegal felling of trees and farming in the disputed area. The police were called into most of these complaints, newspapers reported on the incidents, and the accused communities sent rejoinders to the newspapers to proclaim their innocence. In between accusations and counter-accusations, several lives were lost and properties destroyed (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). There have been speculations, over the years, that the conflict remained unsolved for a long period because there were some unidentified beneficiaries of the conflict. It has been observed that there was an escalation of violent acts around the harvesting season of the Odum, a valuable timber species.3 In a letter to the media, it was alleged that these unidentified conflict beneficiaries subverted the peace process by sowing seeds of dissension between the two communities so that in the midst of the chaos and confusion, they could illegally harvest timber, bamboo, kola nuts, and cocoa, fell palm trees for palm wine, while also looting food crops, poultry, sheep, and goats.4 The Ghanaian courts between 1957 and 1980 deliberated several times over the disputed land and in four of those deliberations, they ruled in favor of Nkonya; this was the standing point on which the Nkonya community based their arguments and their right to the disputed land (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). The challenge with using arbitration or litigation in settling disputes such as this is the tendency for the losing party to feel defeated, humiliated, and embarrassed, thus not presenting a sustainable solution to the conflict. In addition to the courts concluding the case with a victor and a loser, the procedures are rather lengthy, tedious, cumbersome, and expensive with the parties feeling isolated and not a part of the process. Therefore, all parties involved cannot truly relate to the final decision, so there is no ownership in



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that decision. In an interview with a local, it was noted that in the eyes of the people of Alavanyo and Nkonya, “the issue of litigation and court arbitration had . . . failed them in resolving the conflict” (Midodzi & Imoro, 2011, p. 198). In addition to the courts, there have been efforts by past governments of Ghana to resolve the conflict. In 1992, the Acquah Committee was established by the government to investigate the conflict and advice on possible solutions. The Committee was unable to hold proceedings or hearings due to the constant outbreaks of hostilities. The DCEs of Hohoe and Jasikan established another committee, the Mireku, in 1995. Although, the Mireku Committee was able to produce a report, its recommendations were never implemented (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). The inabilities of external factors such as the law courts and the government to find a lasting solution to the conflict led to the decision by the two communities in 2004 to adopt an ADR mechanism under the framework of mediation. Midodzi and Imoro define the ADR as “a range of methods and techniques for resolving disputes, including unassisted negotiation, nonbinding third-party intervention (conciliation or mediation), and binding arbitration” (2011, p. 197). The disputing communities essentially realized the need and importance of dialogue with neighbors and relatives in an attempt to resolve their conflict once and for all. The remarks expressed below by key members of the ADR process accentuate the people’s consciousness to take matters into their own hands: The two communities have also inter-married so much so that they realized the need to solve the problem rather than perpetuate it. Therefore the inter-marriage was used to convince the people to agree to end the fight through dialogue among others. (Vice Chairman of the ADR Mediation Committee, as cited in Midodzi & Imoro, 2011) We have been fighting for many years now but we marry each other so I think it is better we sit down with our wives and husbands to solve our own problem. (President of a Youth Association, as cited in Midodzi & Imoro, 2011)

The acceptance by both communities of the ADR approach further emphasized that court litigations and other mechanisms adopted earlier were not sustainable solutions, rather perpetuating the state of affairs; to illustrate, whenever the courts ruled, hostilities broke out. The decision of the two communities to dialogue and interact with each other again epitomized first, the importance of dialogue in conflict resolution and second, the need for aggrieved parties to take an active role in resolving their conflict. When aggrieved parties are involved in addressing and resolving their conflicts, there is a sense of ownership among the parties and both parties leave the table as victors and equals.

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The Alavanyo-Nkonya peace process involved sensitization and trustbuilding workshops, mediation, facilitation, and open dialogue. The communities in a transparent manner chose and nominated persons who would represent them on the various committees and the roles of the chiefs and queen mothers were very essential in moving the peace process along, as also was the presence of eminent religious leaders. The chiefs and queen mothers, in a typical Ghanaian community, speak with authority and command a lot of respect and reverence from the people; thus, their involvement and endorsement of the ADR mechanism gave the entire process a high level of credibility. As it stands now, it appears that the people have buried any form of animosity, distrust, and the quest to claim the land (Abdallah, 2012). Following a field visit to Hohoe and Jasikan in the latter part of 2011, Mustapha Abdallah remarked in an interview that he observed on a “community” transformed by the peace process, a success to which the people of the two communities should get credit. His observation is corroborated by a local’s outlook: Because we believed and followed the process thoroughly there is now peace because now you see physical things that demonstrate that there is peace. Now Alavanyo people can freely go to Nkonya market and trade which was previously not the case. The road linking the two communities is now open and people from both communities travel on it day and night. (Midodzi & Imoro, 2011, p. 200)

However, so guarded are the people of their newfound peace that many are unwilling to discuss or bring up the topic of the conflict for fear of resuscitating the “dead” conflict. Researchers therefore often have great difficulty when trying to get the ordinary citizens of the two communities to discuss the past openly, and how the ADR approach contributed to delivering a peaceful solution. We now turn to our second case, the Dagbon Chieftancy Conflict.

THE DAGBON CHIEFTAINCY CONFLICT The age-old conflict in the Dagbon land centers on the issue of succession of the Ya-Na, the overlord of the kingdom. The Dagbon conflict also highlights the effect of how chieftaincy mixed with local and national politics can agitate passion, tension, chaos, and even death. The people of Dagbon (Dagomba) are the largest ethnic group in Northern Ghana, thus their conflicts affect a large proportion of Northern Ghana, even impacting the citizens of Southern Ghana. The exact origin of this group of people is unknown; some historians link them with the Zamfara state of the early Hausa kingdom



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(Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). However, the most widely held version of their origin is attributed to oral history that traces them to the ancient Mali kingdom. Their migration from Mali to their current location in northern Ghana is attributed to intermarriages, wars, assassinations, betrayals, seizure of powers, and a firm belief and hold on chieftaincy (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). The Dagbon Kingdom was founded in 1403 when the Gbewaa Kingdom was divided into Mamprugu and Dagbon by two princes, Tohugu and Sitobu, with each heading one of the new kingdoms, respectively (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). Dagombas are religiously and strongly attached to their chieftaincy beliefs and this accounts for the protracted nature of the conflict in the region that has been under way for well over 200 years. In accordance with Dagbon traditional laws, all lands are vested in the authority of the Ya-Na. The tradition further states that once a Ya-Na has been enskinned, he could not be deskinned. However, in the event that a Ya-Na should start to exhibit unruly behavior or acts of waywardness, the kingmakers by mutual agreement would eliminate the overlord through poisoning (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). His two sons, Abudulai and Andani, respectively succeeded the Ya-Na Yakubu of the nineteenth century. Following the death of Andani in 1899, an unofficial rotation was established among the descendants or families of the two brothers—the Abudu and Andani Gates. This alternation has however raised more questions and contributed extensively to the reoccurring conflict. In addition to the rotational system, there have been misunderstandings over who can be a Ya-Na, who chooses a Ya-Na, and finally, which enskinning method was legitimate. Initially, the selection of a Ya-Na rested with four kingmakers who selected the successor from among the three major chiefly sub-succession gates.5 However, in 1948, under the British colonial government, the kingmakers were increased to eleven. This it seems was an attempt by the British to document and solidify the rules and procedures for the succession onto the Dagbon skin (or throne). The legitimacy of the expanded select kingmakers committee has been another point of disagreement, as some persons have argued that it was adopted to protect the interests of the Abudulai family and ultimately eliminate the Andani family from the contest. Furthermore, under the select committee, the system of selecting from the chiefly succession gates was abolished (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011; Tsikata & Seini, 2004). Notwithstanding all these misunderstandings and suspicions, the two royal gates, Abudu and Andani, continued to rotate the kingship until the death of Ya-Na Mahama II, an Andani, in 1948. Following his demise, his son the regent offered himself to be selected as a successor, but lost the bid, and Ya-Na Mahama III, an Abudu, was enskinned and reigned as king until his death in 1953. Once again, the regent put forward his candidature since by the rotational system an Andani should be next in line for succession as king. Unfortunately, he was not successful and another Abudu, Ya-Na Abudulai III,

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was enskinned. His enskinment generated massive dissatisfaction and was protested by the Andanis who requested he be deskinned on the following grounds: he was said to have physical deformities which was not customary for a Ya-Na to have; he was not properly installed by the custodians of the regalia; and finally he had not ruled any of the three sub-gates from which a Ya-Na should be chosen (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). It is relevant to highlight that these protests for the deskinment of the Ya-Na contravened the Dagbon customs that an enskinned Ya-Na could not be deskinned unless he died (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). Also, the charge of the Ya-Na Abudulai not having ruled any of the three succession gates was irrelevant since that requirement had been abolished with the introduction of the Selection Committee (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). The protests notwithstanding, Ya-Na Abudulai III ruled until he died in 1967. His young son, Mahamadu, then put forth his candidature to be considered as Ya-Na and he was joined by the former Andani Regent now Mion Lana Andani who had previously contested, but had lost to the late Ya-Na. In 1968, the latter became successful in his bid and was enskinned as Ya-Na Andani III. Subsequently, fourteen senior chiefs including eight from the Selection Committee proclaimed publicly that they had actually now chosen Gbonlana Mahamadu as king (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). With each changed government and their various interventions, the conflict arose repeatedly until the case was referred to the courts for deliberation. The case moved through the court system until it ended at the Supreme Court, which decided to uphold the recommendations of the Ollenu Committee. By a six to one vote, the Supreme Court upheld the rotational system of ascension to the Dagbon throne and declared the case closed in 1986. By this declaration, the rotational system had been elevated to the status of a national law. In an attempt to address the string of Dagbon succession conflicts, the Ghana government in 1986 established the Mate-Kole Committee to investigate the proper procedures in selecting a Ya-Na. In the process of its investigations however, the Ya-Na Andani III died and his son Yakubu Andani was installed as Gbonlana. The Committee concluded that the enskinment of the late Andani III was “repugnant to Dagbon custom and therefore null and void” (Tsikata & Seini, 2004, p. 35). It further recommended that Gbonlana Mahamadu be enskinned as Ya-Na. This sparked fighting in the capital, Yendi, and resulted in the death of the mother of the late Andani III. As a CRM intervention, the government deployed the army to forcefully eject members of the Andani family who were occupying the Gbewaa Palace in preparation for the funeral of Ya-Na Andani III. Gbonlana Mahamadu was enskinned with the assistance of the military presence (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). Technically speaking, by declaring the enskinment of Andani III null and void, though after his death, the government had deskinned a Ya-Na and this contradicted Dagbon custom.



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The Andanis made an appeal to the government and another committee, the Ollenu, was established to carry out the same functions as its predecessor: determine the proper nature for nominating, selecting, and enskinning a Ya-Na. Owing to the controversy surrounding the enskinment of Gbonlana Mahamadu as Ya-Na, the Ollenu Committee was tasked with an additional duty of ascertaining whether the deskinment of Andani III and enskinment of Mahamadu IV were conducted properly and in conformity with the custom of the Dagbon tradition. The government once again accepted most of the findings of the Committee, which concluded that the deskinment of Ya-Na Andani III was unjustifiable and the enskinment of Ya-Na Mahamadu Abudulai IV was invalid. For this reason, Yakubu Andani, son of the late Ya-Na Andani III, was enskinned as Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II (Awedoba, 2009). By this, the government had once again assisted in having another Ya-Na deskinned. Unlike the deskinment of Ya-Na Andani III where the Ya Na had already passed, Ya-Na Mahamadu Abudulai IV was still living. Since by their custom a Ya-Na stays a Ya-Na until his death, his deskinment would later cause havoc when he finally passed on. The death of the last deskinned Ya-Na Mahamadu in 1988 required that customarily he be buried at the Gbewaa Palace. However, this was never done as the Andanis, the then-occupiers of the palace, still did not regard him as a former King of Dagbon to accord him the respect of having his funeral at the Palace; this has been an issue of dispute ever since (Awedoba, 2009). In the Supreme Court ruling, it stated that: Having regard to the Dagomba Constitution that deskinment is unknown in (Dagbon), all persons who have ever occupied the Nam of Yendi shall without regard to how they ceased to be Ya Na be regarded as former Ya-Nas. (Ghana Law Report, 1984–86, p. 239)

In contrasting this Supreme Court pronouncement, the Dagbon Traditional Council argued that the nonobservance of the Ya-Na’s funeral in the Palace was legitimate as it was against Dagbon customs to perform a funeral for a Ya-Na in the Palace when there is an incumbent Ya-Na. This dispute and wrangling persisted until March 27, 2002 when Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II was gruesomely murdered along with forty members of the royal family in an attempt to evict him from the Palace (Tsikata & Seini, 2004). The political undertones of the Dagbon crisis have been present since Ghana’s early independence years. The two gates have over the years ensured that they form allegiances with political parties that were sympathetic to their cause. The peak of political interference was when the National Liberation Council (NLC) in 1969 declared the enskinment of a Ya-Na null and void. There was general consensus that the interference stemmed from the

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presence of an Abudu family supporter within the NLC government. During the 2000 presidential elections, the two main parties, the New Patriotic Party (NPP) and the National Democratic Congress (NDC), made components of the Dagbon crisis part of their campaign promises. The Abudus were highly aligned with the NPP and there were rumors that the chain of command of the NPP had promised the Abudus that they would assist them to perform the final funeral rites of Ya-Na Mahamadu IV at the Gbewaa Palace if voted into power. The NPP had to garner support from other opposition parties to enable it to win the run-off elections. This translated to winning the support of Andanis who mainly belonged to the opposition party (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). There is also some element of proof that some Andanis willingly supported the NPP in the run-off with the hope that the alliance would help cease their political differences and bring some peace to Dagbon. The NPP won the elections and this gave the Abudus leverage to challenge the supreme authority of the sitting Ya-Na. Furthermore, the NPP’s political appointments further solidified suspicions that the party was pro-Abudu; the Vice President was an Abudu sympathizer as were three ministers of state including the Minister for Interior, as well as two deputy ministers being from the Abudu family along with six of the eight DCEs being either members or friends of the Abudu family. This translated to the Abudus dominating not only the national security apparatus, but also the district security committees (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). This dominance by the Abudus played a vital role during the investigation into the murder of Ya-Na Yakubu Andani II. Following the murder of the Ya-Na in 2002, the President commissioned the Wuaku Commission of Inquiry to investigate the tragic events that occurred in Yendi that resulted in the murder of the Ya-Na. The Commission, in its White Paper, apportioned blame to individuals of both gates for the Yendi atrocities (Government of Ghana, 2002). With regard to the murder of the Ya-Na, it however blamed the Abudu fighters who also set the Palace ablaze. The report further found the actions of the security apparatus during the three-day tragic events as incomprehensible and inadequate. The government accepted some of the recommendations and objected to others (Awedoba, 2009). The Commission also recommended that the presumed murderers of the Ya-Na be prosecuted. In addition to the Wuaku Commission, a Committee of Eminent Chiefs (CEC) headed by the Asantehene,6 was appointed to mediate the conflict situation from a traditional perspective. Together with the feuding parties, the CEC in collaboration with the Ministries of Interior and Chieftaincy and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) as the facilitators of the discussions, were able to construct a road map that paved the way for the burial of the murdered Ya-Na in 2006, a full four years after his demise. This road map, based on the Wuaku Commission Report’s



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interpretation of the traditional issues and in consultation with the parties of the conflict, requested the following: the two parties to exhibit a high level of restraint, the Ya-Na Yakubu Andani be given a befitting burial and his funeral performed, and the funeral of the Ya Na Mahamadu Abudulai IV also be performed in the Gbewaa Palace as is custom for all deceased Ya-Nas. The funeral rites for Ya-Na Mahamadu Abudulai IV however remains to be seen, and this step is considered vital in the peace process. The Eminent Chiefs so far have been able to achieve some form of results and compliance from the two Gates after the events of 2002. Their work however has stalled and they blame political interference for their inability to conduct and carry out their responsibilities, an interference that has made it difficult for the two families to make any momentous compromises (Ahorsu & Gebe, 2011). CONCLUSION AND RECOMMENDATIONS Throughout the chapter, we have tried to argue for the need to begin considering indigenous approaches of conflict resolution mechanisms in Ghana and Africa as a whole. The conflicts that plague the nation and the continent are diverse and multifaceted. There is an urgent need therefore to consider other forms of CRMs that would tackle all the different aspects of conflict, particularly those that take into account cultural factors. The two conflict case studies presented illustrated that though the root causes of the conflict may be singular, its spillover has multiple causes so that it gets to a point whereby resolving the initial root cause alone would not generate the lasting peace needed. This chapter advocates the use of the ADR approach, which employs mediation and dialogue among other methods. This approach allows all aggrieved persons to actively participate in the peace process, which eventually contributes significantly to lasting peace. The ADR process as illustrated from the case studies above is a protracted process and must be given the ample time and space it needs to achieve its intended goals and aims. Unfortunately, one of the identified major challenges of the system in this case is the interference of the state or government in power. Political interferences, affiliations, and alignments to sides of the conflict that often overlook the praxis of cultural or traditional mechanisms stand in the way of the ADR system’s success as clearly evinced in the ongoing and stalled Dagbon mediations. It is acknowledged that the ADR approach may be long and the intended peace agreement not instantaneous, but it must be remembered that the conflict being resolved may have also been ongoing for a longer period of time as was the case with both the Dagbon and Alavanyo-Nkonya disputes.

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Also, while as the ADR approach is being advocated as a viable option for conflict resolution, it is not intended to undermine the legalistic method of resolving conflict especially if there are criminal violations. These two approaches can be applied concurrently; the ADR could be used to explain the traditional process so that once judgment is passed, none of the parties would feel victimized. Furthermore, the retributive nature of such a system does not really augur well for conflict parties or societies because, by it, the affected party goes away “cheated/bruised” and dissatisfied, again increasing the likelihood of the conflict to reoccur. A restorative justice would therefore be the better approach in such situations where the focus would be on building relationships between the affected parties to curb future conflicts. NOTES 1. The fieldwork undertaken in September 2011 by Mustapha Abdallah and Lydia Amedzrator covered three regions in Ghana: Northern, Ashanti, and Volta. 2. Taken from a Ghanaian Times newspaper article dated November 1, 1997, as reprinted in Tsikata & Seini (2004). 3. This information was taken from a statement attributed to the MP of Biakoye, a citizen of Nkonya in a Ghanaian Times article dated March 1, 2003. 4. This information comes from a Chronicle newspaper article dated November 4, 2003. 5. Karaga, Savulugu, and Mion communities. 6. In Ghana’s Constitution, chieftaincy in principle is an independent body and it is supposed to be above national government and politics. Therefore, chieftaincy disputes are to be settled by the Regional House of Chiefs, National House of Chiefs, or the Court of Appeal in that order.

Part III

NIGERIA

Chapter 9

Women’s Involvement in Indigenous Conflict Management An Analysis of the Role of Umuada in Conflict Management in Traditional Igbo Society of Southeastern Nigeria Felix Chinwe Asogwa The pervasiveness of conflict in modern society has been a source of concern to scholars and world political leaders. This chapter sets out to examine the role of women as conflict managers in an indigenous society such as the Igbos in the southeast of Nigeria. The Igbo constitute one of the largest ethnic groups in Nigeria. The Igbo society is a largely male-dominated society. However, in terms of conflict resolution mechanisms, one of the most interesting things about the Igbo society is the centrality of women as agents of conflict management. Women, under the aegis of the Umuada group, constitute one of the strongest forces in conflict management in the Igbo society. Both primary and secondary sources of data gathering were employed to generate data for this research. In addition, the theoretical framework adopted is the human needs theory propounded by Burton. In conclusion, the chapter shows that women through the aegis of Umuada remain relevant as agents of conflict resolution in the contemporary Igbo society.

INTRODUCTION Algert (2002, p. 32) defines conflict as a struggle or contest between people or groups with opposing needs, ideas, values, or goals. Conflict, according to Peters (2006, p. 1), is a situation in which people, groups, or even countries are involved in serious disagreement or argument. Such conflicts could arise

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over economic resources, political contests, family crises, or even through minor misunderstandings. Conflict, in whatever form it occurs, is an integral part of human existence. Conflict resolution, therefore, focuses on how societal conflicts are handled or resolved. Some scholars like Morton Deutsch (2002, p. 308), Alan C. Tidwell (1998, p. vii), George Simmel (1964, p. 13), Kurt Lewin (1940, p. 89), and Elise Boulding (1992, p. 78) have argued that since conflict is part of human existence, emphasis should be on its peaceful resolution. In other words, if conflicts are resolved to the satisfaction of all the contending parties, it leads to greater social cohesion and the strengthening of social bond. On the other hand, when conflicts are poorly handled, they can destroy the fabric of social cohesion and can even generate greater conflict. This chapter, therefore, focuses on conflict resolution mechanisms among the traditional Igbo society of Southeast Nigeria with special emphasis on the Umuada institution. As already explained, Umuada means “native daughters” or “daughters of the soil” from a common male ancestor. It argues that the Igbo society has traditional structures for conflict resolution or management such as the Umuada. The work contends that such alternative dispute resolution mechanisms are fundamentally guided by the Igbo culture and tradition codified as omenani. Omenani is a word loosely used to cover the Igbo laws and customs, traditions, etiquettes, religion, and morality. Omenani is thus regarded as the yardstick for the validity of not only laws, but also of all practices. According to Oraegbunam (2005, pp. 184–203), omenani is the norma norman non normata (the norming norm that is not normed by any norm). Oraegbunam (2005) further argues that because omenani was not created by the conscious effort of anybody, it approximates to Hans Kelson’s (1990) concept of the grundnorm that is not traceable to any law-making body, though regarded as supreme, are nonetheless made positively by human beings. The conformity of Igbo positive laws with the omenani is therefore a safeguard against the enactment of immoral laws, as there is no separation between law and morality in Igbo jurisprudence (Oraegbunam, 2005, p. 194). This research notes that the Umuada strategy of conflict resolution is more conciliatory and arbitrative than adjudicatory. The work is segmented into four parts. The first part throws light on the Igbo of Southeast Nigeria, the second part focuses on the description of Umuada, and the third part dwells on the strategies and mechanisms adopted by the Umuada in conflict resolution and their enforcement patterns. The fourth and final part concludes the chapter and makes recommendations on how the Umuada strategy of conflict resolution in Igbo traditional society can be universalized across cultures.



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THE IGBO OF SOUTHEAST NIGERIA The Igbo constitute one of the three largest ethnic groups in Nigeria. The Igbo homeland is in the forest region of southeastern Nigeria with outcroppings to the west and lying between longitudes 6° and 8° East and latitudes 5° and 7o North. They live mainly to the east of the lower Niger with a reasonable extension to the west bank. Out of the present-day thirty-six-state structure in Nigeria, the Igbo live predominantly in Abia, Anambra, Ebonyi, Enugu, and Imo states. The boundaries are more or less arbitrarily fixed, sometimes for political and sometimes for geographical reasons. As Ottenberg and Ottenberg (1962, pp. 130–143) correctly observed, the Igbo are probably the most receptive to culture contact and culture change, and most willing to integrate other cultures into their system. They are a very friendly group of people and show great respect and hospitality to strangers in their midst. Okafor and Emeka (1998, p. 92) observed that the Igbo are traditional religionists and animists who believe in the existence of a supreme God called Chi-ukwu/Chukwu, who is the creating force (Chineke) and a pantheon of other gods that act as intermediaries to this Supreme God. The Igbo people have amazing commercial drive and this is why it is not surprising to find them in virtually every corner of Nigeria and other parts of the world as traders, artisans, contractors, and civil servants. The distinctive diversity among the Igbo feature mainly in their systems of kinship, marriage patterns, social control, rules of inheritance, and succession patterns (Forde & Jones, 1950). The Igbo are highly republican in nature and believe firmly in the principle of egalitarianism. Their culture has built-in pillars of protection and conflict resolution through their customs, traditions, and conventions. Ethnographic studies on the origin of the Igbo show that they are diverse, but this has not affected their sense of unity and social cohesion. The Igbo traditional economy is essentially subsistence based, but it is also characterized by local crafts, wage labor, and sometimes sexual divisions of labor. Social cohesion among the Igbo is anchored on the umunna and umunne. The umunna, which is made up of specific compound families, is composed of children of one father or localized patrilineage. The umunne is made up of both male and female members from the mother or from the mother’s lineage. The umunne is very broad (Uchendu, 1963). All blood-related kinship groups are bound in the morality of umunna or umunne. Despite this broad-based social cohesion process among the Igbo, conflicts still do arise especially in the contest for land, spousal disagreements, death of a lineage member, the conduct of the burial rites, location of market sites,

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community sanitation, and youth discipline. In all these conflict types, the Umuada play crucial roles in resolving them. THE UMUADA IN IGBO TRADITIONAL SOCIETY The word Umuada is composed of two root words namely “umu” and “ada.” As explained by Patrick Iroegbu (n.d.), citing Eneh (2007), the word “umuada” is a compound collective noun where “ada” means daughter and “umu” is a generic plural prefix that conveys the sense of many. Umuada, therefore, means native daughters of a common kinship or lineage. These native daughters or Umuada are composed of the married, the unmarried, and even the divorced daughters of a common lineage or kinship. In some parts of Igboland, the Umuada, especially among the Anambra Igbo, are known as umuokpu, while in other parts of the Igbo society, especially among the Igbo of Imo state, they are known as ndi-mgboto. Irrespective of its various names among various Igbo subcultures, the functions and mode of operations of Umuada remain basically the same, perhaps with slight modifications, depending on specific cultural areas. In its broadest sense, Umuada is a collective of all daughters of a particular hamlet, clan, village, or community. It is the inalienable right of every daughter of a particular locality to belong to the Umuada without exception. As a collective, the Umuada is a very powerful sociocultural group in Igbo traditional society whose involvement in the resolution of any conflict is considered final. The membership criterion of this group is that the ada is born of the same male lineage. Even when the ada, born of the same male lineage, is married outside her clan or community, she remains the ada of her father’s clan or locality with even greater respect. In a strict sense, membership of Umuada is conferred patrilineally, that is, from the father’s side of the family. In concrete terms, any Igbo woman who does not belong to the Umuada is either an outsider to the Igbo culture or has been ostracized or excommunicated for what could be described as sacrilegious behavior. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK This chapter is premised on the theoretical framework of human needs theory, propounded by the English political theorist John Burton in the early 1990s. Even though Burton did not expressly call this theory a feminist theory, he nevertheless brought to the fore the significant roles women play in conflict resolution. According to Burton (1990b, p. 99), women, as well as other people who have had the experience of being members of disenfranchised,



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underprivileged, and “minority” groups have a special role to play in the area of conflict resolution and peace-building. In the opinion of Burton, it is not that women are more peace-oriented or less forceful than men, but, because of their social experiences, women are better positioned to trust and handle conflict resolution initiatives and engage in activities that further the prospects of peace. According to Sharoni (1994, p. 1), men’s recognition of the significance of feminist or women’s perspectives to conflict resolution is vital for establishing the legitimacy of feminist-based human needs theory. The human needs theory assumes that social groups in every society require certain basic needs to be met in the process of conflict resolution. In an earlier work relating to needs satisfaction in society, Johan Galtung (1996) had outlined eight needs necessary for conflict resolution in any society. These include acceptable patterns of social control, maintenance of security of lives and property, ensuring justice for all, positive stimulation of the externalization of human creative energy, prompt response to grievances, giving meaning to human existence in the society, recognizing that all persons are rational human beings, and giving them a sense of esteem. Relying on this work, Burton added another need, which he called role defense. In other words, every social group in the community, including women, strive to give their existence some degree of relevance and to identify and defend their role in the process of social engineering. Burton (1990b) went further to characterize conflict resolution as “the transformation of relationships in a particular case by the solution of the problems, which led to the conflictual behaviour in the first place” (p. 99). James Laue (1990, p. 257) has also contributed to this framework by observing that power relations in any community are essential for conflict resolution. Defining conflict as the escalated natural competition for relevance and prestige, Laue argues that each social group, whether female or male, has a significant role to play in resolving conflict in the community. In pursuing conflict resolution, Laue says that the process should be able to address the underlying issues to the conflict even as it carries all the conflicting parties along irrespective of gender differentials, and that the process should be able to achieve some degree of satisfaction for all the parties involved in the conflict. Linda Forcey (1987, p. 334) has also added her voice to this theoretical assumption by asserting that human needs theory, even when not expressly called feminist theory, takes as proven the historical oppression of women and stresses that women involvement in conflict resolution is driven by their determination to satisfy the human need for peace. This theory is germane to this chapter because needs satisfaction is the underlying principle behind Umuada in conflict resolution. Conflict

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resolution in Igboland is anchored on the people’s desire to satiate the human need for peace, recognition, and prestige in the Igbo traditional society. UMUADA AND CONFLICT RESOLUTION IN IGBO TRADITIONAL SOCIETY Conflicts in Igbo traditional society take on various forms and colors. No matter the nature of the conflict, once it is brought before the Umuada, the group, by tradition and custom, has the latitude to intervene and resolve the matter. Resolution of any conflict in Igbo society is graduated and procedural. The first point of conflict resolution in Igboland is the nuclear family. In the course of gathering materials for this chapter, I travelled to Nsukka and Awgu in Enugu State, Isuochi in Abia state, and Awka in Anambra state to interview some persons versed in Igbo tradition. I note that even though there may be minor variations in practice, the tradition is similar throughout Igboland. For instance, Chief Fred Ezeugwu from Edem in Nsukka, in an interview stated: If the nuclear family fails to resolve an issue in conflict, the matter is first of all referred to the larger umunna [the agnate members of the family]. If the matter could not be resolved at this stage then the matter is taken to the village assembly or council of elders and finally to the gods or deity. At any of these stages, the Umuada could step into the case at the invitation of one of the parties to the conflict. (personal communication, 4/17/2012)

Among the Igbo, the Umuada group is revered because of its importance in resolving very thorny issues that could defy other levels of conflict resolution and also because of the spiritual significance attached to that institution. The conflict resolution mechanism adopted by the Umuada is alternative dispute resolution (ADR) and not necessarily the Western legal process of litigation. This traditional ADR by the Umuada is usually through conciliation and arbitration. The strategy of conciliation and arbitration is anchored on the understanding that restoration of peace in any conflict situation is more important than pronouncing any party as the winner or loser in the case. Mazi Onyebuchi Obasi in an interview on March 17, 2012, remarked that the usual practice of getting the Umuada involved in any matter is basically the same all over Igboland. The procedure is for the aggrieved party or individual to report the matter to the Umuada. This is called “iku-ikpe.” This process of reporting the matter to the Umuada is usually accompanied by the presentation of an offering to the Umuada. The offering could include a keg of palm wine with a bowl of food such as the local delicacy, garden eggs and sauce.



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Kola nuts are not usually part of the requirements because of the Igbo tradition that forbids women from iwa-oji. Kola nuts are the fruits from the perennial tree known as kola nitida. They are revered in Igbo culture because it is regarded as the only fruit of communication with their ancestors. Iwa-oji simply means the breaking of the kola nut into lobes and using the lobes to invoke the spirits of the gods and ancestors to dwell at their gatherings. The items are presented to the leader of the Umuada. Among the Nsukka people, the leader of the Umuada is known as Onye isi Umuada or Onyishi Umuada. Among the Anambra Igbos she is known as Onye isi umuokpu while among the Southern Igbos especially among Imo people she is known as Onye isi Ndimgboto. Maureen Ugwuanyi in an interview on April 20, 2012, explained that when these items are brought to the head or leader of the Umuada, she summons the rest of the Umuada and presents the report or petition before them. She further explained that in most instances, the complainant is invited to the meeting of the Umuada to personally restate his/her case. One basic feature of the Umuada is that they are not limited by gender to try any matter. Matters involving men or women can be brought before them for their intervention and resolution. Before summoning the accused party, the Umuada first exhaustively study the report or petition before them and determine if it merits their further attention. If the petition merits their attention, they then proceed to summon the accused party, who on responding to the summons would also provide offerings. A date is then fixed for the hearing of the matter in which the disputants make their presentations before the Umuada. Before making their final pronouncement on the matter, the Umuada usually embark on verification and consultation exercises from and with members of the community, especially those persons who have been mentioned by the disputants in the course of presenting their cases. The aim of this consultation and verification exercise is to ensure that justice is not miscarried. Maureen Ugwuanyi explains further: After this stage of consultation and verification, the Umuada would reassemble to examine their findings and deliberate on them. Thereafter, the parties are summoned again. On the day of deciding the matter and pronouncing their verdict, the “Onyishi Umuada” would normally do a recap of the issues before them and inform the disputants that they [Umuada] have made their own independent investigations into the matter reported before them and also consulted widely. She breaks her speech at intervals to gauge the mood of her audience and also to get the confirmation of her members by rhetorically asking them: “umu ada ibem, okwa eziokwu,” literally meaning “my fellow Umuada, is that not true?” Her colleagues usually chorus their affirmation and ask the leader

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to go ahead. When the “Onyishi Umuada” finishes her preamble, she would nominate one of the elderly members of the group, usually a renowned orator within the group, to announce the verdict of the Umuada. When she finishes announcing the verdict, she would show her modesty by urging her colleagues to embellish what she had said in case she had forgotten any of the points of the verdict. In some cases, a member would make an input and at other instances, the group would affirm what the presenter had said as their verdict. (personal communication, 4/20/2012)

The verdict so pronounced is irreversible and would usually be enforced through a variety of means such as mild sanctions, directives to the guilty party to go and appease the other party with a keg of palm wine or cockerel or even goat. Refusal by the guilty party to obey the verdict of the Umuada is often met with stiffer sanctions like outright ostracism or excommunication from the community. From the interviews, I learned that this practice has remained fundamentally unchanged despite the influence of Western education and religion. Chinwe Ibeanu-Okoye remarked on the influence of Western education and religion in the activities of the Umuada: It is true that education and religion [have] softened such practices as ostracism, but a recalcitrant member of the community who refuses to abide by the ruling of the Umuada may be disciplined through other community-based structures like the Igwe-in-Council [traditional rulers’ council] and the town union because these structures recognize and respect the Umuada as valid in Igboland. These structures can prevent the deviant from holding any social function in the community or forbid any member of the community from attending. Breach of this kind of order is seriously sanctioned. (personal communication, 4/20/2012)

The opinion or verdict of the Umuada on any conflict situation in Igboland is rarely neglected because of the critical role they play in the community. For instance, the burial of an average male member of the lineage cannot take place except after the Umuada give their blessing. When they give their blessing, the Umuada usually spend two weeks or eight days with the family of the bereaved giving every support they can. Generally, in a situation where a party to a case refuses to abide by the decision of the Umuada, they will refuse to give their blessing to the burial of a male member of the lineage or to even participate in such burial. The implication of this is that the entire community will refrain from according the deceased his full honors in death. When or where this happens, it is viewed as a bad omen in Igbo traditional society. The Igbo believe in reincarnation and ancestralization, and if the dead is not accorded his full honors in death, it is believed that the ancestors will not welcome him in the land of the dead; the spirit of the person remains earth-bound, and the soul remains



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restless. The Igbo belief here is that the ghost of the dead man will begin to haunt the living. This explains why the decisions of the Umuada are held sacrosanct regarding any matter brought before them. Even in today’s modern Igbo society, the Umuada’s importance and relevance in conflict resolution has not diminished; they have maintained their preeminent position in traditional conflict resolution. Apart from conflict resolution, the Umuada also perform critical ritual functions. They are regarded as the custodians of cleansing and purification morality for their agnate families, clans, or communities. The Umuada perform cleansing rituals or what the Igbo call ikpu-aru and also perform purification rituals for lineage houses, for instance in cleansing the abomination of incest, abortion, or adultery and purifying the land. In cases where their verdict in a matter has been flouted, they refuse to perform these spiritual functions. CONCLUSION AND RECOMMENDATIONS From the foregoing discussions, there is no doubt that the Umuada play a significant role in conflict resolution in traditional Igbo society. The Umuada, as an alternative dispute resolution structure, has endured across time because of the resilience of the Igbo tradition and culture and emphasis on the family as the nucleus of society, and also because of the spiritual and social significance of the group. Conflict resolution by the Umuada is essentially conciliatory and arbitrative rather than adjudicatory. In Igbo traditional society, the Umuada approach to conflict resolution has proven to be more effective than the Western litigation process essentially because it is driven by tradition, which is the binding and sustaining force of Igbo traditional society. Following from this discussion thus far, this chapter makes the following recommendations: a) Empower and build the capacity of the Umuada institution in line with current trends in alternative dispute resolution mechanisms. This will entail proper articulation of the roles and functions of Umuada in all Igbo communities. b) There is need to give legal and legislative backing to the existence and functioning of Umuada by the government as an ADR structure and to specify its scope and duties. c) There is need for the United Nations to conduct a pilot study of the Umuada institution in Igboland with a view to adopting it as a viable

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ADR mechanism or strategy in other parts of the world with strong cultural attachment to the extended family setting. Such “globalization” of the Umuada approach to conflict management would ensure greater peace and security in the world because if there is peace in the families and communities, there would be peace in the world. d) There is also need for Western societies to consider seriously the option of re-inventing age-old traditional family values by recognizing the fact that most of today’s “globalized” conflicts could have been solved at the community level by structures such as Umuada. e) Finally, this chapter raises fundamental issue about gender-balancing in the Igbo society, which calls for further research work and advocacy campaigns. This issue is highlighted by the continued denial of women’s rights in kola nut breaking in the Igbo society. Such rights are seen as exclusively men’s, hence, in the process of conflict mediation the Umuada are not provided with kola nut, a powerful symbol of unity, community, and spirituality.

Chapter 10

The Role of the Umunna and Age Grades in Traditional Conflict Management in Igboland Luke A. Amadi and James E. Agena

This chapter explores the egalitarian and republican Igbo ethnic nationality of Eastern Nigeria and provides a model of systemic patterns of indigenous conflict resolution mechanisms through the Umunna (the kinsmen or village central meeting) and the Age Grades. Using case examples, it examines the roles of both institutions in indigenous conflict management and argues that Western conflict resolution strategies have been ineffectual in ameliorating local conflicts due to poor understanding of the dynamics of local conflicts. It calls for policy discourse on incorporation of indigenous conflict management strategies into the Western model. INTRODUCTION Understanding the roles of local actors and institutions in traditional conflict management in Igboland and integrating the same into the broader framework of Western conflict resolution is pertinent in a period of resurgence of local conflicts and “failures” of Western models to produce sustainable peace. At the end of the Cold War, Western approaches increasingly became dominant themes in international conflict studies (Burton, 1998; Fisher, 2000), such as the ripeness theory, theories of mediation, theories of reconciliation, power sharing theories, and credible commitment theory. Also the NGOs and multilateral-based strategies became mainstream. Though these theories and strategies point toward practical steps that could contribute to containing conflicts and improve the prospects for peace, they have been largely Western-centric, and to a large extent provide panacea to only Western conflicts with minimal application and relevance to non-Western conflicts. 145

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Paul Salem argued, “the Western community of conflict resolution theorists and practitioners operate within a macro-political context that they may overlook, but which colors their attitudes and values. This seems remarkably striking from an outsider’s point of view and is largely related to the West’s dominant position in the world” (Salem, 1993). The effectiveness of Western methods of conflict resolution within nonWestern contexts thus remains hotly contested (Bob-Manuel, 2000; Zartman, 2000). In the late 1990s as democracy and multiparty systems replaced one party systems in most African states, there was a resurgence of new wars and local conflicts. In Nigeria, for instance, internal conflicts have been on the rise (Egwu, 1997; Falola, 1998; Ibeanu, 1998). Toyin Falola observed that the spate of insecurity and threats to lives and properties in Nigeria has reached alarming proportions despite the increasing visibility of the Nigerian state mobile police and military in the management of internal conflicts (Falola, 1998). About fifty episodes of violent conflict, which culminated in the death of over 10,000 persons and the internal displacement of over 300,000 were recorded in Nigeria between 1999 and 2003 (International Crisis Group, 2009). The November 28 and 29, 2008, violent conflict in Jos (a city in the north-central area) resulted in the death of over 380 persons alongside the destruction of properties (Akinwale, 2010). The reoccurring violence in northern Nigeria with the spate of killings by Muslim fundamentalist Boko-Haram has equally recorded more than 10,000 deaths between 2009 and 2013. Additional terrorist attacks in Nigeria include the Eagle Square bombing in Abuja by a militant group on October 1, 2010; the Movement for the Emancipation of Niger Delta People (MEND) carrying out the bombing of the UN House in Abuja on August 26, 2011, and subsequently the December 25, 2011, bombing of the Christians of Catholic faith church in northern Nigeria, as well as killings in places like Gombe, Damaturu, Maidugiri, Kano, Kaduna, all in Northern Nigeria; the Ife and Modakeke crisis in southwestern Nigeria; and the Ezaa and Izii communal crisis in Ebonyi State, Eastern Nigeria just to name a few. The scholarly literature discusses aspects and causes of these local conflicts from various perspectives, for example, from the ethnic perspective (Egwu, 1997; Nnoli, 1978; Osaghe, 2000; Otite, 2000; Suberu, 2006). To illustrate, ethnic conflict in Nigeria includes the Jukun-Tiv conflict in the Wukari Local Government Area of Benue State, the Zangon-Kataf conflict involving the Kataf and Hausa-Fulani ethnic groups in Kaduna State, the Bachama-Hausa conflict in Adamawa State, as well as the conflict between the Agila of Benue State and Igbo of Enugu State. This rural manifestation of ethnicity is unprecedented; for ethnicity in Nigeria has historically been an urban phenomenon (Egwu, 1997). Other perspectives from which conflict in Nigeria



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has been approached in the scholarly literature includes the political perspective (Joseph, 1991), the perspectives of oil minority issues in the Niger Delta (Obi, 2001; Saro-Wiwa, 1989), and the religious perspective (Adebayo, 2010; Egwu, 1997; Falola, 1998). The effects of such conflicts that arise from interrelationships of local institutions and the obstacles which they pose for community development have been considered by some to date, but more needs to be understood about these intrastate conflicts (Dike, 2002; Nwosu, 2008). Several scholars and researchers began to examine possible ways toward resolution of local conflicts. Azem (2005), for instance, argued on “reconceptualizing conflict management” (p. 2). Oliver Ramsbotham, Tom Woodhouse, and Hugh Miall (2011) posited that, “far from contemporary internal wars being aberrant, irrational and nonproductive phenomena, they represent ‘the emergence of entirely new types of social formation adapted for survival on the margins of the global economy’” (p. 100). To Ramsbotham et al. (2011): The dissolution of the Soviet Union brought to a close the long period in which a single international conflict dominated the international system. Instead, internal conflicts, ethnic conflicts, conflicts over secession and power struggles within countries became the norm in the 1990s. These reflected not so much struggles between competing centers of power, of the kind that had characterized international conflict for most of the 350 years since the peace of Westphalia, but the fragmentation and breakdown of state structures, economies and whole societies. At their extreme, in parts of Africa, the new wars witnessed the return of mercenary armies and underpaid militias which preyed on civilian populations in a manner reminiscent of medieval times. Instead of recognizing this, however, they argued that the most powerful economies and governments treat these wars as local symptoms of local failures, and therefore expect “behavioral and attitudinal change” in those countries. The disciplinary norms of “liberal governance are imposed from outside.” (p. 100)

Mohamed Ayoob (1995) further observed, The Third World’s relative unimportance to the strategic balance during the Cold War era was, paradoxically, borne out by the fact that the superpower competition for influence was carried on with the greatest zeal in the Third World. It is no wonder, then, that conflicts proliferated in the Third World while the industrial and strategic heartland of the globe remained free of major interstate conflict after the end of the World War II. (p. 7)

The concern primarily was that dominant studies on conflict management in the post-Cold War era focused on global conflicts with an emphasis on the efforts of such actors as the United Nations and other intergovernmental organizations, individual governments, and nongovernmental organizations

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(Tharkur, 1994). Another reason was the notion that the global South has weak state structures. This weakness is manifested at both the levels at which the Third World interacts with the international system: as a group and as individual sovereign states (Adibe, 1994; Ayoob, 1995; Mazrui, 1995). It was also argued that with the end of the Cold War, emphasis was laid on the members of the former Warsaw Pact. This global ideological superficiality and shift has meant a “marginalization” of Africa as Ali Mazrui (1995) rightly observed: In global terms the African state has become increasingly marginalized and has been pushed into the ghetto of the world system . . . . The end of the cold war has diverted western investment and aid towards the former members of the Warsaw Pact and the newly liberalizing economies of China, Vietnam and India. The new priorities of the post–Cold War era are, to some extent, bad news for disabled African states and displaced African people. In addition the francophone economies have lost the financial asylum they used to enjoy from the French franc. (pp. 9–10)

Immanuel Wallerstein (1990) identified the global North/South divide in his Systems Analysis as phenomenal in exploring the asymmetrical structure of the international political system (p. 10). In a similar line of argument, William Zartman (2000) examined the aftermath impact of the emergent post-colonial “world order.” “With the end of the systems of world order that colonialism and the Cold War provided, Africa is experiencing a greater degree of conflict than it has seen in a long while. This conflict is frequently noted to be primarily internal in nature” (Zartman, 2000, p. 2). He further states: The fact not as frequently noted is that domestic political conflict does not remain self-contained, nor is it self-generated. The stakes of Africa’s conflicts in the post-Cold War era are indeed internal, but their origins and ramifications involve entire regions. African conflict in the 1990s is not only more prevalent than in earlier periods, it is more virulent and destructive because its implications lie within both the state and the region. More than ever, Africa needs effective conflict management practices. (Zartman, 2000, p. 2)

These shortcomings of modern conflict management necessitated the need to study indigenous strategies of conflict resolution. Two such “local peoples” or “institutions” that play active roles in traditional conflict resolution in Igboland are the Umunna and the Age Grades. Beyond being an alternative model of local conflict resolution and deconstructing the Western hegemonic influences on the erstwhile “colonies” and “periphery” states, a continuum of factors necessitate the application of



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traditional conflict resolution strategies such as, understanding the dynamics of African cultural values and institutions against the “foreignness” of Western models. Also there is need to recognize, reinforce, and incorporate these values in global conflict management. A few scholars have discussed the roles of local institutions and actors in conflict resolution and their incorporation into the Western models. Eghosa Osaghe (2000) provided an exemplification of the expediency of strengthening indigenous conflict management strategies when he observed, “there are of course other important reasons that traditional systems of conflict management need to be more thoroughly investigated and incorporated into modern conflict resolution efforts” (Osaghe, 2000, p. 201). He further observed: One is that doing so will help to mitigate the disenabling effects produced by the perception of United Nations and Western powers’ conflict resolution and management initiatives as extensions of foreign intervention of the (re)colonization kind. This perception by anti-colonial and anti-imperialist elites and warlords is reinforced by the larger context of economic and political adjustments imposed by Western countries and other multilateral organizations, which have rendered many insolvent African states new colonies in all but name. The delegitimizing implications of this perception, which were underplayed for a long time, and the ways in which the incorporation of traditional conflict management strategies into mainstream strategies can help to reduce the problems have recently been identified in the search for better conflict management in Africa. Second, “from the perspective of indigenous knowledge, the incorporation of traditional systems not only helps to contextualize conflict management but also facilitates the participation of local peoples.” (Osaghe, 2000, p. 201)

In the absence of “centralized authority” in the acephalous Igbo society, how do these institutions actualize conflict resolution and management? Could their strategies provide a model of indigenous conflict resolution? If yes, what interacting variables account for this? If no, what could be done to integrate the Igbo traditional conflict management strategies into the Western conflict resolution model and how has policy initiatives been framed in this direction in a period of resurgence of local conflicts? These are some of the salient questions this chapter seeks to answer as it explores the Umunna and Age Grades within the broader traditional conflict resolution discourse in Igboland. MATERIALS AND METHODS This chapter adopts participatory methodology through case examples to examine traditional conflict management strategies in Igboland. Participatory

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methodology is an evidence-based practical approach that seeks to illuminate a social phenomenon. Our two case examples are framed within a specific time frame and location to demonstrate the incidence of local conflicts and its resolution by Umunna and Age Grades namely, the Osu caste-induced conflict in Umuawuka Mbaoma Emii in Owerri North Local Government Area of Imo State and the Umuleri versus Aguleri boundary dispute in Otuocha Local Government Area of Anambra State. Both case examples are important in enriching the ongoing local conflict discourse in Igboland and provide explication of the mechanisms of interaction of Umunna and Age Grades in collective decisions and consensus building to resolve such conflicts. Conflicts could arise on various matters; the central challenge in every such dispute is reconciliation. Conceptual Clarifications To put this chapter in perspective, conceptual clarities on some terms and institutions are important namely, Umunna/Ama-ala, age grades, culture, and indigenous conflict management strategies. Igbo will be used interchangeably with Ibo, Umuleri with Umueri. Ofor is a traditional symbol of authority depicted with a venerated log of wood of about six inches tied with feathers and assorted colored clothes seemingly drenched with animal blood. Osu according to Igbo belief system means an outcaste or a living sacrifice to the gods. While Nwadiala or Diala means free born. TRADITIONAL INSTITUTIONS: UMUNNA AND AGE GRADES Despite the collapse of most of the indigenous institutions over the past decades, the Igbo traditional artifacts still retain the coordinated institutional structures concerned with conflict resolution. Using the traditional anthropological distinction between cephalic and acephalic societies, the sociopolitical order may be hierarchical or communal, although usually some elements of both are present (Zartman, 2000). Associational life is very active in the Igbo social formation. Every member of the society belongs to one social organization or the other, observes certain rules, and performs obligations. Defaulters are sanctioned or excommunicated. Conceptualizing Umunna and Age grades not only provides the background within which to situate the Igbo indigenous conflict management strategies, rather it also illuminates the track record required to trace the significant roles of both institutions. It is necessary to situate both cultural institutions within the cultural and anthropological perspectives of conflict management as an integral part of the Igbo society. Afigbo (1972) posits, “Umunna is the village-group



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council.” He further argues, “the village enjoyed autonomy in its own affairs but matters which involved outside interests go to the village-group council, a body which comprised all the village heads of all other segments as well as other elders. In actual fact any adult male member of the village group could attend and insist on being heard” (p. 17). According to Onwuka and Ahaiwe (1997), “this body could be rightly described as the supreme body of Igboland. For the Igbo, the largest political unit was usually the villagegroup, each member village being in fact largely autonomous” (p. 130). The Igbo political system operated through a complex confederacy which balanced central authority under the village-group council—Umunna. Umunna, as used here, refers to the central village group which consists of male descent of closely knitted kin (kinsmen). At the central square, each Umunna represents the kindred through the head (eldest) of each kindred who is the custodian of the ofor in line with Igbo gerontocracy (Umunna, plural; Nwanna, singular). Within the Igbo adjudicatory system, the council of elders is the highest policy making body, Umunna follows, being a larger unit of male descent. The age grade is a policy implementing organ that cuts across various strata of the society. It is an association of persons born within specific age brackets. Hence, people who were born the same day, or the same month or year (Nzeako, 1979, p. 127), or during historic events, in a typical Igbo society, usually form age grades and give them names of their choice. For example, in Onitsha Inland Town, all those who were born between 1960 and 1962 formed an age-grade named “Independence” depicting the year 1960 when Nigeria gained independence (Akude, 1992). Women also form age grades in some traditional Igbo societies or join their men folk. Culture could be conceptualized as those inherent and commonly shared attributes and practices over time which differentiates one group of people from another; these attributes and practices include norms, conventions, mores, values, beliefs, institutions, language, ethos, and taboos. It is the totality of the way of life of a people (Imoagene, 1990). Thus, culture is an important ingredient of conflict management and peace mechanisms in traditional Igbo society. The triumvirate structure guides the demonstration of secular powers such as sanctions and oaths, which are reinforced through the supernatural and displayed in the Igbo cultural values. The confederacy of the Igbo nation therefore provides for governance at the various levels of the component units that make up the people’s political system (Afigbo, 1972). Political participation starts from the family which is the smallest social unit. The next is the compound which consists of a number of families and households of common descent held commonly together economically, politically, and culturally. Here the Okpara (first-born) of the most senior family

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exercises political authority (Onwuka and Ahaiwe, 1997). Despite these disparate political units, accordingly they unite for legislative, executive, and judicial purposes (Imoagene, 1990, p. 22). Indigenous conflict resolution mechanisms in Africa are generally closely bound with sociopolitical and economic realities of the lifestyles of the communities. These mechanisms are rooted in the culture and history of the African people and are in one way or another unique to each community (Edossa et al., 2005). It encompasses the settlement of local or internal disputes within the family, kindred, clan, or community levels. It does not cut across international boundaries. It evolves internally from the people and takes cognizance of their mores, values, and culture. Because it “evolves” internally from the people, it understands their “conflict situation” and internal dynamics and proffers solutions, hence indigenous and local. It is enough to argue that it is an art of using appropriate local institutions to guide inevitable local conflict into peaceful channels. CAUSES OF CONFLICTS IN TRADITIONAL IGBO SOCIETY Conflict is defined as an incompatibility of goals or values between two or more parties in a relationship, combined with attempts to control each other and antagonistic feelings toward each other (Fisher, 1990). According to Ron Fisher, conflict can occur at a number of levels of human functioning: interpersonal conflict, role conflict, intergroup conflict, multiparty conflict, and international conflict (Fisher, 1990). To Ted Gurr and Monty Marshall (2003) most African conflicts are caused by the combination of poverty and weak states and institutions. The problem is that conflict situations have arisen in many communities. Beyond that, the primary concern of this study is with social conflict, that is, conflict between people whether they are acting as individuals, as members of groups, or as representatives of organizations or nations (Fisher, 1990). This chapter is supported by the analyses of secondary sources specifically focused on the situation in Igboland (Iroegbu, 2009; Nwosu, 2008; Uwazie, 2000). For instance, Ernest Uwazie (2000) examined “social relations and peace keeping among the Igbos” (p. 15) in exploring instruments of peace building and identified the roles of ofor and the family in this regard. Conflict arises from a number of factors such as boundary/border/land disputes, traditional titles, traditional festivals, marriage/burial/birth rites, performance of rituals, heirship, defiling of Ala (Land/Earth), oath taking, breaking of bonds of competent relationships, sharing of family inheritance, violation of norms, and the osu caste stigmatization.



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ANALYSIS OF TWO CASE EXAMPLES The Umuewereke versus Umuagwu Osu Caste Conflict Both villages under consideration are in the Umuawuka community in Mbaoma Emii Owerri North Local Government Area, Imo State. Umuawuka is one of the ten villages that make up Emii. The recent proliferation of autonomous communities in Imo State moved Umuawuka to Mbaoma Emii autonomous community. Umuawuka is made up of several kindreds, namely, Mbutu, Umuokoro, Umuagwu, Umuosu, Obokwe, Umunwagbara, and Umuewereke. The Mbaoma community categorizes Umuewereke as Osu. Umuewereke customarily is owned by Umuagwu as their Osu (outcast), thus both are communities of unequal social status according to Igbo custom. In the 1930s, the people of Umuewereke revolted against Umuagwu over the Osu cast stigmatization. Conflict subsequently ensued between both communities. According to the Igbo traditional belief system, Nwadiala (freeborn) cannot shed the blood of an Osu (outcast) to avert the wrath of the gods. With the repeated physical assault by the Umuewereke on the Umuagwu, Nnaa (Pa) John Opara, leader of Umuagwu and the custodian of the village ofor, summoned the Umunna, the various age grades, and other institutions in the village through the town crier who sounded the Ikoro (wooden gong) urging them to assemble at Ama Umuagwu (the village square) on Eke market day, the day key decisions are made in the community. The Umunna collectively agreed to send a delegation to Umuewereke demanding for peace; the youngest age grade volunteered to convey the message of peace as well. This was intended to avert the imminent danger of incurring the wrath of Ala Umuawuka (earth goddess of Umuawuka), and forestall escalation of the conflict. After long negotiations and controversies, Umunna of Umuewereke conveyed their grouse to the Umunna of Umuagwu requesting for an end to discrimination and stigmatization by the nwadialas. In all the grievances, the Umunna of Umuagwu spelt out the nonamenable areas which included intermarriage, ascendance to traditional titles, custodian of ofor, pouring of libations to the gods, and the blessing of the kola nut, while the amenable areas included an end to discrimination and stigmatization. As both parties came to a consensus, the age grades were appointed to form vigilante groups for security and to forestall future chaos. Pa Opara brought forth the village ofor, as collective consensus was made on each point raised; he aggressively hit the ofor on the ground to reinforce ontological balance and consensus between the living and the dead, while the dissident parties unanimously shouted, “Ise!” (signifying the collective consent). After that, he brought kola nuts, blessed, broke, and gave them to the youngest age grade to pass

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around. Both parties took kola nuts simultaneously to demonstrate reconciliation. After eating the kola nut, wine was brought and Pa Opara performed similar rituals including pouring libations to the gods of the land repeatedly in four successions (signifying the four market days in Igboland). Both parties drank from the same keg, but not from same cup because Osu does not eat directly with Nwadiala by virtue of their acclaimed lower social status. This act signifies the covert existence of Osu caste discrimination in Igboland to date. After the drink, men, women, and children danced and jubilated for restoration of peace. In 1991, however, another dissonance ensued between the two communities where peace and tranquility decanted into Osu cast conflict, causing the vandalization of properties including burning down of houses. In the wake of these disasters, hundreds of thousands were wounded and displaced, while others fled to neighboring villages. The eddies of the conflict continued to swirl and constituted a source of disorder among both parties and their neighboring communities. In prosecuting the conflict this time, the Umuagwu went for reprisal with vandalization of houses belonging to the Umuewereke within the Umuagwu axis. Several casualties were recorded, but there was no recorded case of death. Significantly, in the neo-liberal order, the law courts (Western model) failed. On the other hand, Umunna and age grades of both communities arrested the dissonance with a follow up to the 1930 incident and sustainable peace was restored. A symbolic incorporation of the Western model here was the involvement of the Catholic priests at Emmanuel Catholic Church Umuawuka, which cemented the peace process with a holy mass and “communion” among the dissident parties. Today there is peace among both communities. Critical in the role of Umunna and age grades in conflict resolution is restoration of post-conflict relationships as both parties were fully integrated into the society. Ineba Bob-Manuel (2000) made similar observations when she argued that when there is a dispute between different parties, priority is given to restoring the relationships. She further observed: During dispute settlement, which would normally involve supporters of the disputing parties and the elders talking the matters through, relationships are given prime attention. The relationships are viewed according to the past, and the tense or current conflict, and then the aim would be to improve future relationships. Indirect relationships are analyzed along with direct ones to see cross-stitching potentials. For example, if each of the disputing parties happen to be musicians, this commonality may be utilized as a converging factor. The fear of sorcery or divine punishment is also used to show what the breach of peace would bring upon the society and the conflicting parties. (Bob-Manuel, 2000, cited in Brock-Utne, 2001, p. 8)



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Providing further veritable stance for traditional conflict resolution, she argued: A Western mediator may begin the exploration by retracing the steps of the parties to the point of the initial conflict. But an experienced African elder, considering the social realities, may start from a vantage point further back and try to form a frame of social reference. He may ask questions like; “Who are you, and where are you from? Explain your family link. Where did you grow up? What do you like doing? Etc.” These may provide clues, not only about immediate causes, but will reveal long-standing grievances, thus offering a wider and deeper insight into the differences and similarities between the parties. Parties often have fairly similar needs, but rather different interests. They may also have similar or different ideologies and beliefs. The age and power differences must also be considered. All these help the African elder in the discussion to get at the remote and immediate causes. (Bob-Manuel, 2000, p. 9)

The second conflict case from Nigeria follows. The Umuleri and Aguleri Boundary Dispute The Aguleri and Umuleri boundary dispute is one of the most protracted and incendiary conflicts in Eastern Nigeria. The conflict centers on the question of which of the communities first settled its current territory and which community has the prior claim to the area known as Otuocha (Eke, 1999). Aguleri and Umuleri are predominantly Christian towns, both located in southeastern Nigeria in Anambra State close to Onitsha. In the southeastern part of Nigeria, they are considered to be among the most highly educated as a result of their early contacts with the missionaries (Eke, 1999). To illuminate the sources of the conflict however, a brief historical overview is pertinent. The Precolonial Era The precolonial Igbo society had well-defined systems of adjudication. They were essentially farmers and aside from its direct economic importance, land served variously for the payment of dowries, reparation for murder and other serious crimes, and as a means of exchange (Eke, 1999). Consequently, land came to be the symbol of wealth and social standing in these societies. Land was also the principal cause of war. A class of warlords emerged and became consolidated in most parts of pre-colonial Igboland (Eke, 1999). Boundary issues have been sensitive in land discourse and mostly settled on a balance of coercive forces. Thus, “it is less a question of

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whether boundaries exist than it is a question of the ability to enforce their demarcation. This ability depends to a large extent on the development of a warrior class which is able to defend the land already in its possession and to capture more land. This was clearly the case during pre-colonial times” (Eke, 1999, p. 1). The Colonial Era The inherent contradictions of the colonial state in Africa are germane to the studies of African conflict. Eke (1999) argued: The colonial state exacerbated the contradictions already existing in these societies by supporting some communities over and against others. Records show that captain O’Connor, the district officer of the area in the 1930s partly engineered the problem by encouraging the Umuleri to make claims to the whole of the Otuocha land, and promised to support them in this war. This increased the bitterness in the region and bottled it up for the future. Partisan policies of this type led to a substantial loss of faith in the colonial legal system. It is this lack of faith, partly carried over from the colonial state, that accounts for the inability of the post-colonial state to resolve the problem. (p. 2)

The acquisition of land by European traders and the colonial government for various purposes provided the land necessary for trading and residential purposes, missionaries, churches, schools and farms, government residential quarters, and administrative infrastructures (Eke, 1999). This conflict was also aggravated by competition among European communities, particularly among different churches and Levantine companies. In some places, neighboring communities became divided among two missions (Eke, 1999). The Otuocha land dispute between the Aguleri and Umuleri communities clearly illustrates the role of Europeans in creating and intensifying land disputes (Eke, 1999). This is a case of grant and counter-grant, sale and counter-sale to Europeans of land that had, historically, been used by the two communities in common without problem (Eke, 1999). The Postcolonial Period The structures inherited from the colonial state have repeatedly derailed the development process in Africa; for example lack of sustainable peace in conflict-prone areas has been an ongoing issue. For instance, in the Aguleri/ Umuleri conflict, the postcolonial period has seen a worsening of the conflict. Ibeanu and Matthews (1988) argued that these disputes are difficult to resolve because they tend to become a vehicle for the expression of communal sentiments (p. 11). There is no doubt that to a large extent these disputes were



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carried over from the colonial era. Land became a rallying point for villages, towns, and communities (Ekeh, 1999). Ibeanu (1998) observed, “the conflict over Otu Ocha land, between the two Igbo communities of Aguleri and Umuleri, both in Anambra State . . . has been waged with utmost fierceness as would be found in conflicts involving people of different ethnic origins” (p. 89). The dire economic condition of postcolonial Nigeria fueled the latent tensions of the colonial era. For example, in 1935 and 1950, they had already lost appeals to the then West African Court of Appeal and Privy Council in London (Ekeh, 1999) to regain land. In 1964, an amendment filed by the Anambra County Council altered the name to Otuocha Aguleri, which occasioned another suit from the Umuleri that was eventually overtaken by the civil war. Ultimately, the East Central State Government restored the name to Otuocha (Ekeh, 1999). In 1993, the Umuleri sued the Aguleri once again over the rest of the land outside Otuocha, but lost the case because they had earlier sold the land in question to the then Royal Niger Company Ltd. In the landmark judgment of 1984, the Supreme Court ruled that, “neither the Aguleri, nor the Umuleri have been able to establish that they are exclusive owners of Otuocha land” (Ekeh, 1999, p. 3). After 1984, the Aguleri community took a belligerent and provocative posture and began claiming Otuocha as its exclusive property (Ekeh, 1999). In September 1995, the situation exploded. That year, public property including schools, banks, post offices, town halls, and even churches were razed to the ground. Further, some 200 private houses were destroyed and countless people were killed (Ekeh, 1999). The recent clashes of April 1999 followed the death of Mike Edozie, an Aguleri indigene, who was incidentally the chairman of the local government council of the area during the 1995 crisis. During his funeral, some young men identified as Umuleri youths attacked the mourners. There was pandemonium as the Umuleri youths allegedly dispersed mourners, gunning down some of them in the process. Exact casualty figures are disputed, but more than 100 persons were killed (Ekeh, 1999). Such is the intensity of the Aguleri-Umuleri conflict that both communities have deserted the area except for those actually prosecuting the war. Most of the indigenes of the feuding communities became refugees in neighboring villages while hospitals in Onitsha and environs were overflowing with victims of the communal clash (Ekeh, 1999). Anayo Okoli (2005) states, The crisis came to the fore in 2000 when war broke out between them. Dynamites and dangerous weapons were extensively used. No fewer than 2000 lives were wasted. Hundreds of houses were razed with explosives and more than 1000 homes were displaced while some took refuge in neighboring communities. Most of the destructions are still there to date. President Olusegun Obasanjo

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visited the war zone himself and was shocked at the level of destruction he saw. Since then, the communities have been a ghost of themselves as the people continued to live in mutual fear and suspicion of each other. (p. 1)

Despite the efforts of the Western models such as the law courts and commissions of inquiry, these approaches have proven largely ineffective; a return to traditional methods became imperative. According to the traditional ruler of Aguleri, Igwe Christopher Idigo, “the two communities have started peace talks” (Okoli, 2005, p. 1). In 2005, Igwe Idigo had this to tell Senator Joy Emodi representing the area in the Federal House of the Senate: Peace is the basis for development. Aguleri has not developed despite our early contact with Western civilization because of land disputes. When I came in (as the Igwe), I went for peace. We are in the computer age and we cannot afford to leave our children behind. Our youths have to grow and good plans must be laid for them. I am a born-again in peace-making. We are in serious discussion with the people of Umuleri for boundary resolution. Our problem with Umuleri is boundary disputes. We are going through a peace process. We are moving well. We now exchange visits. So many people were skeptical, saying what is Igwe doing? I want to tell you that we are in serious discussion with Umuleri to make peace. Though some people are working hard to disrupt the peace, you have to help us. We have started peace process. So do whatever you can to help us. (Okoli, 2005, p. 1)

UMUNNA AND AGE GRADES IN TRADITIONAL CONFLICT RESOLUTION STRATEGIES Traditional societies in Africa and elsewhere are reputed to hold secrets of peacemaking locked in their ways, formed from centuries of custom before the disruption of colonization (Zartman, 2000, p. 1). In traditional African societies the understanding of conflict is anchored on the disaffection between the humans and the supernatural. Thus, unless an ontological balance is maintained between the two parties, peace conflagration remained uncontainable (Nwosu, 2008). From this point, it is important to stress that conflict from whatever perspective is inevitable. The first party to the conflict (human beings) and the supernatural (supreme being, deities, and ancestors) as the other part in the conflict have quite a significant role to play in dislodging whatever might be responsible for the conflict (Nwosu, 2008). In a similar position, Afigbo observed that a political community for the Ibo was “the union of living blood relatives, the dead relatives and the gods of



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the community—a sort of spiritual common wealth” (Afigbo, 1972, p. 256). In a similar fashion, we explore the conflict resolution strategies of Umunna and age grades for this conflict situation. Atumatu Udo (Negotiation for Peace) Negotiation for peace is a long and tortuous act. In the case of Aguleri and Umuleri, key factors that engineered the peace process included the sudden remorseful realization of the Umunna of both communities that they are “brothers” after several decades of intense conflict and bloodletting. This supports the views of Myerson (2009) that violent conflicts can be managed effectively by the disputants themselves or by third parties. The negotiation was acted out by Umuleri Umunna and embraced by the Aguleri Umunna. Prominent among them was Chief Ben Emeka of Umuleri through the support of some Umunna, a peace accord was brokered with a visit to the traditional ruler of Aguleri and his kinsmen. After the negotiations, it was resolved to embark on immediate rehabilitation of destroyed structures and reparation of material possessions seized or vandalized during the communal crisis.”1 However, the immediate effect of the negotiation was the sudden “cease fire” by both parties. Though most members of Umuleri and Aguleri communities remained refugees in the neighboring towns while several others were displaced, the commencement of peace talks was a ray of hope for the restoration of peace. The implication of the negotiation was that the parties came to a consensus in the absence of a third party. Building Local Conflict Resolution Networks Age grades as an organization whose membership cuts across the broad spectrum of the society remained instrumental in the management of the conflict. This is more so as Umuleri and Aguleri like every Igbo society are anchored on group or associational life, solidarity, and communion of persons. The age grades were guided by the common philosophy of Igwe bu Ike (the people are might); they garnered collective support to broker peace as civil society groups involved in institutionalization of protocols; they order assemblies and carried out functions within the society in general vis-à-vis rights, duties, obligations, and benefits. The age grade system structures the society such that everyone is given his due within the cultural milieu in which there is no distinct class recognition and no special treatment based on birth, wealth, or position. During the Aguleri/Umuleri crisis, the age grades united to create networks for peace building which cut across the entire spectrum of the society and systematically created peace awareness.

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Ime Udo Obodo (Peace and Reconciliation Strategies) Reconciliation as a conflict management process is challenging. With the “ceasefire” in the Umuleri and Aguleri conflict, reconciliation was in sight. Both communities converged and after a series of dialogues, the younger age grades (the youth) were directly charged by the Umunna to carry out community-wide sensitization; they liaised with the older age grades at the central age grade meetings where every age grade had representatives. A number of issues were agreed upon, which included a collective rehabilitation of all devastated structures including restitution of vandalized properties, health care for those who sustained injuries, compensation for families who lost their relatives, and reconstruction of communal markets. These were made possible through a communal fundraising project initiated by the Umunna. The Igba Ndu ritual or oath of reconciliation was equally observed, followed by a thanksgiving mass (based on a western model). An important element of Igbo traditional conflict resolution is the reintegration of the guilty party into the society once his/her/their guilt is acknowledged and a cleansing ritual is performed. As an Aguleri Chief recounted, “Traditionally in Igboland, brothers do not shed the blood of a brother, we are tired of this whole mess, we want lasting peace” (Okoli, 2005, p. 1). The age grades at various times played important roles in this context as witnesses to issues of contention; they actively worked toward peace building by promoting common welfare, unity, cooperation, and solidarity. In the Nwadiala versus Osu conflict, the age grades organized special levies for rebuilding the village market (Orie Umuawuka), agreed on fines for vilifying the Osu, and persuaded the entire village to comply to standards that would foster peaceful coexistence. They also provide security for the society, which is integral to peace building. Agbam-Onya Ego (Post-Conflict Fundraising) To further institutionalize the peace process in both communities, Umunna of Aguleri and Umuleri unanimously organized fundraising, this strategy was very effective. During the fundraising, various age grades of both communities made financial commitments, and remained instrumental to the enforcement of law and compliance. It complemented a reception for the Catholic Bishops of Nigeria to Aguleri to bless the proposed late Reverent Father Francis Iwene Tansi’s shrine.2 According to Biafra Diboh (2010): The brotherly relationship between Umueri and Aguleri, which was at its lowest ebb following the crisis of 1995/99 was somehow restored last week, when



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an Eminent Umueri Philanthropist, Chief Ben Emeka, Chi Nwata Kweaku 1 of Umuleri donated generously towards the Aguleri planned hosting of the Catholic Bishops of Nigeria in Aguleri on 3rd June 2010. The Planned event was aimed for the Catholic Bishops to bless the Proposed Blessed Fr. Tansi Shrine. Chief Emeka was said to have donated the sum of One Hundred Thousand Naira (#100,000.00) to the Cause of Aguleri Catholic Community along with others who are mainly Aguleri natives. (p. 1)

“The Donation has Chief Willie Obiano, Akpokuodike Aguleri as top donor with the sum of one million Naira (#1,000.000.00). While the likes of Chief Alex O. Ochie, Aku Kalia of Aguleri, and Chief George Chiatula, Ive Aguleri donated the sum of five hundred thousand Naira (# 500,000.00) and two hundred thousand Naira (#200,000.00) respectively” (Diboh, 2010, p. 1). Others who donated the sum of one hundred thousand Naira (#100,000.00) included Chief Chris Idigo and Mr Henry Manafa. While presenting the list of the donors, the announcer, Chief Isaac O. Ezechukwu, Nze Chi Nyelu 1 of Aguleri said the following about the Umueri Born Philantropist: “Of particular interest also is the contribution of Chief Ben Emeka, Chi Nwata Kweaku of Umuleri, the Caterpillar Master, who has been identifying himself positively with Aguleri cause. We thank him specially” (Diboh, 2010, p. 1). “The Aguleri source therefore urged all members of the two communities to emulate Chief Emeka and see each other as relatives destined together by God and also to avoid anything that would lead the communities to the ugly sides of the yesteryears. He said that both communities are one and should be seen like that. According to him, there is no family in Aguleri that has no Umueri blood and the same could be said of Umueris” (Diboh, 2010, p. 1). Izu-Umunna (Kinsmen’s Dialogue/Consensus Building) Their overall strategy toward peacebuilding was aimed at the collective opinions of all of the stakeholders for consensus building and the institutionalization of lasting peace. In Aguleri and Umuleri, the entire social structures that were destroyed during the crisis, through a collective consensus, were accepted and rehabilitated. The age grades engaged substantially in such communal activities after long negotiations by both communities, in areas of consensus such as clearing and repairing of communal roads, renovation of village halls, local bridges, the post office, social infrastructures, and basic amenities. This confirms the strength of Izu Umunna as has been argued; for generations, the Igbos have used Izu Umunna as a means of peace and consensus building within the context of their tradition. Either in times of war or in related disputes, everybody’s opinion is sought. They believe in leadership through consensus, allowing everyone in their localized clans to have a voice

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while the traditional head of each clan rules by consent. “Collective consensus,” which virtually translates to public opinion and the will of the people, is also made through a triumvirate communication between Eligwe (heaven), Ala (Land goddess/spirits/ancestors), and umu-mmadu (the living). Famous dictums among the Igbos on matters of consensus building include: Umunna Kwenu! Igbo Kwenu! (Umunna/Igbo consent/accept), and Umunna wu Ike (Umunna is might or strength). The unanimous decision of the Umunna is supreme and binding. Again, Bob-Manuel (2000) suggests the preposition that it is only when potential and actual conflicts in Africa are understood in their social contexts that they can be solved. Values and beliefs, fears and suspicions, interests and needs, attitudes and actions, and relationships and networks have to be taken duly into consideration. Origins and root causes of the conflicts need to be explored, so that a shared understanding of the past and present is developed (Bob-Manuel, 2000, cited in Brock-Utne, 2001). Integrating “collective consensus” of the Umunna into modern conflict resolution will demystify the “obscured legal rhetoric” which seems to mix facts with fiction and pervert justice in modern conflict resolution. CONCLUSION This chapter recognizes that the modern strategies are failing to contain local conflicts due largely to wrong approaches and a poor grasp of the dynamics of local conflicts—there are gaps between modern and traditional conflict management strategies. That divergent interests are at the center of conflicts is an acceptable proposition (Burton, 1998). If conflicts are indeed all about divergent interests, then it follows that any sincere attempt at resolving them must consciously balance competing interests through divergent approaches and not be confined to dominant approaches of Western conflict resolution models. The process of conflict resolution is manifold and must consider varying circumstances and environments. Upholding only Western models might not be effectual in non-Western contexts such as Africa and the Arab worlds. These have intensified local and internal conflicts as new wars and local conflicts are on the increase. However, the incorporation of traditional strategies in Western conflict management will considerably check the incessant “local conflicts.” Policy shifts in this direction are expedient. Again, most Western approaches to settling disputes have failed because they are arbitrary, coercive, and non-idyllic. Western legal approaches emphasize establishing guilt and executing retribution and punishment without reference to the victim or the wider families or future reincorporation of the offender into the community.



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This chapter is not suggesting any judgments on Western or African conflict resolution strategies or cultures, but seeks to illuminate the need to incorporate the traditional modes of conflict resolution into the Western models. In doing so, it presents certain areas the Western conflict resolution strategies do not fully apply to local conflict resolution and tries to contend that some of the contexts on which Western conflict resolution operates are alien to African modes of conflict resolution and potentially counterproductive. We call for a harmonized approach aimed at broadening the scope of Western conflict models to accommodate the non-Western world. A blend of both strategies could facilitate conflict resolution and sustainable peace building. NOTES 1. It was unanimously resolved to embark on immediate rehabilitation of destroyed structures and reparation of material possessions seized or vandalized during the communal crisis. Several interviews revealed that both communities have been longing for a sustainable peace. 2. Both communities are predominantly Catholic. One of the Aguleri sons who was a Catholic priest, the late Reverend Father Francis Iwene Tansi, was canonized as a Saint according to the Catholic faith.

Chapter 11

Communication and Conflict Management in Igbo Traditional Society Emmanuel Chukwuma Duru, Silk Ogbu, and Ifeanyi F. Didiugwu It is asserted that a society without conflict is a dead one, since conflict is a means of understanding, advancing, or changing social behaviors. However, what makes the difference are the effectiveness of the strategy and the adequacy of the institutions responsible for the management of conflicts available to a given society at any point in time. In traditional Igbo communities of Southeastern Nigeria where like other communities, there were instances of inter- and intra-community conflicts, traditional institutions such as the council of elders and the age grade system were saddled with the responsibilities of conflict management. This was because these institutions were considered as organizations that could provide the foundation for social change. This chapter examines the effectiveness and efficacy of communication as a conflict management strategy adopted by Igbo society. The study draws extensively from varied secondary data and case studies. It is argued here that the application of effective communication as a traditional conflict management mechanism and its integration with Western strategies could provide the panacea in the management of conflicts in modern societies.

INTRODUCTION It is an established fact that conflict is prevalent in all social transactions. Scholars aver that there is no society without conflict (Duru, 2009, p. 18; Coser, 1956). Given the wide range of potential differences among people, the absence of conflict usually signifies the absence of meaningful social interaction. Conflict has remained a consistent feature of human history even in the biblical era. Prior to the arrival of Europeans in Africa, various African 165

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communities have had periods of conflicts, empire building, trade disputes, and wars. The Berlin Conference of 1884–1885 was essentially about how to reconcile the conflicting European imperialist interests in Africa, which succeeded in dividing up the continent among European powers. Even before this time, African nations had been violated through the slave trade when millions of African sons and daughters were violently cut off from their roots and shipped to Europe as commodities for sale (Nwolize, 2001). The harm that European interests did to Africa has continued to fuel violent conflicts in Africa up till date. This shows that conflict is not of a recent origin. Human beings have experienced conflicts in various ways at various times. Consequently, intrapersonal or internal conflict, which has often been ignored by many conflict theorists, is indeed the foundation for all other forms of conflict in every society. Conflict by itself is neither good nor bad. However, the manner in which it is handled or managed is what determines whether it will produce constructive or destructive outcomes (Deutsch & Coleman, 2000). In other words, the fact that conflict exists is not necessarily a bad thing. As long as it is resolved or managed effectively, it can also lead to personal and societal growth, better understanding, increased group cohesion, and improved self-knowledge and awareness. On the other hand, if conflict is not handled effectively, the result can be damaging and very destructive. While conflict remains inevitable, how to resolve it has remained on the front burner in global politics. Every society possesses varied methods of resolving conflicts. What, however, makes the difference are the effectiveness of the strategy and the adequacy of the institutions responsible for the management of conflicts. This chapter argues that communication plays a significant role in conflict analysis. In other words, communication and conflict are two sides of the same coin; they are inextricably linked. Communication can breed conflict, help to manage it, deescalate it, or even prevent it. As Huseman et al. (1976) assert, communication plays causal, preventive, and curative roles in conflict situations. Communication is like the proverbial double-edged sword that can serve both as a source of conflict and also as a means to its resolution. In fact every conflict management strategy or resolution must be anchored on effective communication. This chapter is an attempt to provide insight into how communication channels in traditional Igbo societies were effective indigenous conflict management techniques, and how these societies were able to create and maintain social order, even in the absence of kings, without recourse to brutal force. Essentially, this chapter is not just an attempt to analyze the methods of conflict management in traditional Igbo societies with the aim of understanding what is unique about them. It is also an effort to explore the possibility of integrating these traditional methods with modern conflict resolution



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strategies as a means of finding lasting and enduring peace in most crisis-torn communities in Nigeria. SITUATING THE IGBO COMMUNITIES OF SOUTHEASTERN NIGERIA IN HISTORICAL AND GEOGRAPHICAL CONTEXTS In contemporary Nigerian geo-political setting, the Igbo people are found predominantly in the five southeastern states of Abia, Anambra, Ebonyi, Enugu, and Imo with over six million others scattered in Rivers, Delta, and Edo States. Igboland is densely populated with even larger concentration of more diverse people. In Igboland, there is a density to the square mile, probably in excess of any other part of Africa. Igbo people occupy southeast central region of Nigeria. Their neighbors include Ibibio, Efik, and others in the Cross River region; Edo-speaking people to the west of the River Niger, Igala/Idoma people to the north, and the city-states of the Niger Delta to the south. They live mainly within the tropical rainforest and marginal savannah in the extreme north. There are no natural barriers such as mountains, large expanse of water, deserts, or swamps separating Igboland from its neighbors. The thick rainforest in the south gradually disappears into the woodlands of the north. The absence of natural barriers facilitated human activities, migration, and settlement of people in various parts of Igboland. Sociologically, in Igbo worldview, the family is seen as the crux within which individuals must be situated and identified. The nuclear family, also known as the ezi na ulo, usually forms the primary hub of all social interaction. The extension of the ezi na ulo, through patrilineal (Umunna) or matrilineal (Umunne) descent then gives rise, respectively, to a congregation of as many ezi na ulo or nuclear and conjugal families as there are in that lineage. These include the brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, uncles, aunts, and cousins extending to as many generations as could be traced and connected, who have their origins from the same ancestral father and mother, as well as the in-laws (Ufearoh, 2010). THEORETICAL ISSUES Conflict may be referred to as a type of interaction characterized by antagonistic encounter or collisions of interests, ideas, policies, programs, and persons or other entities. It connotes, in most cases, an overt behavior which results when an individual or group of individuals have been frustrated or is about to be frustrated. Conflicts occur particularly in

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a multicultural, multiethnic, multireligious, and/or linguistically plural society such as Nigeria. Conflict arises over differences in values and interest, for example, between superior or subordinates, management and labor, and in-groups and out-groups. To Stagner (1967), conflict is a situation in which two or more human beings desire goals which they perceive as being obtainable by one or the other but not both, that is, there must be at least two parties; each party is mobilizing energy to obtain a goal, a desired object or situation, and each party perceives the other as a barrier or threat to the goal. Finally, Coser (1956) states that conflict is a form of socialization. This means essentially that no group can be entirely harmonious for it would then be devoid of process and structure. Groups require disharmony as well as harmony, disassociation as well as association, and conflict within them is by no means altogether disruptive factor. Though contrary to generally held views, Coser (1956) is of the opinion that conflict is a reality of human existence, a “necessary evil” in all social interactions but should not be endemic and protracted, hence it becomes destructive and stifles genuine human and societal development. Conflict is “an incompatibility of goals or values between two or more parties in a relationship, combined with attempts to control each other and antagonistic feelings toward each other” (Fisher, 1990). Conflict occurs between people in all kinds of human relationships and in all social settings. As has been stated earlier, given the wide range of potential differences among people, the absence of conflict usually signifies the absence of meaningful social interaction. Conflict is as old as humanity. Humans have been in a perpetual state of conflict Zaharia Oana-Paula (2012) cited one of the early theorists on conflict Daniel Katz (1965) who created a typology that distinguishes three main sources of conflict: economic, value, and power. In his postulation, 1. Economic conflict involves competing motives to attain scarce resources. 2. Value conflict involves incompatibility in ways of life, ideologies (the preferences and principles), and practices that people believe in. 3. Power conflict involves the struggle between parties to maintain or maximize the amount of influence that they exert in the relationship with one another. In power conflicts, it is impossible for one party to become stronger without the other being weaker, at least in terms of direct influence over each other. (p. 39) As interesting as Katz typology may seem, it is by no means exhaustive. Fisher notes that most conflicts are not even of a pure type, but involve a mixture of source. For example, union-management conflict typically



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involves economic competition, but may also take a form of power struggle and often involves different ideologies or political values. The more sources are involved, according to him, the more intense and intractable the conflict usually is (Fisher, 2000). He went further to identify ineffective communication as the fourth and perhaps most important source of conflict. In his opinion: Miscommunication and misunderstanding can create conflict even where there are no basic incompatibilities. In addition, parties may have different perceptions as to what are the facts in a situation, and until they share information and clarify their perceptions, resolution is impossible . . . self-centeredness, selective perception, emotional bias, prejudices, etc. are all forces that leads us to perceive situations very differently from the other party . . . lack of skill in communicating what we really mean in a clear and respectful fashion often results in confusion, hurt and anger, all of which simply feed the conflict process. Whether the conflict has objective sources or is due only to perceptual or communication problems, it is experienced as very real by the parties involved. (Fisher, 2000, p. 2)

What is communication? Banihashemi (2011, p. 16) defined communication as “the transmission of meaning from one person to another or to many people, whether verbally or non-verbally.” His definition tends to present communication as a one-way process (without feedback). The exchange that takes place in an ideal communication environment is neglected in this definition. They also ignored written communication. For Dance (1970), it is “the process by which we understand others and in turn endeavour to be understood by them. . . It is dynamic, constantly changing and shifting in response to the total situation” (p. 205). The “understanding” component highlighted in Dance’s definition is vital because a communication effort is wasted when the parties involved do not understand each other. In conflict situations, it is important to use communication to build an understanding of the issues at stake first before an agreeable solution can be reached between or among the parties in the face-off. Communication involves the exchange of ideas, views, knowledge, and positions in order to reach a desired objective(s). As Berlo (1960, p. 52) notes, “All communication behaviour has as its purpose the eliciting of a specific response from a specific person (or a group of persons).” If we all agree on this, it is therefore important that the parties involved in a communication exchange carefully and appropriately choose their words and modify their body language accordingly in line with the demands of the hour. If they want peace, they should communicate in such a way and manner that engender peace; otherwise communication can spark off conflict or even aggravate it.

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COMMUNICATION AS A TRADITIONAL CONFLICT MANAGEMENT STRATEGY IN IGBO SOCIETY In traditional Igbo society, conflicts were in various forms: between or among individuals, between and among families, and between and among communities. The sources of conflicts were as varied as the forms of communication. However, considering the fact that traditional Igbo society was predominantly an agrarian society, land, which is a major factor of production, was a major source of conflict (Izugbara, 2002). Till date, territorial crises occasioned by irredentism remains a threat to human existence among Igbo communities as witnessed in the horrors of Aguleri-Umuleri perennial and fratricidal war in Anambra state. All over Nigeria and Africa, territorial crises have become prevalent. This calls for the development of models of conflict management that will ensure sustainable solution. Other sources of conflict included local resources like economic trees, environmental degradation, attempts at tarnishing family pride, and integrity. The list is long and seemingly inexhaustible. Whether caused by “territorial imperatives” (Bassey, 2010, p. 17) or any other factor, conflicts in traditional Igbo society were viewed with serious concern as neglected ones could threaten to wipe out entire community or family. Thus, when detected, measures are quickly put in place to ensure its sustainable management. It should be established clearly at this point that Igbo conflict management method is designed to reconcile disputants and strengthen social ties, not necessarily to separate the plaintiff from the accused. Conflict resolution strategy in traditional Igbo societies is anchored upon the need to protect, sustain, and deepen family-based relationships. Thus, the Igbo have simple but well-developed mechanisms specially engineered to manage various forms of conflict, no matter where they occur along the social ladder. It is held by this chapter that communication and conflict are two sides of a coin. There are some modes of communication employed in Igbo traditional societies to manage conflict. A peregun tree (known as ogirisi among the Igbos) planted in a family compound or a reserved space indicates that the site is sacred. Also, a palm frond (omu) placed on a parcel of land signifies that the land is being disputed. The disputants are not to cultivate on the land or do anything on it until the dispute has been resolved by the community. The ikoro is sounded to alert and assemble young men for war. The ikoro is a big tree trunk hollowed out and slit up in one small area which produces a very loud sound when struck with a stick. Beyond this function, it serves several other useful roles, which are outside the scope of this chapter. Furthermore, Ndigbo (Igbo people) also engage in extramundane communication expressed in the form of incantation, invocation, libation, prayer, spiritual chants, sacrifice, and trance. Of note is the traditional communication form



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of oath-taking employed in settling protracted disputes where the intricacies of the matter make it difficult to discern who is right or wrong (Okafor, 1992). Oraegbunam (2010) described it as “a direct submission to the supernatural tribune for settlement of disputes and whose verdict is final” (p. 70). It is often employed in serious cases like murder, witchcraft, and land dispute but usually as a last resort. The Igbos believe that anyone who swears falsely will die or suffer a serious misfortune within a specified time period, usually within a year. This chapter asserts that many of the protracted land disputes between several communities around the world would long have been resolved if this traditional Igbo society method of conflict management—oath-taking—was adopted! But then, even in Igboland this form of traditional justice is rarely applied today as it is contrary to Nigerian jurisprudence, and often considered to be superstitious, mysterious, spiritualistic, fetish, and barbaric (Nwakoby, 2007). Another form of extramundane communication in traditional Igbo society is Igba Afa (divination). The entire community usually presents itself before the gods or a delegation could be sent to inquire from the diviner or seer (usually a Dibia or priest of the gods) to ascertain the cause of a particular problem in the land. This is rooted in the Igbo’s belief that the gods control the affairs of humans, and so a problem in the community can be a form of punishment for committing sacrilege (Nso ala/ani). The diviner usually prescribes the propitiatory offering or sacrifice to appease the gods. With the prescribed sacrifice and offering performed, the gods are placated. Consequently, peace and normalcy is restored. Communication is at the heart of most conflict management efforts in any society irrespective of the peculiarities of such society. For one thing, communication provides the platform for conflicting parties to ventilate pent-up emotions that often aggravate conflict (Nwankpa, 2011). Conflicts do not occur in a vacuum; they take place within a particular context, which according to Miall (2001) include the society in conflict and wider international and regional levels. The traditional Igbo society attempts to manage conflict by adopting a holistic conflict management strategy which goes beyond settling disputes among its contending members to creating conditions for peace and eliminating or mitigating the factors that breed conflict. This is similar to the integrated conflict management strategy which Imobighe (1999) proposed for tackling conflicts on the African continent. According to him, the integrated conflict management approach is not limited to conflict abatement and settlement, but involves conflict prevention, peace promotion, and consolidation by seeking to eliminate the conditions that create an environment of conflict. This, Imobighe says, can be achieved by adopting the problem-solving approach: a comprehensive analytic conflict management technique that seeks to get at the root of a conflict; that is, to identify the interests, fears, and concerns of all the parties to a conflict and explore a mutually beneficial way

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to resolve them. By getting at the root of each conflict, the problem-solving technique provides the basis not only for effecting a lasting solution to conflicts, but also for sustaining a desirable post-conflict harmonious relationship between the parties involved (Imobighe, 1999, p. 83). This approach to conflict management was widely used in the traditional Igbo society through the instrumentality of the various Igbo traditional institutions. Although these institutions’ functions transcended conflict management in traditional Igbo society, our discussions are however confined within the domain of conflict management. Umunna Umunna is the Igbo word for kinsmen. It is a patrilineal relationship maintained by Ndigbo. It is composed of extended male family members, and is headed by the eldest member. It is one of the most important pillars of traditional Igbo society. Family disputes that have failed to be resolved through internal dialogue are referred to the umunna for arbitration and their decision is final and binding on the parties involved. Cases referred to umunna are usually those involving members of the same kindred. Okafor (1992) documents the process of arbitration among the Igbo. After the case had been reported to the umunna, they are expected to invite the parties, fix the date and venues, and state the applicable procedure. Once the parties honor the invitation, it represents their faith in the panel and their willingness to abide by the resultant award. Both sides are allowed to present their case and may also be allowed to call witnesses. In the end the panel makes an award which could order restitution, compensation, apology, specific performance, etc. in favor of the innocent party, if in a civil matter. The guilty party would be liable to be ostracized if he fails to comply. In criminal cases, depending on the gravity of the offence, fine, forfeiture, banishment, compensation, or even death penalty may be meted out (Green, 1904; Okafor, 1992). It is the oldest among the umunna that pronounces the judgment. Besides the settlement of disputes, the umunna is a strong force of social cohesion among Ndigbo, as “Every Umunna guides its internal harmony and solidarity as well as its corporate image jealously” (Okafor, 2011, p. 6). Given its broad-based constitution, every decision reached at the meeting of umunna equally enjoys a broad-based support, so it is able to maintain internal cohesion and social stability of a given town. Ndi Ogbo/Umu Ogba (The Age Group) The age group is constituted of men and women born within a certain period in history. People born within two to three years’ interval constituted an



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age group or grade, and usually derive their name from the important event at the time of their birth. This therefore accounts for such names as “Ogbo Agha German—those born during the Second World War; Ogbo Fluenza— those born during the 1918 influenza epidemic; Ogbo Igwe—those who were the first to ride bicycles in their communities, etc” (Okafor, 2011, p. 7). This group was a major agent of socialization in traditional Igbo society, a vehicle for social order, solidarity, and action. It linked individuals with others outside their own village to others in the larger community, and thus lubricated social interactions among its members, and also became a means of social control. Age grades, like the umunna, were also concerned about corporate image, and so ensured that its members do not commit sacrilege against the earth (Nso Ala/Ani) such as incest, stealing, grabbing somebody’s land, or even bearing false witness, etc. Besides, it also resolved disputes among its members or between its members and others outside the group. A parent of an erring child can report the child to his age group for appropriate disciplinary action, after it had been established that the child was guilty as charged. Umuada/Umu-okpu/Umu Mgboto (Married Daughters) Among the Igbo people and other African societies, marriage does not sever the relationship between a daughter and her father’s house and also between her and her village. This accounts for why in some Igbo areas when their married daughter dies her corpse is buried in her father’s compound. This attests to the strong ties Igbo daughters have with their fatherland. The umuada are married daughters of a particular village or town. Though married, they “bond themselves into an association usually named after the village of their birth,” thereby providing for themselves a platform to intervene in the affairs of their various fathers’ villages. Among Ndigbo, umuada are highly respected, and according to Okafor (2011), they “are probably the most powerful Igbo organ for conflict resolution” (p. 8). Compelled by the love for their fatherland, they usually intervene to handle what may appear as intractable conflicts, which may include: • Intra-family disputes, which threaten the peace and solidarity of the family, the family groups, the village, and the community; • Boundary disputes, non-conformity with the norms of the village or the community; and • Breach of peace and of customs (Okafor, 2011). One major feature of the umuada is that they don’t wait to be invited to settle disputes, but when there is one of serious consequences for their village, they

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regard it as their right and duty to intervene and resolve it, and their verdict is usually respected by every wise member of the village. Mmanwu/Mawu/Mmonwu/Mmuo (Spirit-Manifests) These are disembodied spirits of dead ancestors and nature spirits which emerge from the land of the dead and enter living persons. During festivals and other ceremonies in Igboland, the spirit comes out as a spirit-manifest to commune with the living on earth after due sacrifices and rituals have been carried out (Okafor et al., 2008, p. 31). These spirits play a variety of roles in the Igbo society, but of concern to us in this chapter is their judicial function. They can be invoked to intervene in and settle a dispute. Their pronouncement is usually binding on the parties in the dispute; disobedience would amount to ita/ ika mmanwu/mawu. They can equally execute judgment and punish sacrilege. With a conflict resolved, the Igbos usually celebrate the return of peace. As Okafor (2011) points out in relation to the Igbos, “the end of a conflict or crisis in a community has concomitant celebrations, including music, dancing and feasting, and, of course performance by spirit-manifests of the community. The locals then say that their happiness has reached the land of the spirits which is the ultimate.” (p. 16). In contemporary discourse, communication is described as effective whenever the receiver successfully decodes a message encoded by a sender. Thus, accurate perception of messages transmitted, regardless of whatever medium used, validates the effectiveness and authenticity of every communication process. The success of the Igbo traditional conflict resolution strategies was anchored upon effective communication systems like proverbs, songs, dances, folklore, storytelling, poetry, drama, idioms, masquerades, drums, gongs, etc., or what Jefkins and Ugboajah (1986) refer to as “oramedia.” Given the close-knit family relationships in traditional Igbo communities, information was easily disseminated through face-to-face interaction, age grades, Councils of Elders, opinion leaders and heads of families, umunna (sons of the land), umuada (daughters of the land), masquerades, eze mmuo (spiritual head of the land), town criers, and various other medium. These institutional parameters can be likened to our present day televisions, radios, newspapers, telephones, and Internet. Similarly, news items were transmitted through these channels with the use of proverbs, songs, storytelling, poetry, gongs, drums, festivals, dances, idioms, folklore, drama, art work, and so on. Communication in traditional Igbo societies was effective essentially because it was culture-based, interactive, entertaining, participatory, responsive, precise, and fast. According to Osho, the success of these traditional means of communication is based on the fact that they are interactive, interpersonal, combine



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verbal communications with nonverbal codifications, and also the fact that they are simple, natural, and inexpensive. In his view, the high content of non-verbal in the oramedia actually makes them to be more effective because non-verbal communicates with the mind more than verbal. When anybody wants to lie, it is non-verbal cues that readily contradict the verbal lies (Osho, 2011). The nature of Igbo oramedia was such that people grew up with them and so it became “a way of life” (Osho, 2011). Everybody understood the meaning of every sign, sound, signal, song, proverb, or festival. For example, every Igbo man or woman is expected to understand the actual meaning of proverbs with which oral messages are usually codified. To push this point home, an Igbo proverb says “the failure of an individual to understand the message conveyed through a proverb is an affirmation that the money spent on his/her mother’s dowry or marriage was a waste” (Osho, 2011). In Igbo epistemology, proverbs are to messages what salt is to food. They are used to make messages meaningful and tasty, especially in the resolution of conflicts. The presentation of kola nuts and palm wine by disputants before the Council of Elders, for instance, conveys the willingness of the parties to seek reconciliation and affirms their submission to be bound by the decision of the arbitration process. The sign of palm fronds tied along a piece of land indicates that the land is in dispute and nobody should enter. The sound of the gong means that there is a very important announcement. The presentation of a white cock is seen as a peace offering and atonement for misbehavior. We can go on and on but let it be clear that oramedia in Igbo communication was effective and consequential not just because the messages were articulated in simple, direct, and relational formats but also because the people grew up with them, building up trust in the various medium of communication over the years. The presence of the Osisi ofo (sacred stick) in the obi (courtyard) of every Igbo household is always a constant reminder of the responsibility of the head of that home to say the truth at all times and to mediate fairly in every dispute, irrespective of his personal bias. In general, Igbo traditional communication systems were effective, especially in the management of conflicts and dispensation of justice. But beyond that, this chapter suggests that their innate ability to enhance perception and remove ambiguities along the communication channel was perhaps their greatest contribution to the process of peacebuilding in Igboland. The discussion provided under this section is by no means exhaustive but it has captured some of the most salient Igbo traditional institutions as well as the important communication modes and their application in conflict management in Igbo society. In the traditional Igbo society, however, customs and traditions were the principal mechanism of social order since there were no written statutes. A major part of the traditional education the Igbo child got was the knowledge of what to do and what to avoid, the reward of doing good,

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and the consequences of contravening norms and values of his community, and how reparation are made in case of breach of his custom (Ukaegbu, 2005; Okafor, 2011). CONCLUSION The chapter began by exploring the concepts of communication and conflict, and demonstrated that both are two sides of the same coin. Communication can breed conflict, forestall it, or be used to manage it. Therefore, depending on how communication is deployed, the result can be for good or for bad. We further traced the various forms of traditional communication employed by Ndigbo in the management of conflict, and examined the various traditional institutions involved in conflict management in traditional Igbo society and the role they play in maintaining social order, cohesion, and harmonious coexistence among society members. Because Igbo traditional societies had no statutes, the people’s customs and traditions were the principal tools of social order. At an early age, every Igbo child was socialized into these customs and traditions and he grew with them. Thus, maintaining an orderly society in which neighbors lived at peace with each other was not as difficult as it seems today. However, growth of modern communication technology has affected the use or deployment of traditional African communication systems popularly known as oramedia in most African countries. In 1965, when Marshall McLuhan predicted that the world will become “a global village,” many did not know how soon. Today, cable television, mobile phones, newspapers, digital radio, Facebook, Twitter, and of course, the Internet have only replaced oracles, umunna, umuada, age grades, councils of elders, masquerades, etc. In our traditional communication methodology, they have actually distorted communal boundaries, values, norms, and beliefs. At the same time, they have promoted instant communication and shrunk the distance and time it would normally take for people to meet for a face-to-face interaction. Given our present circumstances, it is our candid suggestion that the traditional and modern conflict management techniques must be integrated to find a useful balance. Since majority of the population in Nigeria still live in rural communities, there must be lessons we can learn from traditional conflict resolution methods of the different ethnic groups in Nigeria, including the Igbo, to enrich our modern practice. And since many have migrated far from their homeland and family bases, the tools of instant communication must be harnessed to promote the effective settlement of disputes. In conclusion, we recommend in line with Akinwale (2010) that traditional conflict management strategies be integrated with modern ones in managing current conflicts and security challenges facing the Nigerian state in particular and African continent in general.

Chapter 12

Ilepa Among the Yoruba of Western Nigeria What do the Dead have to do with Peace and Conflict? Olutayo C. Adesina

Peace and conflict mechanisms among the Yoruba are highly ritualized. Processes governing such matters were known to involve sacred objects designed to give efficacy to decisions arrived at by contending parties. This chapter investigates indigenous conflict resolution strategies developed by the Yoruba of southwestern Nigeria over time. The chapter focuses particularly on the phenomenon of ilepa, a piece of earth from an orori (burial mounds) belonging to ancestors or deceased members of particular families. This became, from time immemorial, a significant tool of indigenous conflict management and resolution and, of course, a tool of reconciliation and retribution. The phenomenon has been known to be used in addressing issues in a holistic manner. This age-old mechanism of conflict resolution has, however, not received the attention it deserves. How much legal and juridical powers and influence does a burial site wield in the judicial, pacific, and legal mechanisms of the Yoruba people of southwestern Nigeria? Does this mechanism have any relevance to modern day conflicts? How can the principle be retained as a tool of conflict resolution in a global age? These are some of the major questions addressed by this chapter.

INTRODUCTION The power of the sacred space is considered a significant theme in Yoruba everyday life. Shrines, forests, burial mounds, crossroads, entrances, and other places have remained significant in the universe of the Yoruba. 177

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Studies of the sacred and profane among the Yoruba in their socio-historical contexts have illustrated this fact (Idowu, 1962; Johnson, 1997; Lucas, 1948; Morton-Williams, 1964; Ojo, 1966; Olupona, 1993, 2011; Schiltz, 1985). In modern Yorubaland, there has been a substantial disavowal and negation of traditional religious and cultural practices. The introduction of Christianity and Islam has played an important role in the metamorphosis the traditional institutions, structures, and beliefs have undergone (Ojigbo, 1973, p. 276; Olupona, 1993, pp. 233–234). Nevertheless, it is highly unlikely that this metamorphosis represents actual changes in the people’s conception of the material world. Over the years, there has been a blend of the traditional and the modern. The possibility of the old being carried over into a new and changing society has remained one of the most fascinating experiences of the Yoruba. This is easy because, in Yorubaland, religion and culture are intertwined. The Yoruba are regarded as the heirs to one of the oldest cultural traditions and unique social systems in West Africa (Pemberton, 1989, p. 97). They traditionally “have been a very religiously oriented folk who sense their spirits in virtually every aspect and facet of nature and life” (Megenney, 1992, p. 459; see also Fadipe, 1970; Ojo, 1966; Smith, 1969). They also possess a pantheon of gods, or orisa, who play critical roles in daily and religious lives (Levin, 2004, p. 91). Therefore, in Yoruba cosmology, the knowledge of the physical and spiritual worlds, and the entire landscape is sine qua non to a person’s understanding of social reality. Thus, social obligations have remained concomitants of religious and ritual obligations. The Yoruba, no matter their location, are bound together by universal principles and belief systems (Akinjogbin, 2002; Johnson, 1997; Megenney, 1992). Evidence of traces of Yoruba religious beliefs and perspectives are still very visible even in the Yoruba Diaspora, as is the case in their homeland. With Ile-Ife generally accepted as the home of their eponymous ancestors, the group developed an impressive culture and ritual systems that have remained very potent and vibrant. One significant fact about this is that in spite of modernity, many of the cultural practices have continued to exist either in their original or mutated forms. The complexity associated with existence in Yorubaland has made the society a highly ritualized one. From time immemorial, Yoruba people have been concerned with the problems created by social existence and social dilemmas. Thus, from early childhood, Yoruba men and women were socialized by the adult generation into the techniques of solving riddles and in applying this skill to solve riddles of life’s dilemmas. The development of communal and aggregate tools and techniques such as myths, legends, totems, taboos, fiction, knowledge of the sacred and profane, and an acute knowledge of a world of spirits not only contributed to



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the training of the mind, but also helped several generations to ascertain social realities or solve the problems of social and personal dilemmas (Akiwowo, 1969, p. 468). However, in the light of modern experiences and with the ascendance of science and technology, many of the traditional myths, rituals, and festivals are atrophying, wasting away fast. Several of these have become consigned to the realm of superstition and the bizarre. In other words, a majority of the people no longer have faith in the worldviews and philosophies that made such belief systems effective. This has succinctly been captured by J. K. Olupona, Professor of African Religious Traditions at Harvard University, when he affirmed that “old traditional worldview and spiritualities are fast disappearing, deprived of institutional recognition and rejected as an unimportant source of contributions to moral and epistemological culture and the public sphere” (2011, p. xii). Even then, it is curious to note that among the Yoruba of southwest Nigeria, indigenous religious cultures, beliefs, and practices still remain central to their worldview and well-being. THE DEAD AND YORUBA COSMOLOGY A careful examination of Yoruba culture and society would reveal a people with multi-dimensional existence. To understand their cultural depth, one must look beyond what is easily observed to understand phenomena such as their art, the expression of local thought, and belief systems (Abiodun, 1994, p. 69). The Yoruba have from time immemorial developed and possessed different but related concepts referring to the physical, social, divine, and metaphysical aspects of existence. Their combination of all these components has enabled a creative power that resulted in the use and observance of complex sacred places, modes of worship, artifacts, totems, and taboos. An aspect of this is the foundational religious reference to and reverence for ancestors. This remains an enigmatic phenomenon among the Yoruba that has survived up till the present. There is always a strong desire by the living to involve the dead in their affairs. The people view death not as extinction but as a change from one life status to another. So when the Yoruba think of their ancestors, they think of the departed spirits of their forebears with whom the living maintain filial and affectionate relationships (Awolalu, 1979, p. 54). This has remained an abiding phenomenon even in the modern period. The religious fervor of their forebears has left an indelible mark on the society. As one talks to a cross-section of the Yoruba in the twenty-first century, it becomes apparent that there are clear and fundamental indications of the continued existence of cults and spirits that have continued to intrigue the people. This in itself has

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provided us with valuable evidence of the components and the efficacy of some of these traditional religious beliefs among the people. But while there are initiates and devotees who have endeavored to carry on some of the traditional religious practices, several others have preferred to distance themselves from what they regard as occult and evil. This chapter is an attempt to understand this filial relationship between the living and the dead through the instrumentality of the ilepa, a piece of earth derived from an orori. Although in the modern period this has been classified as fetish and occult, it had for centuries served as a significant tool of conflict management and resolution, and of course, as a tool of reconciliation and retribution. The chapter draws on an essentially religious worldview with emphasis on two things: ritual and belief. In the Yoruba mind, rituals govern the structures and values of societies. These confer meaning and harmony to social existence. In this regard, life contains within it manifestations of the ancestral, the living, and the unborn (Soyinka, 1976, p. 146). As a method of understanding the retention of these practices, I consulted several books and other sources dealing with the religious beliefs and practices of the Yoruba people. I was also fortunate enough to receive the assistance of some priest diviners (babalawo) who confirmed the continued fervor with which people in both the urban and rural areas of Yorubaland have retained respect for and interest in spiritism (Ojekunle Ifasesan, personal communication, 2011).1 The education of the African child in traditional society revolved around the study of society as a whole. From the very beginning, the African child was therefore made conscious of the continuity between the dead, the living, and the generations yet unborn (Ajayi, 1969, p. 385). The Yoruba strongly believed that the dead had different ways by which they relate with the living. One of these was for their resting places to serve as instruments to affirm peaceful conduct or to resolve thorny issues. This is the focus of this chapter. The phenomenon of ilepa has been known for generations as a tool used in addressing societal issues in a holistic manner. Ilepa, however, has both its positive and negative uses. Unfortunately, there has not been a comprehensive and systematic study of this phenomenon as a strategy of conflict management. The concept of ilepa provides the practical demonstration and belief in the power of the departed in general and ancestors in particular. In Yoruba cosmology, the dead are never really gone. They remain part and parcel of the society. But this belief is not peculiar to the Yoruba of southwestern Nigeria. It is commonly found all over West Africa where communities have for centuries vested in the dead the powers to continue communing with the living. It is in recognition of this that death and burial are highly ritualized in the region. By so doing, the graves of the dead have for centuries remained distinctly potent sacred and spiritual sites, and these play significant roles



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in the affairs of humans. The reasons for these are obvious. West Africans believe that death is a mere transition from this world to the next (Abaka, 2010, p. 72). They believed (and have continued to believe) that the dead are never fully gone from their previous communities but lurk around in the shadows. With the transition to the other world, the dead have therefore continued to retain membership of their former communities; and in this position, they have continuously intervened in human affairs either as ancestors or as important elements of judicial and social control. Their new abodes notwithstanding, they continue to retain a powerful hold on the affairs of the living in several ways. There has to be some clarification however. The statuses of the dead or the functions they perform depended to a large extent on the types of death they experienced. Some of the dead became ancestors because they died of natural causes or from old age. According to Awolalu (1979): It is not every dead person that comes in for consideration. To qualify, such men and women must have lived well, attained an enviable old age before dying, must have left behind good children and good memory. Children and youths who die a premature death, barren women, and all who die a “bad” death—e.g. those killed by Ayelala or Sango or Soponno—are excluded from this respectable group. (p. 54)

It is, therefore, to be noted that these other individuals who died prematurely or of unnatural causes while not being referred to as ancestors nevertheless continue to retain their membership of human society and have also been known to retain their potency as members in the communities of both the living and the dead. Thus whether as ancestors or as the premature dead, their former humanity links them to the communities they left behind. Such people in their new positions are often called upon by their living brethren to perform certain roles and duties. One such role revolves around the issue of peace and conflict. LAW AND ORDER AMONG THE YORUBA OF SOUTHWESTERN NIGERIA Moral character is a major determinant of human personality in Yoruba thought (Balogun, 2010, p. 128). The Yoruba notion of jurisprudence depended on indigenous thought. For instance, to break a taboo was regarded not just as criminal or illegal but abominable. As a matter of fact, an offence against the gods is tantamount to an offence against the cosmos; the consequence may not be upon just the individual who commits it, but also

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on the community from generation to generation (Jegede, 2011, p. 7). To maintain social equilibrium, however, the ancestors hold the enviable status of guardians of this morality (Awolalu, 1979, p. 109). By tradition, the ancestors are represented by the family head that not only constituted the political but also the spiritual heads of their families. They were expected to sit at the ancestral shrine and pray for peace and protection. Also, “when there is a funeral ceremony, the family head gives necessary guidance. If a member of the family breaks a taboo, it is the family head who presides and gives, where applicable, the necessary offerings to the ancestors who are guardians of morality, and he also decides what punishment to give to the culprits” (Awolalu, 1979, p. 109). To buttress this, Omoniyi Adewoye, an eminent historian, has pointed out that the African traditional idea of law is rooted in the moral philosophy of society (Adewoye, 1977). In that sense, the cultural practice of ilepa also had the backing of Yoruba law. Among the Yoruba, customary criminal law existed before the British introduced common law of crimes by Ordinance No 3 of 1863 (Olatunbosun, 2011, p. 693). But customary law in its original form derived its force from its acceptance in the community although some of these practices or beliefs have been fodder for critics who condemned them as barbaric or backward. The people’s belief in taboos constitutes a set of rules on issues and actions that were forbidden. Many taboos were meant to promote hygiene, the welfare of the community, and in several cases, were actually meant to promote order and ethics in the society (Adesina, 2010, pp. 50–51). There is a certain behavioral content defined for people within a household or community. This is seen in the widespread beliefs about thunder and lightning and the purification rituals by Sango (god of thunder) after a lightning catastrophe. In a similar vein, the sighting of the oloolu masquerade (the fiery masquerade, which represents the spirit of the dead) in Ibadan still remains a taboo for women even in the twentyfirst century. The aura and potency of the masquerade are thereby protected.

SOCIAL RELATIONS AMONG THE YORUBA The Yoruba have a unique sense of community. According to Trager (2001): For the Yoruba, the home place, or home-town, is a significant and continuing source of a person’s identity throughout life. Individuals act with that sense of identity in mind, and they are likewise reminded by others that there are expectations and obligations based on that identity. (p. 37)

This bred in the Yoruba person that sense of community that has come to define their existence both in the terrestrial world and supposedly in the world



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beyond. This has been explained by Akinjogbin within the ebi (kinship) framework (2002): . . . the smallest social unit among the Yoruba is the Ebi. The Ebi is a much larger version of the Euro-American mini family and includes everyone who can be traced to be related by blood, no matter how far removed in time and space. What is more, it includes the dead ancestors whose remains are buried inside the house and who are regarded as being constantly present with and watching over their living part of the family. It also includes the unborn children who are sometimes regarded as incarnations of departed ancestors. What binds the people together is blood relationship which is regarded as being stronger than any other connection. . . . Every activity that any Yoruba man performs, in civil, military, economic or spiritual affairs, is performed within this Ebi circuit . . . the belief being that whatever good or ill befall any member of the Ebi befalls all. (p. 116)

To the Yoruba, therefore, the philosophy that undergirds their total existence remains immutable. This has been succinctly put by Owomoyela in his explanation of the enduring Yoruba proverb, Odo ki i san ko gbage orisun (a river does not flow so far that it forgets its source). To him, that proverb is used “to remind people that whatever they might be, however distant they are from their homes, and however high they might rise above their origins, they must always remember where they came from” (Owomoyela, 1998, p. 268; Trager, 2001, p. 37). This has earlier received attention in Akiwowo’s (1983) derivative concepts of ajobi (family) and alajobi (society) (Makinde, 1988, p. 1).

DEATH AND BURIAL The Yoruba beliefs about afterlife informed their relationships with the dead. This followed closely on the heels of the principles of social relations among the Yoruba. The belief in afterlife that links the dead with the living not only ensures social immortality, but confers on the dead a special role in human society. As earlier stated, for the Yoruba, death is not seen as a total or absolute extinction but as a transition to another realm of existence. That transition, according to Babatunde Lawal (1977, p. 51) represents a transformation from earthly to spiritual existence where the dematerialized soul may choose to either stay forever or make periodic returns to earth through reincarnation. Thus because of the prominence of the dead and even the dying, the Yoruba people live in a society where not only the words and pronouncements of a dying senior member of the family but even their resting places have assumed

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spiritual and judicial statuses. The dead regularly intervene in earthly affairs in various ways. The social recognition of the roles of the dead has led to different sets of social relationships binding both the living and the dead (Morton-Williams, 1960a, p. 36). The spirit of those who have died good deaths can be invoked in several ways. These may be in the form of the periodic appearances of the egungun (a masquerade representing the spirit of the dead) or through periodic offer of sacrifices at the gravesites. There is also the pouring of libation at important events. Also in a very profound number of ways, the graves of the dead have constituted important sites for carrying on these social connections. Yoruba people regarded dead bodies and their burial sites as sacred. That perhaps explains why they did not bury their dead in graveyards or cemeteries away from the family circle but in their houses or in places close to human habitation. The practice of intramural sepulcher was widespread and generally accepted. The graves that would receive such bodies were mostly dug to a depth of about six feet (Johnson, 1997, p. 137). It was believed that the bodies of the dead were usually buried within the compound or indoors on their verandahs or even in their former rooms where they were expected to keep watch over their erstwhile families or communities (Awolalu, 1979, p. 56; Bascom, 1969, p. 66; Ojo, 1966, p. 192). In the case of the very aged, the graves would be dug generally in the living rooms or in one of the bedrooms. Before burial, such bodies were washed and wrapped with fine cloths. After wrapping up the corpse in a mat, it is then laid in the grave and the earth is put on it. During the burial ceremony, the whole grave is ultimately filled up and the floor of the grave leveled and polished (Johnson, 1997, pp. 137–138). During the process, all the necessary rituals and ceremonies were dutifully observed. This was to ensure that such graves became ritually and spiritually accessible to people afterwards. That done, such graves were transformed into shrines where regular sacrifices are made. Such rituals were meant not only to ensure ritual purity but to establish and affirm what can be considered the spiritual and social connection between the living and the dead (Fadipe, 1970, p. 15; Peel, 2000, p. 63). But in times of intractable conflicts or problems, such graves serve other purposes. The soil thrown over the corpse becomes extremely potent and is used in several ways. In the Old Oyo Empire where the Alaafin held sway, the burial site of previous alaafins known as the bara played a critical role in the ceremonies preceding the actual accession of a new alaafin of Oyo to the throne. The bara or royal mausoleum is a consecrated building on the outskirts of the city. There the new king was formally crowned. The newly anointed king’s visit



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to bara remained for a long time an important and indispensable preliminary to the crowning of a new king (Johnson, 1997, pp. 43–44).

ILEPA AS A TRADITIONAL CONFLICT MANAGEMENT MECHANISM In his 1973 essay on Yoruba conflict resolution mechanisms, Anthony Okion Ojigbo analyzed the general mode of conflict resolution in the Yoruba traditional political system (Ojigbo, 1973, p. 276). The intervention of the dead in conflict among the Yoruba is highly ritualized and these take different forms. One of the most potent and widely recognized is the one involving the use of the soil from the burial mounds: When someone dies, a burial site is prepared. The soil is heaped on one side and the body prepared for burial. The soil put over the body is ilepa. But real ilepa is the soil closest to the corpse. (Ojekunle Ifasesan, personal communication, 2011)

The type of rituals performed with this would depend on the extent, level, and gravity of conflict, disagreements, or distrust. One of these was the need for survival and stability of the social order (Peel, 2000, p. 63). In this regard, one of the most understated roles of the departed is as peacemakers or as judicial officers in their former communities. It is appropriate at this juncture to note that those who died of unnatural causes such as death by thunder, smallpox, and suicide were either thrown into the bush or buried far away from the compound (Ajisafe, 2003, p. 80) and so were not in a position to perform these stated roles from a legal point of view. Several approaches are prevalent among the Yoruba, with the intent to prevent or resolve conflict. Such mechanisms are, however, based on cultural values of trust, justice, fairness, kinship, and affinity. The myths, values, and ideals of the Yoruba have been used in crafting local solutions to local conflicts (Adeleke, 2004, p. 179). The Ifa divination for instance, has been used to address the underlying causes of conflicts or find solutions to endemic problems. Traditional medicine, oath taking, covenant, and divinations have played crucial roles in preventing conflict or in conflict resolution. Deadly or minor conflicts have been handled through such critical mechanisms. But even then, not all conflicts have been known to have been resolved through these approaches. More difficult or intractable forms of conflict were subjected to a more difficult process. Yoruba cosmology recognized several unpleasant conditions of life. These include iku (death), arun (illness), ofo

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(loss), and ewon (imprisonment). The Yoruba do everything in their powers to prevent or stave off such unpleasant consequences.

THE EARTH AND ILEPA INTERFACE The Yoruba attach immense importance to the earth. Not only does the earth supply food for human consumption, but it keeps life going (Awolalu, 1979, p. 45). This has been adumbrated in the following way: From the Yoruba point of view, an element which has such manifold and useful functions must have a spirit dwelling there. Hence, the spirit of the earth is constantly being called upon to witness to the pact made between people; and it is believed that it can punish anybody who breaks the covenant. (Morton-Williams, 1960b, p. 364)

Besides, land (ile) has long been a source of social, economic, and spiritual powers: Ile (the earth) receives special sacrifice at the time of planting and harvesting, almost in the same way as Orisa-oko does. And since the corpses of the ancestors are buried in the earth and there are powerful spirits dwelling therein, the Yoruba have the habit of pouring the first drop of any drinks on the ground and of throwing some portion of food to the earth before they drink or eat in order that the spirits may drink and eat first. (Awolalu, 1979, p. 45)

This importance became more pronounced when the earth received the body of a deceased person. From different strands of tradition among the Yoruba the presence of a corpse in the soil confers a special status on the soil wherein it was interred. The soil heaped on the body is usually referred to as ilepa oku (soil from a burial mound). It is a tool used effectively in Yoruba traditional judicial system. It is the main evidence of the Yoruba people’s belief in the powers of the ancestors in particular and the spiritual realm in general. The soil from the burial mounds derives its efficacious powers in two respects. First, it was customary for the corpse of a deceased to be carefully prepared and washed before being buried in the grave. This was done on the assumption that for someone going on such a journey, he or she must be clean in order to be admitted into the abode of the ancestors. Immediately the body enters the soil and the corpse is covered; the soil assumes a spiritual dimension. Second, the earth is venerated because it is believed to be inhabited by a spirit. It is widely used to resolve conflict in all ramifications. Its uses range



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from settling land disputes to resolving suspicious death in one’s prime, possession of demonic powers, or witchcraft. In some cases, people also use the ilepa for oath-taking. The belief in the power of the dead presupposes a certain social reality. With ilepa, swearing and oath taking become perilous and terrifying. Ilepa has spiritual connotations because corpses are regarded as sacred. Issues like land disputes, quarrels over property, killings, and general disagreements that have constituted a disgrace to the family come under the purview of this process. Once the problems become intractable or a culprit in a particular case was not discovered, ilepa was prepared to enable the leaders to resolve the problem. The following process was explained by Ojekunle Ifasesan (personal communication, 2011): All the parties to the conflict are called together. After words of exhortation, the people are advised to come clean and be true either to the peace process or that to find a guilty party. But if no one was forthcoming in the case of theft, or no one yields ground after a peace meeting in the aftermath of a bitter conflict, they were forced by the leaders of the family or group to yield to the ilepa option. Someone who knows the art of using Ilepa was then called upon to prepare the potion. He takes the ilepa soil and puts it in water and the contending parties or the culprit was told to drink it. This process can scare people to no end. The guilty party may even confess before drinking the preparation and in the case of warring parties, drinking a potion of Ilepa can prevent a recurrence of conflict.

In the process of deploying ilepa the spirit of alajobi (kindred spirit) was invoked to give efficacy to the entire process (Adejumo Arinpe, personal communication, 2011). However, ilepa has been divided into three distinct categories. Each category is deployed for a specific purpose depending on the gravity of the problem (Ojekunle, personal communication, 2011): The topmost layer of the soil is used for Ibura (oath of allegiance). The middle layer became popular for imule (oath of secrecy) while the soil closest to the corpse is for the resolution of the most intractable of problems. The people who believed in the efficacy of Ilepa have used it very efficaciously to resolve problems.

The ilepa process would, however, be incomplete without the mysterious power of incantations (Akindele Muraina, personal communication, 2012). Incantations involved the chanting of magical words. These words, coupled with charms, have mysterious powers which are frequently used by the Yoruba. Such words are uttered by those who knew how to use such powers efficaciously (Awolalu, 1979, p. 69).

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CONCLUSION Today, African techniques have been much undermined by many Western influences. It is also fascinating to note that although a major shift has been recorded in the growth of human rights culture and the punishment of impunity—most especially with the growth of international agencies such as the United Nations, ad hoc tribunals, and the spread of the principle of universal jurisdiction—it is still obvious that these may not have achieved the indissoluble unity of African tradition and society. The choice of retributive justice as a strategy written into many of the modern processes, and the applicability of prosecutions in several other cases have questioned the efficacy of these mechanisms in different parts of the world. This much has been affirmed by Huyse, (2008): Local political and civil society leaders pointed to the many political, social, economic and cultural contingencies that may make it impossible for their societies to fulfill the duty to prosecute. (p. 2)

Inevitably, several conflict-ravaged societies such as Uganda and Rwanda have adopted the use of alternative or/and complementary mechanisms to resolve some of their problems. In a pact, “Traditional justice mechanisms, such as Culo Kwor, Mato Oput, Kayo Cuk, Ailuc and Tonu ci Koka”2 were suggested, and later promoted as tools of conflict resolution in Uganda. The promotion of traditional informal justice mechanisms should now be promoted, with necessary modifications as part of the modern framework for peace and conflict resolution. This could be a major step toward the successful adoption of mechanisms that will achieve sustainable peace. Thus, it is imperative that in African societies, where cultural values and kinship have remained very important factors in social relations, the use of traditional justice and reconciliation systems may become very critical to conflict resolution in the global age. Kinship for instance has helped in conceptualizing and explaining the phenomena of social life among the Yoruba. Many of the Yoruba rituals and rites associated with burial and burial sites establish, sustain or reaffirm kinships and affinal relationships not only among the living, but also between the living and the dead. In this way, the dead have continued to play a crucial role in human affairs. Using the concept of alajobi (kinship), the chapter interrogates the role of the dead in human conflicts and conflict resolution efforts. The widespread use of ilepa among the Yoruba has affirmed the efficacy of this approach. Beyond tracing the significance of the phenomenon for peace and amity among the Yoruba, the chapter evaluates the value of this phenomenon for human understanding, especially with reference to its capacity to sustain understanding in a global age.



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The Yoruba have maintained many of their ancient customs, although in the modern period many of these practices and beliefs are being eroded. One of the practices affected is the issue of mortuary practices. Both the Christian and Muslim burial rites have a totally different conception of the afterlife. Their burial sites are usually devoid of the sacrifices and rituals that accompanied traditional funerals and they have almost achieved a separation between the living and the dead. The existence of Christian burial grounds located on church grounds or even private vaults within its precincts may have rolled back these traditional practices in many parts of the urban centers. For the traditional custodians of indigenous knowledge and values, ilepa has continued to remain an option open to them as a conflict resolution mechanism. To the modern world, however, it has become archaic and barbaric. But the Yoruba in different towns and communities have continued to utilize the practice in extreme periods of disaffection. The most rural of Yoruba folks have not totally repudiated their beliefs and practices in this regard. Even in the secret recesses of the urban centers there are indications that a sizable number of the Yoruba people have not been able to completely shake off the practice of swearing by the graves of the departed. NOTES 1. One of the problems facing the process of identifying those who participated in the rituals associated with this is that they do not want to be identified publicly because of the stigma usually associated with the continued identification with traditional religious practices. Nevertheless, a substantial amount of evidence abound that many people still believe in their efficacy. 2. This appeared as article 3.1 of a preliminary pact on accountability and reconciliation, signed in late June 2007 by the government of Uganda and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA).

Chapter 13

Indigenous Methods in Conflict Resolution The Example of Yorùbá Society Lérè Adéy mí This chapter examines the various types of conflict and methods of conflict resolutions in the Yoruba society, particularly at the domestic and communal levels. The research methodology included the use of oral evidence, interviews, and relevant documents. Among the findings in this chapter were that conflict resolution strategies among the traditional Yoruba people emphasized resolving conflict amicably through elders, traditional religious leaders, youth, and women. Some of the strategies included the use of rituals, song, folklore, proverbs, and oath taking or covenant making. All these strategies lead to healing and reconciliation. The chapter concludes that the Yoruba people were interested not only in retributive and reparatory justice but also in nonadversarial resolution of conflicts which could be emulated in contemporary times. .

INTRODUCTION There is hardly any continent in the world right now whose countries are not involved in one form of conflict or the other. Globally, there has been political brutality, religious conflict, terrorism, youth militancy, criminality, and inhumanity as a result of one conflict or another. Conflict is an all-embracing concept in Yoruba society. It ranges from ija, ìkọlù, aáwò, èdèàìyédè, jàgídíjàgan, rògbòdìyàn, yan ọnyánrin, làásìgbò, wàhálà, and ogun (fight, attack, quarrel, misunderstanding, violence, and war). Conflict may occur when two or more people or groups of people pursue incompatible interests and goals. Conflict is a struggle to resist or overcome. It is a state or condition of opposition, antagonism, and discord. 191

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It is also painful tension set up by a clash between opposed and contradictory impulses. The Yoruba people would say “Ìjà kìí bím o rere” (conflict never ˙ brings any good); conflict leads to pain at all levels. Pain may be physical, mental, and/or emotional and the anguish or agony from conflict has serious implications or consequences for the persons who experience them. Levy and Thompson (2010) summarized the consequences of conflict, especially war, as follows: “In its many varieties, it is probably the most destructive form of human behavior. War kills people, destroys resources, retards economic development, ruins environments, spreads disease, expands governments, militarizes societies, reshapes cultures, disrupts families, and traumatizes people” (p. 1). Levy and Thompson use the terms conflict, violence, and war as synonyms. Even though the three terms are symbiotic, they are not the same. Hornby (2004) gives a clearer explanation of the three concepts. Conflict, according to Hornby (2004, p. 289) is a situation in which people, groups, or countries are involved in a serious disagreement or argument. It is a situation in which there are opposing ideas, opinions, feelings, or wishes, a situation in which it is very difficult to choose. Thus, conflict may lead to violence and war. A war is a situation in which two or more countries or groups of people fight against each other over a period of time, for example, World War II and the threat of nuclear war. Conflicts are connected with subtle or violent tendencies, which are nurtured in words and actions. It may involve the use of might, great strength, and power both physically and technologically. Where and when there is conflict, friendship collapses. A Yoruba proverb says, “Ìjà ló dé l’orin d’òwe” (when there is conflict, every action is misconstrued). Family and community life, and states and nations are dislocated or harmed, and injured or destroyed by conflict. Unresolved conflicts can lead to largescale cases of violence, armed conflict, protests, demonstrations, riots, and war, which is the crisis stage of conflict. Conflict as a social phenomenon has led scholars, journalists, and others to devote enormous amounts of intellectual energy in an attempt to better understand the nature and causes of conflict. The focus of this chapter is the African indigenous methods of conflict resolution from the perspective of the traditional Yoruba society. The chapter is divided into the following sections: introduction, research methodology and theoretical framework, Yoruba traditional view of conflict and its origin, types of conflict, conflict resolution at the family/domestic level, conflict resolution at the communal level, checks and balances on the king involved in conflict with his community, regulatory strategies for effective conflict resolution in Yoruba society, conflict resolution in the colonial and postcolonial period, and lessons for the global community and conclusion.

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RESEARCH METHODOLOGY The research methodology is descriptive. It includes the use of oral evidence and interviews from selected Yoruba elders, traditional rulers, and religious leaders and youth leaders. Data were also collected from ifá literary corpus, proverbs, and songs, among others. The secondary sources of information includes the use of books, journal articles, and other published materials. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK Scholars from a wide range of disciplines have engaged the questions of the nature, causes, and types of conflict, and how humankind might eliminate or reduce it. Their efforts have led to proliferations of theories on conflict and its resolution. For example, the structural violence theory represented by the Marxist dialectical school tied conflicts to the economic structures and social institutions. The main argument of the structural violence theory is that conflict is built into the particular ways societies are structured and organized. According to Faleti (2006, p. 41), the theory looks at social problems like political and economic exclusion, injustices, poverty, disease, exploitation, and inequality as sources of conflict. The proponents of the structural violence theory state that conflicts occur because of the exploitative and unjust nature of human societies, domination of one class by another and exploitation of the lower classes under capitalism. Structural violence theorists present factors such as socio-political, economic, and institutional factors, for example, structure of the state, discriminatory political institutions, intergroup politics, and security factors (national security dilemma, regional, cross-borders criminality), among others. All these factors motivate the emergence of destructive conflicts. The realist theory of conflict traces the root of conflict to a flaw in human nature. The theory has three components: descriptive, explanatory, and prescriptive realism. Descriptive realism sees the world as an arena of conflict. Explanatory realism seeks to show that there are genetic defects which push mankind into behaving negatively and that there is no mechanism to stop them from occurring. Prescriptive realism explains the fact that individuals have moral justification to defend their interests and ensure self-preservation using any means. The biological theory usually referred to as innate theory of conflict contends that conflict is innate in all animals including human beings. Both the realist and biological/innate theories resort to human nature to explain the occurrence of conflict. Proponents of this theory find justification for periodic conflicts. Zimberg and Feldman (1967), for example, state that “a mature society. . . must eventually accept violence as an essential part

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of human nature, essentially not because it is good or bad, but because it is there” (p. 540). Other theories such as frustration-aggression theory and physiological theories all amount to the fact that in situations where feelings of frustration become widespread among the people and people are getting less than they deserve, conflict will definitely occur. There are other theories propounded by Western scholars to address the issue of conflict. Even though some of the theories offer some useful perspectives to the understanding of conflict, there are shortcomings. For example the structural violence theory stresses the cause of conflict as material and solely economic, but the mono-causal explanation based on material things alone is inadequate. In this chapter, an integrated approach is adopted. This is an approach that combines some of the relevant points of views of the Western theories (theories of structuralism, realism, and psychological explanations) as explained above with the traditional Yoruba views. The reason for the integrated approach is obvious. Conflict that takes place within a society may be the result of several factors, in the same way that it is difficult to point to a single explanation or theory for the emergence, escalation, or protraction of conflict, whether violent or otherwise. A combination of some of the principles inherent in the theories will be useful, namely: conflict is inherent in human nature; conflict is inevitable in all human societies and in all social interactions; human beings require basic needs which they seek to fulfill and denials of these needs could lead to conflict; human beings would fight to protect their interests or what they cherish; economic issues, competition for the scarce resources, and structural defects in the society could lead to conflict; and, among the Yoruba people, the material, metaphysical, and spiritual dimensions to conflict cannot be sidetracked. The spiritual or metaphysical principle may lack scientific explanation which may be a weakness of the approach, but we know that scientific or objective analysis of conflict alone is not enough to explain issues of conflict. Deutsch (1991) also observed that “any comprehensive approach to understanding conflict will necessarily include consideration of both objective and subjective factors” (p. 28). Explanation of conflict and its resolution can only be productive from the multidimensional approach. YORUBA TRADITIONAL VIEW OF CONFLICT AND ITS ORIGIN The Yoruba oral tradition has it that 1,700 divinities once deviated from doing Olódùmarè’s will and conflict started. They conspired against Olódùmarè and foolishly questioned the supremacy of his status. They went to him and demanded that he should abdicate the throne for them to rule the world

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for sixteen years. But they failed to sustain the world and there was no peace within eight days. Olódùmarè had to come to their aid while they accepted their stupidity and helplessness (Dopamu, 2000, p. 22). When the divinities came to the world at the time of creation, there was a serious conflict between Òrìsànlá and Odùduwà. Yoruba oral tradition recorded that the quarrel was going to spell catastrophe for the world and for a frightful moment, it appeared that all was going to be lost in the burning wrath of two implacable divinities. Upstairs in heaven, however, notice of the situation had been received and Ọranfẹ the solar divinity was dispatched to go and effect settlement. This he began to do with a roaring, tempestuous voice which at once won the attention of everybody and called the combatants to order. He listened to the two sides and then gave instructions as from one who must be obeyed. He told them how things must be arranged and so ended the quarrel. The mediation was so perfect that peace, joy, love, and friendship returned to both parties. From this brief Yoruba oral tradition, certain facts about conflict emerge: • conflict has an ontological basis in human needs; • there is always a perceived breach of faith and trust between individuals or groups; • miscommunication can lead to conflict; • there are personality clashes because of differences in acquired values; • there are always underlying stress and tension, ego problems, and situations of polarized views; • the resolution of conflict sometimes requires a third party; and • the third party would be effective in the conflict resolution exercise if the party is respected and perceived to be neutral (or at least impartial) by the feuding parties. To an average Yoruba person, conflict can be visible or invisible, and can be metaphysically arranged before its manifestation in real life. The Yoruba believes that Olódùmarè is the most powerful in heaven and on earth. He is able to do all things. He is the enabler of those who achieve any ends. He is the creator of the world, the sustainer of the universe, and is absolutely good. He has a council of ministers, namely the divinities (Obatala, Ogun, Esu, and Orunmila, among numerous others). Divinities and human beings are under his control. He is the absolute ruler of the world. He is the author and giver of all the good things that human beings can possess. A little deviation from his will always leads to conflict. Another belief of the Yoruba people is that “E u” is the root cause of all conflicts. There are several myths which illustrate him as the mischief-maker. So when a person commits any deed which results in unpleasantness or

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causes troubles or conflict, the Yoruba immediately say, “Èsù ló tì” (It is Èsù who encouraged him). When two people have a misunderstanding, the elders will advise: “E yàgò f’É ù” (Flee from Èsù). When a person misbehaves to the extent that conflict arises, the Yoruba would conclude “Èsù ló n se e” (It is Èsù that is instigating him). When happy family members suddenly engage in conflict without any reasonable cause, people say, “w n n sà si w n ni” (they are under the spell of Èsù). Yoruba people often pray propitiating, prayers such as “kí à ma e ríjà Èsù” (that we may not experience the wrath of Èsù). So the Yoruba people believe that conflict can arise at the visible and invisible levels and all these are addressed when they want to resolve conflict. TYPES OF CONFLICTS There are many types of conflicts today in Africa and indeed in the world. We shall briefly discuss the following types: domestic, communal, intrastate, national, global, and armed. Other kinds of conflicts include religious, political, social, and corporate conflicts as seen in industries and work places. However, all these happen within communities, states, nations, or countries. Domestic conflict is covered by the Yoruba larger circle of one’s family. There are three types of kinship in Yoruba society: blood kinship, kinship by marriage, and nonlegal secondary kinship. Blood kinship refers to all those related by blood either paternally or maternally. Kinship by marriage extends to the most distant kinfolk of the man or woman to whom one is married or betrothed. Nonlegal secondary kinship is a relationship neither by blood nor by marriage, but by the choice of either or both parties (Fadipe, 1970, p. 119). The Yoruba extended family covers the following people: • Ìya k (husband’s mother): Husband’s real mother, his maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, paternal aunts and grandaunts, maternal aunts and grandaunts, husband’s sisters, and female cousins. • Ìyáálé (house-mother): Senior co-wives of the same husband, senior women in marriage in the same extended family, senior women in marriage in the kindred group. • Ọk (husband): Actual husband, any member of whatever sex of husband’s extended family, or kin of the same generation as husband but younger. • Obinrin (women): Wife, orogún—applied to any one of the co-wives of the same husband. • Ìyá (mother): Actual mother, maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, mother’s sisters and female cousins, paternal grandmother’s sister, and female cousins. Husband’s mother otherwise called “Ìyá- k .”

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• Bàbá (father): Physiological father, father’s elder brothers and cousins, father’s paternal grandfather, his paternal grandfather’s brothers and male cousins, father’s mother’s brothers and male cousins, father’s maternal grandfather. • Ọm (child): Sons and daughters, grandsons, granddaughters, or any relative’s child on both paternal and maternal side of whom one is old enough to be father. In the household, that becomes omo-ile (sons and daughters in the extended family). • gb n: Any older relative, male or female, on the paternal and maternal sides. • Àbúrò: Any younger relative whether male or female on the paternal and maternal side. Any conflict that occurs between or among Yoruba extended family is called a domestic or family dispute. Also, conflict that arises between individual families within the extended family is categorized as a domestic or family conflict. Domestic conflict takes various forms ranging from verbal to physical attacks and at times, it can take metaphysical diabolic dimension with the use of magic charms known as “Èèdì” leading to uncommon misbehavior and misdeeds. Domestic conflict can occur as a result of many factors: lack of respect for the elders, indiscipline among the young ones, misuse of family finances by the husband or head of the family, high-handedness of the elders, property inheritance, land disputes, intolerance, and promiscuous behavior among wives or husbands. Domestic conflict disrupts family unity, integration, harmony, solidarity, brotherhood, and family cooperation. It endangers domestic security and retards progress of individuals and families. Unresolved domestic conflict usually leads to disintegration, sudden death among family members, and perpetual hatred among future siblings. Communal conflict involves different groups of people in a community; it may involve different religious groups, compounds, wards, or conflict between one or two communities. Conflict may occur over territorial land, farmland, chieftaincy titles, inheritance, and other economic, political, and social matters. In the precolonial period, the average Yoruba state comprised the capital, which was generally walled (in some cases with double walls), one or more other towns, townlets, farmers’ villages, and hamlets whose inhabitants regarded themselves belonging to one or another of the towns. An independent state embraced as ethnic groups like the Ekiti, Ij sa, Ọw , Ikal , If , Ij bu, Ọy , and other Yoruba kingdoms, many of which are now states within the Nigerian Federation. Interstate misunderstandings or conflicts if unresolved usually led to war.

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National conflict occurs within a country as a result of many factors— political marginalization, economic policies, and cultural differences. For example, the Nigerian civil war (1967–1970), the emergence of ethnic militancy, the Niger Delta crisis, the latest Boko Haram insurgency in northern Nigeria, political violence during and after elections which led to killing, assassination, kidnapping, vandalization of oil pipes, large-scale violence through protests, demonstrations, strikes, riots leading to anguish, suffering, and death are different faces of national conflict. Global conflict and armed conflicts are conflicts that cross borders. These may also be international, intercontinental conflict as seen in World War I and World War II, the Middle East crisis (especially the state of Israel and Palestine), Iraq versus the United States, Afghanistan and NATO, and Libya versus NATO. Armed conflict includes liberation movements in various countries. Such conflicts can arise as a result of civilization conflict, identity politics, economic factors, and the demand for ethnic-national determination leading to the creation of new states or countries. CONFLICT RESOLUTION AT FAMILY/DOMESTIC LEVEL Conflict resolution, according to Miller (2003) is “a variety of approaches aimed at terminating conflict through constructive solving of problems, distinct from management or transformation of conflict” (p. 8). Mitchel and Banks, cited in Shadrack (2004, p. 94), refer to conflict resolution as any process or procedure by which satisfactory outcome mutually acceptable to the parties in a conflict are achieved. Conflict resolution connotes a sense of finality, where the parties to a conflict are mutually satisfied with the outcome of a settlement and the conflict is resolved in a true sense. Resolution is a satisfactory way of solving a problem or conflict through peacemaking. The focus of conflict resolution in Yoruba society is to intervene and arbitrate in quarrels and misunderstandings which impair kinship or social solidarity or are likely to deteriorate into an actual breach of the peace (Fadipe, 1970, p. 223). Seniority (or age) is respected; the Yoruba proverb says: “Àgbà ò sí ìlú bàj , baálé ilé kú ilé dahoro” (where there is no elderly person, the town becomes chaotic and the homestead deserted). The breaches of the custom of seniority, which constitute disrespect on the part of the younger persons through the omission of some of the duties of kinship and friendship such as visiting a sick relation or sympathizing with a person during tragic events, are settled informally unless curses are invoked. The Yoruba people do not take the efficacy of spoken words with levity. They believe in the power of the word so when an elderly person invokes curses on the younger ones, the resolution has a different dimension and requires the involvement of other elders

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and perhaps the parents of the victim. It is also the duty of every Yoruba to mediate physically between two persons engaged in a fight by separating them and that is why the Yoruba say: “Àgbà kì í wà l jà kórí m tuntun w ” (matters do not go out of hand where there are elders). The two parties state their case, and through persuasion, the elder settles the matter; but if it is a serious matter, the conflict will have to be settled in the compound if both of them belong to the same compound. At the family level, dialogue is the major method of resolution of conflict. Cases which include conflicts among co-wives, brothers, sisters, and other relatives in the same compound are brought before the baálé, the head of the family. Minor conflicts are resolved immediately by scolding the troublemakers and appeasing the offended persons. But if it is a serious matter, the setting is the “gbàgede d d ba lé,” big parlor of the family-head. The process of resolution is as follows: 1. The most junior one will state his/her case. If it is between co-wives, the most junior one would speak first. If it is between husband and wife, it is the wife that would talk first before the husband; 2. Once a case is stated, it is forbidden to interrupt the other speaker or argue with him or her while he/she speaks; 3. Both parties could invite witnesses after which questions would be asked from both parties; and 4. Everybody present would be given a chance to talk from the younger to the eldest before the iyáálé (the mother of the house) will talk to settle the matter. After the iyáálé, then the ba lé will give his words of finality. (Adeoye, 2010, p. 260) In the traditional Yoruba society, it was forbidden for co-wives to have a misunderstanding to the extent of fighting in the public sphere. Rituals would have to be performed for their sake. The two co-wives would be fined two goats. The goats symbolize obstinacy. The goats would be killed and used as sacrifice to appease Iyám po, the goddess of women’s beauties, whom they have disgraced by fighting in public. The two of them would step on the blood of the goat and promise never to engage in physical combat again. The two women would dance around the town in a sober mood as a mark of repentance. There are some conflicts which could only be resolved during festivals such as Egungun or batala festival with rituals and oath-taking. If the conflict was between the head of the family and other elders in the compound, the settlement would take place at the ancestral shrine with a deep spiritual dimension. A husband, who beats his wife, even though the matter is resolved at the family level, will still be punished at the grove of the ancestors by men only. The sacred grove is not open to all, but to the initiated who

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are well versed in the traditions of the elders. It is a location regarded as the abode of the spirits or ancestors and therefore holy. Nobody can tell lies there. Every word said there is kept secret. Both the visible and unseen powers are the witnesses and any matter resolved there is usually permanent. An offending husband is tied to the ancestral tree in the grove and severely beaten and nobody must reveal the matter to anyone outside. Resolution of conflict at the family level entails peacemaking justice. In peacemaking justice, the aim is to intervene and arbitrate in quarrels and misunderstandings which impair social solidarity. However, all matters or cases that cannot be resolved at the interpersonal or family level are usually taken to the head of the kinship: olóríebí, mogaji, or baálé. If the parties involved belong to two different compounds in the same ward of the town, the head of the ward, olórí àdugbò is involved. He would arrange for a series of meetings between the ward leaders and make sure that the conflict is resolved with dispatch. The setting of the settlement of the dispute can be a neutral place such as the village square or an open hut. If it is a land dispute, the boundary in contention could be the venue of the meeting or the large open space in front of the head of the kinship’s compound. The process normally begins with general preparation which involves consultation, invitations to the appropriate persons, and selection of a date that must not clash with events like market days or religious worship time. On the day of resolution, the head chief together with elders would pay homage (ìjúbà) and invoke the spirit of the ancestors through rituals before discussing the matter. The process of hearing is the same as that at the family level. Both parties are allowed to come with their witnesses. Disputants may thereafter swear to oaths and state their cases to the hearing of the elders. Other members of the community present also listen to the stating of the cases of the disputants. Apart from the elders who would talk and resolve the matter, the head chief would give the final verdict. The focus is to pass a verdict that will promote community solidarity without apportioning blame to either party because it is the duty of the head to preserve peace and order within his community and to maintain discipline. He is the chief law-giver and it is his duty to see that members of his community are of mutual benefit to each other and interact with a minimum of friction. CONFLICT RESOLUTION AT THE COMMUNAL LEVEL Any matter or conflict that involves various wards or compounds in the town that could not be resolved at the family, compound, or ward levels are brought to the highest traditional institution for resolution. The highest institution is the “igbìm ìlú” with the king as the head. Any unresolved matter at the lower

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levels is brought to the council for a hearing, mediation, arbitration, or judgment. If the case has to be given verbally the complainant is asked to state his case, after which the defendant or parties concerned will respond. When the plaintiff or defendant is giving evidence, he/she cannot be interrupted except by the chiefs who are permitted to ask questions to clarify issues. Witnesses are allowed to present their own sides of the matter after which the chiefs will cross-examine the disputants before the resolution. The council members are allowed to present their views and verdict before the king gives the final verdict. This is the reason for the saying: “òkú j l l jà á dá” (the king rules on a dead matter) since all council members would have known what the verdict would be judging by the individual verdicts on the matter. The oba (king) will only give the final statement of authority that may be based on the line of arguments and submissions of the council members. In most cases, fines of damages are not usually awarded by the mediators; the prime objective is to restore peace by settling disputes amicably. However, cases like murder, witchcraft, incest, theft, and the communication of secrets to the uninitiated attract fines. When fines are awarded, they could be kola nuts, palm wine, domestic animals like goats or pigs, and other material things mostly for rituals, and the rest is shared in fellowship to reinforce the reconciliation. At all levels of resolution of conflict in traditional Yoruba society there are some codes of conduct for all disputants to obey. For example, women are to state their cases while kneeling down, men are to prostrate before the elders, and elders and chiefs have to prostrate before the king. While either the defendant or plaintiff is giving evidence, he/she has the floor and cannot be interrupted unless by the chiefs. There is no room for offensive language during the process of meditation and nobody can afford to lie because of the oath-taking and invocation of the presence of the gods such as Ogun (god of iron) and àngó (god of thunder), among others. Whosoever takes the oath and lies will eventually be a victim of a thunder strike or die in an accident. In traditional Yoruba society, resolution of conflict is not an individual’s job. In the views of Zartman (2000): In traditional African mediation, the agent is a neutral and powerless third party, armed with personal characteristics such as wisdom and integrity but without the means for producing inducement and sanctions—a moral mediator rather than a mediator with muscle or in more standard terms, a mediator as formulator but not as manipulator. (p. 22)

It is true that the mediator is armed with personal characteristics such as wisdom and integrity yet the mediator is not just a powerless third party. The mediators in Yoruba society are regarded as earthly representatives of

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the ancestors armed with the authority of the invisible ancestors to make amicable resolution of conflicts. Conflict resolution in Yoruba society is not based on a single third party or an agent alone; many people are involved. In a conflict that involves the king with the townspeople, the resolution process involves all and sundry especially the three principal cults of Yoruba traditional institution—namely awo abiyamo (the women), awo ògbóni (the kingmakers and other chiefs) and awo babalawo (the diviners). Once a king, an ba, or a high chief is rejected by one, two, or three cults in a conflict, the king would have to abdicate the throne, commit suicide (“literally, open a calabash and take poison”) or sleep. Conflict resolution in the traditional Yoruba society involves the women folk especially the elderly women, the iyaale, the awo abiyam , and the obis (mothers and religious leaders). CHECKS AND BALANCES ON A KING INVOLVED IN CONFLICT WITH HIS COMMUNITY The three cults identified above are very important in Yoruba society. The ògbóni cult deals with administration, oral record keeping, and coordination of the various cultural activities. Members are the chiefs, court officials, and the oba who is the overseer of all the court activities. The ifá cult deals with the coordination of spiritual activities, the shrines, and dates of events. It also serves as the spiritual voice for the entire community. The fertility cult (awo abiyam ) includes all the people who are connected with birth, production of new life, and preservation of the new life. All three individually and together constitute the legislative, executive, and the judiciary. None of the three cults can do without the other. All matters and resolutions must be agreed upon by them. Each unit serves as a check on the other. The processes, the empowerment, and dethronement of a king are actually under the jurisdiction of the three cults. If a king commits a great offence such as violation of kingship oath, he could be dealt with in diverse forms, for example, rejection, banishment, or be made to commit suicide. In inter- and intracommunal conflicts, all the materials for rituals and sacrifices to the divinities are supplied by the women and they play a prominent role in the restoration of communal peace. The women can resolve conflicts through orature or ritual songs to remind the community about their past and the need to end conflict. At times, they can make nude processions which are seen as sacrilege and a form of protest against unresolved conflict. In an extreme and dangerous conflict, as recorded in Yoruba oral traditions, Moremi has to sacrifice her only son Olúorogbo, to the river goddess before the If could stop the Igbos which ended the long-time armed conflict against the Ife people. The spiritual leaders especially diviners and traditional doctors are

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also involved in serious cases of conflict that has to do with their community and towns. Meetings for resolution of conflict are only called after a series of rituals and sacrifices to appease È ù, the master troublemaker. Prayers are offered at different levels for divine intervention in cases that involve the town. REGULATORY STRATEGIES FOR EFFECTIVE CONFLICT RESOLUTION IN TRADITIONAL YORUBA SOCIETY Some of the regulatory strategies for effective conflict resolution in traditional Yoruba society are discussed below. The belief in the supremacy of Olódùmarè in human affairs, the consciousness of the divine presence of Olódùmarè at all times, and the fear not to incur the wrath of the divinities make the people to be careful and cautious in all things they do. Nobody in traditional Yoruba society trivializes the possible consequences of going against the will, regulations, and intentions of the gods. So at the time of conflict and its resolution, everyone is conscious of the role of the gods like Sango, the god of lightning or thunderbolt, who has the capacity to strike a liar with thunder or Ayelala, the goddess who can inflict incurable disease on any trouble maker. Èèw —taboos—are another conflict control mechanism. Taboos are the don’ts of the society (A kì í e é) or must not be done otherwise (Àìgb d má e). These are the things that must not be done or things that must be done if certain aspects of life are violated. Taboos are restrictions placed on human relationships in the society and the environment. It regulates human conduct in politics, the economy, religion, health matters, social relations, and conflict resolution matters. It is unpardonable to breach the taboos because the unseen forces are directly in charge of punishment for taboo breakers. For example, rape, incest, stealing, and suicide are some of the acts that constitute taboos. At the family level, there are taboos to be observed; for example, A kò gb d rí àgbà fín (It is a taboo to be rude to the elderly); A kò gb d fi ebi pa ìyàwó ni (It is a taboo for a husband to starve his wife); and Orogún méjì kò gb d jà (It is forbidden for co-wives to fight).

Nobody breaks a taboo and goes free. It works as a social organizing principle among the people and it helps them to make conflict resolution effective. The authorizing agency of “èèw ” resides in the belief that certain supernatural forces power it and it has the capacity for reward and punishment (Olarinde, 2010, p. 306). Another strategy is the use of oath-taking (ìbúra). Ìbúra in critical situations of conflict resolution is of great necessity and it is one of the mechanisms to ensure that decision is not taken based on a

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false premise or a lie. People fear the gods and they know that there is no escape for liars under oath so ìbúra is done with the intention that whatever is given as evidence is true. Kola nut may be used for the oath-taking. The elders would break the kola nut into two pieces and invoke certain curses on whosoever breaks the oath in shrine of the ancestors. In other occasions, it may be the objects of worship like cutlass or gun to represent Ògún, the god of iron. Once a conflict is resolved, the parties concerned will enter into an agreement which is called àdéhùn. The elders say, “Odid r y òkun, àlùkò y sà, bí a bá jojú gbé, ká má johùn gbé” (parrot the bird of the ocean, woodcock the bird of the sea, if we do not see eye to eye again we must not forget the agreement). In the process of the covenant making, specific curses are agreed upon as consequences that should befall whosoever breaks the agreement. If it is land boundary that caused the conflict, demarcation to the boundary can be made by planting a peregun tree or bamboo trees with esoteric utterances in form of incantation or ordinary but symbolic rituals. The use of “ìtàn” is also significant in resolving family or communal conflict. Ìtàn is a broad term for Yoruba oral narrative, namely: ìtan ìwá (myths), ìtàn ak ni (legends), ìtànyítàn/àr bá (recollection), ìtàny míwò (divination), ìtàn ogun (war stories), ìtàn àl (folktales), and ìtàn gidi (history). Itàn is important in conflict resolution in Yoruba society. When there is an occasion for conflict resolution at any level, various relevant stories are narrated to back up explanations and decisions. The elders say, “B m dé k iyán àná àw n àgbà a fìtàn bal ” (If a child rejects last night’s pounded yam the elders will narrate a story). Ìtàn is used to resolve complicated conflicts which cannot be controverted. There are numerous rhetorical and poetic features especially from the pool of oral poetry that are used during conflict resolution. They include òwe (proverb), oríkì (praise poetry), àwí (incantations), and songs. Òwe (proverbs), oríkì (praise poetry), and orin (songs) provide copious historical accounts of events and personalities. Poetic devices are used to recall particular events in the life of the community which created them. Proverbs are also easy “records” of some sort which links the present with the past and the past with present, hence the saying: Òwe l sin r , r le in òwe; Bí r ba s nù, òwe la fi i wa a. Proverbs are the horses of words, words are the horses of proverbs; when truth is elusive, it is proverbs that we use to discover it.

Songs are particularly helpful to destroy the seed of bitterness in the heart of parties concerned in conflict. In Yoruba society, songs make hearers happy

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and joyful and such songs at times are used to resolve conflicts. Folk songs such as in the story below can be used for conflict resolution. There was a conflict between the tortoise and an old farmer. The man was working very hard while ijàpá (tortoise) was lazy. The man had a very big farm full of garden eggs (ikàn). The tortoise got there one day, and being seriously hungry, started plucking the garden eggs and ate to his satisfaction. The second day, he came there, ate, and took some to his family. By the time the farmer got to his farm, all his garden eggs had disappeared. One day he refused to go home. He wanted to know the thief, not knowing that tortoise was hiding somewhere in the farm. The farmer started to curse the one who stole his garden eggs. The tortoise burst into the song: Oníkàn yìí r ra Kinrinjingbin Oníkàn yìí r ra Kinrinjigbin Ìwo ká, emi ká Kinrinjingbin Temi se le dèpè Kinrinjingbin Èpè kan ò p’Ahun Kinrinjingbin This garden-egg owner please be careful Kinrinjingbin [not translatable] This garden-egg owner please be careful Kinrinjingbin You pluck, I pluck Why must I be cursed? Your curse cannot kill the tortoise Kinrinjingbin

The moment the old man heard the song he became enthralled and started dancing until he got home. He reported to the members of his family and the townspeople. On getting to the farm, they also got entranced and danced and returned home. The matter was brought before the king who assembled his diviners and powerful medicine men, but they all failed until he told “ sanyín e é èkan” (one-legged divinity) to arrest the troublemaker. sanyìn got to the farm and he started cursing the thief. The tortoise started the song, but the song could not hypnotize sanyìn—being one-legged—and the thief was caught. He was brought to the king for judgment. He narrated his ordeal, his poverty, level of unemployment, and lack of food in a society where the rich farmer lived. The tortoise said that it was hunger that led him to steal. Even though the tortoise was heavily punished for the offence, the rich farmer was

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cautioned not to curse but he should use his wealth to help the needy, the poor, and the hungry. The song was repeated and the farmer was pacified. Folktales may present fictitious characters and unrealistic settings, but the message of this particular folktale is clear, stealing is unacceptable on whatever ground, but the rich must help the poor. The Yoruba philosophy of aláj bí, the familial bond of kinship, is another powerful strategy of conflict resolution in traditional Yoruba society. Aláj bí inheres with a spiritual essence that is connected with the family’s ancestral spirits (Olarinde, 2010, p. 307). Members of the extended family or kinship are bound to maintain loyalty, trust, and solidarity among themselves. When there is conflict at the domestic level, the resolution is usually at the ancestral ground of the founding fathers. The invocation of the spirit of the ancestors who founded the kinship is usually done with respect. No matter the degree of offence in the family, once a person is begged in the name of aláj bí, he/she must relax. Once an elder says, “A f’aláj bí b ” (We appeal to you in the name of our kinship ties), whatever the degree of offence in the conflict, this statement is enough to pacify the aggrieved person. The consciousness that aláj bí is invoked in the process of cross-examination during conflict resolution makes the people cautious when they are offended and makes the parties concerned forgive and forget. Proactive activities help to deescalate potential conflict and to keep conflict from manifesting. Traditions and cultures promote community life and togetherness, which downplays conflicts. Community festivals such as new yam festival, religious festivals like Ògún and Egúngún, wedding and funeral ceremonies, and sharing of village and community markets allow inter- and intra-community shared values. All these create social bonds in ways that prevent dysfunctional conflicts in the traditional Yoruba society. The data discussed in this section are largely based on my personal data collection and collections from resource persons who are custodians of Yoruba proverbs, folktales, songs, festivals, and traditions as earlier stated in the research methodology section. CONFLICT RESOLUTION IN THE COLONIAL AND POSTCOLONIAL YORUBA SOCIETY In the contemporary Yoruba society, the nature and methods of conflict resolution have changed. The fatal effects of interventions like the slave trade, colonialism, and foreign religions overwhelmingly undermined the development and progressive capacity of African cultures in general and the Yoruba culture in particular (Is la, 2010, p. 64). Colonialism introduced strange systems of conflict resolution. For example, divorce was never a part of Yoruba

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conflict resolution in marriage before the colonial court system. Whatever happened between husband and his wife or wives was settled by families amicably. The view of the people was: “A kì í rí a r má jà, a jà má r ni kò dára” (There is no friendship without conflict but conflict without resolution is bad). With the introduction of the court system, the perception changed to: “A kì í ti kóòtù dé r ” (We do not retain friendship after a court case). The importation of European firearms into Yorubaland through the traders on the coast in the early days of European encounter brought about a revolutionary transformation to communal conflicts in Yorubaland. According to Fadipe (1970, p. 239), no wars were undertaken until after the possibilities of settlement by diplomatic means had been exhausted. Even if the cause of the war was some personal affront offered to the king by the head of another state, the final stages of the controversy were still conducted through the medium of state council. However, with the availability of imported weapons, conflicts escalated and due processes of resolution were no longer followed. There were many of these conflicts that led to serious wars. I will just mention one because of its special bearing on subsequent Yoruba history, the Ijaye War of 1861–1862. The British later used the prestige gained in the war to consolidate their hold over the entire Yorubaland and compelled the warring factions to lay down their arms. Peace reigned but it was a truce not a settlement. Bitterness, rancor, and distrust remained though the Pax Britanica kept these hostile feelings submerged (Onabamiro, 2009, p. 84). The Ijaye War is significant because the hostility that was subdued by the British after the invasion of Ij buland in May 1892 reemerged in subsequent years during the representative governments of the colonial and postcolonial Yoruba society. Although the relationship between the Oyo-Yoruba and others had been strained during the Oyo empire days, colonial and post-colonial politics further marred Yoruba unity and development. Most of the communal conflicts in Yorubaland today and indeed Nigeria are conflicts that arise from struggle for political participation or over political space in the federation. Electoral and postelection violence have erupted various times: 1958–1959, 1963, 1979–1983, and most especially the June 12, 1993 election and its annulment by the military government. There are conflicts caused by the contest for access to resources and conflicts caused by the struggle over identity. The Abi la saga of June 12, 1993, led to identity cum ethnic conflict. However, the crisis was spearheaded by the elite, the civil liberty organizations, and militant groups such as Oodua People’s Congress (OPC). It is however to be noted that in the postcolonial Yoruba society and indeed Nigeria, every little misunderstanding has been accompanied by violence and this further undermines the possibility of economic progress and political stability. Violence, provoked by conflicts, has often turned the people’s attention from creative production to destruction. There is the need

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therefore to go back to our cultural past which is relevant and regain the valuable heritage of conflict resolution methods. Experience has shown that the modern method of conflict resolution is not adequate. The elders say, “B m dé la bí àgbà, kò lè ní àkísà bí àgbà” (If the young people have beautiful garments like the elders, they cannot have rags like the elders, i.e., the elderly ones are wiser than the young ones due to long years of experience). Any resolution technique or method that is not made to bring peace and reconciliation to disputants is inadequate and cannot stand the test of time.

LESSONS FOR THE GLOBAL COMMUNITY From the brief discussion and analysis of the Yoruba indigenous conflict resolution method as related to the traditional Yoruba society, the global community can learn one or two lessons. Even though Christianity and Islam have greatly influenced their lives in the postcolonial era, Olódùmarè still occupies a critical place in all matters; thus, religious leaders, wise men, and women should be involved in conflict resolution no matter the use of other “scientific” processes. In many African countries today, conflicts are state- and government-generated as a result of insensitivity and dictatorial tendencies. Other methods of conflict resolution—mediation, arbitration, negotiation, and collaboration—must always involve community leaders, elders who are discerning, women’s organizations, leaders of thoughts, governmental and nongovernmental organizations, and youth leaders, because: “ m dé gb n, àgbà gb n la fí dal If ” (There is power in collective wisdom). The Yoruba elders use words during resolution of conflict with extreme caution. Words of wisdom, proverbs, idioms, songs, and other aesthetic ornaments are used to persuade dialogue and resolve delicate matters. Offensive, abusive, and invective words are sparingly used while deep and relevant chants, poems, songs, and praise-poetry are used to deescalate and resolve conflict. All these types of cultural artifacts are still relevant today. Grassroots, community-based cultural activities, festivals of art and religion, marriage ceremonies, and collaborative projects that bind relationships should not be allowed to cease. They promote love, peace, harmony, and social bonds among communities. Such activities downplay dysfunctional conflicts. In traditional Yoruba society during the bàtálá festival all cases of conflict are resolved in the community. There is no carry-over of conflict to another year or season of the festival. At the family level, the philosophy of aláj bí (kinship) makes it compulsory for family conflict to be resolved amicably through rituals, oath-taking, and feasting during festivals.

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CONCLUSION This chapter has examined African indigenous methods in conflict resolution from the perspective of the Yoruba people of southwest Nigeria. Some of the strategies included belief in the supremacy of Olódùmarè in human affairs, taboos, oath-taking, covenant-making, the use of ìtàn, oral poetry, Yoruba philosophy of aláj bí, and involvement of all categories of people in conflict resolution. All these strategies among others lead to healing and wholesome reconciliation. The Yoruba at the grassroots level still make use of their cultural heritage to resolve conflicts and this experience can revitalize the global community.

Chapter 14

Sparks of Resistance, Flames of Change Orature in Reconciliation and Conflict Management among the Yorùbá Olusola George Ajibade Conflict occurs when individuals or groups are not obtaining what they need or want and are seeking their own self-interest. Sometimes the individual is not aware of the need and unconsciously starts to act out. Conflicts have today become the greatest threat to the stability and security of the modern world, especially ethnic conflict. Individuals differ in their sensitivity to comments or actions of others, as well as their ability to deal with the stress created by a conflict; this could be seen as a conflict due to the fear of the “Other.” Literature is not just an instrument for the aesthetic pleasure of the hearers and readers, it is also a force for reconciliation and cross-cultural understanding. Hence, there is the need to look into the role of literature, which is a product of the society where it is produced, in conflict and reconciliation. This portends that words in diverse forms are crucial in understanding and managing conflict at all levels: personal, domestic, local, regional, national, and global. Hence, the goal of this chapter is to critically analyze the role of Yorùbá orature, especially folklore, in conflict resolution and management. The analysis and interpretation of data benefit from a conceptual understanding developed from fieldwork through experiential participation and through in-depth interviews with the traditional chanters of Yorùbá oral literature and poetry. The existing works on Yorùbá poems serve as secondary data to supplement the primary data. The chapter elucidates the mediating effects of poetry and other forms of traditional Yorùbá oral literature on conflict. In addition, it shows poets as mediators through their verbal artistry. The study concludes that, to the Yorùbá, conflict goes beyond the physical dimension—it has spiritual and metaphysical underpinnings.

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INTRODUCTION Conflict may be defined as a struggle or contest between people with opposing needs, ideas, beliefs, values, or goals and within self when embattled with diverse ideas. Conflict could ensue between man and self (internal conflict), man and man, man and nature/environment, man and society, man and supernatural forces or powers (ghosts, spirits, monsters, deities, etc.), and between one community and another (local, national, or foreign). Conflict management is the label for the variety of ways by which people handle grievances by standing up for what they consider to be right and against what they consider to be wrong. The forms of conflict management that will be used in any given situation depend on the social structure or social geometry of the case. In other words, conflict management is the principle that all conflicts cannot necessarily be resolved, but erudition of how to manage conflicts can decrease the odds of nonproductive escalation of conflict. Conflict management involves acquiring skills interconnected with conflict resolution, self-awareness about conflict modes, conflict communication skills, and establishing a structure and space for management of conflict in any given milieu. Scholars such as Coser (1956), Dahrendorf (1959), Simmel (1964), Deustch (1973), Giddens (1978), Deng and Zartman (1991), and Richmond (1999), to mention a few, have dealt with types, sources, and effects of conflicts on the development and progress of local communities. On the other hand, Azar and Burton (1986), Avruch and Black (1987), Blalok (1989), Azar (1990), and Burton (1990a) among others, have written so much about conflict management theory. Their works reveal that conflict is inevitable and it develops because we are dealing with people’s lives, jobs, children, self-importance, self-concept, ego, and sense of mission or purpose in varying aspects of human lives. Likewise, conflict is as old as the beginning of the human race, as evident in various mythologies and legends all over the world. The above mentioned works are mainly from the social sciences and deal mainly with theories of conflict resolution and management mainly in regards to the Western world. Not much attention has been given to the role of oral literature in quenching the flames of conflict, especially among the Yoruba of southwestern Nigeria that this study focuses on. It has been observed that, “The conflict field draws from many disciplines, each of which brings their own fundamental theories as clinical psychology focuses on individual change, social psychology on intergroup change and political psychology on system change” (Shapiro, 2006, p. 9). Economists working in conflict areas are likely to focus on economic changes, sociologists on social changes, political scientists on political changes, and anthropologists on cultural changes. Pragmatic implementers



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of development programs in conflict contexts are likely to draw on many theories of change (Nan, Mulvihill, & Salinas, 2010, p. 5). Due to the complex nature of conflict, various approaches are needed to have a thorough understanding, not only of the scourge associated with it in some instances but also to resolve it. Agbaje (2002) proves that “proverbs can occur in various contexts but they seem to be particularly important in situations where there are conflicts and some obligations” (p. 237). He stresses further that in Yoruba society, proverbs are skillfully introduced by the elders/mediators in conflict resolution and management as they are regarded as weapons of the elders that attract the blessing of an unquestionable truism. Adejumo (2008, pp. 95–116) focuses on the role of satire, a brand of oral literature among the Yorùbá people in conflict resolution and management. She asserts that “In the traditional Yorùbá society of Southwestern Nigeria, satire, a form of literary art, is one of the powerful weapons used to sanction erring members in a bid to forestall and, at times, manage and resolve conflicts” (p. 116). She proves further that “Yorùbá satirical song is a way of demonstrating how traditional methods of ridiculing nonconformists could prove an effective strategy for conflict management and resolution” (Adejumo, 2008, p. 95). Likewise, Adejumo (2010, pp. 1–14) explicates the theme of conflict in Nigeria as depicted in some Yoruba written literature. Beyond satirical songs deployed to lampoon the nonconformists in the society, there are various genres among the Yoruba that they use both as preventive and curative measures for conflicts. Various traditional institutions for conflict resolution and management among the Yoruba foreground the constitutional framework for the workability of the peaceful customs, norms, and traditions among them. Their folklores are cherished, well-respected, and applied to foster unity, love, oneness, progress, and development of their society. Like many of the communities around the world, the transmission of oral literature from one generation to the next lies at the heart of cultural practice and a work of art is a consequence of the sociocultural milieu. This is in consonance with the observation of Bauman (1986) that for us to: recognize that the symbolic forms we call folklore have their primary existence in the action of people and their roots in social and cultural life. The texts we are accustomed to viewing as the raw materials of oral literature are merely the thin and partial record of deeply situated human behavior. My concern has been to go beyond a conception of oral literature as disembodied super-organic stuff and to view it contextually and ethnographically, in order to discover the individual, social, and cultural factors that give it shape and meaning in the conduct of social life. (p. 2)

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In a similar vein, Kroeber (1986) reveals that, “In constructing hypothetical relations between their texture, text, and context, we can only improve and extend our appreciation of the art of the writers and enrich our understanding of the cultures from which their works emerge” (p. 9). This indicates that paying critical attention to form, and many systems of interrelationship between the text and multiple contexts of performance helps to expose its artfulness, subtleties, and meaning. This is because society’s worldview develops from varieties of their experiences in their socialization processes. This is aptly and succinctly put by Tuso (2000) that “Every society develops a worldview through which it perceives and interacts with the surrounding reality. A society’s worldview is constructed through the cultural lenses that people have developed through years of socialization” (p. 79). The folklore of a people enables us to observe and behold, as though through telescopic eyes, such people’s patterns of beliefs and their customs. In this way, a people’s philosophy of life is revealed by way of their folkloric wisdom. The eyes of folklore characters can make one discern how people react to social pressures in their environment. Oral literature is a broad term, which may include performances of ritual texts, curative chants, epic poems, musical genres, folk tales, creation tales, songs, myths, spells, legends, proverbs, riddles, tongue-twisters, word games, recitations, life histories, or historical narratives. Oral literature is a vehicle for teaching, observing and reinforcing reconciliation and conflict management concepts and skills. Although inevitable, conflict can be minimized, diverted, and/or resolved. Building up what has been destroyed can strengthen and unite people as well as returning their history and common memories to them, especially in this era of globalization. Culture is a vital source of inspiration, joy, and courage for people living in difficult circumstances. Therefore, culture sector actors are important forces for dialogue creation in a society in crisis. A society characterized by broad participation and respect for basic human rights can manage conflicts using the spoken and written word, instead of resorting to violence. Osei-Hwedie (2000) has noted that, African conflicts often have domestic and regional causes. This is due to problems associated with social, ethnic, cultural and religious differences in the context of massive inequalities in the distribution of power, wealth and other resources that make challenges to the status quo inevitable. (p. 1)

Zartman (2000) maintains that, “Conflict can be prevented on some occasions and managed on others, but resolved only if the term is taken to mean the satisfaction of apparent demands rather than the total eradication of underlying sentiments, memories, and interests” (p. 299). The Yoruba traditional oral poetry is a stronghold of the people’s cultural heritage, a functional art,



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and largely events-based discourse, and it is a vehicle for the transmission of unique cultural knowledge. Hence, there should be proper documentation of these genres in addition to the appraisal of their space in conflict resolution and management. Conflict resolution theory is predicated on the idea that conflict has psychological, as well as behavioral and structural dimensions (Mitchell, 1981). Conflict theorists see societies and social institutions not as systems in which parts depend on each other and work together in unity to create equilibrium. Conflict theory explains social structure and changes in it by arguing that actors pursue their interests in conflict with others and according to their resources for social organization. Conflict theory explains social structure and changes in it by arguing that actors pursue their interests in conflict with others and according to their resources for social organization. The victorious side is generally the group that is better mobilized to act in its collective interest. Dahrendorf (1959) proposed that conflicts are based on power, dividing ordergivers who have an interest in maintaining the status quo, from order-takers, who have an interest in changing it. Coser (1956), expatiating the theory of Georg Simmel, points out that conflict leads to a centralization of power within each group and motivates groups to seek allies. Azar (1990) and Burton (1990a) suggest that certain basic human needs lie behind every conflict, and that if people’s psychological response to these needs can be understood and addressed promptly and appropriately, various issues resulting in conflict mislay their import. Wallace (1966) suggests three interconnected tenets central to general “conflict” orientation. The first is when people have basic “interests” in things that are not defined by societies but common to them all. Second, power is viewed not only as a scarce and unequally divided resource but also as essentially coercive. Third, values and ideas are used as weapons by particular groups to advance their own ends, not as a means of defining a whole society’s identity and goals. The contention of Wallace is that conflict comes from interests, power, and ideology. The major strength of conflict theory is in its relating social and organizational structures to basic interests of the people and to the balance of resources: to shifts in resource distribution and power. It also insists that values and ideas must be related to their social environment. RESEARCH METHODOLOGY This study was based on ethnographic fieldwork conducted among the Yorùbá-speaking people of southwestern Nigeria, mainly in Òyó and Òsun states between 2006 and 2011. Both primary and secondary sources were used in the research. The primary methods of data collection involved recording of folklore in the form of poetry, songs, and chants performed at different

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social and religious events, and in-depth interviews with purposively selected traditional carriers of Yorùbá oral literature such as Ifá priests (babaláwo), traditional healers (Oní ègùn), and hunters ( d ), among others. A survey employed open-ended questions to source relevant information about causes of conflicts, traditional conflict resolution strategies, and various verbal art forms used in conflict management in Yorùbá society. The data were analyzed within the general framework of conflict theory applied to the sociology of literature. SOURCES OF CONFLICTS IN YORÙBÁ SOCIETY Conflict derived from diverse sources in Yorùbá traditional societies ranging from the family, economy, chieftaincy, society, and religion as well as the breakdown of deplumation relations and personal annoyances over behavioral pattern that might arise between individuals. This is because people have differing styles of communication, ambitions, political, or religious views and are from different cultural backgrounds. In our diverse society, the possibility of these differences leading to conflict between individuals is always there, and the people are usually alert to prevent and resolve conflict. Conflict could also arise between groups. Usually, people in a group tend to emphasize the things that make their group “better than” or “different from” other groups. This commonly happens in the fields of sport, culture, religion, and the workplace and can sometimes change from healthy competition to disparaging conflict. Among the Yoruba, religious conflict is apparent. People belong to different religious groups and in order to forestall conflict various oral genres have been coined. One of such is an Ifá song collected from Ifayemi Elebuibon, an Ifá exponent, which goes thus: jónífá ó b fá/2x j l sun ó b sun/2x jólódù ó bodù káyé le gún

Let the Ifá worshippers worship Ifá/2x Let the un worshippers worship their un/2x Let the Odù worshippers worship their Odù so that there will be peace on earth.

The individual in the family had the right of protest showcasing annoyance over many things. This could be over property inheritance, interpersonal relations, or a marital situations/matters. Wade (1956, p. 308) and Gluckman (1956, pp. 101–105) have demonstrated in their works how conflict originated from the family. Economy From the economic point of view, it has been found out that conflict also became inevitable in traditional Yoruba communities. This in a way



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justifies Coser’s approach to the phenomenology of conflict even across cultural boundaries of the world, land encroachment, territorial dislocation, house sequestration, trade imbalance, and non-payment of tributes or loans, can be identified as the raison d’etre of conflict origination in traditional African societies as discernible in a Yorùbá aphorism (Orogún òwò burú ju orogún ilé k l —rivalry in business or merchandise space is more brutal than rivalry in a matrimonial space). Also, conflict is concerned with difference. If we were all the same, then there would be little or no conflict. Conflict can be seen to arise from the incompatibility of aims between individuals and/or groups—that is, what I am trying to achieve and what you are trying to achieve. Malthus, the eminent economist, maintains that reduced supply of the means of subsistence is the root cause of conflict. According to him, conflict is caused by the increase of population in geometrical progression and the food supply in arithmetical progression (Malthus, 1798). According to Charles Darwin, the biological principles of “struggle for existence” and “the survival of the fittest” are the main causes of conflict. Sigmund Freud and other psychologists hold the view that the innate instinct for aggression in humans is the main cause of conflict. Thus, various causes lead to conflict. One of the major causes of conflict among people that does not exclude the Yorùbá people is competition over meager resources as noted by Malthus and Darwin. In other words, poverty or deep economic failure is a major cause of conflict. There is a Yoruba aphorism which says, Igbó kan soso ni gbogbo d d , ran tí b nínú igb òhún kò sì t n kan, b e wù l wu m lòmìràn—all hunters in the world are hunting in the same bush and the animals in the bush are not many; it appeals to you as it appeals to other people. In the above proverb, “bush,” “hunters,” and “animals” are used metaphorically to mean economic space, people, and economic resources, respectively. In a similar vein, “hunting” connotes scrambling for (meager) resources. Hence, this proverbial lore reveals that increases in population results in the struggle for existence due to a limited number of available resources within the economic space and this in turn results in conflicts. Chieftaincy enmeshments are prevalent in Yorùbá communities. From time immemorial, the inevitability of competing forces to the royal throne takes place especially when the norms and customs have been relegated to the background. Thus the elements of chieftaincy conflict derived from tussles over the throne, misapplication of custom and tradition, and impeachment or dethronement of a chief or ba. It is not in doubt that insult to the supernatural, breaking of communal taboos, breaches of sacred sanctions, and the desecration of shrines/sanctuaries/groves have been the derivatives of religious conflict in traditional Yorùbá society. The manifestation of disaffection arising from the breaking

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of taboos clearly shows the balance of relationships and power between the sacred and the profane. In Yorùbá culture every lineage has its taboos which members must observe stringently. The penalties given for flouting a taboo are sometimes deliberately harsh in order to startle people into complying with the prohibitions. But in reality, many of the prohibitions are consistent rules intended for the good of both the individual and the community. Covenant and covenant making are present in every area of socio-religious life of the Africans (Mbiti, 1969, p. 24). The Yorùbá people cherished their personality and ethos of respect and honor. Thus, assault on their personality often generated conflict. Likewise, the breakdown of a covenant and the negligence of social responsibilities were obvious grounds for generating conflict. This is encapsulated in one Ifá text thus: Olagunju (2011) says: Òfófó níí p rú Èpè w n a sì polè ˙ níí p r Il dídà Aláj bí níí pa iyèkàn tó bá ebi A jo˙ gbórí il a jeku A jo gbórí il a j ja A j gbórí ilè a j kòkò ìgbín ˙ À d w il a j mu. ˙ ˙

Tale-bearing kills the slave Curses kill the thief Betrayal kills the friend Tutelary divinity kills the relation who has done evil In togetherness on earth, we ate rat In togetherness on earth, we ate fish In togetherness on earth, we ate snail À belongs to the covenant we made together.

In Yoruba and Jewish traditional customs, covenant making is a phenomenon that cannot be toyed with or waved aside as it has become a common practice among the people. In the same way, covenant making or practices are not strange to the Africans; there is no tribe that does not engage in one form of covenant making or the other through ritual practices or blood sacrifice. In Yorùbá tradition and legend, covenant making is a common practice among the traditional worshippers. There are cases of covenant making between two or more communities, friends; and more importantly between the people and the deity and any violation of this covenant will bring serious repercussion on the violator. (p. 15)

The word covenant in Yorùbá worldview has different related words such as máj mu (agreement or covenant), ìmùl (covenant made with the land or the one in which mother earth serves as witness, hence the saying, “ ni bá da il á bá il l ”—whoever breaks the covenant with the land or mother earth will die on the mother earth), àdéhùn (bargaining), ìlérí (promise), ìbúra (an oath taking), and jé (vow or pledge). In Yorùbá cosmogony, máj mu is a strong



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agreement between two people or between a person and family with the deity or gods of the land. Ìmùl is a form of covenant made between two parties and mother earth is made to be a witness as seen in the aphorism, “Il g r af k y rí, ni bá da il á bá il l ” meaning, the earth will avenge anyone who has broken any covenant. Land extends everywhere, and there is no person that will wake up in the morning that will not step on the ground. That is why when a sacrifice is made, it will be placed on the ground for the appeasement of witches, wizards, and unseen forces within the cosmology before it can be accepted. Ìmùl can be done by digging a hole in the ground, pouring water into it, and putting some slices of kola nut in the water. The parties making the covenant kneel down and drink from the water. Among Yorùbá, ìbúra includes but is not limited to the following: Ògún ríré (literally, crossing the emblem or motif of Ògún the god of iron), igbá Odù sísí (swearing with Ifa cultic emblems), and il pa mímu (swearing with graveyard soil) (Ladele et al., 1986, p. 81). The people consider this very effective and efficacious. Covenant making is a serious matter among the Yorùbá once one enters into it; it is binding; it cannot be broken; and if one breaks it, there are great negative consequences. The consequence of breaking covenant is grievous with attending serious repercussion to the defaulting partner, whether a group, nation, or individual. More often than not, breaking of a covenant brings about curses or serious affliction upon the covenant breaker (Olagunju, 2011, p. 16). This authenticates the fact that the breaking of covenant is taboo and a serious cause of conflict in Yorùbá society.

THE YORÙBÁ TRADITIONAL METHODS OF CONFLICT RESOLUTION The Yorùbá traditional methods of conflict resolution and management include but are not limited to the following: employment of extra-judicial methods (socioreligious and political societies such as Ògbóni, Ò ùgbó, etc.); enforcement of diplomatic relations through ìbúra (swearing), ìmùl (covenant), èpè í (curses), etc.; appointment of ambassadors (ik ) as agents of peace; and demonstration of hospitable norms and peace initiatives such as the practice of intermarriages (fífi ìyàwó fúnni) and giving of landed property (fífi il fúnni) as peacemaking inducements. The Yorùbá teach that generosity is one of the weapons of conflict management and resolution. This idea is conspicuous in the orature of the people especially texts of Ifá ( Ifá), proverbs, and other genres. They teach that generosity is a weapon to keep conflict at bay.

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THE YORÙBÁ INDIGENOUS ACTORS, CONTEXTS, AND INSTITUTIONS IN CONFLICT RESOLUTION To the Yoruba people, a mediator (olàjà) is usually a tough person. This is seen in a proverb: Òlàjà ní gbàkó imú—a mediator receives knocks at his or her nose. Understanding the institutional frameworks that shape conflicts and their management will go a long way to enhance the understanding of the emergence of conflicts, and this will, in turn, help in developing management mechanisms to handle them. Many traditional institutions for conflict resolution existed in Yorùbá society, which was instrumental to the facilitation of peace and harmony. These institutions included political institutions (family and palace), economic institutions (markets), social institutions (age-grades and professional associations), religious institutions (deities, ancestors, and sanctuaries), and artists. Each of these makes use of different orature in conflict resolution and management. Ancestors Sacrifices offered during various traditional festivals are means to secure prosperity, long life, and peace for the community. During various traditional religious festivals, people pray to various deities for protection against enemies, evils, and epidemics. For example, G l d festival is celebrated among the Ìjìó, Kétu, Ìm k , and gbádò people of y , Lagos, and Ogun States of Nigeria to placate the witches called Ìyá or Ìyàmi in order to work towards the development of the communities. The witches are believed to be powerful mystical forces from a special group of women in Yorùbá society and they are highly revered among the people. In Yorùbá society G l d masks dance with the mothers and good witches who propitiate and control the power of the bad witches who fly at night causing human misfortune, illness, and death (Beier, 1958; Harper, 1970; Olabimtan, 1972; Drewal & Drewal, 1983; Ibitokun, 1993; Lawal, 1996). Besides, there is the ritual entertainment aspect of Yorùbá festivals. At the same time, the main actors and actresses in most of these festivals traverse the terrestrial cosmos into the celestial cosmos to bring blessings, comfort, and directions for the future of the community. This is in line with the observation of Layiwola (2000) as he puts it while writing about G l d that: If we agree that the medium of the mask is that liminal boundary traversing the world of the living and of the dead, then we understand why the masker can bring blessing and welfare to the human realm. It is also discernible why he can bring untold calamity or imprecations from the elements. But even more significant is that he qualifies, through the medium of poetic chants and rendition, to



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catalogue the gains as well as the various human losses of that season and the lessons the living can learn from them. (p. 3)

Kings, Chiefs, Elders, and Family Heads The kings and chiefs function like baálé ilé—the male household head and elders at the higher level. The family as a traditional institution existed in Yoruba society as a practical model of understanding familial projection and unification of goals and forces desirable of positive outcomes. Conflicts of a diverse nature were resolved at the family level (agboolé/akòdì). Such conflicts included petty quarrels between co-wives, among the polygamous children, between wives and husbands, and the like. The conflicts were resolved based on the bond of unity and consanguinity. The Yoruba had long evolved institutions anchored on conflict resolution and governance of their society. These traditional institutions such as family, compound palace, cultic shrines, and meeting places were characteristically modeled along the line of public will and associational trust. Family meetings were held to resolve problems within the family. This is usually presided over by the family head who is usually the eldest man in the family. The traditional role of the family head (baálé ilé) is encapsulated in the proverb, Àgbà ò sí nílùú ílú bàj , baál ilé kú ilé dahoro—when there is no aged person in the town, the town will collapse; when there is no family head within a compound, the house becomes desolate. The family head is in charge of family affairs especially in the settling of disputes and quarrels among the members of the household or compound. Even when the issue has something to do with a deceased person (especially matters related to distribution of inheritance— ogún pínpín), they usually make use of il pa (the soil of the last layer of the burial ground of the deceased, literally il + pupa (red soil)) for the people who are fighting over the property to swear an oath. The decisions taken at the family meeting are concertedly respected and obeyed while the erring ones are coerced as a form of social control. The words of the elders are well respected and their judgments are considered final within the family jurisdiction. Such a family meeting is considered a unifying factor for the entire people and it enhances development. Ìyálé ilé (female household head) is also crucial in settling disputes within the family especially among the womenfolk—obínrin ilé. Among the Yoruba, the litigants (complainants and plaintiffs) or parties to the conflict and witnesses were well groomed in the tradition from where the stage language and techniques evolved. Whenever proverbial lore was employed by the family or household heads in conflict resolution, they were dramatically presented in order to sharpen the memory of the audience and as a result enlightening them of the vital aspects of their cultural legacy.

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The Yorùbá people use mythology as a strategy for reconciliation and conflict management. For example, there is a common myth about a father called eyí edé (meaning, why have you done this to me?), and his son agbàmá wob (meaning, elders, overlook this act), who had a conflict. In this myth, eyí edé married two wives and the eldest wife gave birth to agbà-má-wob . It was when agbà-má-wob had grown up that his father married a new wife who happened to be of the same age as agbà-má-wob . One day, agbà-máwob had sexual intercourse with his father’s junior wife and this was known to his father. His father was furious with agbà-má-wob and decided to punish him for this act. He asked him to go and search for the leaf called eyí edé and bring it home. In his quest to get this leaf, the child was moving from one vicinity to another. In a community close to his own he met with certain elders of that community and he told them his mission and all that had happened between him and his father. He was then given a leaf and they called the name of the leaf agbà-má wobè (elders, overlook this act). They told him to go to his father with this leaf informing him that he did not find eyí edé leaf (literally, why have you done this to me?) but that it was an agbà-má wo ib (meaning, elders, overlook this act) leaf that he got instead. In the end, when this child got home he told his father as directed by the elders he met in his plight. That was how the father forgave him the act and warned him not to repeat it. The above is one of the many mythologies that the Yorùbá elders employ in managing conflict among people in their communities. This myth also shows that people, especially the elders, should learn how to overlook faults in the lives of the younger ones and to forgive them whenever offended. In many instances, oral genres in the forms of songs, proverbs, and folktales are deployed for solving these types of conflicts. A good example of this is a nuptial song that the housewives usually sing during the consummation of traditional marriage among the Yorùbá which goes thus: Ìyálé Aládùk f’Àdùk m ra ˙ Torí ìw làgbà o! Taa ni kò m níl yìí Pé ìw ló k k w lé ˙ ˙ Ìyálé Aládùk f’Àdùk m ra Torí ìw lagbà o.

The senior wife to Àdùk , draw Àdùk to yourself Because, you are the senior wife! Who in this community doesn’t know That you are the first wife The senior wife to Àdùk , draw Àdùk to yourself Because, you are the senior wife.

The ladies use this song to appeal to the senior wives to cooperate with the junior ones in order to avoid probable conflicts that might erupt within the matrimonial space. To the Yorùbá, conflict is inevitable however close and loving some people may be. This is encapsulated in the saying, “a-r -má-jà kan kò sí.” This literally means, “conflict is inevitable between two close friends.” In order



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to show that the Yoruba people cherish conflict management and resolution there is the conclusion of the above aphorism that says, “a-jà-má-r kò sí,” meaning, “Reconciliation is inevitable for two people quarrelling.” Right from childhood, the spirit of reconciliation is usually inculcated into the children through oral literature in Yorùbá society. The major example is the moonlight songs that are taught to the children to foster unity, oneness, and cooperation among them; thus they grow up. Let us examine the example below. Ení bí ení l m dé Èjì bí èjì làgbàlagbà

kawó tayò

Èta bí èta j ká ta ara wa lór Èrin bí èrin, ni rín ni làá rín Àrún bí àrún, ba má e wá lárungún Èfà bí èfà, j ká fa ara wa móra

One, like one is the means through which a child counts money Two, like two is the means through which the adults play ayò games Three, in threes let us give gifts to one another Four, like four we laugh at people that laugh at us Five, like five, Lord, prevent us from becoming vandals Six, like six, let us cooperate with one another

Aesthetically, the main stylistic device employed in the above genre is wordplay used to enhance memory of the performers and the audience (children). But, there is more to it than literary value. Ethical values in the society are taught to the children in order to imbibe certain qualities and virtues that they will eventually need to maintain peace and order in the society in the future. Children are also taught through songs to respect their parents in order to avoid certain conflicts that might ensue in their interpersonal relationships. One such song goes thus: m tó móbìí r lójú ò Òsì ni ó t m náà pa m tó móbìí r lójú ò Òsì ni ó t m náà pa Òbí tó jìyà nítorí r /2x m tó móbìí r lójú ò Òsì ni ó t m náà pa

The child that disregards her/his parents Such a child will be killed by poverty The child that disregards her/his parents Such a child will be killed by poverty The parents that suffered because of you/2x The child that disregards her/his parents Such a child will be killed by poverty

Mbiti, (1969) has this to say about the powers in the words of the elders: There is a mystical power in words, especially those of a senior person to a junior one, in terms of age, social status or office position. The words of parents, for example, carry “power” when spoken to children they cause good fortune, misfortune, curse, success, peace, sorrows or blessings especially in moment of crisis. (p. 197)

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Conflict is also a common phenomenon within the marital space due to polygamous tradition (Ajibade, 2011). This type of conflict varies and many are not made public due to the culture of silence that is an attribute of the people. The Yoruba people use songs in various forms to resolve these types of conflicts. For example, orin awéré de (folksong) is usually employed to preach certain ethical values such as endurance, patience, and longsuffering among others. For example: Ojú ni á r /2x Obìnrin tó f gbajúm l k Ojú ni á r .

She has to endure a lot/2x Any woman who is married to a popular man She has to endure a lot.

Although the above song reveals the hegemonic patricentric ideology among the Yoruba people, it preaches to womenfolk to endure the scourge of men’s misdemeanor in the matrimonial home instead of putting up a resistant attitude. It is the patriarchal idea that a popular man in the society is allowed to engage in extra-marital affairs against women. Instead of addressing the wrong attitudes and practices of wayward men, the women are addressed to employ patience and endurance to quench the flame of impending conflict. Apart from elders’ use of certain traditional oral genres in settling disputes within nuclear and extended families, there are dexterous artists-singers and poets whose performances are germane to conflict resolution and management. For example, they use their creative oral performances to preach certain ethical values such as patience, longsuffering, and the like that serve didactic purposes in diverse forms. Two of the popular renditions of a notable Yoruba singer Odolaye Aremu’s lyrics are seen below: ni tó g ní

j un k /2x

ni gb n kò ní lè jòkó Bó bá ríyà yóó h r r ni tó g ní j un k À àk mi má e k k o/2x Kò mà síbi t gbin kò sí Fìdí m l kóo j un m .

It is only a “foolish” woman that can enjoy her husband/2x The one who is wise will become a divorcee Whenever there are sufferings she will depart It is only a “foolish” woman that can enjoy her husband My À àk , do not divorce your husband/2x There is no place that is free of cheating Settle down and enjoy your children.

The above songs are sermons unto married women to exercise the attribute of tolerance in a marriage. Tolerance does not mean that one constantly has to “put up” with her spouse; it means that there are times when the wife needs to be patient and choose not to argue when it is not necessary. It is an appeal



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to womenfolk to choose their battles, and learn to endure certain things, rather than arguing or fighting about it. It also portends that they should not allow anger out of frustration due to lack of patience. Any woman who refuses to tolerate her spouse, remembering that we all make mistakes, might lose all benefits of a good matrimony. There are various Yoruba oral genres, such as sà, Ìjálá, that are used to teach various ethical values that in turn foster unity, cooperation, and oneness among the people. For example, an sà chanter chanted the poetry below: A kì í d dùn r t’

l run ò dánidá

A kìí m m í jogún r tí ò kanni.

We must not struggle over what God has not intended for us We must not aim at inheriting what is not ours.

The contention of the chanter of the above poem is that an individual member of the community should endeavor to be contented with what he or she has and should not be greedy. Greediness can result in conflict, especially when an individual wants to take or acquire what belongs to another person. Hence, this particular oral poem among others is used to appeal to people to pursue character that will promote unity, togetherness, and peace. Whenever conflict is resolved, it is celebrated by the community. This is commonly led by the traditional artists, mainly the ìjálá chanters in order to detest the havoc wreaked by conflict.1 An example of such songs sung when the war between Ile-Ife and Modakeke communities in Osun state of Nigeria came to an end goes thus: Tefétefé ó dòkèrè/2x A ò ní rógun níl yìí m

ó dòkèrè

Tefétefé ó dòkèrè A ò ní rógun níl yìí m ó dòkèrè Tefétefé ó dòkèrè.

Far away, far away/2x We will never witness war/conflict in this land, far away Far away, far away We will never witness war/conflict in this land, far away Far away, far away.

The above orature is not only detesting conflict but also celebrating the end of a feud between the then warring communities and it is also a form of prayer that such a conflict will never repeat itself. It is the contention of the Yorùbá people that there is no way that conflict can be totally prevented when there are groups of people, however close they are. This is seen in a proverb among them that ah n àti nu a máa jà—as close as the tongue is to the mouth, they intermittently clash. That is, there are occasions for differing opinions about societal issues that may necessitate

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conflicts, but that there should be room for allowing differing opinions in human relations and interactions. One of the aphorisms used in settling disputes reveals this notion: Kò s ni tí rínú tí kìí bí, m àlè sì ni à b tí kìí gbà—there is nobody that will be offended without reacting, but it is a bastard that will not heed plea. Spiritualists Babaláwo (traditional or community seer), oní ègùn (traditional doctor), and adáhun e (spirit conjurers) are spiritualists that fall into this category. The actors and actresses in this group work in conjunction with the traditional ruler in each concerned community. They feature in diverse forms to resolve issues especially those that are spiritually inclined. This indicates that conflict in Yorùbá cosmology is not limited to the interaction among human beings. There are occasions for disagreement and disaffection between human beings and the supernatural. Hence, the first party to the conflict (human being) and the supernatural-supreme being, deities, and ancestors as the other party in conflict have quite a significant role to play in dislodging whatever might be responsible for the conflict. This usually happens when things are not done in a prescribed way, especially in the way that the custom and norms bequeathed to them by their ancestors. This is captured in an aphorism, Ka e é bí w n ti e é kí ó lè rí bí ó ti rí—we must do it the way they have been doing it so that it can bring the desired results. Whenever there is conflict between adherents of a particular deity, it is believed that such deities can cause people to engage in conflict and war. In order to solve this kind of conflict, the magical art experts usually employ various verbal arts to appeal to the psychoanalytic mind of the people, since the human heart is the seat of anger and conflict. Àyáj is one the many verbal arts that they use in this kind of situation. Hallgren (1995) has rightly observed that: Ase indicates the fundamental ritual and creative power of words and language. We have this circumstance when words are used with authority, for instance, when they derive from the Ifá corpus (divination texts) and are ritualized by a babalawo or when they are used to invoke God and his powerful agents in some other contexts. (p. 79)

Let us examine the Àyáj Inú bíbí níí awo Alárá Èdò fùfù níí awo Ajerò Ès -p l -erétù lawo Òrúnmìlá

ap r (soothing incantation) next: Anger is the trait of Alárá’s priests Annoyance is the trait of Ajero’s priests Gentleness of coolness is the trait of Òrúnmìlà



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Inú bíbí n ò rán ókùnrin lónìí Inú bíbí n ò rán óbìnrin lónìí Èdò fùfù n ò rán ókùnrin lónìí Èdò fùfù n ò rán óbìnrin lónìí Èsò- p l -erétù!!! Ìw ni mo rán sí t m dé-tàgbà, t kùnrin-tobìnrin T í b lóde ilé yìí lónìí Bálágbèd bá fíbínú gbóm owú sókè Èrò pésè níí fíí sò ó kalé N ó wìí N ó fò Ni pépéy se tí í fí w gbó Èyìn òkú là tu adì ìrànà.

227

Anger, I have not sent you to any man today Anger, I have not sent you to any woman today Annoyance, I have not sent you to any man today Annoyance, I have not sent you to any woman today Gentleness of coolness!!! Gentleness of coolness, I have sent you to young and old, and men and women today Who are in this vicinity Although, a blacksmith lifts up the sledge hammer in annoyance He puts it on the ground gently I will speak I will talk Is the desire of duck before he enters into the bush The ritual bird is always slaughtered after the deceased person.

Àyájó’s efficacy has the capacity to penetrate the psychoanalytic realm of the human heart, which is the seat of diverse thoughts of anger, dissension, and ill feelings as pointed out above. Hence, the users, who are usually the political leaders of the local community, use some àyájó to appeal to the mind of people to affect change. This kind of oral genre is usually employed by the traditional rulers in various local communities to appease the mind of warring parties in the society. In many instances, the cited orature and those in its category are ritualistic. Performing it involves the use of cam wood powder (ìy ròsùn), which the incantation will be chanted upon before it is blown into the air by the chanter. This thus portends that such ritual takes place in a highly charged atmosphere. This is in consonance with the observation of Peteet (1994) that: If ritual performances take place in a highly charged atmosphere of domination and crisis and are then cast as relations of power, they may inform a political agency designed to overthrow the domination of one set of performers. Thus ritual, while certainly a system of meaning and communication, can simultaneously foreground a human agency with consequences for the power of its performers. In short, the consequences of ritual can be manifested in attempts to reverse the social order of hierarchies and relations of domination. (p. 32)

The above incantation of the Yorùbá people is a clear manifestation of the space and place of ritual in reconciliation and conflict management. It is the belief of the Yoruba people that quarrels, crises, wars, and violence are initiated by the bane forces believed to reside in the cosmos. Hence, in situations where there is violence, these bane forces that are inimical to human peace are subdued ritually by the power of words (àyáj ). Traditional Yoruba

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beliefs see the world made up of two connected realms. The visible world of the living is called ayé and the spiritual world of the deities (orì à), the ancestors, and spirits, is called orun. In the belief system of the Yorùbá people of southwestern Nigeria, special forces (a ) are the life force that is given to everything by the creator of the universe (Ol dùmarè). This a is believed by the Yorùbá as the power that runs through all things: plants, animals, people, prayers, songs, rocks, and rivers. Existence and vitality are dependent upon a because a is the power to make things happen and change. Hence, the combination of a in the traditional prayers (iwúre) and cam wood powder as cited above are used to appeal to the spirit forces that will in turn work on the psychoanalytic mind of the warring people to desist from conflict. This is in consonance with the observation of Duncan (1953) that: Symbols related to moments of origin have great evocative power . . . symbols related to origin relate to the order of the society itself. Whosoever controls such symbols must be obeyed, for in obeying them we uphold the structure of our society. (p. 122)

Various literary devices are used in the above poetry. The two prominent figures of speech here are personification and synecdoche. In lines 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 of the soothing incantation above, anger, annoyance, and gentleness are abstract nouns depicted as humans. To the Yorùbá, they are all agents of conflict and can be sent on an errand to the psychoanalytic minds of the targeted recipients. This portends that Yorùbá oral literature often includes a strong spiritual and ethical dimensions required to control the special forces believed to be released by the spoken word. It is the belief of the Yorùbá people that these powers are primal energies of creation and destruction that could be approached through verbal ritual of certain genres such as the one cited above. It is believed that there are powers beyond people’s control that influence their actions and interactions at various circumstances. Besides, the Yorùbá believe that there are divine forces that are antagonistic to humans, collectively called ajogun; they are mainly preoccupied with ruination of humans’ work (Abimbola, 1975, p. 131). These bane forces are ritually appeased to through oral art and sacrifices in diverse forms to prevent their inimical acts that result in conflicts. Hallgren (1995) portends that, Ase is both good and bad in its nature, exactly as it is with divine and human authorities . . . Ase is distributed through sacrifice, through consecrated objects, and through words. All three means mostly interact within a context where humans try to change a static and undesirable situation. (p. 92)

It is a common belief among the Yorùbá that whenever there is conflict of any form they attribute it to the Devil (È ù), saying, I È ù ni—it is the work of



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the Devil. This they believed could be averted through incantations. This indicates that the interiorizing force of the oral literature relates in a special way to the sacral, to the ultimate concerns of existence (Ong, 1982, p. 74). The issue that often sparks off a conflict is the “perception” that the one group is maximizing their power and influence at the expense of another. The underlying reason why conflict emerges, however, is often more complex in the Yorùbá worldview. Breaching of agreements or rules can result in a conflict. This is mainly the reason for religious conflict between the community and the community deity that is believed to result in epidemics or different types of shenanigans. In a typical traditional Yoruba community setting harsh climatic conditions are often traced to breaches of religious or ethical rules and these in most instances are believed to incur affliction from the concerned deity. Ethnic conflict in various dimensions has today become the greatest threat to the stability and security of the modern world. There are many inter-communal clashes and conflicts over space, landed properties to be specific. In this regard, efforts are made for resolving this kind of conflict. At such a reconciliatory table, various proverbs are employed in solving the conflicts. For example, Kò sóhun tí a mú wá sáyé, kò sì sóhun tí à ó mú padà—we brought nothing into the world and we cannot take anything back to heaven. Another aphorism employed in this kind of social context is a life paradox that Bí tín layé—life is small. The above two maxims are expressions of Yorùbá beliefs that people should be contented and use material things with care, having in mind that their existence on earth is temporal while their existence in heaven is permanent. Inability to adhere to the above is a way to foment trouble and conflict. Some proverbial lore of the Yorùbá is used as sermons against leaning on one’s rights whenever there is a conflict. This is because insisting on one’s rights can foreclose “further communication with those whose points of view differ from our own” (Glendon, 1993, p. 9). One such proverb goes, Kò seni tii rinu ti kii bi, bee ni omo ale eniyan ni a n be ti kii gba—there is no one that cannot be offended (show annoyance), but it is only a bastard person that doesn’t agree to pleas. This proverb suggests that anyone that is offended should not claim his or her right. In addition, there are various Ifá texts that the people employ to inculcate diverse virtues into people either to forestall fomenting conflicts or to avert already brewed conflicts. Below is an example taken from odù Ogbèw yìn, a combination of two odù: Ogbè w yìn r wò A dífá fún nìkan òkè hún W n ní kó fi p l hùwà Kí wèrè ó baà di méjì ní pópó.

Ogbè look behind Ifá divination was made for somebody He was told to behave cautiously So that he will not also become a mad person in the street.

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The above portends that the Yorùbá regard anyone who cannot control his/her anger as a mad person and anyone who replies to an angry person in anger is no better than the first. Not only this, it preaches patience and forbearance as ethical values needed for peaceful coexistence. Lessons that could be derived from the various oral genres of the Yoruba people that are deployed in conflict management could be summarized as follows: igb ra- ni-yé (mutual understanding), ipam ra (longsuffering), ifàyàrán (endurance), iforítì/ifaradà (endurance), ikóra- ni-níjàánu (selfcontrol), ijólóòtít (truthfulness), if (love), ifojúfò/àmójúkúrò (overlooking mistakes or wrongs), and igbàgbé (forgetting the past wrongs). The last two dictions are usually encapsulated in an aphorism: bí a kò ba gbagbé r àná a kìí l nìkan à n bá eré m , meaning, if we do not forget or overlook the wrongdoings of yesterday, we will not have anyone to play with again. This boils down to idarijin—forgiveness. DEPLOYING YORÙBÁ INDIGENOUS CONFLICT RESOLUTION STRATEGIES IN A CHANGING WORLD Today, there are various conflict resolution programs through electronic media. Thus, television and radio programs are now available in the society with the presentation of conflict issues and their resolution using Yoruba traditional genres such as folktale narratives, proverbs, and mythologies as tools. Among such programs are: irírí ayé (real life experience), Èelà l r , e dá s r yìí (contribute to this matter), and N kan b (wonders shall never cease), among many others. The program producers on radio and television make use of different types of traditional Yoruba lyrics and poetry to preach unity, oneness, and development. A good example is on Orisun FM in Osun state of Nigeria that Ikán paw p ikán m lé Èèrùn paarap w n màgìyàn Àw n oyin parap w n m afárá Torí j iwájú àw n m wa j ká paw p Tún ìpínl un e

Termites built their house out of their unity The black ants built their own colony out of unity the honey bees built their honey comb out of their unity Because of our posterity Let us join hands Repair/rebuild Osun state

The main focus of the above folksong is to inculcate the ethics of unity through the oral literature, seeing conflict as a psychological and social matter. The above traditional institutions for conflict resolution enabled individuals in the society to understand and interpret the norms, which occasioned



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peace and harmony. The institutions also allowed an optimal sense of belonging to the society and the social responsibility that the individual owed the society of his/her birth. Through proper integration into a cultural society, the individual learned, under the various identified institutions, models of conflict resolution. It was to become a masterable art for demonstration. CONCLUSION This study examined the various functions of Yorùbá oral literature in conflict management and mediation. It proves that oral literature is not just an instrument for aesthetic pleasure of the hearers, it is also a force for reconciliation, interpersonal, and cross-cultural understanding. Oral genres are weapons of cultural indoctrination, the ultimate purpose of which is the preservation of group identity, maintenance of peace, and harmony within the society. Hence, the moral significance of oral genres, especially in conflict resolution and management, is highly needed. Sourcing for the data to reconstruct and document conflict in traditional societies is very desirable. This will enable us and the future generations to understand and interpret the nature and functions of the management schemes attendant on conflict in African societies. This is not to deny that there are other sources of conflict known to modern Africa people. Thus, joining the two together will give a holistic view of conflict in African societies. To the Yorùbá, as evident in their oral literature and practices, conflict goes beyond the physical realm; it touches the spiritual, metaphysical, and physical areas such as their relationships with deities and unseen forces. The oral literature is employed at various circumstances: spiritual and physical to promote peaceful existence and community stability and development. Just like the general observation by Zartman (2000) about African societies, the Yorùbá traditional societies in Africa and elsewhere are reputed to hold secrets of peacemaking locked in their ways, formed from centuries of customs before the disruption of colonization. In places and practices that modernization has passed by, these traditions are often claimed to be still in use, keeping the heart of society in harmony while imported overlays are collapsing in conflict around them. Yoruba reputation in conflict management has historic and even contemporary footnotes importance. NOTE 1. The ìjálá is orature usually performed by the Yorùbá hunters. It is sung at various occasions ranging from social to religious events.

Chapter 15

The Challenges of Conflict Transformation Amnesty in the Niger Delta Region of Nigeria in Retrospect Willie Aziegbe Eselebor Transforming the intractable conflicts in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria using the African solution is the focus of this chapter. The prospects of Niger Delta Amnesty leading to sustainable peace are interrogated against the backdrop of ineffectual Western models. The Amnesty deal is a novel mixture of the UN model of making peace domesticated to fill the unresolved gaps in African traditional methods of conflict management. Insurgents were induced to surrender weapons and renounce militancy through monetary rewards which led to voluntary encampment for training and capacity building. In deconstructing the peace deal, findings reveal that belligerents’ transformation has commenced without peacebuilding. Narratives from the indigenous people reveal also that contentious issues of human rights, poverty, neglect, environmental degradation, and infrastructural decay still loom larger in the society. The program failed to take into consideration peace from the African perspective as a change process based on relationship building. Focusing on the expressed need of truth, justice, and reconciliation will contribute to sustainable peace. In addition, connected issues of environmental degradation, sociopolitical, and economic constraints must be addressed constitutionally.

INTRODUCTION During British colonial rule, the Niger Delta was known as the Oil Rivers Protectorate until 1893 when its borders were expanded and renamed the Niger Coast Protectorate. This area has a distinct ecology of sandy and coastal areas, fresh water mangrove swamp, and thick rain forest. The indigenous 233

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people’s occupation is fishing and farming, especially oil palm production, before the discovery of crude oil. A present-day definition of what constitutes the Niger Delta Region can be sometimes difficult due to the economic, social, and cultural divergence. There are problems also associated with the politics of identity, exclusion, and nonexclusion, which are not covered in this study. In recent political terms, it is defined as the South-South geopolitical zone consisting of AkwaIbom, Bayelsa, Cross-River, Delta, Edo, and Rivers states out of the thirty-six states of Nigeria. In terms of resource deposits and oil production, it includes a total land area of 70,000 square kilometers made up of nine states consisting of Rivers, Delta, Bayelsa, Abia, Akwa Ibom, Cross Rivers, Edo, Imo, and Ondo states. Interestingly, historian Alagoa (1976, p. 331) classified the Niger Delta into two spheres consisting of the core and peripheral areas. The core Niger Delta states are Rivers, Bayelsa, Delta, and some parts of Akwa-Ibom, while the peripheral areas are Abia, Edo, Cross-River, Imo, and Ondo states. Some writers have gone further to describe the region in terms of ecology and agriculture. In the context of peace and conflict intensity or agitations by non-state armed groups resulting in subsequent amnesty granted in 2009, Akwa-Ibom, Bayelsa, Cross Rivers, Edo, Delta, Ondo, and Rivers are regarded as comprising the Niger Delta in this chapter. Insurgency, terrorism, hostage-taking, and demand for ransom are common in these states.

Figure 15.1  Map of Niger Delta Region in Nigeria. Source: author.



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This chapter proceeds with a discourse on the challenges of conflict transformation, and examines the genesis of the Niger Delta conflict. It also examines conflict handling styles, including the African traditional methods, and key personalities or actors in conflict management. Amnesty is further conceptualized and operationalized as it relates to transforming localized conflicts. The Federal Government amnesty program is analyzed against other previous peace initiatives with emphasis on peace, justice, truth, and reconciliation, which are the hallmark of African traditional methods. The paper concludes that rebuilding the local capacity of the indigenes can restore peace in the society alongside the government addressing the root causes of the problems. NIGER DELTA CONFLICT The people that constitute the area called Niger Delta lived in relative peace and harmony but in 1956 the Anglo-Dutch oil company, Shell-BP, made the first commercial oil discovery at Oloibiri. The Niger Delta harbors over 95% of on-shore oil and gas reserves in Nigeria which accounts for well over 90% of the foreign exchange earnings. Though the oil find was significant, about 5,100 barrels of crude oil per day was produced then, this did not immediately lead to threats to living environmental conditions. Production rose to 415,000 barrels per day in 1966. Yet there were no significant improvements in the lives and living conditions of the people. The Niger Delta region was, therefore, according to Ogbogbo (2005, p. 169) a place of intense exploration and exploitation of crude oil and gas by different multinational oil corporations. Resulting from this was environmental degradation, which has bred in the inhabitants a feeling of total neglect and tales of poverty, thus triggering conflicts. It is important to note that several options for dialogue were open to all parties concerned as early as 1947, when the Niger Delta Congress was formed for the purpose of protecting the interests of the region. Other initiatives were the Council of Rivers Chiefs of 1953, Rivers Chiefs and Peoples Conference of 1954, the Willink Commission of 1958, and the Niger Delta Development Board of 1960. Coupled with the above is the Land Use Act of 1978, which also vested land ownership in the government thereby taking away compensations to be paid to host communities through the process of land acquisition for drilling sites, camps, roads, and other facilities mostly needed by multinational oil corporations. While there were also frustrations with the litigation options, the discontent in the host communities became more visible, leading to escalation of conflicts immediately after the 1966 military takeover by the government.

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The recourse to agitations and self-help were gradual and not spontaneous; it was over time and became an option assuming high propensity of uncoordinated militant actions early in the 1980s. Notably, the first recourse of hostility was carried out by Isaac Adaka Boro between February 20 and March 7, 1966. Boro who hailed from Oloibiri, the first oil platform community in Nigeria, attacked Shell facilities in Oloibiri, Odi, Mbiama, and Abobiri. His short-lived Niger Delta Republic predated the declaration and secession of Biafra. Further armed insurgency against the Federal Republic of Nigeria was carried out by the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People (MOSOP). A bill of rights was issued in 1990 and expanded in 1992, which placed emphasis on political autonomy and demanded for the rights of indigenous people to participate in the affairs of the state, including the right to control and use a fair proportion of Ogoni economic resources (oil and gas) for Ogoni development. The federal government, a key stakeholder to these demands, did not respond appropriately, but instead detained MOSOP leaders. Ken Saro-Wiwa and other Ogoni leaders were tried and eight of them were hanged on trumped-up charges. Only Ledum Mitee, current president of MOSOP, survived the ordeal. This incident however did not lead to deescalation in the conflicts, but instead strengthened the people in their resolve to actualize their objectives through armed struggles. The Kaiama Declaration of 1998 by the Ijaw was a follow up to the Ogoni Bill of Rights. Article 1 of the Kaiama Declaration asserts that ownership of “all land and natural resources within the Ijaw territory as belonging to the Ijaw communities” because they are “the basis of our survival.” Article 2 insists on the “people’s and communities’ right to ownership and control of our lives and resources” while article 10, the last article of the declaration, mentioned the issue of “resource control.” The Kaiama Declaration also suffered suppression as had the Ogoni Bill of Rights. The forceful reprisal by the federal government of Nigeria in collaboration with the multinational oil companies intensified sabotage, pipeline rupture, hostage taking, and finally armed insurrection against the state. These developments resulted in a high level of insecurity in the Niger Delta region. The states mostly affected are Bayelsa, Delta, and Rivers. The ethnic conflicts between the Ijaws and Itsekiris further complicated the dimension of the crisis. The coinage of the term resource control emerged from this development, which is about the struggles for autonomy, use, and management of natural resources without external interference. Resource control therefore distinguishes ethnic struggles from the oil exploration-related conflicts. It can therefore be reasonably deduced that the complexity and intensity of this struggle is predicated by the responses of other stakeholders like the state and multinational oil corporations. The environmental problems of this region are associated with the following localized challenges:



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• Imminent threat to life and survival of the ethnic minority through deliberate acts of environmental, economic, and political neglect; • Threats linked to oil exploration and exploitation to the exclusion of the people; • Unwholesome collaboration between the government, oil explorers, and external interests represented locally, to the disadvantage of the local people; • Absence of good governance and presence of high-level corruption; and • Festering inter- and intra-communal conflicts funded by the multinational oil corporations to weaken the communities, all of which keep them divided and unstable. In the words of Ogbogbo (2001, p. 83) the grievances of the people include: The lack of infrastructural facilities, portable water, electricity, roads, hospitals, etc., in spite of the huge revenue derived from its bowels has led to conflictual relations between the inhabitants and the Federal Government of Nigeria. Furthermore, the negative consequences of exploration and exploitation of crude oil from the Niger Delta environment has resulted in pain, misery and abject poverty. This has resulted in considerable disquiet in the Niger Delta to the extent of threatening the economic livelihood of the nation and by implication, its existence as a state. (p. 83)

The above assertions are still far from being over. There are still pockets or substantial military resistance going on in the Niger Delta region despite the amnesty program of 2009. The root causes of the conflicts have not been fully addressed, leaving doubts about the propriety of claims of huge successes exploring alternative means. But does amnesty without development and peacebuilding hold the future for the people of the Niger Delta? THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK The Niger Delta problem can be classified as an emerging conflict in which workable solutions, if not domesticated solutions, may remain intractable. Again because of the peculiarity of this situation, normative problem-solving approaches have to be developed over time. Moore (1986, p. 16) describes such a situation as precarious, where the parties are known, dispute is acknowledged, and issues are manifest, but no resolution process has been adopted. The general concern is that operations of oil corporations in the Niger Delta seriously threaten the livelihood of the indigenous people. This can be attributed to insecurities the oil-generated environmental pollution in the region constitutes. Oil spills most often resulted in loss of aquatic species

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and farm resources, and portable drinking water—all of which are sources of livelihood. The response of the agitators and the federal government of Nigeria to these precarious conflict situations can be situated within the confines of Black’s social control theory, and Thomas-Kilmann’s model of conflict management. Black’s (1990) theory presupposes varied conditions involving the use of the following five forms of social controls: Self-help—Unilateral action; Avoidance—Withdrawal; Negotiation—Bilateral or multilateral; Settlement—Agreement; and Tolerance—Understanding diverse human nature (pp. 43–69).

Thomas-Kilmann’s (1992) model explains management of conflicts from the perspectives of assertiveness and cooperativeness, using also five interrelated models: Avoidance—Withdrawal; Accommodation—Concession or yielding; Competition—Positional bargain or contesting; Compromise—Mutual concession; and Collaboration—Working together jointly to solve problems (pp. 651–717).

Conflict handling styles are varied, but can be supported in the works of Borg (1992) and Volkema and Bergman (1995). Escalation in the Niger Delta conflict is driven by government’s avoidance, thereby allowing the people to resort to unilateral actions or self-help. The Niger Delta struggle is very much alive and consists of active demands upon the state. It may also be classified as reactions to the state’s ineffectiveness in handling developmental issues. Again, it is noted that all parts of Nigeria are experiencing development neglect, but the case of Niger Delta is pathetic due to environmental degradation. The minorities of the Niger Delta resorted to militancy as an option to attract the attention of the international community because of the critical nature of crude oil supplies and market instabilities. However, the amnesty program is a combination of compromise and collaboration, hence the admixture of the UN model of peacemaking and African traditional approaches, which are strongly viewed in this study as new initiatives in the theoretical and methodological shift in transforming conflicts in Nigeria. This strategy is already being touted as a solution to the problems of Boko Haram insurgency in northern Nigeria, but can only be feasible if the issues and stakeholders are identified. Conflict is certainly not the absence of war, but can be used to situate a process and a state of being. It is sometimes positive and most often negative.



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Again, according to Moore (1986), “conflict involves struggles between two or more people over values, or competition for status, power and scarce resources” (p. 16). The Niger Delta problem can be understood in the context of disagreement or conflict arising from incompatibility. It is also over who controls the natural resources and basically about power relations. But Azar (1990, p. 5) and Kiely and Crary (1986, p. 39) all agree that conflict arises when two or more people or groups decide to pursue goals which are mutually inconsistent. The parties to the conflict in the Niger Delta are the indigenes, the multinational oil corporations, and the government. What the insurgents seek to achieve over time is not too clear, whether it is power devolution or control over resources. There are other unknown shadow stakeholders who certainly are classified as conflict entrepreneurs. According to Burton (1969), the Niger Delta conflict can be described as “a more extreme form of dispute, involving hostile action and the potential destruction of people and institutions” (p. 2). This assertion that characterizes the Niger Delta conflict as an extreme dispute cannot be ignored. In situations of unpredictable resorts to violent selfhelp, weapons are employed, institutions are affected, and lives are lost. It is noted that the access to sophisticated weapons were made possible through the weak and porous maritime borders and also internal sources of capture of weak armories of the police and military. Conflict entrepreneurs market dangerous weapons to the insurgents and help to sustain the intensity of the conflict. What are the sources of these conflicts? SOURCES OF CONFLICTS Conflict is a complex term with different meanings, depending on the user and the scenario. It can be visualized as having some elements of mutual hostility between or among groups. Again, it could be destructive or constructive. The Niger Delta conflict can fit into the two extremes. It is constructive if the expected outcomes of the amnesty program are satisfying to all, not only the militants or ex-militants. Conversely, it is destructive as the means used are more severe and can cause sorrow, pain, and anguish. Conflicts can occur from a variety of sources, including but not limited to: • Goals—Incompatible goals or conflicting priorities; • Personality conflicts—Individual differences, perceptions, or disagreements; • Styles—People think differently and communicate differently; • Values—This involves issues connected to culture and religion; and • Resource conflicts—Competition over scarce resources like in the Niger Delta Region.

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CONFLICT HANDLING STYLES Knowing the source of conflict can be helpful in exploring the method of handling it. An incremental or rational approach can be adopted after conflict mapping. A conceptual road map is important in determining why a conflict occurred, to identify the barriers to settlement, and prepare procedures to manage the conflict. It is important to note that different conflicts may call for a combination of styles in handling such situations. Some conflicts may require the use of both traditional and Western models. For the purpose of this study, no method is entirely foolproof and sufficient, but initial analysis can begin from the tested model of Thomas-Kilmann. Thomas-Kilmann’s Conflict mode instrument can be helpful in analyzing the Niger Delta region conflict and designing measures in transforming it based on Western models. Five conflict management styles are identified: • Accommodation: The goal is to yield or allow for concession. Accommodating individuals are nonassertive, but cooperative and opposite to competing individuals; • Avoiding: The goal is to delay. This is a dispute resolution technique which involves unilateral withdrawal. It is also curtailment of relationships; • Collaboration: The goal is to find a win-win solution. This involves working together or jointly to find a solution to a problem. In some contexts, it is working with the enemy. In this case, the parties to any disagreement collaborate to reach accord; • Competing: The goal is to win and not to lose. This is another area where disputants act assertively to gain advantage over another party; and

Figure 15.2  Thomas-Kilmann’s Conflict Mode Instrument. Source: http://www. Sourcesofinsight.com/conflict-management-styles-at-a-glance.16/02/2012



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• Compromising: The goal is to lose-lose or at best settle for a middle ground. It is also known as a give-and-take style of handling interpersonal conflict, where both parties give up something to reach an accord. The objective is to find a middle of the road solution that partially satisfies both parties. These are ideal Western models. But do they have actual relationship with African traditional methods? AFRICAN TRADITIONAL METHODS OF HANDLING CONFLICTS It must be stated that before colonialism, African communities had their distinct methods of conflict prevention, management, and resolution. The failure of contemporary Western methods in resolving intractable conflicts in Africa calls for a rethinking and reinvention of strategies. A major significance of African cultures and belief systems is that they serves to prevent conflicts, and where they occur, dialogue, and the mediating role of elders are preferred rather than litigation. Nwolise (2005, p. 155) believes that the principles and values guiding conflict resolution included impartiality, fairness, accommodation, reciprocity, moderation, compromise, and genuine reconciliation. Nwolise (2005, p. 156) went into details to remind us that the essence of dispute settlement in African traditional societies includes: 1. To remove the root cause of the conflict; 2. To reconcile the conflicting parties genuinely; 3. To preserve and ensure enduring peace in the society; 4. To restore peace, remove fear, and restore social harmony; 5. To set the right milieu for societal production and development; and 6. To promote good governance, law and order, security of lives and property, collective well-being, and happiness. This chapter finds this approach plausible, but how to align it with the Western model and make it universally acceptable in managing larger conflicts remains a challenge. The African traditional methods of handling conflicts has the ingredients of collaboration, compromise, and accommodation as enunciated in the Western model of Thomas-Kilmann, but seems devoid of avoidance or competition. Also, it does not favor self-help, or for a person to take the law into his/her own hands. What is not given emphasis in the African traditional setup is the role of women, which has become obviously manifest in conflict transformation in Liberia as well as the Niger Delta. The role of mothers in transforming conflicts is gaining grounds in Africa.

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PERSONALITIES IN AFRICAN CONFLICT HANDLING There are several key personalities who are involved in transforming conflicts in Africa. They include traditional institutions: • Kings and chiefs; • Council of elders/family heads; • Ancestral cults/ancestors; • Age grades; • Secret societies/local deities; • Religious beliefs/taboos; • General assembly of the people in the village square; and • King’s courts. In many African societies, the traditional institution is a very potent factor in conflict resolution. It is complementary to the Western models of alternative dispute resolution (ADR). Whereas the modern systems play complementary roles in ensuring peace and social cohesion, the African traditional system in addition to the stated objectives is premised on healing wounds. In the early postcolonial administrations in Africa, traditional rulers held formidable court processes for conflict resolution. The king’s court especially in communities with a monarchical system are very important in conflict resolution in Africa. Disputes are brought to the king’s court for settlement. During my field trip to Sokoto in Nigeria (2012), during an interview session the Seriki Gobir in Gwadabawa confided in me that the indigenous people did not rely on Western models of conflict resolution as it would further polarize the parties to the dispute if not well handled. The palace courts were in operation in several kingdoms in Benin, Ife, and Oyo empires. With specific reference to the Niger Delta, examples abound of palace settlement of disputes in the Benin kingdom and the Niger Delta states of Bayelsa and Rivers. The Amayanabo or King Jaja of Opobo held sway in resolving inter/ intrapersonal conflicts. The system is based on the traditional justice system of fair play and equity. Traditional methods of social control such as communal solidarity, traditional oaths, rewards, age groups, informal settlements, checks and balances, decentralization, effective communication, and good governance remain strong and have been integrated informally into conflict management in many communities in Nigeria. Women are mostly involved in taboos and rituals in the Niger Delta in an attempt to restore peace. The same applies to the age group and the use of Agbassa juju in Warri dispute settlement.



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THE CONCEPT OF AMNESTY Amnesty is derived from the Greek word, amnestia which literally means “forgotten” and can be used severally to describe post factor state of offences, whose criminality is considered better forgotten. It also implies the restoration of a person who is guilty of a crime to an unconditional pardon and status of innocence. Amnesty can be awarded in several ways including executive fiat, through pardon, or by an act of parliament using legislative clauses and sometimes through judicial reviews. It is applied generally to unnamed persons or groups who fulfil certain conditions, so stipulated and laid down by law. The underlying objective of granting amnesty to belligerents, insurgents, or militants as the case may be is to explore peace through alternative means other than military operations. Amnesty, if not carefully exercised, can be viewed negatively as a reward for law-breaking and criminalities. This is not to say that the intentions of the proponents are faulty, but as an act of grace, if true repentance and reconciliation does not follow, peace becomes elusive. The 2009 amnesty came on the heels of sustained attacks and security concerns over the activities of non-state armed groups, just as more than 500 oil workers and ordinary Nigerians were kidnapped for ransom during this period. Indigenous peoples suffered untold dislocation and hardship either from invading federal government troops or the militants as well. It is instructive to note that by May 2009, following the Joint Task Force attack on militant bases scattered along the creeks of Niger Delta, the Movement for the Emancipation of Niger Delta (MEND) launched a series of attacks on petroleum infrastructure and destroyed the following facilities: 1.  Nigeria Gas Company Pipeline; 2.  Abiteye-Escarvous 121-Inch Pipeline; 3.  Escaravos to Warri Petroleum Products, Marketing Company; 4.  Makarabo-Abiteye Pipeline; 5.  Makaba and Abiteye Wells; 6.  Utona Flow Station; 7.  Shell Pipeline Conveying Crude Oil from Bille-Krama to Bonny Export Terminal; 8.  Shell’s Forcados offshore platform; 9.  Abiteye Jacket 1 Christmas Tree; 10.  Chevron’s Okon manifold; and 11.  Atlas Core Depot in Lagos. The above destruction of oil production and distribution facilities had serious implications for the local and international communities. In addition, MEND and its numerous affiliates in the struggle have demonstrated the

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tactical versatility of offshore attacks on the Bonga oil field platforms. These attacks were backed up with serious organized crimes like piracy, kidnappings, banditry, arms, and drugs trafficking. The security implications also meant strategizing for new approaches to contain or transform the level of sophistication in insurgency. The 2009 amnesty program in Nigeria was initiated to grant pardon and end hostilities on the part of insurgents who took up arms against the state in a bid to control the oil rich Niger Delta region of Nigeria. The armed insurrection in the Niger Delta represents an example of conflict within, which could be traced to colonial and postcolonial problems of environmental neglect. This is borne out of increasing awareness and interest on the environment, the benefits, and attendant degradation arising from exploration and exploitation of mineral resources. Environmental conflicts could be deadly and devastating. The government manipulated control over revenue accrued from the resource to the neglect of the rightful owners. Rents from oil and gas are distributed unfairly without corresponding improvements in the living standards of the ethnic minorities. Escalation of the conflict situation in the Niger Delta was also made possible by the free access to weapons marketed through Nigeria’s maritime borders by oil thieves who lifted crude oil in exchange for illegal arms. The late President Umar Yar’Adua, during his inauguration in 2007, promised to resolve the crisis through alternative means. The first bold initiative was the creation of the Niger Delta Ministry to address the root cause of poverty, neglect, and underdevelopment of this region. The revenue budgeted and allocated in 2009, which amounted to about N444.60 billion (about 2.9 billion), opened up an avenue for constructive engagement and dialogue with the local communities, thus leading to the amnesty programs. The rapprochement was applauded and accepted by the leaders of the militants like Government Ekpemupolo (Tompolo), Henry Okah, Asari Dokubo, Fara Dagogo, Ebi Ben, Ateke Tom, Saboma Jackrich (alias Egberipapa), and Shoot at Sight. In response, they collectively opted for peaceful negotiations by surrendering their weapons: • Tompolo and his group gave up 117 assorted rifles, 5,467 rounds of live ammunition, 20 camouflage bullet-proof jackets, 26 camouflage uniforms, and two helmets; and • The Young Shall Grow and his followers also surrendered 97 assorted guns, 26,102 rounds of different ammunition, etc. Well over 8,000 other militants surrendered their weapons and accepted the amnesty deal by October 4, 2009, when the offer of amnesty closed and militants pledged to cooperate with the federal government of Nigeria. Known beneficiaries of the amnesty program who are still alive include:



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1.  Chief Government Ekpemupolo (a.k.a. Gen. Tompolo); 2.  Chief Ateke Tom; 3.  Alhaji Asari Dokubo; 4.  Chief Bibopre Ajube (a.k.a. Shoot at Sight); 5.  General Ezekiel Akpasibewei; 6.  Farah Dagogo; 7.  Africa Ukparasia; 8.  Paul Ezizi (a.k.a. Commander Ogunbos); 9.  Pastor Reuben Wilson; 10.  Joshua Macaiver; 11.  Ferdinand Amaibi (a.k.a. Bustarymes); 12.  Tamunegiyeifori Proby (a.k.a. Egbele); 13.  Kenneth Opusinji (kula Community); 14.  KileSelky Torughedi (a.k.a. General Young Shall Grow); 15.  Bonny Gawei; 16.  Aboy Muturu; 17.  Hendrick Opukeme; 18.  Paul Bebenimibo; 19.  Chief Dennis Otuaro; 20.  Gomoh Ekiyou; 21.  Saibakumo A.E.; 22.  Wilson Gbaire; 23.  Andabafa Opunamah; and 24.  Soboma Jackrich. The demand for amnesty and inclusion of other militants who initially failed to make the list or to surrender to the offer of amnesty keep increasing daily. Presently, there are about 2,000 warlords in the creeks led by Comrade Babatunde Omatseye holed up in Eghoro Camp in Warri North Local Government Area of Delta State requesting the federal government to include them in the program. The group operates under the name Niger Delta Revolutionary Force for Peace (NDRFP). The emergence of new groups making persistent demands on the state calls into question if the Niger Delta Conflict has been effectively transformed. Again, it is safe to assume that since the amnesty program is partially effective, other sceptics are desirous of joining, since criminality does not pay as much as it did previously. CONFLICT TRANSFORMATION Conflict transformation is an intervening mechanism of handling issues connected to conflict outbreak. It focuses on inducing constructive change in the

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contending parties’ relationships through mutual understanding. The aim is to introduce changes in the characteristics of the conflict. Paul Lederach (2003) is an advocate of conflict transformation and believes that, Conflict transformation is to envision and respond to the ebb and flow of social conflict as life-giving opportunities for creating constructive change processes that reduce violence, increase justice in direct interaction and social structures, and respond to real-life problems in human relationships. (p. 14)

Conflict transformation focuses on: 1. Context and underlying structures of the conflict; 2. Understanding the attitudes, behavior, context, and how it can be changed; 3. Using conflict as an opportunity for constructive change; 4. Advancing positive peace through various stages from short- to long-term commitments; and 5. Establishing linkages between the actors and stakeholders, and improving relationships. According to Lederach (2003), “rather than seeing peace as a static end state, conflict transformation views peace as a continuously evolving and developing quality of relationship” (p. 20). A transformational approach in this circumstance of the Niger Delta amnesty deal ought to recognize that conflict is a normal and continuous dynamic within human relationships. Conflict outcomes can result in constructive change, though it does not always happen and sometimes it can result in long-standing cycles of hurt and destruction. But the key to transformation is reconciliation and a proactive bias toward seeing conflict as a potential for change. Transformation of any form of conflict goes beyond surface analysis. This is because violent conflicts must not only be understood by identification of the main causes, the social structures explaining violent conflict, but they will have to contend with the agenda and motivation of the actors. In analyzing the Niger Delta conflicts, unequal access to basic services and economic opportunities, land, and wealth are among the many factors. However, the hidden agenda of outsiders as well as the motivations of insider actors are critical to resolving this problem. For the avoidance of doubt, analysis of structures and actors in conflict has to be combined. The different categories of actors are explained in Tracks 1, 2, and 3 below (Figure 15.3). The pyramid is a graphic tool most essential in analyzing and showing levels of stakeholders in a conflict. It serves to identify key actors in a conflict, to show which level you are currently working with and which actors you may decide to include or exclude, and to decide what actors or approaches are most appropriate. The Niger Delta conflict in this



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context shows that the government of Nigeria decided to work with the militants to the exclusion of peaceful youths, the law-abiding citizens, and other groups. These approaches call into question whether it pays to be a criminal to be recognized and rewarded in a developing society like Nigeria. Again building links between the excluded youths and the ex-militants included in the amnesty deal becomes impossible as a result of the compensation to a group, which critically depict a win-lose situation. Knowing the actors may well assist in planning intervention. If we decide to adopt the conflict transformation theory for instance, we can explore further the real problems of inequality and injustice expressed through

Figure 15.3  The Pyramid—Three Level Triangles. Source: Adapted from Lederach, 1997, p. 39.

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competing socioeconomic and political goals. Power and control are at the center of these competing goals; and the purpose may be to: • change structures and frameworks that cause inequality and injustices; • improve broken relationships; and • develop platforms that promote empowerment, justice, peace, forgiveness, reconciliation, and recognition. These are vital ingredients which are missing in the amnesty of 2009 in Nigeria. Peace in details is a many-sided struggle to transform conflict, be it violent or nonviolent. Therefore, transforming the Niger Delta’s violent conflict requires more than cosmetic dressings of sham, monetary inducement/ hand-outs, and overseas tours and trainings. The very environments of Niger Delta need serious transformation as well as the actors. Relationships have visible dimensions, but they also have dimensions that are less visible. The issues over which people fight are important and require creative responses. However, relationships represent a web of connections that form the larger context, within which particular issues arise and are given life. Conflict management focuses on controlling behavior and the issues connected to the conflict. But transformation aims to look at the structural causes and the context or the less visible dimensions of the relationship with a view to building peace. Opinions are also divided on why conflict transformation analyses are often too weak on root causes and underlying structures of conflict. This is automatically reflected in the policies deriving from the analyses and how to sustain peace from the point of implementation of the peace process to evaluation. And this leads us to peacebuilding as a factor in the amnesty for the Niger Delta militants. THE NIGER DELTA AMNESTY IN RETROSPECT It is important to note that prior to the amnesty there were several palliative measures that were designed and implemented, but did not work because the root causes of the conflicts in the region were not adequately addressed. They include: 1. The Niger Delta Development Board (NDDB) established in 1960; 2. Oil Mineral Producing Areas Development Commission (OMPADEC) established in 1992; and 3. The Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC) established in 2000. These agencies, like the present Ministry of Niger Delta, were established, controlled, and manipulated from Abuja, which is the power base of



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the major ruling elites and therefore had little or no bearing with the grassroots people they were created to serve. I find explanation in this regard why they could not achieve anything in terms of infrastructural development. The government’s blanket amnesty, cash inducement to armed militants, and a proposal to give oil-producing communities a 10% stake in government oil ventures brought some respite to the region and led to temporary cessation of hostilities, but further entrenched impunity to demands of autonomy. A similar amnesty granted to rival armed groups in 2004 failed to end the Niger Delta violence. Surprisingly, these measures failed to address the problems of corruption, political sponsorship of violence, and environmental degradation that underlie the violence and discontent in the Niger Delta. Interestingly, political, social, and economic factors have been identified as underlying root causes of the problems. This is in addition to environmental degradation which triggers the conflict. Little emphasis is directed to actor analysis. Thus the use of force and palliative measures only confront the symptoms rather than the causes of the crisis. What this implies is that to resolve the conflict in the region, the security policy of the federal government must go beyond the traditional concern for defense of the state and oil infrastructures against internal subversion, external complicity, and attack. Thus, the path to peace and sustainable development of the Niger Delta communities lies in sustainable peacebuilding through a policy regime which recognizes the organic linkage between economic empowerment and development. POST-AMNESTY PEACEBUILDING IN THE NIGER DELTA A major question that has remained valid in the construction of postamnesty in Nigeria is whether any formal agreement was reached between the belligerents, the government, and the multinational oil corporations that are parties to this dispute. The image created by an unsolicited grant of amnesty to peace spoilers in the troubled Niger Delta region of Nigeria is not as transparent as expected. An agreement is a signed document, but beyond the signed paper, there are other matters arising. According to Lederach (2005), an “agreement creates the expectation that the conflict has ended. This assumes of course that the agreement represents substantive solutions to specific problems and we can in some way characterize the agreement as solutions that are to be sustained” (p. 44). The post-amnesty program falls short of this expectation. The region is still turbulent and unsafe for economic growth and development. Post-amnesty peacebuilding is not just a simple a process as

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many would want to believe. It takes both time and resources to accomplish. There are socioeconomic constraints as well as the lack of political will, including the loss of capacity to implement stated integration of ex-militants into the society. Peacebuilding according to Dahlen, Westas, and Wood (1998) includes a “proactive approach to developing and maintaining peace in which the focus is on developing structural and institutional mechanisms that favour nonviolent, constructive means of resolving differences” (pp. 29–30). The overriding objective is to achieve a more comprehensive reconciliation. In the context of the Niger Delta amnesty deal, the militants were favored with monetary compensation to the exclusion of the victims of militancy, who are yet to be compensated. The effects of broken relationships in conflict have not been mended. And therefore achieving reconciliation is suspect. It is important to note that there are psychological components of protracted conflicts and therefore, matters arising from the resolution of such conflicts should also explore psychological and emotional components. The argument here is that the psychological aspects of peacebuilding in the Niger Delta have not been considered sufficiently in post-amnesty architecture. Focusing on the expressed needs of justice and reconciliation will contribute to sustainable peace. The amnesty in the Niger Delta failed to take into consideration peace from the African concept as a change process based on relationship building or restoration of broken relationships. Issues connected to all forms of relational needs and justices are yet to be considered. Symbolic actions confirming that an injustice has occurred or that wrongdoing has occurred have not been given prominence and therefore achieving social equality and full reintegration into the society will be difficult to achieve. The argument can digress further to issues connected to truth and reconciliation. Certainly without justice there can be no reconciliation or peace. The African traditional method of conflict resolution places so much emphasis on truth and reconciliation. The peace in the Niger Delta is temporary because if we adopt a simple model of reconciliation, the peace deal only benefits a few renegade rebels who unleashed terror and harm on their own people and strangers alike. Truth was never told, just as mercy was never sought. Reconciliation in the African setting should include the following: Truth • Acknowledgment of past injustices and wrongs committed; • Official narration of past misdeeds; • Public narration of suppressed stories; • Listening to the injury and pain of others;



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• Validation of pains and injuries; and • Mutual acknowledgment, apology, and repentance for harm caused. Mercy • Forgiveness and letting go—ending the circle of revenge; • Releasing the past with its pains; • Identification with the pain or harm of others; and • Rituals of healing and joint sorrow. Justice • Reparation or compensation for damage inflicted; • Restoration of past losses; • Moral and political restitution; • Social, economic, and cultural restricting; and • Sharing resources, power, and responsibilities. Recommitment • Commitment to risk and trust; • Genuine commitment to behavioral change; • Assurance that hurtful actions will not be repeated; • Commitment to new relationships; and • Reopening the future gates of coexistence. Reconciliation • To resume friendship after estrangement; • Transformation of relationships; • Restoration of broken relationships; • Return to peace, cooperation, and harmony of interests; • High premium on justice, which restores rather than destroys community; and • Conflict resolution with more profound implications for peace. Peace • An end to violence and destructive conflict; • Security; • Development; • Sustainability; and • Inner calm and tranquillity.

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CONCLUSION Transforming conflicts requires designing effective tools for intervention. Since no one conflict is exactly the same and the environment of occurrence differs, traditional methods will continue to be of relevance. It helps peace workers keep track over the outcome of the dispute and the peace plans. It is low-cost, geographically specific, and target oriented. Indigenous methods can address issues and factors that help fuel conflicts, which the larger frame of Western models may not be able to provide solutions to in some complex localities. It is true that communities in post-amnesty Niger Delta view resolution activities directed from outside as unresponsive to indigenous concepts of justice and reconciliation. The communities prefer to resolve conflicts within the jurisdiction, considering the cultural dynamics of the web of relationships that bind them together. In well-organized monarchical systems practicing facilitation, arbitration, and conciliation, it is relatively easy to manage emerging conflicts. However, potential effectiveness is diminished in societies where hierarchical authority is limited and outsiders are stakeholders to the conflict. Traditional tools of conflict management are dynamic, but do not have the capacity to respond to external challenges beyond the immediate environment. The combination of external models with indigenous capacity to transform conflicts is novel and can be refined to manage localized conflicts. Peacebuilding can restore harmonious relationships in a devastated society. Finally, the conflict in the Niger Delta can be resolved, if the federal government can address the political, economic, and environmental factors that ignited the crisis constitutionally.

Chapter 16

From Militancy to Amnesty An Exploration of Nigeria’s Indigenous Conflict Management Strategy in the Niger Delta Region Severus Ifeanyi Odoziobodo and Ifeanyi F. Didiugwu This chapter examines the amnesty program embarked upon by the Nigerian government to stem the tide of militancy by youths in the Niger Delta region. The socioeconomic and political deprivations meted against the people of the region arose from oil exploration and exploitation by multinational oil companies in collaboration with the Nigerian government. These deprivations pitted the youths against the Nigerian government and the multinational oil companies with obvious deleterious consequences on the economy, the security of the region in particular, and the nation at large. Using the relative deprivation, rising expectation, and frustration/aggression model as well as Thomas Kuhn’s paradigm shift as frameworks for analysis, the chapter argues the amnesty program was an ingenious and indigenous last ditch effort in solving the problem, considering the failures of many institutional approaches. The study acknowledges that the amnesty program has brought about relative peace and stability to the region in particular and Nigeria in general. INTRODUCTION For some years now, Nigeria has been enjoying relative peace in the Niger Delta. This situation is unlike what it used to be several years back, starting from 1966 when Jasper Adaka Boro, a former police officer from the Niger Delta, led a rebellion on behalf of the people of the Niger Delta. He recruited forty men into an organization known as Niger Delta Volunteer Force, trained them in the use of firearms, and on February 23, 1966, the men attacked a police station at Yenagoa, raided the armory and kidnapped some officers, 253

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blew up oil pipelines, engaged the police in a gun duel, and declared the Niger Delta an independent republic. All these were done in a bid to demonstrate to the Nigerian government that enough was enough, that the people needed to enjoy the wealth from their soil. The Nigerian government suppressed the revolt and Boro and his men were sentenced to death but later pardoned. Unlike Adaka Boro, Ken Saro-Wiwa, a poet turned human rights activist employed peaceful means in his own agitation for a just and fair treatment of the people of the region for their God-given endowment and the degradation of their environment. According to Adeyemo and Adeyemi (2010): Saro-Wiwa’s charisma and appeal for greater autonomy struck a dangerous nerve with Nigeria’s then military regime which brooked no opposition and was hyper-sensitive to any threat or challenge (real and imagined) to its control of oil resources. Saro-Wiwa and his followers were sentenced to death by a Civil Disturbances Special Tribunal and hanged. (p. 38)

In spite of this supreme price of death paid by Saro-Wiwa and his kinsmen, the people were not deterred; the struggle and agitation continued upon the return of civil rule in 1999 and the people’s angers that had been suppressed and bottled up for several years exploded. The agitation then took a different dimension, a dangerous one at that. It became an armed campaign as the Niger Delta youths took to militancy, forming several militant groups, some fighting genuinely against the injustices meted out to their people, while others fought for their selfish ends, engaging in oil bunkering in the bargain. It is worthy to note that since the discovery of oil and gas in the Niger Delta region, the Nigerian State has done its best to pursue its economic interests to the detriment of the people and at the expense of securing and stablizing the environment of the region. The government of Nigeria has acted to suppress the agitation of the people. State promulgations, including the Petroleum Act of 1969 and the Land Use Decree of 1978, resulted in the restriction of the community’s access to land and whatever resources therein. No doubt, this situation coupled with the attendant chronic deprivation associated with it had contributed in no small measure to the rising spate of violence in the region. Moreover, the government equally employed the use of the military force to suppress the agitation of the Niger Delta communities on several occasions. The people of the region, on their own part, have resisted the government’s wholesale claim to the control of their oil resources and have continued to agitate for the government to provide them with infrastructural facilities. Their agitations soon became militant in the late 1990s. This chapter is aimed at exploring one of the several strategies the government of Nigeria devised to manage the conflict in the Niger Delta. For a long time, the major official strategies of the Nigerian government for managing



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violent conflicts included state creation, the use of the Nigerian mobile police, the Nigeria military, curfew, propaganda, Judicial Panel of Inquiry, compensation, and/or punishment. These measures proved inadequate in solving the Niger Delta conflict until the Alhaji Umaru Yar’Adua administration employed the amnesty measure. This study explores the amnesty program as Nigeria’s “indigenous” conflict management strategy in the Niger Delta. BACKGROUND TO MILITANCY IN THE NIGER DELTA The Niger Delta region of Nigeria cuts across the states of Akwa Ibom, Bayelsa, Delta, Rivers, Cross River, Edo, and some parts of Abia, Imo, and Ondo. The region is endowed with oil and gas deposits and is known for its unique history of contributions to the Nigerian state from precolonial days (Ikime 2006). It can be said without fear of equivocation that no other region in Nigeria contributes more to the nation’s economy than the Niger Delta. It is the geographical heart of crude oil exploitation from where Nigeria earns 99.7 and 90 percent of its export and annual income respectively (Azaiki, 2007; IMF, 2003). In spite of the huge oil revenue derived from the region, the Niger Delta is still grossly underdeveloped and characterized by widespread poverty. There is a grave disparity between the fortunes of the region and the stark reality of underdevelopment. Analysis of poverty and human development in the region paints a dismal picture. The region’s human development index score, a measure encompassing longevity of life, knowledge, and a decent standard of living, remains at an abysmally low value of 0.564 (with 1 being the highest score) (Ogege, 2011). While this rating puts the Niger Delta at a slightly higher level than Nigeria’s overall human development index score of 0.453, the region rates far below that of other countries with similar oil and gas resources (UNDP, 2006). Besides the poor score on the human development index, the living conditions of the peoples in the oil communities are abysmally poor with devastated and polluted environments, destroyed livelihoods, impaired health, and a destroyed social structure. The rate of environmental degradation aggravates and reinforces the problems of human livelihood and other ecological disasters (Ogege, 2011). The people, no doubt, are not happy with the situation. They are convinced that they are marginalized. Their mood is captured in responses to an interview conducted during a study by Amaraegbu (2011). One respondent remarked: “It is inhuman for the residents of a major oil producing area whose resources sustain the country to be despicably denied basic infrastructures” (pp. 2–13). Another remarked:

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Here, we have water but we wash our hands with spittle. They [Nigerian state] rake billions ($) in profits from the oil that flow from our land. They punish us with poverty, sickness, lack of electricity, pot hole infested roads, dry water taps and unbearable living conditions. They set up all sorts of commissions to tell us about development plans but fail to implement any. Our children are not good enough to work in the oil industry. When we protest they tell the world that our children are terrorists and then they send soldiers to crush us. It is unfair. (Amaraegbu, 2011, p. 214)

Yet another remarked: Our region is a site of despair, appalling poverty, anguish, frustration and agony. Our mortal sin is that we have oil, and produce the petro dollar that corrupt Nigerian leaders and even our own sons . . . godlessly share among themselves. Our waters have been polluted, farmlands have become unproductive and our air contaminated. Out of frustration, the young males are dejected, and console themselves with local brew all day. For the females, prostitution remains the only viable vocation. (Amaraegbu, 2011, p. 215)

From the foregoing, it is clear that the Niger Delta people are grossly dejected and frustrated. This accounts for their violent response. They have lost faith in the federal government of Nigeria and have decided to take their destiny in their own hands. Berkowitz (1989) draws a distinction between attitudinal aggression and behavioral aggression as direct results of sustained frustration and acknowledges that aggression is a common example of the link between terrible motivation and repulsive emotions and rudimentary feelings of anger and fear. He notes that people prevented from reaching a desired goal become aggressively inclined, especially when the interference is believed to be improper, like a violation of socially accepted practice or is perceived as a personal attack. In another vein, Ted Gurr (1970) argues that the potential for collective violence varies strongly with the intensity and scope of relative deprivation among members of a collectivity. In his views, the primary source of the human capacity for violence appears to be the frustrationaggression mechanism. This, in part, explains the militancy in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK This chapter is anchored on the relative deprivation, rising expectation, and frustration aggression model as well as Kuhn’s paradigm shift. The first theory was originally developed by Dollard (1939) and his research associates, and later expanded and modified by other scholars including Berkowitz (1980)



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and Yates (1962). According to Anifowose (1982), “the central premise of the frustration/aggression theory, put simply, is that aggression is always the result of frustration” (p. 6). Anifowose (1982) is of the opinion that, given the requisite conditions, an individual whose basic desires are thwarted and who consequently experiences a profound sense of dissatisfaction and anger is likely to react to his condition by directing aggressive behavior at what is perceived as being responsible for thwarting those desires. Harlan and Feagin (1973) equally note that the greater the perceived importance of the desires and the more comprehensive the checking, the more rigorous the aggressive response. A variant of the frustration/aggression theory is the notion of relative deprivation interpreted to mean a state of mind where there is a discrepancy between what men seek and what is attainable. It is the contention of the theory that when we feel thwarted in an attempt to get something we want, we are likely to become angry and when we become angry, the most satisfying inherent response is to strike out at the source of frustration. This, in effect, means that frustration is no longer seen as the blockage of present goaldirected activity, but an anticipated frustration engendered by discrepancies between what is realistically attainable given the social context of what is sought and what is not attained (Ted Gurr, 1970). Another version of the frustration/aggression theory is the revolution of rising expectation which locates the genesis of violence in the feeling of disaffection arising out of the comparison between what one currently enjoys and what one expects, what one thinks one ought to have, or what one regards as ideal (Anifowose, 1982). Bringing this theory to bear on the conflict in the Niger Delta, it is appropriate to aver that the people are frustrated out of anger occasioned by deprivation. The Niger Delta is the place where Nigeria gets a greater portion of her oil revenue, yet the area is grossly underdeveloped. The people lack virtually all the good things that make life worth living; yet much of the revenue used by the whole of Nigeria comes from there. The Niger Delta is the goose that lays the golden egg but the people cannot eat the egg. Other people enjoy the egg. Ekpu (2004) aptly describes the situation thus: “The story of the Niger Delta is the story of a paradox of grinding poverty in the midst of vulgar opulence. It is the case of a man who lives on the bank of a river and washes his hands with spittle. It is the case of people who live on the farm and die of hunger.” The situation is one of relative deprivation. It is a case where the Niger Deltans are deprived a share of the eggs in their land (Odoziobodo, 2003). Relative deprivation is the experience of being deprived of something to which one believes oneself to be entitled (Walker & Smith, 2001). It refers to the discontent people feel when they compare their positions to those similarly situated and find that they have less than their peers. It is a condition that

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is measured by comparing one group’s situation to the situation of those who are more advantaged (Bayertz, 1999). Schaefer (2008) explains it as the conscious experience of a negative discrepancy between legitimate expectations and present activities, while Bayertz (1999) ascribes it to the social science for describing feelings or measures of economic, political, or social deprivation that are relative rather than absolute. Another theory to be combined with the above theories is the concept of paradigm shift, which is used to explain the amnesty dimension. The concept of paradigm shift is a theory that was elaborated in Thomas Kuhn’s seminal book, The Structure of Scientific Revolution (1962). Nwagbara (2010) describes the theory as one that explores shift from business-as-usual or the status quo to palpable radicalization of situations and mindsets. Though a scientific heritage, the concept of paradigm shift has been appropriated by diverse disciplines to address significant and revolutionary breaks from prescriptive and constricting “norms” in society (Nwagbara, 2010). Kuhn (1962) contends that the constraining normative portions of textbooks and science limit our knowledge of revolutionary tendencies in the human world. He therefore advocates a paradigm shift, a movement that engenders fresh, innovative, and transformational landscape in our world as well as organizations. Applying this theory to the amnesty program of the Yar’Adua administration, it is worth noting that ever since the agitation for resource control and compensation for environmental degradation by the people of the Niger Delta, the successive Nigerian governments had always used a violent repressive approach to suppress the people but in the amnesty program, President Yar’Adua made a paradigm shift by moving away from the status quo and used a means that engendered a fresh, innovative, and transformational approach to the crisis. Government enjoys the monopoly of coercion and has all the sophisticated arms and ammunitions. In theory, the government could fight until it crushed the Niger Delta militants. In reality, successive governments had employed this approach in the past and failed. Instead, the Yar’Adua administration employed the principle of no victor, no vanquished. He moved away from war to peace, hence a paradigm shift. MILITANCY IN THE NIGER DELTA The Niger Delta conflict first started in the early 1990s as a protest against the perceived injustice perpetrated against the people of the region by the government of Nigeria and the different oil companies operating in the region. At that period, various political movements and activists employed nonviolent protests to drive home their points. Ken Saro-Wiwa was at the vanguard of these movements until he was executed in 1995 by the government of the



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Federal Republic of Nigeria under the leadership of General Sani Abacha, a draconian leader who brooked no opposition to his government. The death of Saro-Wiwa and eight others of his kinsmen did not deter the people of the region in their perceived efforts to fight for the control of their natural resources. After so many years of peaceful protest without success, the people discovered that they could not achieve their aims unless they employed violence. Thus, the Niger Delta youths began an armed campaign, demanding greater control of the oil resources from their lands. Unlike armed resistance movements in other countries, the Niger Delta gangs are not one organization operating under a common leadership with a unified ideology. There is no central chain of command like the IRA had or clearly defined political ideal. Rather the gangs are a loose collection of several aggrieved armed factions like the MEND and the Niger Delta People’s Volunteer Force (Adeyemo & Adeyemi, 2010). The militants are akin to armed gangs and guerilla armies. Their operations are similar to those of terrorists. They issue threats, use the media, abduct, detain, make demands, carry out targets, and claim responsibility for attacks carried out by their members. They do not usually differentiate between armed adversaries and noncombatants. They fight law enforcement agents of the state, detonate bombs with cell phones, wield big guns, are always in masks, and carry out clandestine activities. They have access to financing. They display professionalism and expertise in their operations (Iduh, 2011). Amaraegbu (2011, p. 208) remarks that the militants had a combination of factors which worked to their advantage. For example, the terrain of the region is characterized by dense mangrove swamps and waterways, making it a fertile ground where shadowy elements carry out guerilla operations without detection. Another factor is the geography of the region which makes transportation and communication infrastructure highly inadequate thereby making the region extremely difficult to police. Again, security in the region is lax as a result of the proliferation of small arms. This has made the region a fertile ground for multiple conflagrations. Also, the success of oil bunkering in Nigeria is an indication that influential state officials offer cover and protection to criminal elements to enable them to operate and also provide security to well-established cartels without the interference of state security forces (Davis, 2009). Added to these tactical differentials are the problems of overwhelming and unwavering force of corruption. The government’s role in the management of the petroleum sector and the lack of operative accountability structures render the industry vulnerable to corruption (Davis, 2009). Corrupt state and security officials work in partnership with criminal elements to undermine effective law enforcement in dealing with militancy in the oil producing areas (Davis, 2009).

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ACTIVITIES OF THE NIGER DELTA MILITANTS Agitations for resource control, compensation for environmental degradations, and a fair share of the oil wealth of the Niger Delta in terms of provision of infrastructure and filling the development gaps in the region had pitted the Niger Delta people against the multinational oil companies operating in the region and the Nigerian government for a very long time. As stated above, these activities began as minor agitation, progressed through nonviolent protests, blossomed to armed campaigns, and reached a crescendo as militancy. The results included kidnappings, hostage taking of expatriate oil workers, vandalizing of oil installations, and a bloody war between the Niger Delta militants and the Joint Task Force raised by the federal government of Nigeria to quell the crisis. The conflict had deleterious consequences on the people of the region, the oil companies operating there, the Nigerian government, and the Nigerian economy. For instance, Kingsley Kuku, Chairman of the Amnesty Program, maintains that at the peak of the crisis in 2009, Nigeria’s crude oil production fell from 2.2 million barrels per day to as low as 700,000 barrels per day (Adesomoju, 2013). It also led to the loss of life and property. As Amaraegbu (2011) notes, it led to very disturbing national (even subregional) security concerns. The regional waterways in the Gulf of Guinea became increasingly risky for any form of business, including fishing. It reduced the frequency of mercantile ship movements and threatened to heighten regional tensions. Niger Delta militants were reportedly enlisted in a failed attempt to overthrow the government of President Teodore Obiang Nguema of Equatorial Guinea on February 17, 2009 (BBC, 2009). As the militancy which pitted the militants against the Federal Government of Nigeria lasted, the militants dared the Nigerian state through ceaseless attacks on persons, facilities, and institutions. The following includes some of the attacks since 2006 as compiled by Adeyemo and Adeyemi (2010). 2006 • Nine officials of the Italian petrol company Eni SPA were killed when armed members of MEND attacked Eni SPA’s security forces in Port Harcourt. • On May 10, an executive with the United States based Oil Company Baker Hughes was shot and killed in the southeastern city of Port Harcourt. • On June 2, a Norwegian rig in offshore Nigeria was attacked and sixteen crew members were kidnapped. • On June 20, ten MEND members were killed by the Nigerian military. The members were working on releasing a Royal Dutch Shell hostage.



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• On October 2, ten Nigerian soldiers were killed off the shore of the Niger Delta in their patrol boat by a MEND mortar shell. Earlier that day a Nigerian/Royal Dutch Shell convoy was attacked in the Port Harcourt region resulting in injuries. • On October 3, a militant group abducted four Scots, a Malaysian, an Indonesian, and a Romanian from a bar in Akwa-Ibom State. • On October 4, Nigeria soldiers attempted a rescue of kidnapped oil workers which resulted in one soldier being killed. 2007 • On May 1, MEND attacked Chevron’s Oloibiri floating production storage and offloading vessel off southern Bayelsa State. • On May 3, MEND seized eight foreign hostages from another offshore vessel. The hostages were released less than 24 hours later, stating they had intended to destroy the vessel and did not want more hostages. • On May 8, three major oil pipelines (one in Brass and two in the Akasa area) were attacked, shutting down oil production and cutting power to a facility run by Italian oil company Agip, part of the ENI energy group. 2008 • On May 3, MEND militants attacked Shell-operated pipelines in Nigeria, forcing the company to halt 170,000 barrels a day of exports of Bonny Light crude. • On June 20, MEND naval forces attacked the Shell-operated Bonga oil platform, shutting down 10% of Nigeria’s oil production in one fell swoop. • On September 14, MEND inaugurated Operation Hurricane Barbarossa with an ongoing string of militant attacks to bring down the oil industry in Rivers State. • In September, MEND released a statement proclaiming that their militants had launched an “oil war” throughout the Niger Delta against both pipelines and oil production facilities, and the Nigerian soldiers that protect them. In the statement, MEND claimed to have killed twenty-two Nigerian soldiers in one attack against a Chevron-owned oil platform. The Nigerian government confirmed that their troops were attacked in numerous locations, but said that all assaults were repelled with the infliction of heavy casualties on the militants. • On September 27, a week after declaring an oil war and destroying several significant oil production and transportation hubs in the delta, the group declared a ceasefire until “further notice” upon the intervention of Ijaw and other elders in the region.

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2009 • MEND called off its ceasefire on January 30. • On May 15, a military operation undertaken by a Joint Task Force (JTF) began against MEND. It came in response to the kidnapping of Nigerian soldiers and foreign sailors in the Delta region. • On June 18, MEND claimed they had blown up a Shell pipeline as a warning to Russian President Dmitry Medvedev who was arriving in Nigeria the next day and to ward off any other potential foreign investors. The conflict was such that the Nigerian government did everything possible to contain the militants while the militants did everything possible to maintain the tempo of the attacks. Unfortunately, this was a crisis that would have been avoided and averted, had all the stakeholders in the oil exploration and exploitation business in the Niger Delta had a sense of justice and goodwill for the Niger Delta people and the nation at large. The people’s situation is such that the report of the Technical Committee on the Niger Delta (2008, p. 51) remarks that “the absence of . . . infrastructure(s) in a region that produces so much wealth and opportunities for the nation has continued to prick the conscience of many and contaminate opportunities for building national harmony and a sense of citizenship.” THE AMNESTY PROGRAM OF THE NIGERIAN GOVERNMENT Since the agitation started, all administrations in Nigeria including the various military governments had devised different strategies for addressing the Niger Delta problem. This is because of the strategic position of the Niger Delta region in the economic equation of Nigeria. It is worth noting that all efforts and all strategies to stem the tide of the conflict collapsed at the altar of political expediency and the militancy continued unabated until the era of Late President Umaru Yar’Adua. The Niger Delta crisis was one of the greatest challenges facing the new administration of President Yar’Adua as he assumed office in 2007. In order to solve the problem, the president made the Niger Delta crisis one of the priorities of his Seven-point Agenda of his administration. He began by appointing a forty-five man technical committee. The committee was to review the various reports on the Niger Delta from the 1957 Sir Henry Wilkins commission through the 2002 General Alexander Ogomudia panel to the 2007 Niger Delta Peace and Conflict Resolution Committee. The president wanted the committee to harmonize the recommendations of the various committees for him to begin action.



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The committee went to work and the resulting report recommended amnesty for militant leaders within a comprehensive demobilization, disarmament, and rehabilitation (DDR) program; an increased allocation of oil revenue to the Delta; urgent improvement of infrastructure and human welfare services; and new institutions for the region’s long-term development. The committee also urged the government to issue a white paper by January 1, 2009, outlining strategies for rapid implementation. Consequent upon the recommendation of the Technical Committee constituted by President Yar’Adua to study various reports on the Niger Delta, the President and Commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, late Alhaji Umaru Yar’Adua, GCFR, on June 25, 2009, proclaimed a 60-day unconditional amnesty period for militants in the Niger Delta as a step toward resolving the protracted insecurity in the region. The terms of the amnesty included the willingness and readiness of militants to surrender their arms, unconditionally renounce militancy, and sign an undertaking to this effect. In return, the government pledged its commitment to institute programs to assist with their disarmament, demobilization, rehabilitation, and provision of reintegration assistance to the militants. These were major preconditions to address wider development challenges in the Niger Delta. Amnesty as a concept is a derivative of the Greek word amnestia, meaning cast into oblivion or forgetfulness. This shares the same understanding with the medical term amnesia, which means a loss of memory (Chigara, 2002). Amnesty is a strategic state policy, which takes a form of executive or legislative clemency in which offenders or those involved in illegal actions are pardoned. Once a person or group is/are granted amnesty, all records of the person’s or group’s accusations, trials, convictions, and imprisonments must be cast into oblivion and people must try to forget the atrocities the person or group had committed. In other words, upon amnesty, the antisocial acts of a person or group are totally wiped out from the records and the person or group is considered not only innocent but also as having no legal connection with the crime in the first place (Schey, 1977). Amnesty is categorized into individual amnesty, amnesty movements, and mass amnesty. Individual amnesty occurs when a person is granted a pardon by the state for an offense committed. Amnesty movements refer to programs in which illegal material or contraband are handed over to authorities with no repercussions for those involved in the illegal business. Mass amnesty is offered to a group of people whose actions, which could be in the form of violent protest, lawlessness, or revolution, threaten cherished values of peaceful existence in a society (Henrard, 1999). With respect to the amnesty program of the Nigerian government, the major objective of the program was to contribute to security stabilization in

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the Niger Delta through the disarmament, demobilization, rehabilitation, and sustainable reintegration of ex-militants as a precondition for medium longterm development. Participants of the program were drawn from ex-militants who accepted the federal government amnesty offer and registered for the rehabilitation and reintegration program. By virtue of the amnesty program of the Nigerian government, the government had envisioned, “a Niger Delta region populated with modern cities, with leading edge environmental practice, economic prosperity, skilled and healthy people and social harmony” (FGN, 2012, p. 1). In the views of Ogege (2011), whichever form amnesty takes, it generates controversy. There are always divided opinions as some see it as the opposite of justice and as encouraging individuals to act out criminal or antisocial behavior knowing that they will not be negatively sanctioned if Table 16.1  The Amnesty Program Disarmament Duration

Aug. 6–Oct. 4, 2009 Key Activities Collection of arms and ammunition, explosives, etc. Documentation and biometrics

Key Enablers

Disarmament camps Massive campaign

Demobilization/ Rehabilitation

Reintegration

6 to 12 months

Up to 5 years

Ex-militants report to camp Verification and documentation Transformational training Peace building and conflict resolution Counseling Career guidance Wellness assessment Reintegration classification Education and vocational placement Graduation and demobilization Transformational Training Centers Rehabilitation camps

Knowledge and skills acquisition Financial empowerment Placement programs Micro-credit Education Reconciliation with local community Conflict resolution framework/ mechanism Monitoring and evaluation Exit of amnesty

Source: Federal Government of Nigeria Amnesty Programme.

Partnering government agencies, NGOs, and private organizations, Office of Government Information Services (OGIs) Tracking and support framework



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they simply stop the behavior. Others maintain that if those involved in revolution are granted amnesty, the war will cease and there will not be additional causalities even though justice had already eluded those who were already hurt or injured or killed while the revolution lasted. Those who are in favor of amnesty argue that it is easier and cheaper to adopt a strategy that will make the people surrender their arms than to confront and punish them (Burke-White, 1987; Hadden, 2004). The controversies notwithstanding, amnesty remains a viable strategy of ending crises because it douses internal pressure and protects agents of government from prosecution as well as promotes peace and reconciliation. It also provides reparation and encourages exiles to return home instead of running away permanently as a result of fear of prosecution for crimes committed. According to Adejumobi (2009), political amnesty is usually a product of two contexts. The first is a negotiated settlement in which two warring parties have arrived at a dead end in their conflict and decide to settle their differences politically. The second context is one of a victors’ amnesty in which a party overwhelms the other, claims victory, and decides to be magnanimous in victory by offering amnesty to some or all of the combatants on the defeated side. The unconditional amnesty of the Nigerian government did not follow any of the above contents. There was no victor in the conflict of the Niger Delta and there was no negotiation for settlement, nor was there any settlement. This is the angle from where Nigeria’s indigenous approach to conflict management in the Niger Delta region manifested. HOW INDIGENOUS IS AMNESTY AS A CONFLICT RESOLUTION MECHANISM IN THE NIGER DELTA? There is no doubt that, in recent decades, Africa is rated as a continent with high statistics of violent conflicts on account of struggle for economic space (Ofuho, 1999). For many years, governments in Africa have relied heavily on conventional, Western conflict resolution mechanisms, while excluding indigenous methods or even indigenizing these Western conflict resolution approaches. In many circumstances, in adopting alternative dispute mechanisms, communities have tended to contrast indigenous approaches with Western legal measures. According to Bob-Manuel (2000), Western conflict resolution mechanisms usually emphasize the establishment of guilt and the exertion of retribution and punishment without reference to the psychology of the victim, the consequences on the wider families, and the implication for future reincorporation of the offender into the community. Physical and material penalties and use of force, including costly prisons, provide the sanctions against offenders.

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Western conflict resolution mechanisms are usually adversarial and evidence must be direct and specific. Amnesty as a concept and strategy is used by various people in various forms. However, in making use of amnesty in the Niger Delta case, the Nigerian government added an indigenous approach; it incorporated native practices that are indigenous to make the program work. It will be recalled that the militancy in the region had boiled over the years, especially under the various military regimes. Before the adoption of amnesty as a conflict resolution mechanism in the region, various forms of conflict resolution mechanisms were initiated by the government but none attempted to embrace the indigenous character of the people. For instance, in an attempt to resolve the Niger Delta crisis, the Sani Abacha’s military regime had adopted an interventionist approach by creating the Oil Mineral Producing Areas Development Commission (OMPADEC). Rather than address the core problems of the region, OMPADEC became a drainpipe. The people became even more frustrated. When Olusegun Obasanjo assumed office in 1999, he adopted a variation of the OMPADEC approach by establishing the Niger-Delta Development Commission (NDDC) through the Niger Delta Development Act of 2000. Both structures and scope of the OMPADEC could not resolve entrenched causes of conflict in the region and its variation in the NDDC Act of 2000 did not prove better. With Olusegun Obasanjo adopting a strategy of force or coercion, the situation in the region became more volatile. An example of this is the historic extermination of the Odi in Bayelsa State. According to Sahara Reporters (2009), “Seven months after taking over as civilian president, Obasanjo ordered the military invasion of a community in the Niger Delta in a vain attempt to send the message to the creeks that his government would not tolerate any agitation for fair distribution of the oil wealth or responsible exploitation of the valuable resources in the area. Obasanjo’s army razed the whole town of Odi to the ground and killed everyone in sight.” President Umaru Yar’Adua adopted a new strategy in 2009. This strategy required the incorporation of the native leaders of the region in appealing to their youths to drop armed struggle. The assurance was that government would not press any charges against them as long as they surrendered their weapons. The government also assured them that they would be adequately reintegrated into the society within the framework of a comprehensive rehabilitation and reintegration program. The indigenous component of this approach could be gleaned from the incorporation of native power points that alone had the capacity to curry the confidence of their youths and assure them that they would henceforth be part of the petro dollar business. Other approaches employed to solve the problem had failed because they had lumped together both the elders and youths of the region as enemies that must be dealt with.



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Among the scattered ethnic nationalities in the Niger Delta region, the first point of conflict resolution is for the offending party to publicly acknowledge guilt and show genuine signs of recompense. This process is very vital because the family and ethnic bonds are strengthened by the traditional extended family structure so much so that aggression against any member of the community is considered an act of aggression against the whole community. Because African tradition emphasizes deep respect for elders as the custodians of tradition and culture and as intermediaries between the gods of the land and the people, younger ones listen more to their elders than government institutions. In adopting the amnesty approach, the government realized that the only way to get the militancy under control was to gain the confidence of the elders of the region whose support the militants enjoyed. It must be noted, too, that many youths lost their confidence in the elders, since they had been used by the Joint Task Force to terrorize the region. President Yar’Adua’s first approach was to create a favorable ground for interaction with the elders of the region and to discuss the content and form of the amnesty package. It was only with the confidence of the elders, who in turn reached out to their militant youths at critical points, that the youths accepted the offer of amnesty. It is from this perspective that we can appreciate the indigenous component of the amnesty program. The basic question has always been whether the amnesty program for the militants was effective. Largely, the approach was effective basically because the militants were not stereotyped by society as outlaws. The process created leeway for people to see them as heroes and freedom fighters who were ready to die for their people. The government had kept its promise of rehabilitating and reintegrating them, and most of them are now undergoing various trainings locally and overseas. Those who had finished their training are today gainfully employed while others have volunteered to join hands with security forces to ensure peace and stability in the region. CONCLUSION This chapter explored the amnesty program embarked upon by the Nigerian government to stem the tide of militancy in the Niger Delta region. Having explored the topic using a combination of theories such as relative deprivation, rising expectation, and frustration/aggression model, as well as the paradigm shift of Thomas Kuhn (1962), it can be stated unequivocally that the amnesty program was a big success to the extent that the key militants surrendered their arms and ammunitions and are today undergoing training and rehabilitation into the society. It is also a success to the extent that there

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is relative peace in the region and oil production is going on uninterrupted. This, at least, was the government’s intent. Buttressing this point, Ajaero (2010) contends that for those who actually know the cost of violence and the quantity of arms and ammunitions, the acceptance by the militants to lay down their arms is one of the best things that has happened to the country since 2009. A state of war was averted by their decision to lay down arms. Whatever may have been the short comings of the amnesty program, the Chairman of the Amnesty Program, Kingsley Kuku berating detractors, maintains that the program has substantially reduced violence in the region, restored crude oil production from 700,000 barrels at the peak of the crisis to between 2.2 million and 2.6 million barrels per day currently. The program has trained no fewer than 16,000 Niger Delta youths in three years, thereby transforming a large number of former militants from armed banditry to productive livelihood (Adesomoju, 2013). The amnesty program may not have solved all the problems of the Niger Delta, but whatever reactions amnesty has elicited, two things are clear. First, it is an unprecedented action in Nigeria’s political history. The offer was a masterstroke in terms of giving Niger Deltans a sense of belonging in the Nigerian project. As a corollary, amnesty has helped Nigeria to advance the course of national integration and the forging of unity in the country. Second, there has been a high level of peace and stability in the Niger Delta region. The peace and stability in the area have in turn given way to more profitable oil exploration activities in the area which has impacted positively on Nigeria’s revenue profile.

Chapter 17

Alternative Dispute Resolution Strategies, Undergraduate Student Union Leaders, and Conflict Management in Selected Tertiary Institutions in Ibadan Clement O. O. Kolawole and Toluwalope O. Kolawole One of the major problems confronting the achievement of Nigeria’s tertiary institutions’ goals of a stable academic calendar is frequent conflicts between students and members of the institutions’ management teams. These conflicts often arise when student union leaders engage the leadership of their institutions in violent confrontations. These disputes may be over a decision to increase school fees or municipal charges. When such disputes break out, they often escalate into dangerous confrontations resulting, on several occasions, in loss of life, damage to public and private property, loss of manhours, closures of campuses, and/or loss of semesters or academic years. But the situation can change if tertiary institutions’ managements resort to the use of alternative dispute resolution strategies as a means of engaging the student union leaders in dialogue. This chapter, therefore, using descriptive research design and focus group discussion (FGD), examines the effects of alternative dispute resolution (ADR) strategies on selected tertiary institutions’ student union leaders. This is with the aim to make a case for the adoption of such indigenous conflict resolution strategies as regular features of tertiary institutions’ conflict management systems. INTRODUCTION One of the objectives of higher institutions of learning in Nigeria is to produce the necessary manpower needs of the country (FRN, 2004). This manpower is expected to pilot the development of the economy, politics, education, and 269

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infrastructural needs of the country. This need became apparent when the foreign experts that handled these various sections had to leave the country after independence. To achieve these objectives therefore, several institutions of higher education (universities, polytechnics, and colleges of education) were established across Nigeria. At the time of writing, there are 122 universities, 63 colleges of education, and 97 polytechnics (32 of which are federal universities) where close to 20 million Nigerians are students and are being prepared for service work in the various sectors of the nation’s economy (Alli, 2012). One major feature of this high number of institutions and students is the need for structures that will ensure that these students are properly prepared for the challenges of the twenty-first century. As noted by Magagula (2007), the institutions are established to meet several objectives among which are to: • generate knowledge; • make the students knowledgeable and informed through teaching; • develop norms and attributes; and • generally improve the quality of life of the community and its members through community service initiatives. Thus, each institution is expected to establish structures for the local organization of the activities of students so that they can play the roles expected of them as stakeholders in their own and the nation’s affairs. Today, almost all higher educational institutions in the country have autonomous student union governments with all the complements of executive, legislative, and judicial arms to run the affairs of the students. These student-led governments, however independent, take briefs from the administration of the institutions for the good conduct of the affairs of the students and general peaceful governance of the institution concerned, and how to manage the various disputes that may occur from time to time. Hammed (personal communication, 2012) remarked that conflicts or disputes within a university are mostly relational and may be triggered by factors present within or outside its campus. The management of conflicts and occasional crises on university campuses is a complex task which sometimes reflects on the leadership style of the institution’s leadership. Thus conflicts or disputes on campuses have resulted in serious problems once the administration failed to respond to them proactively. These institutions’ leadership and students belong to different psychosocial backgrounds with differing expectations: conflicts or disputes often erupt as a result of what the students generally perceived to be unfriendly posture of the people in administration. Students raise issues with their colleagues on “relationships,” political differences, and religious affiliations. For example, Florence (2009) identified many reasons responsible for conflicts or disputes



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between authorities and students. First, conflicts arise when the institution’s authorities feel that their rights as leaders are threatened. Second, conflict can occur when students feel that their interests are suppressed or they want to participate in decision making on matters that affect them. When there is no meeting point between the two extremes, minor disputes may escalate to violence. Garba, Garba, & Olarinde (2001) noted that conflicts in Nigerian universities have increased in dimension and frequency since the 1990s. Generally speaking, when issues which disturb the relationship between students and institutional authorities are not properly managed, they lead to conflicts. Sometimes the ensuing crises may be so major that institutions are shut down for a prolonged period of time to allow peace and order to be restored. Over the years, institutions of higher learning have witnessed several problems due to student-led crises which are popularly referred to as “aluta,” (from a luta, a Mozambican slogan meaning struggle). They have been caused by factors which include the government’s unfriendly economic policy such as an astronomical increase in school fees, issues that disrupt municipal services, withdrawal of the fuel subsidy, political instability, laborrelated agitations, and other issues that go against students’ socioeconomic well-being and the welfare of the larger populace. In the words of Onyeonoru (2001), the crises have adversely affected social and intellectual life within and among the communities in the institutions concerned. Aluede et al. (2005) have similarly remarked that student-induced crises have largely impeded the smooth running of these higher institutions. But the question is, should every crisis in tertiary institutions be allowed to snowball into a full-blown confrontation that often leads to a near-paralysis and the closure of such institutions? While the answer to the rhetorical question is obvious, the closure resulting from such crises has caused both the institutions and students so much in terms of loss of valuable time, resources, and sometimes life due to other related problems in the society. The situation cannot be allowed to continue because “aluta” has done incalculable damage to Nigerian higher institutions. The need to curb it has, therefore, led to the call to adopt alternative dispute resolution strategies in handling students’ conflicts on campuses. This is because such management strategy would promote peaceful coexistence and better conflict handling behavior, and make campuses safer for the business of teaching and learning. Literature has shown that conflict is natural in any human organization because of differences in gender, religion, livelihood, political affiliation, interests, goals, aspirations, and ethnicity. Thus, Hellriegel, Jackson, & Slocum (1999) note that conflict is a sharp disagreement or collision in objectives, interests, and ideas among individuals or groups of people in a community. When not properly addressed, these conflicts or disputes have

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often led to serious confrontations which have resulted in loss of lives, wanton destruction of property, general insecurity, and political instability. Many scholars have recommended the adoption of the alternative dispute resolution (ADR) strategy to manage conflicts in tertiary institutions in Nigeria (Adeyemi, Ekundayo, & Alonge, 2010; Etadon, 2008; Magagula, 2007; Onyeonoru, 1996, 2001). WHY ADR? According to Adeyemi, Ekundayo, & Alonge (2010) and Magagula (2007), conflict resolution involves resolving conflicts rationally and effectively. It is obvious that when parties involved in conflicts or disputes are engaged in negotiation or given room for mediation or arbitration, difficult issues are easily resolved when those involved are open and honest with each other. This has been seen to promote peace and peaceful coexistence instead of conflict escalation. This position is buttressed by the way a major crisis on the University of Ibadan campus was resolved in 2008 when students shut down the campus because municipal charges were “indiscriminately” increased. The crisis was quickly resolved because both the students and the University’s authority allowed a negotiator to intervene and to bring both parties together in a dialogue which eventually led to the resolution of the crisis. Arising from this development therefore, it has become imperative to build alternative conflict resolution mechanisms into the lexicon of university management. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK For the purpose of this study, two theories are adopted, namely, Interactional and Community Relation. According to the literature, Interactional theory contends that behavior is the place to dig for meaning because actions or behaviors are a series of interconnected events which can snowball into serious disputes if not properly managed. It further believes that although people create the situation they perceive, what they perceive is also influenced by what they do (Adesina, 2008). This is why it is important to help people to have a proper understanding of the situation in which they operate to prevent negative influence to view things from the wrong perspective. Community relation theory, on the other hand, advances that there are two concepts which are central to dispute management and resolution. They are (i) improving communication and understanding between the parties (conflicting groups), and (ii) promoting greater tolerance and acceptance of diversity in the community (Adesina, 2008; Kernberg, 1984).



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The combination of these theories makes it clear that the process of dispute resolution cannot be easy if there is no clear perception and understanding of the situation that can lead to dispute in the community and, in this context, the campuses of tertiary institutions. For clear perception and understanding to take place, there is the need for communication, which must be clear and understood by both parties and can be brought about through consultation and consensus building. Thus this study strongly suggests that when contending groups of students and tertiary institutions’ managements are in constant dialogue, most of the situations that could boil over to disputes can be prevented or effectively managed. This is why the Yoruba people have a belief that any matter, however complex, can be resolved once the parties agree to sit down and talk. Taking a cue from the words of Carnine, Silbert, & Kameenui (1990), the understanding of these theories helps in breaking complex conflicts into root causes in order to find a lasting solution to them. CONFLICTS IN TERTIARY INSTITUTIONS IN NIGERIA Most institutions of higher learning in Nigeria have suffered seriously in the past due to poor management of crises (Adeyemi, Ekundayo, & Alonge, 2010; Etadon, 2008; Onyeonoru, 1996, 2001). For example, the students of the Polytechnic, Ibadan went on a series of demonstrations on May 29, 2011, the day the new governor of the state was inaugurated. Students demonstrated because of sudden increase in tuition and fees. No entreaties would dissuade the students from their “aluta.” It was only the quick intervention of the new governor who reversed the increase in tuition that saved the situation; otherwise, many students would have been injured or the institution would have been shut down. The University of Calabar was closed down for six months between September 2011 and February 2012 due to a student-induced conflict that led to wanton destruction of the University’s property as well as those of individual members of the community. At the time of writing, Ajayi Crowther University, Oyo, is closed because of a student-induced crisis. In fact, the situation got out of hand when students burned down a whole department before the senate of the university closed it down. This situation could have been avoided if students had adopted an alternative dispute resolution mechanism that could promote mediation, arbitration, and consensus building. THE PROBLEM Conflicts or disputes are facts of life, which are inevitable but often can be creatively handled if the right strategies or mechanisms are adopted. This study

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examines the effect of ADR among selected tertiary institutions’ student union leaders. The institutions selected for the study are the University of Ibadan and the Polytechnic, both located in Ibadan next to each other. The University of Ibadan was founded in 1948, the first university in Nigeria. It has approximately 20,000 students. Some of the students live in residence halls within the campus while others live in the immediate community opposite the university. The University is very accessible to people of diverse backgrounds who daily troop to campus for academic, economic, social, and sometimes political reasons. Because of its cosmopolitan nature, politicians come to campus to recruit supporters and canvassers among its population. The Polytechnic, Ibadan, shares some of the psychosocial features of the University of Ibadan except that it specializes in the awarding of diplomas and certificates in the technical, engineering field. It was established in 1970 and has six faculties and several departments where both the ordinary and higher national diploma students reside and receive lectures. Generally, what happens on the campus of University of Ibadan in terms of student-led crises have a spiral effect on what happens on the campus of the Polytechnic, Ibadan. It is this similarity in student population and activism and the central roles that both institutions play in the national body of students that this study was situated on the two campuses using their student union leaders. The purpose of this pilot study therefore was to investigate the contributions, if any, of alternative dispute resolution strategies to the promotion of lasting peace among student union leaders on Nigeria’s campuses. RESEARCH DESIGN The descriptive research design involving the use of a questionnaire and focus group discussion was adopted for this pilot study. The study took place at the University of Ibadan and The Polytechnic, Ibadan, Oyo State, Nigeria. History places the city of Ibadan as among the most resilient in West Africa. Established in the nineteenth century by refugees from the Oyo Empire, Ibadan grew into a formidable city through warfare and managed to become an empire in its own right. Being the home of the first university in Nigeria and the pacesetter in politics and political activism, Ibadan is politically developed and has come to influence political discourse in Nigeria. The students of the University of Ibadan, being the first in Nigeria, pride themselves on many firsts because whatever happens on campus there has a way of influencing what happens at other universities in Nigeria. So it is believed that if union leaders on campuses in Ibadan adopt alternative dispute resolution strategies effectively, there is the likelihood that most universities in Nigeria will too. This, it is believed, will influence the way student union leaders will begin to



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handle crises on campus. The study selected its sample from two of the three tertiary institutions in the city because of their long history of existence, history of student activism, and frequency of conflicts. POPULATION/SAMPLE AND SAMPLING PROCEDURE Using a purposeful sampling procedure, thirty-four student union leaders in the University of Ibadan and The Polytechnic, Ibadan, were selected to participate in the study after their consent had been obtained. The students of these two campuses are usually mobilized for conflicts and disputes by their popularly elected leaders once they feel that their interests are not being taken care of by the respective institution’s administration. The thirty-four student union leaders responded to a self-constructed questionnaire which contained various issues that can cause disputes, implications, and their opinion on the use of alternative dispute resolution strategy. A focus group discussion (FGD) also took place to elicit their reactions to the adoption of ADR in dispute resolution on their campuses. Their reactions/ comments on the application of alternative dispute resolution strategies in conflict management in their institutions are presented below. Instrument The major instrument used in eliciting information on the profile of the students and their opinions on the adoption of ADR strategies was a selfconstructed ten-item questionnaire that met the criteria of content and face validity before it was administered to the respondents. In addition, some experts in the field of conflicts handling and management at the Centre for Peace and Conflicts Study (CEPACS) at the University of Ibadan helped to ensure that the questionnaire contained information that would help in eliciting adequate responses from the student union leaders. The respondents were later led to share the basic information about alternative dispute resolution strategy through FGD sessions which took place after they had responded to the questionnaire about involvement in student-led violence, the impact of such involvement, any lessons learned, and their willingness to adopt an alternative strategy of resolving disputes. FINDINGS/DISCUSSION As is evident in Table 17.1, twenty-five of the student union leaders are male while nine are female: twenty of them are from the University of Ibadan

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Table 17.1  Profiles of Selected Student Union Leaders Gender Institution Previous involvement in conflicts/violence

Male: 25

Female: 9

University of Ibadan: 20 Yes: 22

The Polytechnic, Ibadan: 14 No: 12

while fourteen are from the Polytechnic, Ibadan. Twenty-two of the respondents had participated in conflict/violence-related action while twelve have not been involved. It is clear from Table 17.1 that more males are involved in the past struggles and, altogether, a high proportion of student leaders sampled had actually participated in previous conflict/violent demonstrations.

OUTCOME OF PREVIOUS CRISES ARISING FROM CONFLICTS IN THE INSTITUTIONS Some of the students claimed that their experience was not palatable because of the level of violence during such conflicts. A few of their comments are indicated as follows: “the aluta led to low casualty,” “quite successful,” “it only brought about a little change,” “to me it was not successful ’cause the negotiation was not right,” “it is because my spirit does not permit in engaging on such act,” “government and management later responded to our request,” and “it was a brutal experience.”

Immediately after the information above was elicited from the union leaders selected for the present study, a FGD on strategies of alternative conflict resolution took place. The researcher and the students of both institutions were engaged in very fruitful discussions on the strategies of alternative conflict resolution. At the end of the discussions, questions were asked and answered while clarifications were also made where necessary. Table 17.2 shows that twenty-eight of the respondents agreed that there was the need for an alternative strategy that will help to manage conflicts on campuses while six of them did not support it. A reason for this is that those who had participated in student struggles in the past did not wish that the same process which had kept them at home or had promoted the loss of life and property be continued. The students indicated that their past experience informed their decision to support an alternative strategy. Some of them remarked:



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Table 17.2  Preference for an Alternative Strategy that Prevents Conflicts/Violence Preference for alternative to conflict on campuses

Yes 28

No 6

“a lot of energy is being lost, at times, if not properly managed, there could be destruction of life and property” “the after effect of aluta are not always palatable” “aluta creates impression of enmity” “because dialogue is a very good approach to conflict rather than violence” “because I believe we need to dialogue ’cos it goes a long way.” Table 17.3 

Awareness of ADR Strategies by Students Union Leaders

Awareness of ADR as a dispute resolution mechanisms

Yes

No

25

9

Twenty-five of the students (Table 17.3) became more aware and were positively inclined about the need for an ADR mechanism while nine of them said no because they were not convinced about its utility or relevance. Table 17.4 shows that thirty-one of the student leaders agreed that they would use ADR mechanism in their group conflicts because of its potential of helping to resolve issues without much problem while three of them said they would not. The reason that was given is that “most of the leaders or negotiators would be biased and might betray their trust.” Others who said no also indicated that “most negotiators have a way of helping the authorities to have their way because of the promise of better patronage.” In spite of this observation, however, it is noted that the majority of the leaders are persuaded on the need for an ADR mechanism. A majority of the students who promised to use the ADR indicated that, Table 17.4  Would You Use ADR in Resolving Your Group Conflicts? Whether they would adopt ADR?

Yes

No

31

3

“resolving any kind of conflict peacefully is the best way of life, there’s no need for aggravating issues, else, it’s better to make it peaceful” “when one applies it carefully, it works,” “because I believe it is less stressful and obviously more fruitful,” “because it is more peaceful if properly channeled,” “ADR brings a good bargain and leaves less calamity but the government we have does not understand agreement,”

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“because confrontation should always be the last resort,” “because it is a means of dispute resolution that negates the use of violence and destructive mechanism,” “because I think it is the best approach to conflict.”

After all the discussions on the need for adopting ADR mechanisms, the student union leaders were asked the last question based on whether they believe that ADR mechanisms would better help to resolve conflict on campuses. Their responses in terms of those who said “yes” or “no” are presented in Table 17.5. Table 17.5  Do You Believe ADR Will Better Help to Resolve Conflicts on Campuses? Students belief in ADR in resolving conflicts

Yes

No

26

8

Twenty-six respondents indicated that they believed that ADR would better help to resolve conflict on campuses while eight did not. This is because of their perception that authorities in Nigeria, including the government, do not honor agreements. For them, it remains difficult to trust the government, institutional authority, and anyone who is trying to broker peace through ADR. But by and large, a great majority of student leaders indicated that they believe ADR would help. Once confidence is built in the mechanism and it is transparent, it will continue to be useful in handling conflicts on campuses. CONCLUSION/RECOMMENDATIONS Arising from the foregoing, it is clear that the adoption of ADR strategies on the campuses of tertiary institutions in Ibadan will go a long way in promoting a peaceful resolution of some of the protracted conflicts. It is therefore recommended that the authorities to these institutions should adopt the ADR approach each time there is conflict between them and the students’ union leaders. In addition, students should also promote the ADR approach to addressing conflicts between or among them. Moreover, in making ADR work, efforts should be made to engage the services of people with proven records who can be relied upon to be objective and accessible to both students and the authority. The idea of people believing that students do not deserve to be heard has to change because it is better to listen to students than to sweep their issues under the rug.

Part IV

CAMEROON

Chapter 18

Beitonghekeh People’s Power and Conflict Resolution in Cameroon Henry Kam Kah

The Laimbwe people of Cameroon had a practice of ethical reprimand if the peace of the community hung in the balance. The people gathered to pressure blameworthy individuals to amend their ways or be exiled. Although the beitonghekeh remains relevant in resolving conflicts in the Laimbwe polities, its importance has been declining. This chapter examines the role of the beitonghekeh in peacebuilding and conflict resolution in Laimbwe country from the precolonial times and the contemporary challenges to it. The study uses the historical method, including the use of oral interviews, direct observation, archival data, speeches, letters, and other manuscripts. CONCEPTUALIZING CONFLICT RESOLUTION The study of conflict transformation, resolution, and peacebuilding has so preoccupied many scholars that it has led to the development of several approaches. Such approaches include what Abdulrahman and Tar (2008, pp. 188–189) have described as Track One diplomacy or the state-centered approach, and Track Two diplomacy, which includes the role of the civil society, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), the media, academia, businesses, experts, and community-based organizations (CBOs). There is a third, or Multitrack approach, that assumes that individuals and organizations are more effective working together than separately, and that conflict situations involve a large and intricate web of parties and factors that require a systematic approach. While this study recognizes the importance of the multitrack approach to resolving conflicts in West/Central Africa and other parts of the continent, it emphasizes the importance of the beitonghekeh as a moot court for people who in one way or the other threaten the peace and serenity among the Laimbwe people of the northwest region of Cameroon. 281

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Besides, the conflict resolution field has been dominated by Western scholars and scholarship, and has generally ignored the contributions of cultural or “traditional” methods to build peace or transform conflicts as well as the role of women in judicial decision making (Ahorsu & Ame, 2011, p. 7; Crampton, 2006, p. 240; Zartman, 2011, p. 2). In spite of this lopsided approach in much of the existing literature, it is argued in some circles that the Western scholar is a professional outsider and the traditional authorities or other culturally conscious individuals are seen as the respected insiders. While the outsider has training in theory and techniques that makes him/her relatively impartial, the insider, though maybe biased, is preferred because she/he often uses more informal and generally accepted processes. This view has been variously expressed in different publications concerning different areas by many scholars (Udofia, 2011, p. 105; Wasonga, 2009, p. 27; Zartman, 2011, p. 1). The debate about the relative strengths and weaknesses of insiders and outsiders notwithstanding, it takes both the insider and the outsider to employ their expertise and position to avert the outbreak and/or escalation of conflict. Burton (1987) introduces yet another dimension to the approach in handling conflict. According to him, human actions are rooted in and explained by universally understandable rational processes and not necessarily cultural differences. Burton therefore does not subscribe to the cultural approach to resolving conflicts like William (2005) who emphasizes the philosophical basis of conflicts in Africa. The argument of Burton might be tenable when describing or analyzing national and international conflicts, but in local and regional conflicts the cultural or traditional approach becomes necessary and imperative if lasting peace is likely to be attained. Okoro for his part supports the use of the cultural approach in the resolution of conflict. He contends that although traditional African society was susceptible to violent conflict, it always had inbuilt mechanisms such as “social solidarity and belongingness” to avert the outbreak or escalation of violent conflict (2010, p. 136). LeBaron also sees culture as a lens that both facilitates and blocks effective communication and results in conflict (2000, pp. 1–2). He recognizes the cultural dimension to the handling of conflicts by arguing that differences are deep-rooted and linked to identity in ways that cannot be easily homogenized in a Western-conceived process for conflict transformation arising from an “individualist, atomized approach” (LeBaron, 2000, p. 2). This is usually when a multinational force is being used to resolve conflict and the result can be cultural miscommunications and conflict in the midst of conflict. The experience of the past that regulatory societies include the traditional or cultural approach provides information on how contemporary issues can be handled by contesting parties and mediators with historical hindsight. One great advocate of the importance and use of the cultural knowledge of a people in understanding conflict and developing appropriate models is



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Lederach (1995, p. 10), who argues among other things that “[t]he greatest resource for sustaining peace in the long term is always rooted in the local people and their culture” (Lederach, 1997, pp. 93–94; 2009, p. 8). Lederach further points out that simple resolution approaches may be too narrow to bring about lasting peace because they are not inclusive. He contends that in conflict situations, some groups prefer insider partials to outsider neutrals. This all-inclusive method of conflict transformation and peacebuilding is supported by Reychler (2001). He argues that sustainable peacebuilding needs to take into consideration all efforts that can lead to the creation of a sustainable peace zone. This means that cultural or traditional methods have a place in peacebuilding and maintenance and should be used when the need arises. Talla and Ebune (2012) contend that the use of palm wine in the settlement of land disputes in Mbum land in the northwest region of Cameroon in the precolonial period witnessed a change following the German and British introduction of Western methods of resolving these conflicts. Experience elsewhere shows that traditional or cultural methods of peacebuilding have registered successes but also failures. In Somalia, traditional conflict resolution has survived the disruptions and social transformations of complex emergencies. It has proven its worth in the resolution of localized or regional conflicts; it is adaptable and dynamic, not static and timeless. In spite of these positive aspects of the traditional approach, it has its own weaknesses. Among them is the fact that it is situational and not universal. It may at best handle regional and hardly national conflicts. Some recognized and respected elders have under certain conditions instead become obstacles to peace and proponents of conflict. They have invested rather in the material interests of their community as against another community (Menkhaus, 2000, pp. 183–197). In addition, Osaghae adds his voice to the use of traditional systems of conflict management. He argues that this should be incorporated into modern conflict resolution because “it will help to mitigate the disenabling effects produced by the perception of United Nations and Western powers conflict resolution management initiatives as extensions of foreign intervention of the (re)colonization kind” (Osaghae, 2000, p. 202). He further contends that when traditional systems are incorporated into conflict management, this helps to contextualize and also facilitate the participation of local people. This category of people is often excluded in the efforts made to arrive at meaningful peace. The different arguments for or against the use of the traditional approach to conflict transformation notwithstanding, the beitonghekeh and other traditional institutions that have earned respect from their communities need to be incorporated into the state mechanisms of conflict resolution, especially when people of the same ethnic group are involved. The comprehensive approach that takes into consideration the different mechanisms is more likely to yield positive results than one that excludes some mechanisms for others. Laimbwe

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people in Cameroon should benefit from combined conflict resolution mechanisms to keep the society safe from violent and destructive conflicts that are common elsewhere in Cameroon and Africa. PEOPLE AND PEOPLING OF LAIMBWE OF CAMEROON The Laimbwe like other ethnic groups of the west and northwest regions are a semi-Bantu-speaking people. They belong to the Tikar broad group of the western and eastern grassfields of Cameroon who generally trace their origin to Ndobo and Bankim in the Adamawa Region of Cameroon, their ancestral home (Amaazee, 1964, p. 54; Muam, 1999, p. 2; Ngwoh, 2006, pp. 14–15).1 Studies about the Tikar, a contested terminology today (Chilver & Kaberry, 1970, pp. 249–57; Fowler & Zeitlyn, 1996, pp. 1–16; Jeffreys, 1940, p. 32; 1952, pp. 141–153), excludes the Laimbwe whenever mention is made of the Tikar groups of the northwest region of Cameroon (Fanso, 1989, p. 35; Mafiamba, 1969, pp. 59–90; Nkwi, 1987, pp. 15, 23). The Laimbwe cultivate food and cash crops like maize, cocoyams, rice, groundnuts, and coffee. They also engage in other related activities like hunting, lumbering, trading, and fishing. Their sociopolitical structure is centralized and similar to that of neighboring matrilineal ethnic groups, the Kom, Kuk, and Bafmeng people but not the matrilineal Aghem, a confederacy of semi-autonomous polities. The Laimbwe language is spoken in three of its principal polities of Baisso, Bu, and Mbengkas. It is also spoken in neighboring Mughom, Endeng, Teitengem, Aguli, and Mbongkesso polities and villages. While Mughom, Endeng, Teitengem, and Aguli speak a variant of the Widikum language, Mbongkesso blends Laimbwe and Itanghi-Kom,2 a result of the mixing of cultures at the edge of the Kom/Wum Forest Reserve created by the British colonial administration in 1951. The Laimbwe people are located in the northwest region of Cameroon (Figure 18.1). The territory straddles the Menchum and Boyo Divisions and constitutes three polities.3 Bu is the largest and Baisso the smallest and a reference point for Laimbwe traditions and custom because it was the first to be settled by the Laimbwe people.4 The censuses for Bu, Mbengkas, and Baisso at the independence of British Southern Cameroons through reunification with the Republic of Cameroon in 1961 were 1,118, 530, and 185, respectively. In 1979 the population of Bu was 6,944 with a workforce of 2,701 while Mbengkas had a population of 1,978 and a working population of about 900. The estimate for the population of Baisso by 1993 was about 500 (Shultz, 1993, p. 10). The population of Bu is projected to be 17,000 inhabitants by the year 2025 considering the improvement in birth rates (Strategic Plan of the Wum Council, 2009–2014). Mbengkas is a sandwiched settlement between Bu and



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Baisso and second to Bu in terms of population.5 Since the late 1970s, the Mbengkas people have made several attempts to dis-enclave the area but without much progress due to financial difficulties and the deceitful attitude of some of their elite. Although they have been engaged in digging or maintaining the road themselves almost every year, this has not produced the required results until 2012 when the government officially sponsored its construction from Bu.6 The Laimbwe polities are bordered to the north and northeast by Mentang, Teitengem, Ehwi-njong, Endeng, and Mughom. The former is Kom speaking and shares a boundary with Baisso while Mughom which was formerly under the administrative control of Mbengkas clamors for control by Kom. The people believe that Kom will provide them with better security (Lah, 1989, p. 2).7 The Aghem ethnic group borders the territory to the south, east, and southeast and are Mbakong (Mile 28), Obang (Mile 30), Ndung (Mile 34), Aguli (Kekuli), and Befang, an economically viable road junction village and the gateway into the Menchum Valley subdivision from Bamenda, capital of the northwest region of Cameroon.8 The first three settlements are southern border villages of the Bafut subdivision of Mezam. To the west of Laimbwe are Kuk, Bafmeng, and Mbongkesso.9 Baisso is located near the western boundary of Kom and near the Kom/ Wum Forest Reserve. Bu is separated from the other two Laimbwe polities by the River Meteh and the Kom/Wum Forest Reserve. Shultz erroneously asserts that Bu was once a Kom village which is now under Wum but rightly states that few of the Bu people speak and understand Kom (Shultz, 1993, p. 10). Mbengkas on the other hand is located to the southwest of the Kom border and within the Kom/Wum Forest Reserve. On the whole, Laimbwe territory falls within latitudes 60º 50′ north of the equator and longitudes 10º 10′ east of the Prime Meridian (Kah, 1998, p. 29). They are a people with their own peculiarities as far as traditional resolution of conflicts is concerned. THE ETYMOLOGY AND SIGNIFICANCE OF BEITONGHEKEH The word bei in Laimbwe is a derivation from kebei meaning a compound. Tonghe is the process of gathering people to the kebei. Beitonghekeh, therefore within the Laimbwe ethnic group of the northwest region of Cameroon, is the act of convening meetings in the quarter head’s compound, beike’kieteh, or the village palace, tooh. These are public places in the quarter and village which are not class discriminatory. The beitonghekeh usually brought together elders, notables, and commoners alike. It was also not gender discriminatory. Discussions at these gatherings were moderated by the quarter or village notables and were generally focused on security, stability, peace, justice, and food self-sufficiency.

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In the beitonghekeh, the womenfolk met to discuss common sociocultural and economic issues affecting them. They would occasionally gather to make a contribution to the administration or discuss issues of security in the village or quarter. The youths also gathered in this compound on holidays and traditional rest days to be schooled by the elders on the importance of tradition, custom, and history of the Laimbwe people. This was to ensure that when they grew old they would not depart from the core traditional values of their people. The hall in the beike’kieteh or tooh also hosted cultural and other activities on traditional rest days of utuo’metschie and utuo’iwei.10 Mentally challenged individuals gathered at these compounds and were fed by the wives of the quarter head or the fon. The people also made contributions of food and money to facilitate the entertainment of guests who came visiting. Visitors in the village were led to these compounds and were entertained and lodged.11 This was the care and hospitability that was characteristic of the people toward their guests. Their security in these compounds was guaranteed for the length of time they were in any Laimbwe polity. The beike’kieteh and tooh were thus centers of attraction and public places for all categories of people from within and without the Laimbwe ethnic group of Cameroon. There was hardly anything hidden about these compounds because they were for the public; there, different public meetings including political rallies took place during the colonial period. It was the collective responsibility of the villagers to take food to the tooh or beike’kieteh. Masquerades were usually performed here and new members into mekuum or juju societies were initiated. Young boys were taught how to play the xylophone and drum by their peers in these public compounds. Due to the importance of these compounds, whenever the peace and stability of the community was threatened, the people gathered and brought pressure to bear on their leaders to handle it. These leaders then convened a public meeting in these public places and the people collectively pondered the issue and took measures to prevent its reoccurrence in the future. The significance of the beitonghekeh was that it provided the Laimbwe people with an opportunity to come together, discuss common issues affecting them, and socialize. Different age groups and genders were given the opportunity to meet and discuss issues relevant to their welfare and how they could meaningfully contribute to the development and security of their community. This shows the degree to which the people were tolerant of divergence within the sociopolitical structure of the society.12 It also reveals the internal mechanisms among the Laimbwe which promoted intergenerational dialogue between the young and old. The youths met and listened to the elders and also performed socioeconomic activities which went a long way to keep them abreast of their cultural values and norms. They also met to dialogue with the elders on pertinent things that hindered their full participation in



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the decision-making process of the village or quarter. Similarly, women also had the opportunity to express themselves on important socioeconomic and political issues that affected their collective well-being.13 The beitonghekeh was therefore a forum for discussions and a common ground for people to reconcile their differences which was important as far as peaceful coexistence was concerned among the Laimbwe people of Cameroon. RATIONALE FOR AND CASES OF BEITONGHEKEH The convening of the beitonghekeh was usually the result of serious matters that emerged and needed to be properly and promptly handled. The population usually expressed the need for this meeting to the elders and notables, and to address a persistent problem that affected them in the village or quarter. There were several factors that contributed to the good attendance and successful convening of the beitonghekeh either in the quarter or the village by the elders. One major factor that led to the calling of a meeting in the beike’kieteh or tooh was when the people expressed the need for ethical reprimand of a notoriously recalcitrant fellow within the community.14 The beitonghekeh also tackled cases of witchcraft and adultery. The complainants and defendants were listened to in the public compound and a decision was arrived at to the satisfaction and approval of the people present. This meant that children, women, and men all converged in the quarter head’s compound or the palace following an announcement by the information bearer or phe’ngheem. In the mornings of utuo-metschie or utuo-ewei, a traditional resting day in Bu for the first and Mbengkas and Baisso villages for the second, everyone gathered at the public compound. The tone of the message from the crier signaled the intensity of an impending case for collective adjudication. The guilty individual was either exiled or warned to behave responsibly.15 The beitonghekeh was not a frequent event and was usually convened only when it was absolutely necessary to maintain law, order, and security. The quarter head (kieteh) convened the beitonghekeh following persistent complaints from his subjects to the effect that durable peace was threatened in the quarter. The kieteh first met with his tetscheh (elders) of different lineages to discuss the matter before it was made a public event. They discreetly carried out investigations to establish the veracity of the complaint from a cross-section of the population. When the investigation proved the complainants right, the phe’ngheem or quarter crier was asked to announce the convening of the beitonghekeh on a traditional rest day to hear the complaint and defense to it and take a decision. If on the contrary, investigations were unfounded, the tetscheh took measures to dispel any rumor and no one was reprimanded.16

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During the beitonghekeh if an accused person adhered to the advice of the kieteh (quarter head) and the tetscheh (elders), she/he was spared the disgrace of facing a riotous public and the consequences thereof.17 While all these unfolded, the fon (fuai) and the kuiifuai were informed. The reason for doing this was to forestall any challenge and/or interrogation from the palace (tooh) to the assembly of the people. Among the crimes that necessitated the convening of beitonghekeh included adultery, killing through witchcraft, or continuous maltreatment of children through sexual abuse or harassment. The practice of banishing people for witchcraft and related cases has also been discussed by Talla and Ndambi (2005, pp. 122–139; 2009, pp. 124–145) in Wimbum country at the palace level in the northwest region of Cameroon. During a public hearing, victims testified to the wrongs of the accused person who was given an opportunity to defend himself or herself. Thereafter, the judges who included the quarter head and other lineage elders were left with the task of ruling on the matter with fairness and without bias in front of the public. If the evidence overwhelmingly showed that the person was guilty of the counts against him or her, then she/he was compelled to succumb to the decision of the quarter assembly. People from neighboring quarters attended the beitonghekeh to witness the deliberations and report to the members of their quarter.18 In some cases, if the evidence was overwhelmingly against an accused, she/he was not allowed to speak, but was simply ostracized or exiled. In most cases, however, she/he was given room to express themself before the crowd gathered and a decision was taken. Decisions were usually arrived at depending on the severity of the crime committed, which could lead to the flogging of the person led by the fehndzjeh mask and banishment from the quarter. The decision to exile the person was executed immediately and she/he was asked to quit the quarter carrying nothing with him or her. The fehndzjeh mask and the population that gathered followed the person to the boundary separating the polity with its neighbor to be sure that such a person never returned. The other quarters also decided not to harbor the exiled person and at the end, she/he quit the village for another. The fehndzjeh, lineage heads, women, and children played an important role in the banishment of a person who was found guilty through their ululations, songs of disgrace, and the sending off of the person from the quarter or fondom. The beitonghekeh punished wickedness and promoted love and peace among the Laimbwe people. It also brought together saa’tenduoh (different lineages) to address issues that threatened peace in the quarter and sustained a deliberative spirit among the lineages, which were important pillars of stability of the quarter and village. The masses gave their support to the kieteh (quarter head) and his elders to punish wicked people and maintain peace in the quarter.



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The beitonghekeh also offered an opportunity for wrongdoers to plead their cases and/or pay a fine to the people for the forgiveness of their wrongs.19 It was a system of justice based on fairness, equity, and sincerity. It was unfortunately and perhaps unintentionally destroyed in the Laimbwe polities by Western education, Christianity, and intervention of the administration through the defense of human and people’s rights beginning during the colonial period. There are still a few instances where a beitonghekeh takes place but its independence and impact have been compromised by these external factors. There was also a beitonghekeh at the level of the village. This was convened by the kuiifuai regulatory society which in Bu village was near Sa-ah Ngwo’s compound. The Sa-ah Ngwo’s compound is one of royalty which is considered to have been founded by an Ehzem lineage member by the name of Kechuiseh or Ndangbi, but now belongs to the Eselemei lineage as a beika’enduoh (lineage compound). In the other Laimbwe villages of Mbengkas and Baisso, the beitonghekeh was convened at the Eselemei and Ehzem palaces, respectively. The village beitonghekeh was convened following complaints from the quarters of persistent problems such as witchcraft and murder that threatened their peace. Once it was established that these complaints were genuine, the due process of law took its course. The culprits were summoned to the common compound of the polity for adjudication of the matter. The entire village came out on an utuo-metschie or utuo-ewei (traditional resting day) to witness the kuiifuai regulatory society or tetscheh (village elders) handle the matter. The decisions finally arrived at included ostracism, exile, or warning to the person in public.20 If the decision taken was exile, the person at serious fault was escorted to the boundary of the village by the fehndzjeh mask, men, and women who returned home singing victory songs. In the history of Laimbwe, some cases of beitonghekeh were recorded from narratives by eyewitnesses. In 1969 and 1979 two notorious cases of witchcraft led to the convening of the beitonghekeh in Bu with a view to banishing culprits. The first one in 1969 led to the exile of Mali Kanghe from Bu to neighboring Mbengkas and the latter case concerned Nyangha and Bi Kembong. After several hours of standing under the scorching sun, the fon of Bu village, Chu Mbonghekang, was personally involved in the grilling of this notorious gang of witches. They were spared the wrath of the population when they promised to desist from witchcraft practices.21 These are a few of the cases of beitonghekeh which were recorded in Bu village almost twenty years after the independence and reunification of the Cameroons in 1960–1961. The kuiifuai regulatory society was responsible for convening the beitonghekeh and inviting the accused persons to defend themselves. The most recent case of beitonghekeh in Mbengkas village was in 2006 when David Kang was asked by the kuiifuai to leave the village because he was

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found guilty of witchcraft. In spite of this recent case, beitonghekeh is generally on a decline in Laimbweland because of several factors. DECLINE/CONSEQUENCES OF THE BEITONGHEKEH As Laimbweland became integrated into the German and British colonial system and the Christian missionary societies and educational institutions were established, the beitonghekeh gradually declined in importance. The missionaries challenged all forms of traditional methods of adjudication of cases and encouraged members of their congregation not to adhere to them.22 The trend continued after independence when the government recognized customary courts but ultimate power rested with the modern courts. Soon after independence, the Christians of the Presbyterian Church in Bu accused Chief Chu Mbonghekang of persecuting them and they petitioned against mask societies, the drinking of concoction of herbs, traditional dances, and all traditional institutions of the people which included the convening of the village assembly, the beitonghekeh.23 As the Christian population increased, so too was there a decline in the number of people, especially women, who adhered to the traditional method of settling disputes. Christians took their problems to the catechist, pastors, and priests for prayers and for solutions to them using the Bible.24 In addition, the trade and plantation labor made Laimbwe people come into contact with Western values and when some of them eventually returned to settle at home, they opposed the settlement of disputes through a village assembly. Rather, they advised complainants to take their cases to the government-approved and recognized village council or the customary court. In this way, the traditional beitonghekeh was gradually rendered redundant.25 The decline of the beitonghekeh was not automatic because in spite of the existence of these other forces, serious crimes were still settled through the beitonghekeh right up to the 1980s in Bu village and the practice still takes place in Mbengkas and Baisso though in declining frequency. This is also because beitonghekeh is usually a spontaneous exercise borne out of circumstances of the time. Many Laimbwe people who also went to school declined to encourage people to settle differences through the village assembly. They were carriers of cultural change as far as issues of this nature were concerned. The beitonghekeh which used to be important in bringing about peace and stability in the Laimbwe community was no longer as attractive as before. The people went to the police and brought convocation to their accused persons who were asked to appear before the police and/or court for cross-examination. The role of the beitonghekeh in the settlement of disputes among people in Bu village



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has been so neglected that people now compete with one another to travel to Wum, 12 kilometers away, to collect convocation or summons for their adversaries. This situation is compounded by a chieftaincy feud which started in the colonial period and intensified after the death of Fon Chu Mbonghekang on September 9, 1981. The impact of the decline of the beitonghekeh in the settlement of disputes over Laimbwe land has been telling on the people. First, there is no longer respect for elders who usually used their wisdom to handle cases and unite the people of the village. Secondly, the role of women in the settlement of disputes through beitonghekeh also declined. Prior to its decline, women usually mounted pressure on the quarter or village notables to convene this assembly to iron out certain burning issues that threatened the peace of the community. They also followed the exiled person to the boundary of the village to ensure that she/he was gone for good. The decline of the beitonghekeh also gave room for Laimbwe people to manipulate the modern judicial system to their personal advantage and to the detriment of the population or those who had cases with them. Others preferred the catechists and clergymen to mediate conflicts among Christians, but it became problematic if the case was between a Christian and a nonChristian. The greatest impact of the decline of the beitonghekeh on conflict resolution was that instead of collective moral censure that involved everyone gathered in the village or quarter head’s compound, individuals negotiated their cases in the customary or modern court with all the intrigues involved. It soon became clear that the strong bought their way out of guilt and implicated the weak who never got a fair hearing. CONCLUSION The Laimbwe village assembly, the beitonghekeh, was a veritable institution of moral censure among the Laimbwe people. It was established after the settlement of the people in the eighteenth century following their migration. At the beginning, this institution was established only in Baisso village and the other two villages of Bu and Mbengkas would go there when a case was called for adjudication. As the population grew, the beitonghekeh was established in the other two villages and thereafter the quarters also came up with their own beitonghekeh to handle serious problems affecting the peace of the quarter. In this way, problems could effectively be handled at the different strata of the administrative units of the Laimbwe people. This institution continued to function with the elders moderating the cases even during the colonial period. However, the introduction and activities of the Christian missions, notably the Presbyterian Church, and Western

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education, rendered the beitonghekeh less reliable for the adjudication of cases. The catechists and pastors openly preached against traditional customs and practices and the school made the educated to seek legal redress not in the beitonghekeh, but in the modern courts set up by the colonial and postindependence administrations. The mobility of the sons of Laimbwe country to the plantations in the coastal region of Cameroon exposed them to modern systems of handling cases and so they were no longer keen to see that their cases were amicably settled the traditional way. This made it difficult for the elders to enforce a practice of ethical reprimand if their subjects were not willing to succumb to it. Today, the beitonghekeh has declined in importance especially in Bu. Some people accused of menacing the peace of the community complain their inalienable rights have been tampered with. Others consider this as character assassination which is punishable by the Cameroon legal system. The recognition of this institution’s role by the government of Cameroon as an effective

Figure 18.1  A Cross-Section of Menchum/Boyo Divisions Showing the Laimbwe Polities.



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and efficient deterrent to instability in the community is important to ensure peaceful coexistence. The traditional institution together with the modern system of adjudication of cases can contribute towards building and sustaining a culture of peace and conflict resolution in Laimbwe land in particular and Cameroon in general. NOTES 1. See also Rev. E. N. G. Cheng (personal communications, March 20, 1996) and Ret. Rev. S. M. Asang (personal communications, January 7, 2008). 2. This is the mother tongue of the Kom ethnic group. 3. Prior to 1992, Boyo Division was an integral part of Menchum Division first as Njinikom and then Fundong subdivision. The name Menchum Division came into being in 1968 following an administrative rearrangement of Cameroon. After the World War II, the British colonial administration carved out this region into the North Western Federation which on July 5, 1949 was named Wum Division. It was a result of the break-up of former Bamenda Division into the Bamenda Province consisting of three divisions namely, Bamenda, Nkambe, and Wum. Today the region is divided into seven divisions namely Mezam, Menchum, Momo, Donga Mantung, Boyo, Ngo Ketunjia, and Bui. 4. The appellation Laimbwe means “I say” and refers to both the ethnic group language spoken by the people of the three villages of Baisso, Bu, Mbengkas, and satellite ethnic groups such as Mughom, Teitengem, Endeng, Mbongkesso, and Aguli. The name Laimbwe came into written records in the 1950s when sons and daughters of this ethnic group met in Likomba, Tiko and agreed to work together and also develop Laimbwe country through culture and infrastructural developments. Prior to the 1950s, the people often referred to themselves as Laimbwe only in discussions. 5. NW/Ac. 1960/1/Bk, Historical Notes Bamenda Grassfields Regional Archives Bamenda (RAB); NW/Qc/b. 1979/4/Bk, Annual Report 1979/1980 of the Divisional Delegation of Agriculture Menchum Division North West Province, RAB. In an address presented to Mrs. Margaret Dinkelaker and the Goppingen-Wum visiting mission team to the Wum Presbytery on January 13,1991, the Chairmen of the Bu Traditional Council and of the Presbyterian Church Bu said that Bu village was over 8,500 inhabitants. These figures have grown and according to estimates for the entire ethnic group, the population size today is over 14,000 with Bu alone estimated to be over 10,000 people. These estimates are found in many speeches presented to visiting government officials and other related services. 6. File No. NW/Qc/b. 1979/4/Bk, Annual Report 1979/1980 of the Divisional Delegation of Agriculture Menchum Division North West Province, RAB; File No. NW/Qb/a. 1985/6/Bk, Diagnostic Account of the Economic, Social and Cultural Situation of the Menchum Division since the Inception of the 5th Five Year National Economic, Social and Cultural Development Plan, RAB. Frantic efforts are presently made by the Boyo administration to link Mbengkas to Fundong through Baisso and Mentang.

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7. See also the documents “Misunderstanding and Disagreement between H. R. H. Fon Yibain James of Kom and Chief Kpwai II Clement Toh of Mbengkas Chiefdom over the Mughom Chieftaincy/Kwifondom Issue since May 18, 1990–May 29, 1994;” Minutes of a Meeting Held in the Divisional Office Fundong on the 31/01/91 concerning the dispute between the Chief of Mbengkas and the quarter head of Mughom in Mbengkas Village. Other settlements under the influence of Mbengkas include Teitengem and Endeng, but these settlements also have close cultural affinities with the valley settlements of Tingoh and Obang. 8. The first three villages are under the Bafut subdivision while the last is located in the Menchum Valley subdivision, one of the four subdivisions of Menchum Division. The other three subdivisions are Wum Central (where Bu village is situated), Fungom, and Furu-Awa. 9. Mbongkesso is also spelled Mbongkessu. Kuk and Bafmeng are located in Fungom subdivision and Mbongkesso in Fundong subdivision of Boyo division. 10. E. Bouh, S. Kai, V. Neme, H. B. Kai, J. Fueh, and G. Njuh (personal communications, December 30, 2008). 11. A. Kom and J. Wakem (personal communications, December 28, 2008). 12. Ret Rev. S. M. Asang (personal communication, December 28, 2008), and M. Sei and S. Ekai (personal communications, January 8, 2009). 13. Interview with M. M. Ikai and M. Izoi (personal communications, December 27, 2007). 14. M. K. Ngeh, L. Ache, and F. Ngong (personal communications, January 8–10, 2009). 15. T. Kendang and T. Ndong (personal communications, December 28, 2008). 16. J. K. Ikai (personal communication, March 10, 2008). 17. J. Bah and N. Akou (personal communications, February 25, 2012). 18. I. Tunghe and K. Njuh (personal communications, January 13, 2008). 19. G. Njuh and H. B. Kai (personal communications, December 30, 2008). 20. M. B. Ikai and A. Ngai (personal communications, December 27, 2007). 21. N. Akou, M. Nanghe, and M. Ngui (personal communications, February 25, 2012). 22. Letter from Catechist T. N. Amaazee to the Authorities on the Persecution of Christians, December 27, 1964. 23. Ret. Rev. S. M. Asang (personal communication, December 28, 2008); Letter from Catechist T. N. Amaazee to the Authorities on the Persecution of Christians, December 27, 1964. 24. A. K. Embou (personal communication, December 27, 2012), one of the oldest Christians of the Presbyterian Church Bu. 25. T. Ndong (personal communication, December 28, 2008), and J. B. and N. Akou (personal communications, February 25, 2012).

Chapter 19

Indigenous Peacemaking among the Banso People of Cameroon Bonyang as a Conflict Resolution System Solomon Losha and Stephen Ojong Agbor

This chapter describes the role of bonyang as an indigenous conflict resolution mechanism in the Nso political and administrative system, and as a gerontological and anthropological system of peacemaking embedded in implicit cultural experiences accumulated over time. It argues that while conflict resolution in the Western context is conceived as problem solving underpinned by the objective realities of the individual conflict parties and issues, and managed through a resolution process with clearly distinct stages, the bonyang conflict resolution process is communal, holistic, and transcendent, and rooted in the realities of the spiritual and material worldviews of the Nso people. This is a case study; the findings show that the ultimate goal of conflict resolution in the bonyang system is community peace, community education, and institutional stability. Because of the spiritual and material interplay of the bonyang conflict resolution mechanism, the outcome of the peace process in this system has a higher chance of community adherence. INTRODUCTION The chapter provides a detailed insight into how the Banso people of Cameroon use indigenous structures to resolve conflicts. The process is rooted in the traditional worldview of the people. The chapter further describes in detail the process of conflict resolution and compares it with the Western system to show that while the Western system is individualistic, the Banso indigenous approach is collective. Nso is the largest kingdom in the Bamenda Grassfield of the North West Province of Cameroon. With a population of some 200,000 and an area of 295

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2,300 square kilometers, Nso is heavily populated for an agricultural region, with an average density of some 85 people per square kilometer (Goheen, 1992). Because of this high population density, conflict over agricultural land is very common. Besides agriculture, the Nso people also have a strong cultural attachment to land. In describing their relationship with the land, they say, they “belong to the earth just as the earth belongs to them” (Goheen, 1992, p. 392). This expresses the connection the Bansos make between their physical and their social environment. In the Nso worldview, the “physical and the social worlds are inextricably interconnected” (Goheen, 1992, p. 392). This sense of self and belonging is captured in Boulding’s (1956) notion of image as a subjective theory of the world through which individual worldviews are created and their sense of belonging is located in space and time. The sense of belonging of the Bansos is intricately defined not only by the sociopolitical space, but also by the physical space on which the Nso kingdom is built. It is in this space that is found the ancestral gods and the idea that good and evil compete for dominance and control of the world of the living. SOURCES OF CONFLICT IN THE NSO SOCIETY The Bansos are a very culturally attached people. A traditional Banso sees and interprets the world from the perspective of his culture and believes the world is Banso and Banso is the World. This absolutist view of self invites conflict with neighboring ethnic groups who often view the Bansos as arrogant and stiff-necked (Goheen, 1992). However, this worldview of the Bansos illustrates in a very unique sense what Nsamenang (2009) describes as the social ontogenetic development of self. In the case of the Bansos, children are brought up through a process of gradual and systematic social integration to understand and appreciate the world from this absolutist worldview. This collectivists’ conceptualization of human ontogenesis “differs in theoretical focus from the more individualistic accounts proposed by Freud, Erickson and Piaget” (Serpell, 1994, p. 18). It also thrives in the abnegation of otherness, thus inciting social conflicts. Even within the Bansos, the internal cultural divisions of its people are also a source of conflict. There are basically two major classes of people within the Nso ethnic group. These are the mtar “commoners” and the wirfon “people of the fon” (Fjellman & Goheen 1984, p. 480). The wirfon are divided into wanto “royals,” and duiy or “royal cadet lineages” (Kaberry, 1962), and nshilafsi or nshilav (singular) meaning “palace retainers.” Although not a class society, while this division only serves a functional purpose of identification, it often breeds conflict among the Bansos as each category reserves certain privileges which serve as a source of jealousy from others.



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Due to conflicts over land rights, domestic violence, succession, inheritance, and cultural interpretations of rights and privileges among the different categories of the Bansos, social conflicts are common. In order to effectively respond to these conflicts an institutional mechanism of conflict resolution known as the bonyang (sometimes referred to as the family traditional council system) exists in villages and fondoms of the Banso. The word “bonyang,” is translated as “peace is good.” THE SOCIAL, POLITICAL, AND ADMINISTRATIVE ORGANIZATION OF THE NSO SOCIETY The Nso sociopolitical set up is organized around a lineage system and the fondom. Descent in Nso society is patrilineal and occurs at four different levels, namely, the family, the sublineage, the lineage, and the clan (Fjellman & Goheen, 1984, p. 480). The head of a lineage is known as a “fai” or “Big Man.” He is the political and spiritual leader of the lineage and is seen as the custodian of peace and stability within the lineage. He presents and defends the views of the family and consults the fon in matters regarding political integrity and the peaceful coexistence of his lineage with other lineages. A lineage attains the status of a fai if it has produced at least five generations (Fjellman & Goheen, 1984, p. 480). Fais are selected from a pool of eligible adult men of the lineage by a group of elders who bring the name of the potential fai to the fon. However, in the case of a common lineage, that is the lineage of the mtar wir, the fon consults with the ng, werong—the fon making society. Nevertheless, the fon “reserves the political and symbolic right to make and dispose fais whatever their lineage type” (Fjellman & Goheen, 1984, p. 480). Under the fais are the sheys. A shey is the head of a sub-lineage. As a lineage becomes large, a fai may decide to name a shey for the sub-lineage, which he must report and justify his action to the fon. Sheys, like fais are also the political and spiritual leaders of their sub-lineage. They preserve the peace and stability of the sub-lineage in consultation with the fai whom they serve under. The fon is at the top of the hierarchy of social, political, and administrative organization of the Nso society. The fon is an important symbol for all the Nso people. He symbolizes the sociocultural unity of Bansos, and is emblematic of their cultural worldview. Consequently, the fon is seen as the custodian of peace, unity, and progress of the Bansos. In showing their allegiance and recognition, every Banso is required to publicly greet the fon and to provide certain goods and services in support of the institution of the fondom. The word of the fon in the Nso society is final and usually treated as meaning action without delay.

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It is in this strictly hierarchical sociopolitical and administrative setup that the institution of bonyang or the family traditional council system functions as a mechanism for peacemaking and conflict resolution among the Bansos.

METHODOLOGY Key Research Question This research was driven by the key research question: what are the principles and practices that influence the perception of conflict and conflict management in the bonyang system? Data Collection The data for this chapter was gathered using the single case study methodology. The case study protocol for the research laid out project objectives, case study issues, field procedures, credentials and locations of data sources, and case study questions to guide data collection. The project objectives were developed from the key research question and the case study issues were identified from the gaps in the literatures of culture and indigenous conflict management in the Nso society. The sub-research questions which were developed from the case study issues focused on exploring the following themes: perception of conflict among the Bansos; bonyang as an ideology and institution of peacemaking in the Nso worldview; the role of fon, fai, shu-fai, shey, and elders and family heads in the bonyang institution, the procedure for presenting and investigating a conflict in the bonyang peacemaking institution, the shaming practice in the bonyang peacemaking process, the procedure for determining and implementing a fine to be paid by the offender, the reconciliation process of the bonyang mechanism, and the role of songs and proverbs in the peacemaking process. The credential for selection of data sources took into consideration Nso traditional cultural and social diversity as defined by age and village of origin in Banso. Using the snow-balling technique, one person who knew the bonyang conflict management mechanism also knew another person who had knowledge of how the mechanism functions. In the piloting phase of the research protocol, the interview themes were reviewed by ten Nso immigrants living in the United States. These immigrants were selected from the Nso community in the United States who had knowledge of the Nso culture. The forum of the Bui Family Union of the United States (BFU-USA) was instrumental in identifying and locating these immigrants. Although the immigrants exhibited varying degrees of



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Westernization vis-à-vis their social expressions, they all had strong attachment to the Nso cultural values. The interview themes were presented as unstructured interview guides. The choice of the unstructured format was determined by the need to allow the informant the flexibility to decide which of them to describe first. Twenty interviews were conducted with the key informants in Banso. The key informants included fai, shufai, sheys, elders, and family heads. These informants were also selected using the snow-balling technique. A fai, shufai, shey, elder, or family head who was knowledgeable of the Nso culture and the bonyang conflict management mechanism also knew another fai, shufai, shey, elder, or family head who also had good knowledge of the Nso culture and the bonyang system of conflict management. The data analysis involved examining, categorizing, combining, and tabulating recurring themes that emerged from the interviews of Nso immigrants in the United States and the key informants. Other sources of evidence came from pictures and other archival records (e.g., audiotape of a bonyang peacemaking session in Nkar Village in Banso) that were obtained during my field visit to Banso. STRUCTURAL SETUP OF BONYANG The institution of bonyang exists at two levels of the Nso society, namely at the village and the palace or fondom levels. The village bonyangs or family peacemaking traditional councils are named after each and every village while the palace bonyang or “bonyang wo ntoh” are named after the palace. In the bonyang, the lineage head presides and is assisted by Tahlahs or fais from other lineages as well as sheys and elders of the lineage and sub-lineage. In the palace bonyang, the king or the fon presides and is assisted by the seven vibiy, or the seven notables or shufais of the Nso ethnic group and advisers or the tahntohs. Perception of Conflict in the Nso WorldView In the Nso society, conflict is generally seen as something bad and undesirable for both the living and the dead. Conflict is believed to provoke the anger of the gods of the land and to invite ancestral wrath on the living. Because of this cosmological belief, parties involved in a conflict are expected to work for a peaceful resolution of the conflict at the early stages before it reaches a stage of violence and damage in relations. The consequences of conflict between two people are not only limited to the parties concerned. Every situation of conflict is perceived to have disturbed the peace of the entire

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community and of the ancestral spirits believed to be the guarantor of peace and progress of the entire society. In such situations, the parties to the conflict are all accused of having invited the wrath of the spirits and of the gods by engaging in the conflict. If the parties to the conflict are young people, they are also accused of having disrespected and dishonored the elders and the institution of governance, especially if they had not informed the elder from their lineage, a fai or a shey, before the lingering conflict escalates into physical violence. How Cases of Conflict are Presented to the Traditional Council Parties to a conflict do not go themselves to present their conflict to the bonyang. As a matter of principle, every case of conflict is presented to this council through a lineage elder or a shey in the case of a village, and through a fai or a lineage head in the case of a palace bonyang. Regardless of who must have caused the conflict, every case is reported with a jug of palm wine, some kola nuts, and a rooster. Before the council sits to hear both parties, a prior investigation into the cause of the conflict is authorized by the fai presiding and this investigation is carried out by a group of five to seven elders chosen among the elders of bonyang. In order to ensure process neutrality the presiding fai makes sure that the elders who would form the investigation team are not from the family of the offender or victim. After the facts of the conflicts have been investigated and blames apportioned, the parties are summoned by bonyang. In the courtyard of a neutral fai or a fondom as the case may be for a village bonyang or a palace bonyang, the party that brought the conflict to the attention of bonyang is then asked by the lineage head (fai) to present his or her case to all present, and what he or she is requesting from bonyang. In response to this request, the party would then step forward in front of members of bonyang, pluck a leaf of the peace plant in the middle of the courtyard, and swear in the name of the gods of the land—nyuy nso “Nso gods”—to speak the truth and nothing but the truth, and make a promise to his/her determination to seek peace. In researching materials for this chapter, I interviewed one key informant who is from Nkar, a village within the Nso Kingdom. She emphasized the importance of shaming (rebuking) in the Tatum Village Bonyang process as a mechanism to socially admonish the parties for engaging in the conflict. Here, parties made up of young people in a conflict that resulted in some form of physical violence such as fighting or destruction of property undergo a shaming process. This shaming process is known as the woming process and is carried out by those in their age group(s) and in front of members of bonyang in session. During this process, members of the age group of the offender and the offended shout, throwing insults and abuses on the parties for having disturbed the



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peace and harmony of the society. They undergo this process irrespective of who caused the conflict. After the shouting and abusing which goes on for about 10–15 minutes, the leaders of the age group come forward and beckon on bonyang to do justice on these two—the offender and the offended—and bring peace and reconciliation back into the community. They would also call on the offender and the offended to listen keenly to the wisdom of the wise (referring to bonyang members), the elders, who are perceived to be endowed with special knowledge to see beyond what ordinary people would see. This variation in Tatum bonyang process proves that although bonyang as an institution for peacemaking exists all over Banso, the process varies from one village to the next. As LeBaron (2003a) clearly puts it “any given cultural group has variations within it; none are uniform entities, just as any family does not share a close set of cultural specifics” (p. 35). After the party that brought forward the matter finished relating his/her version of the case, the presiding fai would ask the accused party to respond to these allegations. At this moment, the accused party would also step forward, pluck a leaf of the peace plant, swear to the gods of the Bansos to speak the truth and nothing but the truth, and also make a promise to pursue peace with the guidance of bonyang. When the accused finish relating his or her part of the story, both parties are asked to leave the courtyard and wait somewhere where they wouldn’t hear the deliberations of bonyang. At this moment, bonyang members would then cross-examine the versions of the offended and the offender with the findings of the investigation team. The truth of the matter is then established and responsibilities for what happened are finally apportioned. It is on this basis that bonyang decides on the compensation the offender must pay to the offended and when this must be done. Bonyang would also decide on the fine to be paid by both parties. The day the offender must pay the compensation to the offended is usually another bonyang session. This is usually a week after the decision was made. This day is described in the bonyang process as the day of reconciliation or kishiy-ke-a-man-nsa. During this day, the offender’s family and the offender, besides the compensation which they must pay to the offended, prepare enough corn-fufu with vegetable and chicken meat to feed bonyang members and other attendants of this reconciliation meeting. They also would provide ten jugs of palm wine, many kola nuts, and packages of local cigarettes (namah-wo-tseine, wona fuvine). These local cigarettes are particularly reserved for the elders. Once the reconciliation session of bonyang commences, the presiding fai proclaim to the hearing of all the mission of the day after prayerfully asking for the guidance of the gods of the ancestors. Then, the elder from the family of the offender comes forward and on behalf of the offender and his/her family, presents the apologies of the family first to the offended and his/her

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family, secondly to bonyang members, third to the age group(s) of the parties concerned, and finally to the entire Banso community. Finally, he presents the compensation package to the family of the offended through the elder from this family while asking for forgiveness. When he has finished, there is usually a song from the crowd of those attending usually sung by a woman about how beautiful, how honorable, and how great it is to forgive. The song would also lavish praises on the paramount fon of the Bansos describing him metaphorically as shui Nso “the sun of the Bansos,” and on the Bonyang institution describing it as the “doer of the will of the fon and the Nwerong.” The song in this process helps lighten the spirits of the offended and promotes positive emotions. After the song, the elder from the family of the offended would move in front and proclaim their willingness to forgive. The presiding fai would then ask the offended and the offender to come forward. He would pour palm wine in his traditional cup, address a speech to the ancestral gods, and pour some to the ground while saying, “the offender and the offended have today reconciled their differences and have promised to live in harmony, preserving the peace of the land.” He would cut the neck of a rooster and press the dying rooster for blood to ooze out. He would hold the rooster for the blood to drop on the feet of the offended and the offender, and would plead for the gods to forgive and cleanse the parties of all misfortunes, especially the party that was the cause of the conflict. After he finished his speech, he would once more pour palm wine in his cup, give it to the offended party to drink, and then share it with the offender. At this moment there is joyful singing and clapping of hands from the audience. It is important here to point out the role played by ritual in the bonyang peacemaking process. Besides the atmosphere of solemnity graced by the ritualistic nature of the process, rituals also help to root the process in the spiritual world of the ancestors, thus not only enhancing the legitimacy of the process in the eyes of the parties, but also the chances of compliance. An important aspect of this ritual process is the significance of the blood of the rooster. According to one of my key informants, the blood of the rooster is sacrificed to the ancestral gods in substitution for the blood of the parties that brought the conflict about. This Nso traditional worldview is similar to the biblical worldview where the blood of a ram was sacrificed by Abraham in the place of the blood of his own beloved son. The next moment is characterized by eating and drinking. The family of the offender shares the food and wine they brought to bonyang members and the audience. While eating, bonyang elders use the opportunity to educate the young people on the consequences of conflict and the importance of peaceful coexistence. This is also the moment for elders to educate the young people on the histories of their families and the kinship relations that tie the



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families together. This helps to reinforce group cohesion and the need for peaceful coexistence. In the bonyang process, the elders occupy an important place. Like in many African societies, elders are respected and obeyed for their wisdom and experience (Brock-Utne, 2001). It is believed the party that fails to comply with the bonyang process would receive the curse of the elders, which is the curse of the gods and generally believed to lead to mysterious death. One of the key informants described the important role played by the bonyang mechanism in the early 1990s in managing community conflicts in Banso. According to this key informant, the early 1990s in Cameroon and Banso in particular were characterized by the quest by communities for redefinitions of existing social, economic, and political orders at national and local levels. This quest for redefinitions of existing societal relations was largely influenced by the wind of change blowing in from Eastern Europe and led to significant social, economic, and political upheavals. Communities were attacking and destroying properties of individuals from communities that happened to share different political opinions or who were perceived as having economically succeeded by robbing the state or other communities. In the context of this upheaval, the Cameroon national government was incapable of effectively mitigating the violence and bringing about peaceful resolutions of these community conflicts by ensuring respect for traditional Nso values of humanism, community, spirituality, and just cause. The national government approach of conflict containment through security forces was ineffective as these conflicts escalated with every attempt by the security forces to suppress them. As an indigenous conflict management mechanism embedded in the collective consciousness of the Banso people, bonyang was able to mitigate these conflicts and stabilize the sociopolitical order of the Nso society. Our informant also attributed the success of bonyang to the respect the institution enjoyed in Nso society as a result of the spiritual and material significance it has on the collective consciousness of the Nso people. BONYANG AND THE WESTERN SYSTEM OF CONFLICT RESOLUTION Then bonyang system of conflict resolution is a communal, holistic, transcendental system organized around the collectivist’s philosophy of the primacy of the group. This collectivist worldview is underlined by the principle that the group rather than the individual is the fundamental unit of political, social, and economic organization of society. Based on this principle, the claims of groups, associations, or the state supersedes the claims of individuals (Stephens et al., 2002). The philosophy of the bonyang conflict resolution

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system is centered on this worldview. As a community-based conflict resolution system, the goal of conflict resolution is to ensure the general peace and stability of the society. This is critical because in the Nso belief system, although conflict may start with two individuals, the overall impact of conflict is on the society as a whole. Consequently, conflict resolution must be approached from a holistic perspective, involving problem solving, reconciliation, education, and pacification of the society. This notion of conflict resolution as a practice aimed at reconciling, educating, and pacifying society is captured by Kriesberg’s (2001) analysis of the ways relations between societies or communal groups become integrated, peaceful, and just. This holistic approach focuses on the short- and long-term minimization of conflict and on strengthening the collective will of the people and the institutional stability of society. While collectivists may emphasize the benefits of this approach, in terms of the social stability, the collateral effects of the collectivists’ conflict resolution worldview are that conflict responsibilities are not limited to the primary parties that started the conflict, but spread to the entire group or society such that the responsibility for the shame that comes with conflict is born by the families and communities of the conflict parties. However, conflict also provides an opportunity for continuous community education on peaceful coexistence and respect for social beliefs and institutions. The bonyang conflict resolution system is a direct antinomy from a Western conflict resolution worldview. Western conflict resolution systems are derived from the philosophies of John Locke (1632–1704), Bernard de Mandeville (1670–1733), David Hume (1711–1776), Adam Ferguson (1723–1816), Adam Smith (1723–1790), and Edmund Burke (1729–1797). The basic tenet of this philosophy as advocated by these philosophers is the idea of our freedom as individuals. In this regard, the acts we pose in society must be viewed as individual acts with direct consequences for those responsible for the action. The problem with this worldview, however, is that while the nature of human behavior is derived from our ontological nature as individuals, the consequences of individual human action may not be limited to the individual as such. Consequently, the good and bad of individual human action may impact the society as a whole. Conflict may start with two individuals, but the consequences of conflict may extend beyond the two individuals to have an impact on the whole society. The divergence between the bonyang and Western conflict resolution mechanisms is much observed in their narratives of conflict causation. The bonyang conflict causation narrative combines religious and moralistic worldviews. Conflict is the result of a struggle between divine, devilish, or profane forces, a natural struggle between right and wrong, and the result of magic, unknowable forces (Salem, 1993). This worldview directly contradicts the naturalistic and individualistic Western narratives of conflict causation in



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which conflict is the direct consequence of incompatible natural atomic entities. These sharp contradictions influence not only the causal interpretations of conflict, but also the interpretation of the impact and the resolution process. The emergence of conflict in the bonyang belief system invites the rots of the ancestral gods and consequently, the resolution must be sought in the world here and beyond. CONCLUSION The bonyang conflict resolution process is built on the preservation of certain core values of Nso society, namely respect, peaceful coexistence, reconciliation, and kinship. Every Banso is expected to respect the institution of elders and the traditional institution of governance. In situations of conflict, they are expected to show recognition for these institutions by informing the elders at an early stage of the conflict. They must work toward peaceful coexistence by avoiding conflict and cultivating peace through respect, seeking forgiveness and reconciliation, and honoring the fon and their families through exemplary behaviors. To further preserve social harmony they must not marry close family relations as this would undermine the kinship relations and promote conflict.

Chapter 20

Bekem in Peacemaking in Nweh Society Achankeng Fonkem

This chapter addresses the issues of third-party practice among Nweh people of Cameroon. The theme is explored by highlighting the role of bekem who are institutionally charged with mediating conflicts and reconciling the parties in Nweh society. The chapter contributes to the exploration of how intercultural capacity can be built in the study of third-party roles in the practice of conflict management. It is argued that assigning the specific role of peacemaking, conflict resolution, and conciliation to a given class of people in that society is significant in Nweh worldview and organization when compared with the Western concept of mediation and third-party intervention. From this standpoint, Nweh society’s approach to peacemaking can contribute to the scholarship on third-party roles in a number of ways. First, third-party interveners are part of the community, and therefore, not strangers or outsiders to a given conflict. Second, these insider third-party roles are not limited to mediation as we find in typical postindustrial Western societies, but also include the role of conciliation that is considered an integral part of peacemaking in Nweh society. Third, third parties in Nweh traditional society perform peacemaking roles mainly as their own duty and contribution to the good of the entire society rather than for personal benefit. Fourth, the birth of a child or the death of a family member is a powerful landmark in the society that can end a conflict, however intense. The main conclusion of the study is that because some people from non-Western cultures continue to depend on the cultural practices of their indigenous societies to resolve conflict even when they live in urban centers in Africa and in the West, that reality may be evidence that these practices have very deep roots in the respective cultures and deserve more study and application with a view to expanding the postindustrial Western paradigm currently being used in the field. 307

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INTRODUCTION In her article, “Mediation and multicultural reality,” Michelle LeBaron (1998) makes the strong point that truly competent practice and process design requires a complex understanding of culture and the development of intercultural capacities by third parties. She further clarifies that “When conflict is understood as interrelated with culture, every dimension of analysis and intervention is affected” (LeBaron, 1998, p. 42). This chapter focuses on third-party practice among Nweh people of Cameroon, and highlight the role of bekem who are institutionally charged with mediating conflicts and reconciling the parties in that society. Far from being an attempt to idealize an African peacemaking approach, the intention is to highlight an underinvestigated indigenous practice, and contribute to the exploration of how intercultural capacity can be built in the study of third-party roles in the practice of conflict management. In presenting the Nweh approach to peacemaking, this chapter provides some answers from the standpoint of Nweh people to some of the questions that LeBaron (1998) poses in regard to her view of “conflict as a cultural event” (p. 41). Some of the questions she poses are: What constitutes conflict? What is the identity of the parties? How should conflict be approached? Which process is most appropriate for intervention? What constitutes resolution? This chapter seeks to address some of these questions from the perspective of and the practices common among Nweh people. In doing so, I am inspired by Tuso’s work in the area of indigenous systems of conflict resolution, and especially his article, “Indigenous Processes of Conflict Resolution: Neglected Methods of Peacemaking by the New Field of Conflict Resolution” (2012). Tuso (2012) states that scholars should seek to “create a link between the current study and practice of conflict resolution in the West, and the practices in indigenous cultures” (p. 246). David Augsburger (1992, p. 192), for example, shows a clear contrast of mediation options in traditional and urbanized cultures. If social conflict is universal as Augsburger (1992), Tuso (1998), and Avruch, Black, and Scimecca (1991) point out, it follows that different peoples across the world have different experiences handling the conflicts that arise in their respective societies. The perspective of Nweh traditional society in this chapter, and its approach to conflict, especially the role of bekem in that traditional culture, appears to be somewhat unique and worth investigating. I lived among the Nweh people for five months (November 2010–March 2011) observing many peacemaking processes. Many of these processes involved third-party intervention in neighbor-neighbor conflicts, household conflicts, and land disputes. During the period I investigated these peacemaking processes in Nweh, I noticed that the practices were not just experiences of



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the past, but practices in current use in addressing the conflicts that arise among members of the community. After observing each peacemaking session, I would ask a few questions to clarify any points I may have missed or any stage(s) of the process that needed clarifying. For instance, in every case observed, I asked how the mediators got involved in the peacemaking process, why the highest ranking person in the session sat rather quietly throughout the session, and why it was such a person who performed the closing ritual. The notes I took during the sessions and the clarifications I received from the questions I raised during the interviews form the basis of the data analyzed for this chapter. As a participant observer in a number of dispute settlement processes in Nweh society, it is useful to explain that the conflict hearing known in the tradition as atshem takes place in public. Generally the entire proceedings may be informal and open to the general public and even to passers-by. Rich and poor bring cases to the family head, the clan head, nkem, or the chief. In traditional Nweh society, payment rarely exceeded a gift of wine to be drunk by the deliberating elders. Punishments included forced labor in the palace, restitutive payments, and fines. Depending on the gravity of the dispute, the procedures for settling disputes were conducted at all levels of the political organization from individual families through groups and communities to the chief’s palace under the guidance of bekem and respected elders. This is the common way of settling cases arising from divorce and the repayment of bride price to cases over disputed land or theft. The fact that the Nweh worldview and organization assign the specific role of peacemaking, conflict resolution, and conciliation to a given class or group of people in that society seems significant when compared with the Western concept of mediation and third-party intervention. In Nweh traditional society, as will be discussed further within the context of the philosophical basis of conflict and peacemaking, relationships are a very important consideration. Every effort is made to address conflicts whenever they arise. Consequently, peacemaking, conflict resolution, and conciliation are used interchangeably when seeking to repair any damage done on relationships between members of a community. THIRD-PARTY ROLE AND COMMUNITY HARMONY IN NWEH SOCIETY The desire for community harmony in indigenous African societies and cultures extends to peacemaking. This desire leads to attempts in many of the cultures of Africa to seek solutions that preserve the relationship between the parties, and above all, harmony in the family or entire community. In most

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of these societies, the intervening third party or parties are people who are familiar with the parties to a given conflict and possibly the conflict itself. This is the situation because the third parties who play the role of mediators and conciliators are themselves members of the community. In some African societies, mediator/conciliator roles are played by trusted elders (Augsburger, 1992; Menkhaus, 2000; Tuso, 1998, 2000). Nweh society in Cameroon is one of these traditional African societies. However, in Nweh society, the trusted elders only play a complementary role. Nweh society in its social organization has the bekem institution that has, as its primary duty, to intervene in conflicts, reconcile the disputants, and lead them back into the mainstream harmonious living of the community. I describe Nweh society from a governance standpoint and highlight the institutional peacemaking or conflictresolving role of bekem in the society. To fully appreciate conflict resolution/management practice in Nweh society and the special role bekem play in it in regard to the questions posed by LeBaron (1998), it is important to approach the analysis from the Nweh perspective of conflict, its philosophical basis, its causes, and its management approach. First, who are Nweh people? How do they perceive conflict? How do they address it, and for what purposes?

NWEH SOCIETY OF CAMEROON Nweh people are the largest ethnic group in what is today known as the southwest region of Cameroon. They are one of the sixty different ethnic groups that make up former British Southern Cameroons (Field, 1958). Nweh people are found on the western slopes of the Adamawa highlands that are located in the center of Cameroon. In his ethnographic study of the area, Brain (1967, p. 10) writes, “The word Nweh refers to both the country and the language.” Some studies refer to the cluster of villages as “Bangwa,” which correctly refers to the people who speak Nweh and inhabit the narrow strip of country in Cameroon which forms the foothills of the section of the plateau inhabited by the Bamileke. Brain (1967) adds that: Inside the country there is a complicated interlacing of paths and tracks which wind tortuously up and down precipitous slopes or along escarpments. These paths connect the separate chiefdoms, the numerous markets, and the savannah country of the east with the forest country of the west. From the muggy heat and closed-in feeling of the forests one climbs five thousand feet to the cool, open country of the highlands. Most of the Bangwa inhabit the middle regions (at about three to four thousand feet), where the sparseness of oil palm groves indicates the beginning of a highland climate. (p. 1)



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The Nweh people are a rural population for the most part. They live in individual homesteads or compounds scattered over the length and breadth of their territory. With the recent exceptions of Menji, Anya, and Alou, there are no group settlements such as villages or towns. Generally, each adult male lives with his family in his own compound. Most compounds are about a mile or two apart. This is because the land is so mountainous that there are almost no level patches of land that can give rise to group settlement patterns. Brain (1967) provides the following picture of the settlement patterns in this mountainous territory: “compounds are scattered all over the region, the highest inhabited point being about 7,000 feet, the lowest about 1,500 feet” (p. 1). Continuing his description of the landscape of Nweh, Brain agrees with Gustav Conrau’s depiction of the territory in 1898 as “the awe-inspiring mountain scenery, with its accompanying steep, sometimes perilous paths, crossed by rushing torrents even in the dry season; high tumbling waterfalls; isolated compounds behind plantain groves and hedges” (p. 1). Another reason why Nweh people live in isolated compounds is that they place a great value on land and utilize it extensively for farming or animal breeding. Consequently, the farther away an individual settles from his neighbor who may be a brother or cousin, the more land the individual has for farming and animal breeding. When a young person moves out of the family compound to build his own compound and begin a family, he may move several miles away from the family compound. He does this for two main reasons. First, in accomplishing the second task of manhood in Nweh society, the young person has to find a spot that is suitable to build a home because the land is so hilly that such spots are not readily available. Second, he also needs to have more land for his new family and their crops, and for his animals to graze in peace, that is, without wandering onto a neighbor’s land. INSTITUTIONAL ORGANIZATION OF NWEH SOCIETY Nweh society can be described as very hierarchical. Each of the component levels of the hierarchy plays a role in matters of governance and contributes to the general harmony of the entire group. At the center or top of the hierarchy is the fua (king or chief). He is supported in his duties of governance by a reigning council. This council is made up of a mafua (royal princess), nkwetta (chief’s deputy), ankwetta, (assistant to the mafua), ase’ah (council commission’s person and link to the rest of the society), and sometimes, one or more nkem (peacemaker/moderator/conciliator). These members of a reigning council are raised to these positions at the same time as a new chief is crowned and enthroned. The crowning and enthronement usually take place when a reigning king passes away. When this happens, the different members of the former reigning council get absorbed by the existing bekem rank of the society.

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The other ranks are the troh and the kwifua society, the elders, and the people (a’le’h). The troh and the kwifua are sacred societies that include the kingmakers. Their duties include assisting in enthroning a new king and acting as advisers on matters of traditions and customs, acting as a buffer to the king’s powers, enforcing customs and practices, deliberating on matters of security, and finding solutions to external threats. Their deliberations are not open to the general public. The next rank is the bekem (plural of nkem). These are nobles. They are highly respected in traditional society and their role is to advise the chief or king (fua) on public policy matters and to make peace and reconcile the people. Directly below bekem are elders with no titles. These are the custodians of the cultures and traditions of the people. They are highly respected for their age, experience, and the wisdom they have acquired over the years. They are mainly counselors both to the king and to the people in areas of tradition and cultural continuity. At the bottom of the hierarchy are the people (a’le’h). The people, as basis of society, are considered very important because without them, there would be no king. Nweh people generally say that a king is a king because there is a kingdom and a people. Except for the position of elders that is acquired by age, succession in Nweh is hereditary from father to son, and sometimes mother to daughter or son. In the case of a chief as Brain (1967) writes: [T]he succession rites for the new chief follow immediately after the burial ritual unless he is a child when the ceremony is delayed. The children of the dead chief are assembled in one corner of the dancing area where the mourners are gathered. Suddenly the troh members in their terrifying costumes skip out of the palace precincts over towards the children snatching one by one the successor and his titled brothers and sisters: first the chief, then the mafwa (the queen mother), the nkweta (the senior brother title), the asa’a, morfwa and ankweta (another female title). (p. 24)

When children succeed their parents, they inherit their “stool,” their responsibility, and their place in the society. The stool is literally the seat on which the deceased parent sat on in the lemo’o or village arena. It is also a mark of the rank of the parent in that society. In traditional Nweh society, a child could only aspire to be like his/her parents, and could not get beyond his/her parents. Nweh people believe the shoulder cannot grow above the head. Like all human societies, Nweh society has its share of conflicts. DOMINANT CONFLICTS IN NWEH SOCIETY Dubinskas (1992, p. 189) observed that conflicts emerge through a process of interaction and dialogue between individuals and groups, in which each group



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interprets the other. Nweh society has its share of conflicts arising from differences in the process of interaction between people. However, unlike several other human societies, Nweh society has fewer violent conflicts in comparative terms. Cases of conflicts resulting in death are very rare. Indeed, unlike the case in some other societies and cultures of Cameroon, there are almost no wars or very violent conflicts that threaten the loss of lives. The people view conflict mainly as destructive to the individual disputants and groups, and indeed, to the entire community (Fonkem, 1999, p. 23). The desire for community harmony is so strong in Nweh society that the people accord an important place to counseling as a measure of preempting or preventing conflict. One can safely state that the situation has yielded desirable fruits, given the nature and intensity of most of the conflicts common among Nweh people. As mentioned earlier, Nweh people are mainly a rural population. They are peasant farmers for the most part. Consequently, land disputes and matrimonial problems form the bulk of conflicts in Nweh society. Some of the dominant conflicts in Nweh society include neighbor-neighbor conflicts, domestic conflicts, intra-family conflicts, intervillage/clan conflicts, succession conflicts, and enthronement conflicts. I will briefly discuss these different conflict situations one after the other. Neighbor-Neighbor Conflicts Neighbor-neighbor conflicts are the most common kind of conflicts in Nweh society. They arise mainly from boundary disputes over land, from destruction of crops by a neighbor’s animals, and sometimes from disagreements over community work or from fights over farmland. Domestic Conflicts Nweh traditional society limits roles for single women. Consequently, it is difficult to find single women in that society. The exceptions are widows who may live alone because they have lost their husbands. Generally, they are older and can have difficulty finding a new husband. Hence, domestic conflicts are mainly disagreements between husbands and wives. Some of these disputes may result in the man battering his wife or sending her back to her parents. The dispute may also result in the woman leaving the matrimonial home on her own or cases where the woman is abducted by another man. Other male-female conflicts in Nweh are conflicts between a given male and one or several women because the man’s animals destroy crops on farms belonging to the women. Women in Nweh generally produce food crops while the men do cash crop farming and animal breeding for income and as an animal protein source.

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Intrafamily Conflicts Intra-family conflicts may be of several kinds. With the exclusion of the kind of woman-woman conflicts in a polygamous home or husband-wife conflicts discussed above, there may be other conflicts such as accusations of witchcraft or some other evil practices by a family member against one or more members of the same family. Interclan Conflicts Interclan conflicts occur between clans usually over land or territory for expansion. Although conflicts of this kind are common in traditional Nweh society, they are infrequent. In recent history, these kinds of conflicts, which may often get violent, are linked to the growth in population size and the increasing economic need for land for cash crops. Some of the most notable interclan conflicts in Nweh are the Lebang-Essoh Attah boundary dispute, the Lewoh-Ndungated land conflict, and the Lebang-Njoagwi conflict. There is also the Lebang-Lewoh battle of 1951 over the territory known as Mbin Mboeuh. Others have been reported between Mboeuh and Njenache, between Fuanke and Atetlaso, and also in the Mmouk area in recent times. Mbin-Mboeuh, for instance, was a territory disputed by Lebang and Lewoh, two neighboring clans. Fighting broke out in 1951, but ended abruptly shortly thereafter when a Lebang man was killed. Causing the death of a fellow human being especially in cold blood is taboo in Nweh traditional society. When a situation involves death, Nweh people would rather abandon the cause because they value human life very highly. Given the abrupt end to the battle because the Lebang side withdrew to bury one of their own, Lewoh people moved in and occupied the territory. There was no formal settlement. However, the case has three major lessons in Nweh society. The first is that ownership of land is by effective occupation through farming on it, fencing it off, building a house on it, or setting up a permanent home on the land. The second lesson is that conflict in Nweh society, however serious, can not always be addressed by third parties. And the third lesson from Nweh society is that there are two landmark events in community life that may considerably change the dynamics of a conflict. These landmark events are births and deaths. No matter the degree of bitterness in a dispute, parties to a conflict are expected to visit each other in the event that they are bereaved or when they have a newborn baby. Conflicts such as the one over Mbin-Mboeuh are, however, becoming increasingly common today because of rapid population growth and the need for more land as well as increased economic activity especially in cash-crop agriculture. Some examples of these conflicts are the recent dispute between Lewoh and Ndungated in the lower areas in the western part of the territory



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over a piece of land that is very fertile for cocoa production. There is also a similar conflict in the Mmouck area where the parties fight over land used in farming vegetables and spices such as cabbages, lettuce, carrots, onions, and garlic. In each of these disputes, there are sporadic skirmishes resulting in people getting beaten up and/or receiving machete wounds. Succession Conflicts Succession conflicts are struggles over succession rights. These conflicts are not common in Nweh society. The society is patrilineal and the people have a strong attachment to family and to what happens to their families after they are dead. Such strong attachment to family makes for equally strong societal arrangements for succession. These arrangements prevent conflicts over succession to a large extent. The two known cases of succession conflicts in Nweh in the twentieth century as narrated by informants were the Mmouckngie conflict over the throne between Nzota and his brother, and the conflict over the throne of Fuachap of Nveh between Besong Mbeng and his brother, Fuandong. I use real names of the actors here because these conflicts are also reported in historical accounts of Nweh people. In cases of succession conflicts at the highest levels of traditional society like those over the throne of a chiefdom, the bekem cannot act on their own because some can get violent. Kingmakers or the kwifua society usually play key roles in succession rites to prevent disagreement. In the Mmouckngie case, Nzota kept the throne and his brother left Mmouckngie with his own followers to settle somewhere else where he started a new settlement. In the case of Nveh, Fuandong, one of the contestants, died in the process and Besong Mbeng took the throne. One may ask what role bekem played in these different conflicts. Enthronement Conflicts Enthronement conflicts have become fairly recurrent in Nweh society because of the rivalry between the chieftaincy ranks described by Brain (1967, p. 22) as “paramount chiefs” and “subchiefs.” One major case of enthronement conflicts, the Mbindia enthronement conflict, was reported in Nweh in 1999 (Fonkem, 2006, pp. 9–27). The “paramount chiefs” thinking they owned and controlled the other chiefs referred to in Brain’s book as “subchiefs,” sought to impose their hegemony over the latter by arrogating to themselves the prerogative to enthrone the “subchiefs.” Whenever there has been strong objection to and resistance from these “subchiefs” as a matter of power and control, conflicts have arisen with very negative consequences on harmony among the people.

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ROLE OF BEKEM IN PEACEMAKING Several scholars and researchers affirm that different societies and cultures have various ways of settling conflicts (Abu-Nimer, 1996; Kouassi, 2000; Lederach, 1995; Spencer & Yang, 1991; Tuso, 1998; 2000; Wehr & Lederach, 1991). In his work across cultures, Augsburger (1992, p. 191) also affirms, that throughout virtually all traditional societies, mediation of conflicts by trusted persons or groups is the most frequently used process of dispute settlement. Conflict resolution as a practice is very advanced in Nweh society. Almost every household head is a conflict resolver and almost every adult and elderly person, male or female, is involved in a peacemaking process on a regular basis. In Nweh society, there do not appear to be gender specific conflict cases and approaches to peacemaking. The generalized roles notwithstanding, Nweh society, in its worldview and organization, as indicated earlier, assigns the specific role of peacemaking and conciliation to a given class of people in that society known as bekem. Bekem is the plural for nkem. The title nkem is derived from the word ekem which signifies peace and harmony. Ekem as a notion encompasses the ideas of peace and reconciliation. The two are considered together and, in a conflict situation, it would be difficult to address the one without the other. Given the place of the notion of ekem in Nweh, the society has specific institutional arrangements that take care of conflicts. These arrangements evolve around the bekem class. Because of the damage conflicts can do to the entire community, Nweh society places a great deal of importance on ekem and has in-built structures that address conflicts whenever they arise. The title of Nkem signifies peacemaker/conciliator. This role in Nweh is captured by an ideological theme, namely “wherever Bekem are, the chickens cannot wander so far away that they fail to come home to roost.” The concept “chicken” is used metaphorically in this context to refer to members of the society. In other words, the people mean that in the presence of bekem, conflict cannot be allowed to escalate to destructive levels. Whenever there is a conflict, any nkem who notices it first, sets out, as a point of duty, to intervene in view of resolving it. If the conflict is not noticed by any nkem, a formal complaint will be made to him by one of the parties or even by a third party interested in seeing the conflict resolved. When such a complaint is made, the nkem as an individual or the bekem as a group take upon themselves the entire responsibility of resolving the conflict, however complex and time consuming. In high-stakes conflicts such as succession conflicts and enthronement conflicts involving chiefs, the role of bekem would be to join hands with the appropriate institution(s) to ensure that justice is done. Justice in the context of a succession conflict would be to enforce the truth as spelled out in



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the living will of the departed chief. In so doing, the greatest assets would be time, the art of rhetoric or persuasion, shuttle diplomacy, silence, and tact. In the case of enthronement conflicts with parties involved in political concepts such as power, authority, and control, the role of bekem becomes complex and intricate considering that the jurisdiction of bekem in traditional society is limited in regard to chieftaincies. PHILOSOPHICAL BASIS OF PEACEMAKING IN NWEH SOCIETY Like many other indigenous societies of Africa, Nweh people dread conflict and work hard to address any conflicts that arise in their communities. Some practices and expressions used in conflict situations are indicative of the willingness in this community to reconcile disputants and promote harmonious living. Some of these expressions describe the people’s worldview on matters of conflict and its resolution. A few of such expressions are: • Nchang te bong: Conflict is undesirable. • Began-mbuo chong-o eka-jua mboeu beshuo, be boeu ba lye-e a le-e a-nkong: Enemies today were friends yesterday; we should not forget the good days we had together before. • Ngang nkwe-ake mwo a-chia be-tart: Neighbors are each other’s keepers. • Bele’e eboeuh be le su-ung a me: Once conflict arises, it should be addressed quickly. • Be liu ma be nkong be nta ndiu ab eebe boeh: Only love pays, hatred does not. • Beta-na ntya ncho esanga epve boe: In negotiations to end a battle, we do not count the casualties on each side. The expressions above are very profound in the context of conflicts. The rationale for such philosophical events stands out clearly. Peacemaking in Nweh society does not occur in a vacuum. Rather, Nweh traditional society was made up of very close-knit communities and relationships where every member knew or could easily know everyone else including disputants in a given conflict. In this society, every individual is considered in a total context, that is, as a son, a daughter, a relative, an in-law, or some other kind of relationship. This situation means that every member of the society has some form or other of attachment and personal relationship with other members. Consequently, peacemaking in Nweh society is nonadversarial in nature. Rather, the mediation/conciliation process is person oriented. It goes on in a warm and friendly atmosphere of informality with no absolute constraints of

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strict technical rules of time and procedure as in Western traditions. A great deal of emphasis is placed on avoiding any usage, practice, or utterance that will further strain the relationship or make it fall into a situation of disharmony. It is not uncommon during a resolution process for elders in their agetested wisdom to interject humor, anecdotes, and allusions from time to time to lighten the atmosphere or mood when it gets too tense. THE RECONCILIATION RITUAL AND ITS SYMBOLISM IN NWEH SOCIETY The importance of rituals in the conflict healing process in efforts to control, reduce, and resolve conflict in traditional cultures has been underscored by some researchers, including Edmund R. Leach (1968), Anthony Giddens (1991), and Laura E. King-Irani (2000). King-Irani, for example, considers rituals as “readjusting individuals and communities to changing aspects of their life-worlds, thereby enabling them to complete difficult and troubling transitions as individuals and as members of a society” (p. 130). The British sociologist Anthony Giddens (1991) also observes that rituals are as crucial for the individual’s emotional well-being as they are for communal harmony and social integration. He writes that “Without ordered ritual and collective involvement, individuals are left without structured ways of coping with tensions and anxieties . . . communal rites provide a focus of group solidarity at major transitions” (p. 204). King-Irani (2000) also notes that such a ritual is expected to have transformative powers that cannot be legislated, imposed, or coerced. Such transformative power arises from within the individual and the community and that is probably one of the reasons why all the participants at a conflict-resolving session take part in the reconciliation ritual. When a case is considered heard among Nweh people, deliberated upon satisfactorily at the atshem by the bekem and respected elders as indicated earlier, the final moment is the performance of the ritual of peace and reconciliation known as letem ntse (pouring of libation). This is the highest moment in the ekem or peacemaking process from which bekem derive their title and societal role. Nweh society places great premium on this ritual because of the symbolism and power in it. Conflict is not considered resolved until the ritual has been performed because each of the parties to the conflict must accept to take part in it. In Nweh society, conflict does not only harm the physical person(s). It also does harm to the individuals and the community from within spiritually, emotionally, and morally. The reconciliation ritual in Nweh society consists mainly of a libation poured by the highest person in rank in the given conflict-resolution process hearing. This may be the chief or, in his absence, the mafua, nkem or the



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eldest respected person. The items used are water, the chief’s drinking horn, and the earth. These items carry a great deal of symbolism. Water in Nweh society represents life. The chief’s drinking horn is a symbol of authority and community sacredness inherited through the ages, and the earth is the abode of ancestors and God as well as the support base for all plant and animal life. The horn is filled with water and the parties to the conflict-just-resolved move forward to the center of the gathering. They stand on both sides of the person performing the ritual. The person offers prayers to the ancestors, to the gods of the land, and to God the creator to bring peace and reconciliation to the parties and to the entire community. Then the disputants standing on both sides of him/her hold the hand of the person who holds the horn that contains the water. Most often a human chain is formed with each person participating in the conflict hearing holding on to the person next to him/her. The person performing the ritual then pours the water to the earth a number of times calling on God to accept and ensure healing in the relationship. In some cases, such as husband-wife conflicts, the parties may drink from the chief’s horn, in the presence of everyone participating in the session, to show compliance to the settlement in public. Everyone in the hearing participates in the ritual because reconciling disputants in Nweh society gets beyond the parties to a given conflict to include the entire community. Before concluding this chapter, let us return to the relevance of this discussion to cross-cultural studies in conflict resolution or transformation. In this regard, I subscribe to Ali Mazrui’s (1990) claim that “there is indeed a hidden cultural agenda in world-order problems” (p. 14). To begin to solve problems, the people of different world civilizations need to begin to understand each other more closely. In the field of conflict resolution, for example, the postindustrial Western paradigm currently being used in the field will need to be expanded to include the visions and practices common in other civilizations. As Paul Wehr and John Paul Lederach (1991) have shown, the Western model of conflict resolution could include “partial-insider mediators,” for example. In doing this, we may have to study those elements which make conflict resolution processes successful in non-Western societies such as community, harmony, and trust that may have less significance in Western society than in non-Western ones. The notion of partial-insider mediator, for example, is based on trust as in the Confianza Model used in Latin America (Olson & Pearson, 2002; Wehr & Lederach, 1991). The insider-partial, according to Wehr and Lederach (1991), is the “mediator from within the conflict,” whose acceptability to the conflictants is rooted not in distance from the conflict or objectivity regarding the issues, but rather in connectedness and trusted relationships with the conflict parties. The trust comes partly from the fact that the mediators do not leave the postnegotiation situation. They are part of

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it and must live with the consequences of their work. They must continue to relate to conflictants who have trusted their commitment to a just and durable settlement. They argue that in the Confianza Model, the effectiveness of the process depends neither on externality nor neutrality but on quite the opposite attributes: internality and partiality. As Olson and Pearson (2002, p. 423) point out, a mediator partial to the conflict has a vested interest in resolution because that individual lives in the area of the conflict. The bekem in Nweh society are an example of partialinsider mediators also described as “vested-interest mediators” (Moore, 2003, p. 51) because they live in the area of the conflict and oftentimes have a good understanding of the issues in conflict. Such a concept of a partial-insider mediator seems to be contrary to the Western notion of a mediator as an impartial outsider (Olson & Pearson, 2002, p. 424). Some of these views can be altered in the interest of growth for the field. This growth may someday have an impact on conflict resolution practice in non-Western societies where violent conflicts have remained intractable and protracted. There is also increasing agreement that the current approaches used in violent conflicts in non-Western societies by mainly Western mediators have not been particularly effective or efficient in resolving the conflicts (Osaghae, 2000; Zartman, 2000). Zartman (2000, p. 3), for instance, has recognized that the persistence of violent conflict in Africa indicates that the methods in use are defective in facing the challenge. CONCLUSION In focusing on third-party practice among Nweh people of Cameroon and highlighting the role of bekem who are institutionally charged with mediating conflicts and reconciling the parties in that society in this chapter, my intention was to highlight an under-investigated indigenous practice, and hence contribute to the exploration of how intercultural capacity can be built in the study of third-party roles in the practice of conflict management. In presenting the Nweh approach to peacemaking, this chapter provides some answers, from the standpoint of Nweh people, to some of the questions that LeBaron (1998) poses in regard to her view of “conflict as a cultural event.” I have therefore presented the Nweh people of Cameroon and the way they perceive and address conflicts. In particular, I highlighted the philosophical basis of conflict resolution, and described the role of bekem in the process. I also described the different kinds of conflicts common among Nweh people and discussed reconciliation rituals which symbolize the end of a conflict and their significance not only to the disputants in any given conflict, but also to the entire community. This effort was an attempt to share the experience of



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an indigenous people in Cameroon. The experience has some significance in the research and practice of conflict resolution. First, it brings to light yet one other case that can be used for comparison and analysis. Second, we find, in this case, the mediator/conciliator role of bekem, a group of people in Nweh society who are part of the community, and therefore, no strangers or outsiders to a given conflict. These people perform third-party roles. Third, these insider third-party roles are not limited to mediation as we find in typical Western societies, but also include the role of conciliation that is considered as an integral part of peacemaking in Nweh society. The third parties perform the roles mainly as their own duty and contribution to the good of the entire society rather than for personal benefit. Fourth, one other element worth noting in the conflict resolution process among Nweh people is the fact that the birth of a child or the death of a family member is a powerful landmark in the society that can produce an end to a conflict, however intense. Although telling these stories may be seen by some scholars including Chanock (1987) as idealizing African dispute resolution, my main aim was to present one more society and its own approach to conflict resolution, an approach which may be explored some day and included in the literature of the field. Contrary to the views expressed by scholars like Chanock (1987), many practices of indigenous systems of conflict resolution in many African societies predate Western intervention and contrast Western practices such as law, police, and court systems (Augsburger, 1992, p. 192). The two worldviews are definitely contrasting, which is a good reason to study the practices in both systems, one where conflicts and differences are seen as “failures to communicate” by individuals in a competitive and litigious universe that emphasizes winning (Cooks & Hale, 1994) as opposed to the other universe that emphasizes trust, community, and harmony in relationships.

Chapter 21

Conclusion Implications of Epistemic Diversity for Conflict Management in West Africa and the World Jesse J. Benjamin and Akanmu G. Adebayo Among the many issues raised in this book, none seems to cut across the West African region more than the discourse between Western and indigenous African methods and modes of conflict resolution. Mamdani’s recent formulation in Define and Rule provides clarity for how the separation of spheres was so deeply accomplished during the colonial “reordering,” namely, that indirect rule in Asia and Africa consisted of the implementation of two entire spheres of life, one customary and “tribal,” and the other colonial and “white.” Reviewing nineteenth-century British and Dutch articulations of colonial administration, Mamdani (2012) summarized the impact of primary exponents such as Henry James Sumner Maine1 and Snouk Hurgronje2 (and by extension Frederick Lugard), as: not play[ing] geopolitics as a game of set pieces. They no longer accepted boundaries or authorities or even popular subjectivities as unalterable givens. As we shall see with the colonies of twentieth-century Africa, they aimed at renegotiating everything—boundary, authority, and subjectivity. They shifted focus from existing elites—set pieces—to the population as a whole. The architects of indirect rule had vast ambitions: to remake subjectivities so as to realign its bearers. This was no longer divide and rule. It was define and rule. (Mamdani, 2012, p. 42)

The “define and rule” tactic of European colonialism in West Africa produced many results, one of these being the apparent dualism in almost all aspects of life. In the justice system today, for example, West African societies operate the “Western” and the “indigenous” or customary. Furthermore, for Mamdani the cleavage between customary and colonial spheres and judicial processes 323

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also immediately has deeper and broader societal implications that provide the grounds for our discussion. This analytical framing provides a vantage from which to question the depth of change needed, whether reform or revolution, of the conceptual/epistemic apparatus? Without precision and care, change often just updates the processes of distinction and inequality with revised terms while leaving the underlying categories unchanged. But what would it mean, and who is ready for a thorough dissolution of the separate customary/colonial judicial and political spheres? Which would and should absorb the other? More pointedly, whereas the colonial era oriented the customary sphere as a perquisite of the colonial judiciary, a last resort under its umbrella, how might we orchestrate a rebalancing in which any remaining colonial-era (or colonial-style) adjudication becomes subsumed within the customary? And were we to get to this stage, the dated categorical language of “customary” (which is no more “traditional” than colonial law) might itself logically be replaced with a term of self-identification instead. Further, customary or indigenous almost necessitates their opposites which, in our world of nationstates, is a national and occasionally an international sphere of operation. Yet, customary laws reflect autochthonous national origins, more so than “tribal” laws, if we expand and deconstruct our concepts of nations and the national. In the introduction to this book, the framing question was posed: “what do the indigenous conflict management strategies of West Africa look like, how are they influenced by nonindigenous approaches, and, how can they inform conflict management and resolution in other parts of Africa and the globe?” Having answered to some extent the former aspect of this question in the careful and detailed presentation of specific case studies throughout West Africa, we can now step back and reflect on the broader implications of this collection’s findings. In 1975, at the apex of the anticolonial period, Chinweizu framed the global order of Modernity as “The West and the Rest;” and a few years earlier Walter Rodney had already invoked the relationality and causality in dynamics between the West and Africa, in his agency-revealing title: How Europe Underdeveloped Africa. These concepts, of European underdevelopment of the colonized world, and of “The West” versus “The Rest,” are readily attributable to broader dynamics both then and now, not just at the level of political-economy, but as much or more at the level of epistemology. The colonial and neo- or post-colonial incursions into Africa and throughout the world from the fifteenth century onward have been increasingly scrutinized in recent scholarship, but we are still far from thinking our way out of this mind-trap, because it is hard to discern precisely from within the thought-structure, i.e., from within Modern, Western epistemology or under its influence. Therefore, in this context, one question we might pose is: What light is shed on these broader themes by the collective analytical insights of this collection on African conflict management and resolution systems?

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Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s Decolonizing the Mind (1986) further signified the move beyond limited, juridical notions of colonization and decolonization. It opened the path for discussion of epistemological decolonization, what today (especially in the Americas) and following Anibal Quijano’s formative concept of the “coloniality of power” (1989), is being called “the decolonial option” (Maldonado-Torres, 2006; Mignolo, 2007, 2011). Broader still, in the work of Sylvia Wynter (2003), we encounter the framing of modernity as the Era of Man, and the imagined post-Man era as an Era of the Human, beyond the limiting bourgeois coordinates of punitive and hierarchical identity. But this must mean the penetration of this shifting of thought and perspective into and between each of the disciplines, each of the cannons of knowledge, our methodologies, theories, including the field of conflict studies, a particularly interesting window into the workings of cultures in the modern world. What does it mean to engage African perspectives on conflict management? Some of the essays in this volume indicate the need to consider African perspectives in their own right, some to balance them with Western approaches, but most indicate the need for a recentering. If we move in that direction, what is at stake? In many chapters, several broad West African indigenous conflict management strategies are presented. We refer to seven of these here. First, indigenous conflict management strategies are experiential. Its canons are preserved through folklore, proverbs, rituals, songs, and inanimate objects such as art and fetishes. Anything that threatens these in a particular society, such as the advent of Islam, Christianity, and so-called “modernity,” also undermines the indigenous systems of justice and resolution of conflicts. Second, West African indigenous conflict management systems are gerontocratic; elders play major roles in adjudication and dispute resolution. From the family to the city and the empire (where applicable), elders are visible as agents of peacebuilding and conflict resolution. On the shoulders of the head of a lineage rests the responsibility for preserving peace and good order in the family. At the village or town level, groups of elders are responsible for declaring war and negotiating peace. This book has also shown that the position of elders in many societies is gender-neutral. Third, reconciliation is the main goal of indigenous conflict management strategies. This is the context of truth and reconciliation programs following many recent African conflicts. Made popular as a conflict resolution mechanism by the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), this approach was adopted in West Africa after the civil wars in Sierra Leone and Liberia. The establishment of Sierra Leone’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission was provided for as part of the Lome Peace Accord of 1999. It had the mandate to provide an impartial historical record of the conflict and human

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rights abuses during the war, address impunity, respond to the needs of the victims, promote healing and reconciliation, and prevent a recurrence of the conflict and associated abuses. The Sierra Leone TRC worked for two years and submitted its report in 2004. At the end of its own civil war, neighboring Liberia created the Liberian TRC in 2005 with the mandate to promote national peace, security, unity, and reconciliation. The Commission worked from 2005 till 2010 when it submitted its report. In contemporary West Africa, pardon and amnesty have also been used to deal with intractable conflicts but, in the precolonial past, banishment and exile were reserved for the more egregious crimes. It should be noted that reconciliation is sometimes pursued at the expense of individual rights. Indigenous conflict management rests on the collective will and memory of the people. Thus, guilty parties are shamed publicly; even their families carried the guilt with them for many generations. In the process of healing the society, sometimes the rights of the individual are relegated to the background. Decisions are reached collectively, but judgments may also be carried out openly. Because the offense of one person may bring untold misery on the whole society, the practice of indigenous conflict management is inclusive; the whole society takes part in the resolution. In short, its focus and direction are informed by collective conscience. Fourth, rituals play important roles but usually as the last resort. Adesina has revealed in Chapter Twelve of this book that parties in a dispute among the Yoruba may be asked to drink “ilepa,” soil from the burial mounds which is mixed with water and various other herbs and fortified with sacred incantations. In many West African societies, disputing parties may be asked to perform purification sacrifices to heal the land and the people. Shrines and places of traditional religious ceremonies add to the enforcement mechanism in indigenous conflict management. Many shrines are revered today for their “power,” and they remain crucial in securing compliance from disputing parties. An infamous example is the Okija shrine. Okija is a small town in Anambra State, in the eastern part of Nigeria. In 2004, police made a macabre discovery of dead and decomposing bodies and skulls at the shrine. Prior to this discovery, Okija shrine had gained notoriety as the site where political deals were brokered, leading to the election of Chris Ngige as the governor of Anambra State in 2003. His election was later ruled to be fraudulent, and was overturned in March 2006 by the Appeals Court. In the meantime, Ngige began to have conflicts with the leadership of his party, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), and the clandestine political deals that were struck and oaths that were taken at the shrine prior to the election became public knowledge. The extremes reported about Okija shrine are not common. Ordinarily, shrines play significant roles in indigenous conflict management; they manage rituals, administer oaths, extract and enforce agreements, and promote harmony and well-being in the community.

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Fifth, indigenous conflict management strategies are less expensive than its adversarial Western counterpart in West Africa. Conflicts are not allowed to fester. Disputing parties are brought to reconciliation as soon as the elders know of their issues. Costs, if any, are minimal and often paid in kind rather than in cash. Sixth, there is no uniformity in what each society emphasizes or considers in reaching a settlement. Indigenous conflict management approaches in West Africa are process oriented and holistic. Elders addressing a case in one society may reach a different conclusion than another group of elders in another village. The absence of commonality makes each indigenous system unique for each society. This makes cross-cultural or cross-regional application and usage difficult. However, the goals of indigenous conflict management are usually the same: reconciliation of the disputing parties and healing of the land. While the decisions may not be cited as precedence in the Western legal sense, the goal is that the decision is acceptable to all. Finally, because of the colonial past, indigenous conflict management approaches are now only useful in addressing local, communal, intra- and intergroup conflicts in West Africa. Even so, cases in which lives are lost are often the preserve of the adversarial system. A rigorous mechanism has yet to be developed to cover such cases and to extend the efficacy of indigenous systems to large-scale international crises in the region. All of these features and perspectives of indigenous conflict management are rooted in culture. Africa as a whole, and West Africa in particular, has immense depth in the historical development of its cultures, essentially the world’s oldest, which just means a high degree of accumulated and distilled wisdom in the social cohesion afforded by solid restorative conflict management practices. These cultural traditions and practices are in turn rooted in African epistemologies, and here things are at the greatest possible variance to Western approaches, as there is little or no indigenous reductive identity axis around which categories of race, class, gender, nationality and religion become so freighted and central. Instead, more fluid and permeable categories of age, community, region, and the like are paramount. But these have been severely overlaid by the colonial grid, forming a series of multivariate cultural amalgams that form the starting place for any conversation of this kind. The notion of a separate, stand-alone discipline of conflict management or conflict resolution, only makes sense within a Western epistemic framework, whereas in African milieus the things we recognize as conflict resolution practices would be located across several institutional-cultural contexts. On the one hand, part of colonialism was a conscientious attempt to identify and eradicate or coopt these spaces, as well as the leadership itself. This took the form of “witchcraft eradication” campaigns, political repression and cooptation, and the invention of entirely new structures of authority, including in

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most places a version of “chiefs,” “tribes,” and “chiefdoms.” There was also a more incidental and epistemic impact of colonialism, which Mudimbe (1988) describes as an encompassing “re-ordering,” and Mamdani (2012) discusses in terms of customary versus colonial spheres of adjudication and political subjectivity. The traditional narrative of decolonization has it that the colonial/anticolonial period of the first six decades of the twentieth century morphed into the independence period, in which either neocolonialism or postcolonialism took hold. This was to have happened in the 1950s and 1960s, and by the 1970s and 1980s there was a dissipation of the neocolonial lexicon and its attendant warnings with the rise of academic discourse centering instead on the postcolonial. However, this temporal typology is flawed, because the idea of colonialism on which it is based is insufficient. If we shift to less reductive, less political-economy delimited analyses, such as the one provided by Mudimbe (1988), then the process of decolonization, and more deeply of recentering, becomes clearer. Mudimbe explains that formal colonization was more than anything a process of reordering, especially of knowledge, and this took place at the deepest levels of what he calls “gnosis,” which we refer to here as epistemology. As such, if one then wishes to discern a process of epistemic decolonization rather than the juridical-political decolonization that has already taken place in the mid-to-late twentieth century, then the path forward becomes clearer, as does the need and direction for ongoing work. Epistemic decolonization, what Latin American scholars have been calling the decolonial process, puts us on new and less certain ground, but also provides a degree of hopefulness, in that the old modes of understanding and transformation have generally produced less than stellar results in practice. Once we push past the understanding of colonialism as a formal juridical and territorial process, which ended with territorial independence linked to the fall of colonial empires across the world, we can discern the epistemological and discursive terrains on which reclamation, recentering, and delinking remain salient. This is not to deny the significance of economic and political independence and delinking, or negotiation, but simply to add to them and thereby make the endeavor that much more complex and substantive. As such, we can identify within the numerous indigenous cultures of the world, alternative epistemological formulations and orientations to the problems of our current world, which may not only be helpful in and of themselves, but may also play a role in the broader process of shifting, or realignment by which our twenty-first-century world order constitutes itself. The above is easy to advocate, but difficult to implement. Those with the power (or at least the capacity) to implement these changes in thinking and acting, in other words the current African leadership elites, are themselves products of those same colonial or postcolonial epistemologies. They have

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maintained the colonial boundaries and accepted the ethnic and provincial divisions in their countries. They have reinforced the dualism in the society that features “Western” and “indigenous” as diametrically opposed, with the latter perceived as inferior to the former. When they need to, like in situations of political power-sharing in Anambra State referred to above, they go to the shrines to swear oaths of secrecy. In other situations, they seek the help of witches to mysteriously get rid of their political opponents or business competitors. Otherwise, they shun the indigenous processes. After the police discovered atrocities at the Okija shrine, Christian leaders went to the shrine to exorcize it, spiritually cleansed it, and declared it for Jesus. The tactics are well known. The elites seem to know what to do with indigenous practices. Many profess Islam or Christianity by day, and practice witchcraft by night. Many are also distancing the next generation from customary practices. Rather than teach their children the indigenous language and ground them in African tradition and culture, they send them (their children) to English-only private schools to replicate the Euro-American epistemologies. This is probably because of the hegemony of the English language, something Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1986) explicitly warned about long ago: critical tests are written in English, the national constitution and all other legal rational documents are written in English, and even the media including the Internet transmit in English to the detriment of the indigenous languages. Fluency in English has, by and large, become a major key to academic success. By extension, many members of the leadership elite have continued to send their children to Europe and America for their graduate education. It is ironic, for instance, that at a time when Afro-Brazilians are eager to reconnect with their roots and learn salient aspects of Yoruba religion, their West African brothers and sisters profess Christianity and Islam, have distanced themselves from indigenous religious practices, and cannot complete a sentence in the indigenous language without code-switching with English or French. How, then, can the processes recommended in this book of recentering the indigenous be implemented? Who would do it? If we look to “change from below,” the Arab/African Spring comes to mind. That mass movement aimed mainly at social change at the level of state power, and used mass mobilization to effectuate a change in power. As to sustaining the revolutions, or to what depth and intensity these movements run beyond the shift in governing parties or bodies, this remains largely to be seen. In the short term, the results have often been less than substantive, but at the same time, it is too soon to say whether certain civic discourses will return to their prior status quo. But the question in this process of social change, much as was the case in its nineteenth- and twentieth-century antecedents, is how deep the rethinking runs, and whether social forces are sufficient to institute structural and sustainable changes. This is the realm in which a

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paucity of creative thinking hampers our horizon, and calls for leadership and innovation. This is also a realm in which marginalized and oppressed cultures and traditions can potentially return to the center, and enrich the tools and terms of discussion. The chapters in this volume all weigh the significance of specific African cultural modes of conflict resolution. While not all researchers reached the same conclusions, some broad points of commonality can be discerned, centered mainly on a negotiation of the over-representation of Western perspectives in this arena. While some authors cautioned about the Eurocentric biases brought in with Western approaches, however well meaning, and the need for African voices and modes of formulating conflict resolution dynamics, others sought to find a better balance between the two broad streams of thought. In all cases, the need for African voices and views, as well as categories of analysis and epistemic orientations, come clearly through. This has direct implications, in Africa and elsewhere in the world, for the practice of conflict management and resolution. Such a shift will likely yield greater efficacy in both local and national-level conflicts. The chapters in this volume point the direction in this regard, and can be helpful in establishing the path forward. However, this still leaves the question of how and why this elision lasted so long, and why it is still an against-the-grain process to move in this direction? What exactly is at stake in reformulating modes and methods of conflict engagement, and grounding contemporary West African practices in deeply rooted cultural traditions and practices that evolved specifically to provide a context and framework for conflict resolution? One reason is that this kind of thinking strikes at the very core of Eurocentrism, the centered nature of Western subjectivity and its universalized practices. All modern disciplines and fields of work simultaneously operate in this terrain. The context is one in which a single episteme, the Western, is and has been hegemonic, in other words dominant at all levels of society, across all institutions, and almost globally. Thus, when any challenge arises, it reverberates across the whole field of all similarly situated disciplines and places of negotiation, in a kind of reverse hegemonic effect. From the perspective of making the world a better place, following the dictums of indigenous West African conflict management practices, it might be optimal that the needs of the global community should outweigh those of the individual or the minority, in this case the West, which ironically is so steeped in individualism as a core principle. Thus, implementing changes in this arena returns to the question of power, hegemony, and shifting regional and international modalities of thought. Culturally, epistemological decolonization in West Africa has a direct relational implication in Western thought, as the two are not distinct entities independent of one another, but are in fact relational constructions in complex dynamics with one another. Decolonization,

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or recentering, means also a change in how the world is seen, and how it is balanced. The resources contained within African cultures, like that of other world cultures recovering from the effects of the imposition of “colonial difference,” are a vast and poorly tapped field that needs to be engaged for the betterment, first, of all cultures in Africa which would be directly affected and, second, for the epistemological recentering of the world community as a whole. These, at least, seem to be some of the preliminary implications of interventions and reversals in conflict management orientation and practices. NOTES 1. Henry James Sumner Maine (1822–1888) was a very prominent British and imperial jurist, influential in developing the foundations of indirect rule. His thoughts on East and West were presented in a series of lectures he gave at Oxford University and subsequently published in a collection entitled Village Communities (1871). 2. Dutch scholar Snouk Hurgronje (1857–1936) had a passion for what was then called “Oriental” cultures, especially Islam, converting to the religion and possessing a rare Western view (for his period) of the Holy Land. He was also passionate about the role of imperialism in Dutch East Asia. Until his death in 1936, he was sought after by European governments for advice on Islamic matters in their various colonies. He advocated complete religious freedom, only allowing the use of force against radical political Islam that threatened the colonial administration. One of his most influential writings was Mohammedanism (1916).

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Index

Abacha, General Sani, 259, 266 Abdallah, Mustapha, 6, 35 abduction, 31, 46 Abia State, 137, 167, 234, 255 absolutist view, 296 Abudu-Andani conflict, 44, 97; Abudu and Andani Gates, 127; Abudulai, 127; Abudus, 36, 39, 41; See also Andani Abusua dua, yentwa, 38, 40 accommodation, 238, 240 acephalous societies, 12, 95; Igbo, 149 Achebe, Chinua, 8, 65, 67, 68 Acquah committee, 125 activism, 274 ada, 138 Adae festival, 105 adahunse, 226 Adaka Boro, 236, 253, 254 Adamawa highlands, 310 Adebayo, Akanmu G., 9, 17, 103, 323 Adesina, Olutayo C., 5, 13, 21, 177 Adéyẹmí, Lérè, 13, 191 Adjei, Joseph Kingsley, 8, 9, 85, 103 adjudication, 38, 289, 291, 292, 293, 326, 328 adjudicatory system, 136, 151 adultery, 16, 105, 143, 287

adversarial Western conflict resolution, 327 Afigbo, 158 Africa and the West, 65 African Company, 106 African democracies, 117 African leadership elites, 328 African traditional approaches, 238, 242, 250 African traditional societies, 28 African Union (AU), 56 African-oriented CRM, 116, 188 Afro-Brazilians, 329 afterlife, 183 Agbor, Stephen Ojong, 16, 295 age grades, 3, 11–12; in Igboland, 145–152, 159–161, 165, 176 age groups, 4, 12, 242, 286 age, 312, 327 Agena, James E., 11, 145 agents, 325 aggression, 217, 256, 267 Agip, 261 Aguleri, 150, 156 Aguleri-Umuleri conflict, 155–162, 170 aid, xii, 54 Ajibade, Olusola George, 14, 211 ajobi, 29

363

364 Index

ajogun, 228 Akan, 43, 51, 86 Akinjogbin, I. A., 178, 183 Akwa Ibom State, 234, 255, 261 Akwamu, 51n4, 86 Akyem, 94 Al Shabbab, 26 Alaafin, 184 alajobi, 30, 183, 187, 188, 206, 208, 209 Alaranyo-Nkonya conflict, 10, 39, 115, 117–121, 123 Alavanyo, 123 Al-Qaeda, 26 altercations, 71 alternative dispute resolution (ADR), 10; for student union leaders, 269–278; in Ghana, 115–117, 22; in Igboland, 136, 140, 143; in the Niger Delta, 242 aluta, 271 Amadi, Luke A., 11, 145 amnesty, 14, 31, 245–249, 326; concept of, 243; in Niger Delta, 253, 257, 260–267; in Uganda, 31; program, 264 Anambra, 137, 167 ancestors, xii, 4, 16, 29, 58, 141; among the Banso, 301, 302; in Nweh society, 319; among the Yoruba, 177–183, 186, 199–206, 220, 226, 228 ancestral gods, 302, 305 ancestral spirits, 92, 206, 300 ancestral wrath, 299 ancient, 2 Andani, 36, 39, 41, 127 anger, 169 Anglophone, 5 animists, 137 Anthony Giddens, 318 Anya, 311 apology, 172 Arab Spring, 116, 329 arbitrary, 55 arbitration, 6, 40, 115, 116, 124, 172, 273

armed conflict, 192, 254 Arrow of God, 8, 65, 71–73, 75–78, 80 art, 178, 179, 325 artifacts, 179 artificial, 55 Asante kingdom, 6, 51n4, 86, 94, 103, 121; See also Ashanti Asantehene, 9, 40, 104, 120 Asanteman Council, 93 Asari Dokubo, 244 Ashanti, 9–10, 51n3, 91, 93, 95, 103–113, 120, 132; Confederacy, 106; customary law, 113 assassination, 127 assimilationist, 72 Asogwa, Felix Chinwe, 9 atonement, 77, 175 attack, 191 attributions, 61 audience, 223 avoidance, 238, 240 Avruch, Kevin, 308 Awedoba, 88 ayajo, 226, 227 aye, 228 babalawo, 180, 226 bad death, 92, 181 Bafmeng people, 284 Bakassi, 56 bale, 199 Bamenda Grassfields, 295 Bamileke, 310 bane forces, 227 banishment, 172, 288 Banso people, 16, 296–305; indigenous conflict management approach, 295, 298 bargaining, 218 Bawku crisis, 39 Bayelsa State, 234–236, 242, 255, 261 beitonghekeh, 15, 16, 281–285 bekem, 17, 309–312, 31–317 beliefs, 22, 39, 151, 180 Benin empire, 242 Benjamin, Jesse J., 17, 323

Index 365

Best, 88, 89, 114 Biafra, 236 Biblical worldview, 302, 304 blasphemy, 69 blessings, 223 blood sacrifice, 218 Boahen, Adu, 105 Bob-Manuel, Ineba, 154 Boko Haram, 146, 198, 238 Bombande, 121 Bond of 1844, 92, 93 Bonyang, 16, 295, 298–305 border/boundary, 54; disputes, 53, 59, 62–64, 158, 173, 313 Brewoo, Serwaa, 6, 35 bribes, 49 bridge-builder, 76 British colonial rule, 87; justice system, 113 burial, 142, 180; ceremony, 184; Christian sites of, 188; mounds, 13, 177; Muslim rites of, 189; rites, 137, 189; sites, 184, 188, 189 Calabar, 110 Cameroon, 307 camwood powder, 227, 228 capacity building workshop, 118 Cape Coast Castle, 93 Casamance, 6, 7, 45; conflict in, 36, 44, 50 cash crop, 314 casualties, 317 celebrations, 174 Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies (CRPACS), 275 chants, 214, 215 character assassination, 292 charms, 187 checks and balances, 242 Chevron, 261 Chief Imam, xii Chief Togbega Gabasu IV, xi chiefs, 3, 8, 9, 119, 126, 315; in Ghana, 43, 44, 85–100; in the Niger Delta, 235, 242; in Nweh society,

310–318; paramount, 67, 120, 315; in Yorubaland, 201, 202, 221 chieftaincy, 8, 9, 217, 317; feud, 291; institution, 85–87, 91, 94, 98, 99; titles, 197 China, 148 Chinweizu, 324 Christianity, 13, 16, 289, 325, 329; impact on Africa, 65, 67, 69, 74–78; in Cameroon, 291; in Ghana, 94; in Yorubaland, 178, 208 Chukwu, 137 civil society leaders, 188 civil society organizations (CSO), 42, 119, 281 civil wars, 32, 55, 118 clan, 138, 138, 143, 152, 297 cocoa production, 315 code-switching, 329 coercive, 162 Cold War, 145 collaboration, 208, 238, 240 collective conscience, 326 collective consciousness, 303 collectivist worldview, 303, 304 colonial, 18n1, 55, 244, 323; administration, 93, 323, 331n2; boundaries, 329; empires, 328; judiciary, 324; legal system, 103, 104, 156; masters, 68, 70; ordinances, 109; system, 290 colonialism, 5, 206, 207, 327, 328 coloniality, 15, 325 colonization, 3, 35, 325, 327 colony, 112 Committee of Eminent Chiefs 130 common ground, 287 common law, 182 commoners, 285 communal, 57, 295, 303; conflict, 35, 36, 196, 207; harmony, 58; life, 62; rites, 318 communication, 37, 212, 216, 273; channels, 166, 175; in Igbo society, 162, 165–176 communion, 154; ineffective, 169

366 Index

community: -based decision-making, 119, 287; -based organizations, 281; education, 304; harmony, 309–311, 313; peace, 295; relations, 272 compensation, 7, 58, 63, 160, 172; among the Banso, 301, 302; in the Niger Delta, 247, 250, 251, 255, 258, 260 competition, 238, 240 compromise, 238, 240, 241 conciliation, 17, 115, 116; in Igbo society, 136, 140, 143; in Nweh society, 307, 309, 310, 317, 321 confession, 60 confianza model, 319, 320 conflict, 152, 192, 212, 308, 309; analysis, 117, 123, 166; interethnic, 24, 32, 118; internal, 35, 66, 166; international, 145, 147, 152, 282, 327; interpersonal, 5, 14, 60, 166, 216, 223, 241; intergroup, 5, 152, 193, 212, 327; interstate, 5, 27, 53, 55, 147, 197; intractable, 97, 187, 241, 320; intragroup, 5, 54; intrastate, 6, 11, 12, 53; largescale, 22, 192, 198, 327; low intensity, 6, 36, 50; nationwide, 36, 118; protracted, 5, 31, 115, 127, 131, 155, 168, 171, 263, 320; recurrent, 32, 119; religious, 14, 191, 216, 217; resource, 239; social, 16, 37, 152, 246, 296, 308; violent, 15, 118, 146, 255, 313 conflict management, 1–2, 330; among student union leaders, 269, 270; in border crises, 53; in the Niger Delta, 233, 235, 241, 242; in Nweh society, 307, 308, 310; in oral literature, 211, 212, 216, 223, 231 conflict mapping, 240 conflict prevention, 171, 241 conflict resolution and management (CRM), 3, 10, 14, 116, 119, 122, 180 conflict resolution mechanisms, 189 conflict resolution theory, 215, 216

conflict resolution, 143, 241, 325; in Igbo society, 191, 192, 193, 195; among Laimbwe people, 281, 282; in Nweh society, 307–310, 319–321; in Yorubaland, 211, 212, 215, 224 conflict transformation, 1, 319; applied to Laimbwe society, 281–283; applied to Niger Delta conflict, 233, 242, 245, 246, 248; model by Lederach, 119, 247 conflicting parties, 57 conflict-related deaths, 53 consanguinity, 221 consensus building, 273 constitution, 95, 200 consultation, 57, 141, 273 Convention Peoples Party (CPP), 42, 94 corpse, 184–185 corruption, 237, 259 Cote d’Ivoire, 35 council of elders, 104, 242; in Igboland, 174, 175, 176 court systems, 90, 200, 321 covenant, 185, 186, 219 covenant making, 191 co-wives, 221 creation, 228 credibility, 48 credible commitment theory, 11, 145 crime, 288 criminality, 191 crisis management, 121 Cross River State, 234, 255 cross-cultural understanding, 14 crude oil, 234 cultural: xii, 1, 6–18; artifacts, 13; communications, 282; dynamics, 119; factors, 118; identities, 33; knowledge, 282; legacy, 221; practices, 35; traditions, 1, 120, 178, 327, 330; understanding, 14, 61, 211, 231; values and norms, 286; worldview, 59 culture, 26, 50, 214, 298, 308, 309 culture and traditions, 2

Index 367

culture of silence, 224 cultures, 179 cultures and conflicts, 61 cultures and traditions, 312 curfew, 255 curse, 198, 223, 303 custom, 286 customary, xi, 87, 323, 324; law, 9, 10, 88, 93, 109, 324; practices, 329; sphere, 324 Dagare, 87 Dagbani, 43 Dagbon, 126, 127; conflict, 6, 10, 36, 39–43, 115–118; Traditional Council, 129 Dagomba, 126, 127 dances, 174 Danso, 109, 111 Danso, Sarah Okaebea, 10, 115 Darwin, 217 David Hume, 304 dead relatives, 158 the dead, 13 death, 4 Death and the King’s Horseman, 65, 71–73, 75, 76, 78 decolonial process, 328 decolonization, 325, 328 decolonize, 2 deconstruct, 2 define and rule, 323 deities, 212, 218, 220, 226, 228 deliberations, 301 delinking, 328 Delta State, 234, 255 demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration (DDR), 226 demonstration, 273 Denkyira, 51n4, 86, 91 deportation, 114 descent, 297 descriptive research, 269 devastation, 53 development, 6, 286

dialectical, 1, 4 dialogue, 5, 115, 116, 199, 208, 241, 286, 312 Didiugwu, Ifeanyi F., 12, 14, 165, 253 Diola, 36, 44, 46 disagreements, 62 disassociation, 168 discard, 191 disharmony, 168, 318 disputants, 317, 320 dispute: land, 171; trade, 166; See also conflict dispute resolution, 273; See also conflict resolution or conflict management disrespect, 300 District Commissioner, 93, 94 diversity, 2 divide and rule, 323 divinations, 185 divine punishment, 154 diviner, 171, 202, 205 divinities, 195 divisions, 54 domestic conflict, 197 domestic violence, 297 dominance, 296 domination theory, 111 dowry, 175 drilling sites, 235 drought, 105 dualism, xi, xii durable settlement, 320 durbars, 95 Duru, Emmanuel Chukwuma, 12, 165 Eagle Square bombing, 146 ebi, 30, 183 Ebonyi State, 137, 167 economic conflict, 168 economic livelihood, 237 Edo State, 234, 255 effective communication, 165, 166, 282 egalitarianism, 137, 145 egungun, 199, 206 elder, 155

368 Index

elders, 31, 60, 57, 58, 88, 325, 327; among Nso people, 297, 300–303, 305; in Igboland, 165; in Laimbwe society, 285, 287; in Nweh society, 309, 310, 312; in Yorubaland, 191, 193, 196, 197, 198, 200, 201, 204, 208; role of in Ghana, 119, 122 election, 116 electoral commission, 37 Elesin Oba, 71–73, 76, 80 Elmina, 92; fort, 106 emotional bias, 169 endogenous, 59 enshrine, 104–105 enstool, 88 environmental degradation, 235, 237, 244, 249, 255, 256 epidemics, 229 epistemic decolonization, 328 epistemic diversity, 323 epistemology, 17, 33, 72, 179, 324, 328 esa, 225 Eselebor, Willie Aziegbe, 14, 233 Esu, 13, 195, 202, 203, 228 ethical reprimand, 287 ethics, 230 ethnic, 118, 329; boundaries, 93; conflict, 147, 211, 229; groups, 197, 283, 284, 310; identities, 22; minority, 237, 238, 244; nationalities, 145, 267; perspective, 146 ethnicity, 271 ethnocentrism, 118 Eurocentrism, 330 Ewe, 86 exclusion, 89 excommunicated, 138, 142, 150 exile, 107, 110, 287 exiles, 288 expectations, 61 experiential, 325 exploitation, 193 Ezeulu, 67, 68, 76

facilitated dialogue, 121 facilitation, 115, 116 factionalism, 5 fai, 300–305 fairness, 6, 289, 291 faith-based organizations, 118 Falola, Toyin, 146 family, 119, 152 family traditional council, 297–299 famine, 105 Fante, 51n4; See also Fanti Fanti, 106; Confederacy, 106 fear, 89 feminist theory, 138, 139 fertility, 105 fetish, 107, 171 fetishes, 87, 325 filial relationship, 179, 180 Final Peace Agreement (Dagbon), 43 fine, 289 focus group discussion, 269, 275 folklore, 174, 191 folklores, 211, 213–215 folktales, 230, 325 fon, 286, 296–305 fondoms, 297 Fonkem, Achankeng, 17, 307 food self-sufficiency, 285 forbearance, 230 forests, 177 forfeiture, 172 forgetting, 230 forgive, 17, 222 forgiveness, 63, 64, 230, 248, 289, 302–305 formal complaint, 316 formal education, 99 Freud, 296 frustration/aggression theory, 194, 253, 256, 257, 267 Fulani, 31 Ga-Adangbe, 86 Gacaca, 4, 38, 59, 60 Gaia, 89

Index 369

Galtung, 88, 90, 139 Gbewa palace, 44 Gbi Traditional Area, xi, xii Gelede masks, 220 Gemeinschaft, 2 gender, 141; -neutral, 325 generations, 179, 180 genocide, 5, 55 gerontocracy, 58, 295 gerontocratic, 17, 325 Gesellschaft, 2 Ghana, 35, 50, 85 ghosts, 212 global, 1, 5, 13, 18, 50, 55, 147, 196; age, 21–24, 28, 177, 188; citizenship, 33; community, 23, 192, 208–209, 330; conflicts, 33, 147, 149; migrations, 33; peace, 22; South, 148; system, 32; understanding, 34; village, 176 globalization, 5, 24–25, 214 Gluckman, 216 gods, 16, 67, 68, 87; Igbo, 141, 171; Nso, 299, 300;Yoruba, 201, 203 Gold Coast, 85, 92, 110 Golden Stool, 43, 103, 104, 105, 106; desecration of, 9, 103, 109, 114 gomo tong, 31 governance, 8, 241, 311 Grassfields, 284 graves, 180 gravesites, 184, 189 graveyard soil, 219; See also ilepa Great Lakes Region, 22 group cohesion, 166, 303 guerilla conflict, 259, 260 Guggisberg, Frederick, 93 guilt, 162, 265, 267 guilt or innocence, 3 Guinea Fowl War, 39, 118 Guinea-Bissau, 115 harmonious, 58; living, 317 harmony, 63, 90, 208, 300, 302, 305 healing the land, 327

hegemonization, 32 hegemony/hegemonic, 224, 329, 330 hereditary, 312 hierarchical, 48, 298, 311 higher education, 270, 271 historical contexts, 50 Hodgson, Frederick Mitchell, 104, 105 Hohoe, xi, xii, 124, 126 holistic, 295, 303, 327 holistic conflict management strategy, 171 homage, 200 homegrown conflict, 1, 10, 115–116 homicide, 31 homogeneous, 57 homogenization, 32 honor, 218 hospitality, 15, 137, 286 household head, 316 human capital, 54 human needs, 195; theory, 135, 138, 140 human progress, 23 human rights, 6, 89; culture, 188 human sacrifices, 93 humiliation, 79 humor, 318 hunters, 216 Huntington, Samuel, 25, 27 Hurgronje, Snouk, 323, 331n2 hurt, 169 husband-wife conflicts, 314, 319 Hutu, 25 hybrid approaches, 50 hypocrisy, 60 identity, 182, 234, 308; politics, 198 ideologies, 2 idioms, 208 Ifa, 191; divination, 185; priests, 216 Ife-Modakeke crisis, 146, 225 Igbo, 57, 136, 149, 165; culture, 141; society, 67, 135–136, 142; worldview, 167 Igwe, 158 ija, 191

370 Index

ijala, 225, 232n1 Ijaw, 236, 261 Ijaye war, 207 Ijebu, 197 ikoro, 170 Ile-Ife, 178, 197 ilepa, 13, 177, 180–189, 221 illiteracy, 89 immolation, 79 Imo State, 137, 167, 234, 255 Imperial Acts, 109 imprisonment, 28 impunity, 188 inalienable rights, 292 incantation, 12, 204; Igbo, 170; Yoruba, 183, 187, 227, 229 incest, 143, 173, 201, 203 independence, 111 India, 148 indigenous, 329; conflict resolution and management (CRM), 121, 192, 209; cultures, 35; knowledge, 189; language, 329; people, 233; practices, 308, 329; societies, 307, 308, 321; worldview, 5 indigenous conflict management strategies, xi, xii, xiii, 11, 116, 177, 269; amnesty as, 255, 265; for border disputes, 53, 62; for peacemaking, 35, 36, 47, 48, 49; general description of, 1, 3, 5, 11, 13, 14, 17, 18; in Africa, 323–327, 329, 330; making a case for, 21, 24, 28, 34 indigenous conflict resolution, 295, 303, 304 indirect rule, 93, 95, 331n1 individualism, 330 individualistic, 295 industrial, 3 inequality, 248, 324 in-groups, 168 inheritance, 221, 297 initiated, 75 initiations, 15 injustices, 193

innovation, 170 insecurity, 236, 272 instability, 271 insult, 45 integration, 123; of ex-combatants, 250 integrity, 170 interaction, 312, 313 interdependence, 3 interests, 39 intermarriage, 127 International Court of Justice (ICJ), 56 International Criminal Court (ICC), 31 interpersonal relationships, 223 interrogation, 288 intervention, 308 intolerance, 8 investigation, 287 invocation, 12, 58, 206 irredentism, 170 Islam, 13, 178, 208, 325, 329 iyaale, 199, 202 iyerosun, 227 Jaja of Opobo, 242 James Fort Prison, 110 Jasikan, 124, 126 jealousy, 296 John Locke, 304 Joint Task Force, 260, 267 joking relationship, 7, 45, 46 judges, 288 judgments, 61 judicial, 185; control, 181; processes, 323 Jukun-Tiv, 146 jurisprudence, 181 justice, 28, 60, 89, 185, 262, 316; economic, 233, 248, 250, 251 justice system, 323 Kafanchan 31 Kah, Henry Kam, 15, 281 Kaiama Declaration, 236 kidnapping, 198 king, 87, 89, 184, 185, 201, 205

Index 371

kingmakers, 88, 127, 312, 315 kinship, 4, 28, 185; across boundaries, 137, 138; among the Banso, 305; among the Yoruba, 28, 29, 196, 207; by blood relationship, 183; by marriage, 196 Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC), 123 Kojo Poku, 109 kola nut, 219, 300; breaking of, 141; breaking of by women, 144; in Ghana, 124; in Igboland, 141, 144, 153, 154; in Yorubaland, 201, 204 Kolawole, Clement O. O., 15, 269 Kolawole, Toluwalope O., 15, 269 Kom people, 284, 293n1 Kom/Wum Forest Reserve, 285 Konkomba, 39, 87 Konkomba-Nanumba conflict, 97 Kony, Joseph, 31 Krontihene, 87 Kuk people, 284 Kusasi, 39 Laimbwe people, 281 land, 91–97, 155, 169; acquisition of, 235; administration of, 91; agricultural, 54, 296; attachment to, 296; ownership, 118, 314; rights, 297 land disputes, 66, 67; in Igboland, 152, 158, 171; in Yorubaland, 187, 200 Land Use Decree 1978, 235, 254 lasting peace, 282, 283 Latin America, 319 law, 181, 321; and order, 90, 241; courts, 157; positive, 136; repressive, 113 leadership and innovation, 330 LeBaron, Michelle, 308 Lederach, Paul, 1, 37, 119, 120, 246, 247, 249, 283, 319 legal-rational authority, 85, 94, 96, 97, 100 legends, 178, 214 legitimacy, 302

libations, 60, 154, 170, 184, 318 Liberia, 22, 35, 36, 51n1, 115, 241, 325, 326 lies, 58 lineage, 16, 87, 325; Banso, 297, 300; Igbo, 138, 142, 167; Laimbwe, 287; Yoruba, 218 linguistic pluralism, 168 litigation, 241 livelihoods, 255 livestock, 54 living will, 317 the living, 13 Livingstone, David, 74 local authority, 122 local conditions, 122 local institutions, 119 long-suffering, 230 Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), 31, 189n2 lose, 114 Losha, Solomon, 16, 295 love, 208 Lundy, Brandon D., 1, 364 Lugard, Frederick, 323 magic charms, 197 magical words, 187 male-female conflicts, 313, 314 Mali kingdom, 127 Malthus, 217 Mamdani, Mahmood, 323, 328 Mamprusi, 39 Mamprusi-Kusasi conflict, 97 Manhyia palace, 51n3 marginalization, 148 marginalized, 330 masquerade, 182, 184 masquerades, 15, 174, 176, 286 Mate-Kole Committee, 128 mato oput, 31, 38 matrilineal, 284 matrimonial space, 222, 224 Maxwell, Sir William, 107 Mbagwu, Joan, 7, 53

372 Index

Mbengkas people, 285, 287, 289–291, 293nn4–6, 294n7 Mbiti, 223 mediate, 175 mediation, 195, 273; and Ghana’s conflict, 38, 47; in homegrown conflict, 115, 116, 122, 123, 124; in Nweh society, 307, 309, 310, 316, 317, 321 mediator, 201 memory, 201, 220, 282, 223 MEND, 260–262; See Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta menji, 311 mercy, 250 messenger, 68 migration, 167 militancy, 253–256, 260, 266, 267; in the Niger Delta, 245– 250, 260–263, 267, 268 military government, 96, 98, 254, 266 mineral resources, 244 Mion Lana Andani, 42 Mireku Committee, 125 miscommunication, 169 missionaries, 156 misunderstandings, 37 Mmouckngie conflict, 315 modern, 178, 179 modernity, 325 modernization, 35 monotheism, 8, 79 morality, 60, 182 Moremi, 202 mores, 151, 142 Mother Earth, 219 Mouvement des Forces Democratique de la Casamance (MFDC), 44–47 Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND), 243 Movement for the Survival of Ogoni People (MOSOP), 236 multicultural, 168 multilateral organizations, 149

multinational force, 282 multinational oil corporations (MNOC), 235, 237, 239, 249 multi-religions, 168 multivariate, 327 murder, 171 Muslims, 44 Muthoni, 75, 76 mutual hostility, 239 myths, 178, 195, 212, 222 Nanumba, 39 narratives of causation, 304, 305 National Democratic Congress (NDC), 49, 130 National House of Chiefs, 132n6 nation-state, 55 Native Authority, 93 natural resources, 259–260 negotiation, 38, 238, 317, 325 negotiators, 277 neocolonial, 324, 328 neocolonialism, 5 networks, 39 New Patriotic Party (NPP), 42, 130 Ngige, Chris, 326 Niger Coast Protectorate, 233 Niger Delta, 14, 167, 198, 258; amnesty, 233, 237, 238, 239, 244, 250; conflict, 235, 238, 239; Congress, 235; people, 260; youths, 253, 254, 268 nkem, 311 Nkonya, 123; See also Alavanyo-Nkonya Nkrumah, Kwame, 95 nonadversarial, 191 non-Western cultures, 307 non-Western societies, 319 norms, 37 Nso: people, 295; belief system, 304; cultural values, 299; culture, 298; society, 299, 303 nuclear family, 167 Nwadiala, 153

Index 373

Nweh: people, 17, 307–320; society, 313, 314, 319; tradition, 307–309, 317; worldview, 307, 309 oath taking, 12, 152, 218; Igbo, 170, 175; Yoruba, 185, 187, 191, 199–204, 208 oaths, 40, 58 242, 236 oba, 201, 217 Obasanjo, President Olusegun, 157, 266 Obatala, 195, 199, 208 Odi, 266 Odoziobodo, Severus Ifeanyi, 14, 253 odu, 229 Oduduwa, 195 Odum, 124 Odwira festival, 105 the offended, 302 offender, 302 ofor, 150, 151, 153 Ogboni, 202 Ogbu, Silk, 165 Ogoni Bill of Rights, 236 Ogun, 191, 201, 204, 206 oil, 15, 147; and gas, 236, 244, 254; bunkering, 254, 259; palm, 234; resources, 254, 259, 260; revenue, 263, 266, 268; spills, 237 Oil Rivers, 233 Okija shrine, 326, 329 okpara, 151 Okyeame, 87 Olaiya, Kolawole, 7, 65 Old Oyo Empire, 184, 242, 274 Ollenu Committee, 128 Olódùmarè, 13, 195, 202, 208, 228 Oloibiri, 235 Oloolu, 182 Olunde, 71–73, 76 Olupona, J. K., 179 Olurode, Lai, 23 Olusanya, 23 Omanhene, 87 omenani, 136 Ondo State, 234, 255

onisegun, 226 Oodua People’s Congress (OPC), 207 Opoku Mensah, 107 oral literature, 14 oral traditions, xi, 86, 202, 204, 206, 209 oramedia, 174, 175, 176 Oranfe, 195 Organization of African Unity (OAU), 56 Oriental, 331n2 Orientalism, 72 oriki, 204 orisa, 178 orori, 13, 177, 180 orun, 228 Orunmila, 195 Osanyin, 205 Osei Tutu II, Otumfuo, 43, 120 Osei Tutu, 92 Osei-Poku, 106 Osei-Tutu, Joana Ama, 10, 115 Osu, 150, 152, 153, 154 Osun, 216, 230 Otuocha, 155 156, out-groups, 168 Oyo people, 72, 197 palace, 16 palm frond, 170, 175 palm wine, 124, 140, 142, 175, 201, 283, 300 paradigm shift, 66, 253, 256, 258; Kuhn’s, 256, 267 pardon, 243, 326 partial-insider mediator, 319 participatory, 174 partisan politics, 156 pastor, 200 paternal lineages, 86 patience, 224 patriarchal, 224 patrilineal, 137, 297, 315 peace, 47, 300, 325, 326; among the Laimbwe, 284–292, 293n4;

374 Index

and conflict resolution, 188; and conflict, 181, 234; and development, 116; and harmony, 220, 231; and justice, 235; and order, 223; and reconciliation, 265, 316, 319; and security, 85, 118; and stability, 253, 268; in the Niger Delta, 233, 243, 248, 251; in Yoruba society, 207, 208, 223, 225, 227; offering, 175; plant, 300; process, 295 peacebuilders, 9 peacebuilding, 12, 325; in Igbo culture, 160, 161; in the Niger Delta, 248, 250; in Laimbwe culture, 281, 283 peaceful coexistence, 272, 287, 297, 302–304 peacemakers, 185 peacemaking, 35, 39, 47, 49, 59; institution, 298, 299; process of, 308, 309; role of chiefs in, 85, 90, 98 Peki-Tsito conflict, 97 People’s Democratic Party (PDP), 326 perceptions, 61 performance, 223, 224 persuasion, 199, 317 petition, 141 Petroleum Act, 254 phenomenology, 217 plagues, 105 poetry, 214, 215, 222, 225 police, 321 political assassination, 116 political party, 95 polygamous, 221, 224, 314 The Polytechnic Ibadan, 273–275 post-Cold War, 115, 147 postcolonial history, 115 postcolonial, 3, 244, 324 postelection violence, 207 postindustrial societies, 307 poverty, 89, 152; in the Niger Delta, 256, 257; Yoruba view of, 193, 205, 217, 223 power, 326, 330; of the spoken word, 223, 227; relations, 139; sharing theories, 145 prayer, 12, 170, 290

precolonial, 18n1 prejudice 169 Prempeh I, Asantehene, 9, 103, 105, 107, 108, 112 priest, 66, 68 primitive, 23 primordial, 5 prisons, 94, 265 Privy Council, 157 proverbs, 298, 325; Igbo, 174, 175; Yoruba, 191–193, 198, 208, 213–221, 225, 229, 230 Provisional National Defense Council (PNDC), 96 provocation, 45 puberty rites, 105 public hearing, 288 public tribunal, 113 punishment, 57, 182, 265 purification rituals, 182, 326 quarrels, 227 queen mothers, 9, 88, 90, 99, 103, 108, 114, 118, 126, 312 radicalization, 258 rank, 312; chieftaincy 315 ransom 234, 236 rape, 31 realist, 112; theory, 111, 193 recentering, 18, 328–331 reciprocity, 59 reconcile, 63, 287 reconcile disputants, 170 reconciliation, 4, 7, 11, 14, 16, 177, 326; Banso practice of, 298, 301, 302, 304, 305; Igbo practice of, 145, 154, 175; in postamnesty Niger Delta, 233, 235, 241, 243, 246, 248, 250, 251; Nweh practice of 316, 318; to resolve boundary conflicts, 57, 60, 62, 64; Yoruba practice of, 191, 208, 209, 211, 223 reconstruction, 54 Regional House of Chiefs, 132 rehabilitation, 159 reincarnation, 142, 183, 187

Index 375

reintegration, 6, 160 relationships, 38, 233, 309 relative deprivation theory, 253, 256, 257, 267 religions freedom, 331n2 religious crises, 24 religious intolerance, 118 re-ordering, 328 reparations, 265 repentance, 243 repressive laws, 91, 113 reprisal, 154 respect, 6, 223, 283, 303, 305 responsibility, 63 restitution, 6, 63, 172 restoration, 7, 57, 140, 154, 159 restorative justice, 7, 132, 327 retribution, 63, 162, 177, 265 retributive justice, 132, 188, 191 revenge, 59 rights, 229 riots, 192 ripeness theory, 145 rites of passage, 75 rituals, 12, 152, 242, 435, 326; and oral literature, 191, 199, 200, 202, 208; Bekem, 302, 309;Yoruba, 178, 180, 184, 189n1 The River Between, 65, 73, 75, 76, 78 Rivers State, 234, 255, 346 Rodney, Walter, 324 rooster, 300 root causes, 122, 171, 235, 240, 241, 248, 249 Rousseau, 89 Royal Awards Day, 99 Royal Dutch Shell, 261, 262 Royal Fund, 99 Royal Gates, 36, 41, 42; See also Abudu and Andani Royal Niger Company, 157 rumor, 287 Rwanda, 38, 54, 188 sacred, 113, 187; burial, 184; duty, 79; forests/grove, 92, 199; incantations, 326; objects, 177; stick (Osisi ofo),

175; personality, 91; and profane, 178, 218, 304; sanctions, 217; sites, 170, 181; societies, 312; space/ places, 177, 179; ties, 46; yam, 67 sacrifice, 8, 65, 68–71, 77, 150, 170–171, 184, 186, 199, 219, 228; blood, 218; first son, 80, 202; human, 71; ritual of, 79; supreme, 76 sacrificial object, 71, 75, 77 sacrilege, xii, 174, 202; Nso ala/ani, 171, 173 sacrilegious, 138 Sango (Yoruba god of lightning & thunder), 181–182, 201, 203 Saro-Wiwa, Ken, 147, 236, 254, 258, 259 satire, 14, 213 scapegoat, 7–8, 65, 76–78, 81n10 secret society, 4, 48, 242 secrets, 16, 81n11, 92, 189, 200–201; of peacemaking, 57, 158, 231 secular, 3, 9, 89; powers, 151; secularization, 72 security, 15, 43, 77, 85, 89–90, 98, 117, 153, 160, 193, 211, 214, 229, 241, 243–244, 253, 259–260, 263, 285–287, 312, 326; agents, 30; challenges, 176; crises, 115; and defense, 9; detention, 30; domestic, 197; forces, 267, 303; individual, 85; maintenance of, 139; national, 130; peace and, 39, 116, 118, 144, 251; policy, 249; social, 8; See also insecurity seer, 74, 78, 171; Senegal, 6–7, 35–36, 44–47, 50, 51 Seniagya, 9 Seniagya, Chief, 9–10, 103–104, 108–114 Serer, 7, 36, 44, 46–47, 50 sexual enslavement, 31 Seychelles, 9, 107, 108 shame, 304; shaming practice, 7, 16, 298, 300; shamed, 326 shrines, 13, 87, 160–161, 177, 178, 184, 202, 217; ancestral, 182,

376 Index

199, 204; coopting of, 18; cultic, 221; shuttle diplomacy, 317 Sierra Leone, 35, 36, 51n1, 115, 325–326 skins, 49, 91, 96–98; enskin/deskin, 43, 87–88, 100, 127–129 slave/slavery, 85, 99, 106, 218; trade, 166, 206 smuggling, 7 social change, 10, 120, 165, 212, 329 social cohesion, 3, 62–63, 136–137, 172, 242, 327 social context, 38–39, 162, 229, 257 social control, 2–4, 7, 94, 137, 139, 173, 181, 221, 242; theory, 238 social diversity, 298 social engineering, 139 social harmony, 4, 7, 9, 16–17, 27, 57–58, 60, 63, 241, 264, 305 social institutions, 193, 215; destruction of, 54 social integration, 296, 318 social justice, 6, 27 social, reality 178, 187 social, relations 152, 188, 203; deepening, 24; Yoruba, 29, 182–184 socialization, 168, 173; processes, 214 solidarity, 5, 51n2, 159–160, 172–173, 197, 206, 242, 318; mechanical/organic, 3, 91; social/community, 200, 282 Somalia, 22, 26, 56, 283 the Son (Jesus Christ), 8, 65, 67, 74–76, 78–80, 329 songs, 48, 174–175, 298, 302, 325; of disgrace, 288; folk, 231; funeral, 30; nuptial, 222; victory, 289; in Yoruba orature, 213–216, 222– 225, 228; Yoruba conflict songs, 191, 193, 202, 204–206, 208 sorcery, 154 soul, 77, 142, 183; social (of the community), 74 South-South, 234; developing South, 32; global South, 18, 148

Soyinka, Wole, 8, 65, 70–72, 75, 78, 80, 81n8–12, 180 spirits, 4, 69, 108, 174, 178, 180, 186, 212, 223, 228, 288, 302; abode of, 200; ancestral/of the dead, 91–92, 141–142, 162, 179, 182, 184, 200, 206, 300; collective, 105; kindred, 187; mediums/ conjurers, 48, 226; of the earth/ nature, 174, 186; world, 13, 113 spiritual, 3, 14; chants, 170; realm, 32; worlds, 178, 181, 186 spirituality, 58, 184, 303 spoken word, 228 stability, 229, 285, 290 stakeholders, 236, 246, 270 stealing, 173 stool, 49, 92, 104; carrier, 112; lands, 95 storm, 4 storytelling, 174 stress, 211 stress and tension, 195 structural violence, 89 structural violence theory, 193, 194 student union government, 270 student union leaders, 269, 274, 275–278 students, 269 sub-chiefs, 86 subjectivities, 323 succession, 8, 297; conflicts, 147, 313, 316; rights, 315; rites, 312 suicide, 202, 203 superstition, 179 Supreme Court (Ghana), 129 sustainable, 23; development, 249; peace, 156, 188, 233, 283; peacebuilding, 249 swear, 300, 301, 329; an oath, 121 swearing, 219 symbolism, 318 synecdoche, 228 taboo, 45, 217, 219 taboos, 92, 151, 178, 179, 203

Index 377

tales, 222 Tallensi, 87 teeth and tongue, 41 terrorism, 191, 234, 256 third-party intervention, 307–310, 320 tolerance, 224, 238, 272 tooh, 285 tortoise 205 totems, 178, 179 town union, 142 Track One diplomacy, 281 Track Two diplomacy, 281 tradition and custom, 88 traditional: xi, xii, 3, 7; approach, 283, 285, 292; authorities, 87, 104, 282; ceremonies, 38; channels, 211; council, 16, 93, 129, 293, 297–303; culture, 308, 316; family values, 144; festivals, 220; healers, 216; institution, 116, 200, 293; justice, 188; law, 103; religion, 137, 178, 179, 180; religious practices, 189n1; rule, 9, 48, 87, 96, 100; rulers, 48, 97, 103–105, 121, 158, 193, 227, 242; societies, 113, 180; worldview, 295–297, 304 traditionalists, 74, 75 traditions, 2 trance, 170 transcendence, 295, 303 transnationalism, 33 Treaty of Fomena, 107 tribalism, 5 tribunals, 188 trust, 195 trust-building workshops, 126 truth, 57, 233, 235, 250; and reconciliation, 4, 235, 250 Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), 325–326 Tuso, Hamdesa, 308 Tutu, 59 Ubuntu, 37, 59, 62, 64 umuada, 135–144, 173, 176

Umuleri, 150, 156 umunna, 11, 12, 137–140, 145–153, 172–176 umunne, 137 underdevelopment, 244, 255, 257 underlying causes, 185 understanding, 169 union-management conflict, 168 United Nations (UN), 43, 118, 130, 143, 147, 188; peacekeeping, 36, 51n1 UN Security Council (UNSC), 36 University of Ibadan, 272, 274, 275 Upper Volta, 10 vendetta, 63 victory song, 289 Vietnam, 148 village council, 151 violence, 24, 46, 299; on campuses, 271, 278; Yoruba view, 191, 192, 207, 227 Volta Region, xi, 39, 117 vulnerable, 54 Wa Thiong’o, Ngugi, 8, 65, 73, 74, 325, 329 Waiyaki, 74–76 Wallerstein, Immanuel, 148 war, 155, 166, 226, 313, 325 War of the Golden Stool, 108 war to peace, 258 warfare, 274 warrant, 110 warrant chief, 67 warring parties, 228 warrior class, 156 Warsaw Pact, 148 weapons, 239, 244 welfare, 286 well-being, 326 Western, 188; conflict resolution strategies, 1, 14, 35, 36, 116, 122, 145, 149, 283, 295; education, 71, 289; epistemic framework, 327; epistemologies, 2, 324; perspectives,

378 Index

40, 45, 145, 329, 330; societies, 307; theories, 13, 194; traditions, 318 Westernization, 80, 299 Willink Commission, 235 win, 114 wirfon, 296 wisdom, 303, 312 witchcraft, 4, 16, 48, 171, 187, 201, 287, 314, 329; eradication, 327; in Laimbwe society, 287–290 witches, 219, 220, 288, 329 wizards, 219, 289 women intervention, 30, 31, 241, 242 woming, 300 words, 223 World Bank, 37 World War I, 198 World War II, 11, 147, 192 Wuaku Commission, 42, 130 Yaa Asantewaa, 9, 107, 108, 112 Yaa Asantewaa War, 108 yam festival, 66 Ya-Na, 41, 44, 51n5, 126; Abudulai III, 42, 127; Mahama II, 41, 51n5, 127; Mahama III, 127;

Mahamadu Abudulai IV, 43, 131; Yakubu Andani II, 42, 43, 129 Yar’Adua, President Umar, 244, 258, 262, 263, 266, 267 Yenagoa, 253 Yendi, 130 Yenkyira, 109 Yogu, 109 Yoruba, 192, 194, 209; cosmology, 178–180, 185, 219, 226; culture, 71, 179, 206, 218; discourse, 13; hunters, 232n1; law, 182; mythology, 222; oral literature, 211–213, 216, 227–231; oral poetry, 204, 209, 214, 222, 224, 225; orature, 211, 219, 220, 225, 227; people, 192, 194, 212, 217, 218, 220–227; religion, 329; rituals, 188; society, 192, 196, 198, 201, 213; tradition, 81n9; worldview, 194, 214, 218, 229 Zamfara state, 126 Zangon-Kataf, 146 Zartman, I. William, 1, 24, 148, 150, 201, 212, 214, 231, 282, 320 Zongo, xi, xii

About the Editors/Contributors

Akanmu G. Adebayo (Ph.D.) is professor of history and director of the Center for Conflict Management (CCM) at Kennesaw State University (KSU), Kennesaw, Georgia. He was also formerly executive director of the Institute for Global Initiatives at KSU. He received his education at the University of Ife (renamed Obafemi Awolowo University) and earned his Ph.D. degree in history, focusing on economic history. He is author, co-author, and co-editor of many books, and his articles have been published in many scholarly journals. His latest publication is a co-edited book, Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies: Global Perspectives (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2014). In addition, he is series editor of Lexington Books’ “Conflict and Security in the Developing World,” and editor-in-chief of the Journal of Global Initiatives. His current research projects are on the African Diaspora, African economic history, alternative dispute resolution (ADR) design in West Africa, and post-election dispute management in Africa. Joseph Kingsley Adjei is a Ph.D. candidate in International Conflict Management at Kennesaw State University, Kennesaw, Georgia. He received his Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Sociology from the University of Cape Coast, Ghana. He also holds a Diploma in Education from the same university. He is a Golden Key scholar and awardee of “Who’s Who among Students in American Universities and Colleges” (2012). He holds memberships in a number of organizations including the International Studies Association (ISA) and the Association for the Study of the Middle East and Africa (ASMEA). His research interests include civil society and peacebuilding, chieftaincy in Ghana, democratization in Africa, ethnicity and voting behavior, electoral systems, and global conflicts. His recent publications include “A Comparative Analysis of Ghana’s First-Past-the 379

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About the Editors/Contributors

Post (FPTP) System and the Proportional Representation (PR) System” in the Journal of Global Initiatives (2014), “Indigenous Conflict Resolution Strategies in Monarchical Systems: Comparison of the Nature, Effectiveness and Limitations of the Yoruba and Akan Models” (co-authored with Akanmu G. Adebayo) in the edited-volume Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies: Global Perspectives (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2014), and “A Theoretical Approach to Max Weber’s Argument with the Ghost of Karl Max: Who is right in the Context of Africa’s Underdevelopment Discourse?” in the Materials of International Practical Conference proceedings (2012). Jesse J. Benjamin (Ph.D.) is associate professor in the Departments of Sociology and Criminal Justice, and Interdisciplinary Studies, at KSU. He is also the coordinator of the African and African Diaspora Studies (AADS) program. He received his undergraduate degree in interdisciplinary studies at Friends World College, and both his MA in cultural anthropology and his PhD in world systems sociology from SUNY Binghamton. His recent publications include two coedited e-books: Greenwashing Apartheid: The Jewish National Fund’s Environmental Cover-Up, and Ongoing Ethnic Cleansing: Judaizing the Naqab. He is currently working on a co-edited volume on Walter Rodney, monographs on the global history of Jewish whiteness, and the history of identity in East Africa. He is member of the Board of the Walter Rodney Foundation (WRF), and former editor of the ACAS (Association of Concerned Africa Scholars) Bulletin. He is editor-in-chief of the new international journal South, and co-editor of Groundings, the publication of the Walter Rodney Foundation. His current research focuses on forced Bedouin resettlement in Israel, trans-Atlantic Jewish whiteness, Kurdish social movements, identity and historiography in East Africa, and critical race theory generally. Brandon D. Lundy (Ph.D.) is associate professor of anthropology and associate director of the Ph.D. program in International Conflict Management at Kennesaw State University, Kennesaw, Georgia. He received his Ph.D. degrees in anthropology from the State University of New York at Buffalo and the University of Science and Technology of Lille, France, focusing on community and household livelihood strategies in Guinea-Bissau, West Africa. He is the author, coauthor, editor, and coeditor of several books and scholarly articles. His latest publications include the co-edited book Indigenous Conflict Management Strategies: Global Perspectives (Lexington Books), edited book, The Art of Anthropology/The Anthropology of Art (Newfound Press, 2013), and the coedited book, Teaching Africa: A Guide to the 21st-Century Classroom (Indiana University Press, 2013). In addition, he served as a U.S. Peace Corps volunteer in Cape Verde, West Africa (1999–2001). His current



About the Editors/Contributors

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research project focuses on donor decline and foreign investments in the commercial sector of Guinea-Bissau. Mustapha Abdallah is a researcher at the Faculty of Academic Affairs and Research (FAAR) of the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC), Accra, Ghana. Focusing on organizations such as the African Union (AU) and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), his research interests include mediation, conflict prevention, peacekeeping, radicalization and violent extremism, and election security in Africa. His recent publications include “Sustaining Peace and Stability in Ghana: Appraising the Role of the National Election Security Task Force in the 2012 Elections” in the Journal of African Election (2013) and “Islamic Radicalization and Violence in Ghana” in Conflict, Security & Development (2013). Abdallah holds a Master’s Degree in International Affairs from the Legon Centre for International Affairs and Diplomacy (LECIAD) and Bachelor of Arts in Geography and Resource Development from the University of Ghana, Legon. Olutayo C. Adesina (Ph.D.) is professor of history and Fellow at the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies (CEPACS) at the University of Ibadan, Nigeria. He earned his Ph.D. from the Obafemi Awolowo University, IleIfe, Nigeria. In 1993, he joined the University of Ibadan where he has served with distinction as the Chair of its prestigious Department of History from 2001–2003 and 2006–2008. He is author, co-author, and co-editor of many books, and several articles in books and scholarly journals. His latest publications include a co-edited book (with Olukoya Ogen and Noah Echa Attah), Critical Perspectives on Peace, Conflict and Warfare in Africa (Obafemi Awolowo University Press, 2012) and the article “Outward Bound, Tangled Nightmares: Rereading Globalization in Contemporary Nigeria” in Boike Rehbein’s Globalization and Inequality in Emerging Societies (Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). Lérè Adéy mí (Ph.D.) teaches Yoruba Literature and Culture in the Department of Linguistics and Nigerian Languages, University of Ilorin, Nigeria. He obtained his Ph.D. from the same university in 2003. His areas of specialization are Yorùbá literature and culture. He served as head of his department from 2005 to 2006 and again from 2008 to 2009. He has published scholarly articles and textbooks in the area of Yoruba studies. He is the current Associate Editor of Ilorin Journal of Linguistics, Literature and Culture (IJLLC). Adéy mí is also a published creative writer. His most recent novel is entitled K r Tó Day (Before the dawn of Joy, 2011). His other creative works include Àkùk Gàgàrà (The Over Mighty Cock, 2001), gá Nìyáà Mi (My

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About the Editors/Contributors

Mother is Great, 2005), and Kò Sáyè Láàfin (No Vacancy in the Palace, 2008). He is currently an associate professor of Yoruba Literature and Culture. James E. Agena (Ph.D.) is a senior lecturer in the Department of Political Science, Ebonyi State University, Abakaliki. He was formerly the Head of the Department and is presently the Editor-in-Chief of African Journal of Political and Administrative Studies, a bi-annual publication of the department. He also coordinates the departmental seminar and publications committee. He received his education at Enugu State University of Science and Technology and earned a Ph.D. in Political Science focusing on International Relations and Global Conflict Management from Ebonyi State University, Abakaliki. He has published in many scholarly journals. His latest publications include, “Nigerian State and Terrorism” in Nnamdi Azikiwe University Journal of Political Science (2012) and “Terrorism and Nigeria’s International Image” in University of Nigeria Journal of Political Economy (2012). He is presently working on “Rotational Presidency and Democratic Consolidation in Nigeria: A Peep into 2015 General Elections in Nigeria.” Stephen Agbor is a Ph.D. candidate of Conflict Analysis and Resolution at Nova Southeastern University. Born in Cameroon, Agbor obtained a Law Degree (LL.B.) from Yaoundé University II Law School in 2001 and a Master’s Degree (LL.M.) in International and European Law from Utrecht University Law School, Netherlands in 2005. He worked as a legal researcher in the Netherlands at the United Nations International Criminal Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, respectively. Specifically, he worked at the Office of the Prosecution and at the Appeals Chamber where he researched war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide committed during the civil wars in the Balkans and in Rwanda from 2005 to 2006. He also worked at the United Nations headquarters in New York at the Office of Legal Affairs, Codification Division, where he codified treaties, resolutions, and decisions adopted by the Security Council, General Assembly, and the Economic and Social Council. Agbor served as president of the Africa Working Group and as Secretary General of the Student-Government Association at the Graduate School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Nova Southeastern University in 2011 to 2013. He is currently working on his dissertation and has published articles in peer-reviewed journals. Olusola George Ajibade (Ph.D.) is the current Chair of the Department of Linguistics and African Languages, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria. He teaches Yoruba language, literature, and culture in the Department of Linguistics and African Languages at the same university. Dr. Ajibade’s



About the Editors/Contributors

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research interests are in African cultural studies, critical social and literary theories, and folklore. He is author of a number of articles on Yoruba cultural studies. He was a research fellow at the Institute for African Studies, University of Bayreuth, Germany, under a project titled “Imagination, Aesthetic and the Global Art World (B4)” carried out at the university’s Humanities Collaborative Research Centre of University of Bayreuth from 2000 to 2004. He was awarded the Alexander von Humboldt Research Fellowship in Germany between 2004 and 2006. He has recently published a book titled, Finding Female Voice: A Socio-cultural Appraisal of Yorùbá Nuptial Poetry. His current research projects are on the sociology of Yoruba oral literature and the electronic media. Luke A. Amadi is a senior research fellow and deputy director of Educational Support Initiative for the Less Privileged (ESIL), an international nongovernmental research institute. He specialized in Development Studies at the University of Port Harcourt, Nigeria. Since 2009, he has been consulting in capacity building for civil society groups and various NGOs and CBOs and has conducted research on topics related to NGOs and development including an ongoing study “Building and Managing NGOs in the Developing Countries: Strategic Approaches.” His research interests include political ecology, conflict resolution, corruption, population studies, gender, sustainable development, and civil society. He has more than a dozen publications in scholarly journals, the most recent of which is “Africa beyond the New Dependency: A Political Economy” in the African Journal of Political Science and International Relations (AJPSIR). Felix Chinwe Asogwa (Ph.D.) is professor of Political Science in the Department of Political Science, Enugu State University of Science and Technology, Enugu, Nigeria. He attended the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, where he obtained B.Sc, M.Sc, and Ph.D. degrees in Political Science, and an LL.B. degree. He also attended the Nigeria Law School and was called to the Nigerian Bar in 2009. He has several scholarly books to his credit and has widely published in various international journals. Serwaa Brewoo is a researcher at the Faculty of Academic Affairs and Research (FAAR) of the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC). She holds a Master’s in Gender, Peace and Security Studies. Her research interests include mediation and peace processes, gender and peacebuilding, and peacekeeping and conflict in West Africa. Sarah Okaebea Danso is a research assistant with the Regional Small Arms and Light Weapons (SALW) Training Programme under the Faculty

384

About the Editors/Contributors

of Academic Affairs and Research at the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC), Ghana. Her research interests include issues related to small arms and light weapons proliferation, border security management, electoral violence, and human trafficking, particularly in West Africa. Sarah holds an MA in International Affairs (African Studies option) from Ohio University, Athens (2010) and a BFA degree (Graphic Design option) from the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology, Kumasi, Ghana (2005). Ifeanyi F. Didiugwu (Ph.D.) is a senior lecturer in the Department of Mass Communication of the Enugu State University of Science and Technology (ESUT). He holds Masters degrees in Public Relations and Mass Communication respectively from the University of Nigeria, and a Doctorate from the Enugu State University of Science and Technology (ESUT). He received his education from the Institute of Management and Technology (IMT), Enugu. Dr. Didiugwu has chapters in many books. His latest publication is titled “Mass Media and Public Relations Approach to Issues/ Crisis Management” in Contemporary Issues in Communication and Society (2011). He was also a coresearcher in a project titled “Enugu Listenership Surveys,” a research project commissioned by and submitted to the Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria, Enugu. Prior to that, he was a broadcaster with then Anambra Broadcasting Service, Enugu. He later joined the state’s newspaper publishing company, The Star Printing and Publishing Company Limited as a reporter and rose to the rank of editor. Later, he joined the Enugu State University of Science and Technology as a Senior Public Relations Officer where he rose to become director of public relations. Dr. Ifeanyi Didiugwu has widely traveled and has presented papers in his field at both local and international conferences. Emmanuel Chukwuma Duru (Ph.D.) is a professor of Public Administration at the University of Calabar, Nigeria. He holds degrees in Political Science, International Relations, Public Administration, and Local Government Studies from the State University of New York, Buffalo, and the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. He has written and published over ninety articles in local and international journals and has six published books to his credit. He was the one time Head of the Department of Political Science at the University of Calabar and he is currently the editor of the university-wide, tetfund-sponsored academic research journal, Journal of Research and Development Perspectives. Willie Aziegbe Eselebor (Ph.D.) is a research fellow and lecturer in the Peace and Conflict Studies Programme, Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan, Nigeria. He is the National President and Fellow of the



About the Editors/Contributors

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Society for Peace Studies and Practice (SPSP), a position he has held from 2011 to the present. He is a scholar and a senior research fellow of the Institut Francais de Recherche en Afrique (IFRA). He received his education at the University of Ibadan and earned his Ph.D. focusing on migration, border, and security studies. Prior to joining the University of Ibadan, he worked with the Nigerian Immigration Service (1980–2012) and attained the rank of Assistant Comptroller. He has published extensively in the field of conflict, peacebuilding, international borders, security, leadership, and development. His latest coedited publications include the Handbook in Peace Practice (John Archers, 2013), Managing Security in a Globalised World (John Archers, 2013) and Peace, Security and Development in Nigeria (John Archers, 2012). His areas of specialization include research, development work, monitoring, and evaluation. He belongs to several learned societies and also takes delight in volunteering for community work. Achankeng Fonkem (Ph.D.) is assistant professor at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh. A Hubert H. Humphrey International Fellow, Dr. Fonkem served as a senior official in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Cameroon for several years. He was also a former executive director of the Association for Nonviolence, a nonprofit organization in Cameroon that introduced and helped to moderate a third voice in the violent introduction of multiparty politics in the 1990s. He received his education at the universities of Benin, Nigeria; Buea, Cameroon; Twin Cities, Minnesota; and Antioch in Yellow Springs, Ohio. He earned his Ph.D. degree in Conflict Analysis and Resolution from Nova Southeastern University focusing on international conflicts in the postcolonial world. He is editor of two books and coeditor of one, and his articles have been published in many scholarly journals. His latest publications include the edited book, British Southern Cameroons: Nationalism and Conflict in Postcolonial Africa (Friesen Press, 2013) as well as “Gender Roles and Conflict among Lebialem Immigrant Families in the United States” in Diaspora Studies Journal (2013), “Conflict and Conflict Resolution in Africa: Engaging the Colonial Factor” in African Journal on Conflict Resolution (2013), “De Facto Association, Forced Assimilation and a Nationalist Conflict in the Cameroons: Perspectives from the Incompatibility Theory” in the Journal of International Studies & Development (2013), and “The Southern Cameroons’ Nationalism Conflict: A Destiny in the Shadows” in Africa Peace & Conflict Journal (2012). Henry Kam Kah (Ph.D.) lectures in history at the University of Buea, Cameroon. His research interests revolve around globalization, conflict, culture, governance, popular culture, civil society, gender, and security. He has published several scholarly papers in peer-reviewed journals and edited

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About the Editors/Contributors

books in Cameroon and abroad and attended several international symposia, workshops, seminars, and academic conferences. He is a member of the American Political Science Association (APSA), the Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa (CODESRIA), the West African Research Association (WARA), the Pan African Anthropologists Association (PAAA), Association of Friends of Archives and Antiquities Cameroon (AFAAC), and the African Politics Contact Group (APCG). Since 2008, Kah has been an associate research fellow of the Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria. Clement O. O. Kolawole (Ph.D.) is professor of Language Education and Dean of the Faculty of Education, University of Ibadan, Nigeria. He holds a Ph.D. degree in Language Education and English Language from the University of Ibadan, Nigeria. He has authored two books, Curriculum Design and Implementation and A Basic Text on Use of English while his numerous other publications have appeared in many scholarly journals within and outside of Nigeria. He has presented papers at conferences and, currently, he is the editor of African Journal of Educational Research. He has also been a columnist with the Nigerian Tribune newspaper. Kolawole’s current area of research is bilingual and literacy education, focusing on literacy for outof-school adolescents and curriculum instruction. He is currently working on a book on Teaching Reading at Primary School. Toluwalope O. Kolawole holds an LL.B. (honors) degree from the University of Ibadan, Nigeria. She is currently a student at the Nigerian Law School. Solomon Losha (Ph.D.) is a conflict resolution advisor for the U.S. State Department’s Conflict Mitigation and Stabilization project in South Sudan. He received his education at the University of Yaounde, Cameroon, where he obtained a Master’s degree in Sociology and another Master’s degree in Education. Dr. Losha also received a Master of Advanced Studies degree in Peace and Conflict Studies at the European Peace University in Austria. He obtained his Ph.D. in Conflict Analysis and Resolution at Nova Southeastern, Florida. He has published his Ph.D. dissertation, entitled State Level Corruption and Military Coups in Africa and is currently working on many articles related to indigenous conflict management and civil wars in Africa. Joan Mbagwu (Ph.D.) teaches International Law and Diplomacy at Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria. She holds a Ph.D. in Human Rights and Peace and has a lot of NGO experience working for both local



About the Editors/Contributors

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and international organizations. She has conducted research for the Ford Foundation and the Institute for Democracy in South Africa (IDASA) in areas of peace and governance, and has numerous publications. Her work for the UPeace Africa program as a Process Evaluator for West Africa exposed her to the challenge of documenting traditional approaches for resolving conflict in Africa, which is an area she is passionate about. Severus Ifeanyi Odoziobodo (Ph.D.) is a senior lecturer in the Department of Political Science, Enugu State University of Science and Technology, Enugu, Nigeria. He holds a doctorate degree in Political Science and has published extensively and also presented papers in international conferences in Europe and America. Currently, he is on political appointment as the Special Assistant to the Governor of Enugu State, Nigeria on Labour Matters. Silk Ogbu (Ph.D.) is a political and communication strategist. His early education was at the University of Calabar, where he received a B.Sc. in Political Science. He later proceeded to Enugu State University of Science and Technology where he earned both an M.Sc and Ph.D. in International Relations. He also holds an M.Sc degree in Public Relations from the University of Nigeria and is awaiting the award of a Ph.D. in Public Relations from the same university. His research interests include conflict resolution, electoral and institutional reforms, and alternative community development strategies. He is a public relations consultant, a political analyst, and a communication specialist. He has extensive experience from many years of private sector practice and has also contributed immensely through numerous conferences and publications to the pursuit of academic excellence. He currently teaches at the School of Media and Communication, Pan-Atlantic University, Lagos. Kolawole Olaiya (Ph.D.) is assistant professor of English at Furman University, Greenville, South Carolina. He holds a doctorate degree in Drama (with specialization in postcolonial drama and literatures) from the University of Toronto. His research interests include Africa and African Diaspora literatures, cultural studies, postcolonial studies, disability studies, film and television scriptwriting, and literary and film criticism. Olaiya is interested in the ways various forces in society impact the creative vision of the artist; he is particularly invested in how the artist mediates between his/her immediate environment and the wider society. He has published on the works of Wole Soyinka and Athol Fugard. Dr. Olaiya is currently teaching African Literature and Drama and Television Scriptwriting in the English department of Furman University.

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About the Editors/Contributors

Joana Ama Osei-Tutu is a research associate at the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC) in Accra, Ghana. She works specifically on the Conflict, Peace and Security (CPS) Programme at the Faculty of Academic Affairs and Research. Her work focuses on the protection of civilians, the ECOWAS Standby Force with particular focus on the civilian component, piracy, and natural resource management and its security implications. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in English and Psychology from the University of Ghana, Accra (2005) and a Masters in International Studies (Development Cooperation option) from the Ewha Woman’s University, Seoul, South Korea (2010).