Cultural Imperialism vs. Human Rights
When should culture be preserved, and when should it be urged to evolve?
My millennial mind has been well-trained to avoid challenging foreign cultures, even when they are glaringly harmful towards some marginalized populations. To do so is to risk committing an act of cultural imperialism. It is far easier, and wiser, to withhold comment and not interfere in the affairs of other cultures. I typically prefer to navigate the world with this mindset because I know that I am ignorant of most matters. I detest bigotry in others and I surely don’t want to be guilty myself.
I’m a white male, raised by a single mother in the 90s and 00s. Bless her heart. I was a naughty kid, but I turned out alright. By all measures, I am extremely privileged. I was drawn to economics in college because it finally explained the world in ways that made sense to me, something other subjects had failed to do. But what really intrigued me about the dismal science was its potential to eradicate poverty. I realized that by unlocking the secrets of economics I could support people in escaping poverty. My research into Sub-Saharan African development later led me to pursue lived experience in the continent of Africa. After earning my BA in Economics, I served for three years as a Community Development Volunteer and Volunteer Leader with the U.S. Peace Corps in Thies, Senegal. I am currently a Master’s candidate at the University of Denver and building the Mansa Musa Institute (a non-profit) with another returned Peace Corps volunteer (RPCV), Moriah Lee. Our mission is to end child street begging in Senegal by 2040.
Despite strong national laws against domestic abuse and forced child begging, Human Rights Watch (HRW- see our research page) reports that more than 100,000 children in Senegal are forced to beg for daily quotas. These children, called Talibé, are receiving Islamic education at Quranic schools known as Daaras. Some Daaras provide appropriate living standards and respect the boys’ human rights, but many of them have become inadequate and unsafe for the children who live in them. Oftentimes, Talibés are deprived of food, shelter, and healthcare. Many are also victims of physical and sexual abuse, imprisonment, severe neglect leading to death, and living conditions amounting to dehumanizing treatment. What began as small communities of almsgiving subsidizing religious education (through individual acts of kindness and spiritual fulfillment), became a normalized system of exploitation, abuse, and neglect. Thousands of children are illegally trafficked into the system from neighboring countries each year.
Although I’m building an Islamic based nonprofit, and I go by a Muslim name amongst my Senegalese friends and family, I am not West African, nor Muslim. Not everyone considers West African development to be a righteous career for someone of my background, and they have a darn good point. Am I just a ‘white savior’ bearing the ‘white man’s burden?’ Who am I to interfere in West Africans’ business? Am I giving in to colonial urges that exploited the continent and have prevented its development? I must answer, not only to critics but to myself: Is it my place to fight this fight?
The answer is yes, for three reasons: (i) I have the experience to help, (ii) the people of Senegal want change, and (iii) human rights are universal.
I can help.
Most of my efforts as a Peace Corps Volunteer were little impactful. This is partly why I yearn to do more. But I, like all PCVs, did gain a wealth of experiences. During my three years in Senegal, I integrated into my Senegalese family, worked with a wide range of Senegalese people, spoke numerous languages (with varying success), helped people start and improve businesses, coordinated girl’s camps and summer camps for handicapped youth, built stuff, and visited host families and partners all over the diverse geographical regions of Senegal. I shared thousands of conversations, debates, and celebrations with Senegalese people of many backgrounds, ethnicities, and religions. Every failed project, and there were many, taught me something new about how myself or Senegal.
As a hobby, and a good language exercise, I used to learn Wolof idioms. I wrote them with Sharpie on blank sheets of printer paper and taped them to my concrete bedroom walls, covering nearly every square inch. I learned over 300! One of the sayings I learned is:
Bant lu mu yagg yagg ci ndox, du soppaliku jésig.
A log which stays in the water a long time won’t become an alligator.
The idiom teaches me that no matter how much effort I put into integrating with my Senegalese community, I won’t become Senegalese. Yet, I would be foolish to discount my experiences. After all, I have already learned 299 more idioms to make me look like an alligator! With hundreds of hours of culture and language training and years of field experience under my belt, I can confidently state that I am knowledgeable about Senegalese culture. For me, it is embodied in the warm, forgiving, and dignified smile of my Senegalese father Boubacar Ba, a joyful man who taught me many, many, wonderful Wolof idioms.
A true appreciation of Senegalese culture legitimates my negative assessment of the exploitation and abuse of Talibés and provides me with insights into the social processes that lead to their suffering.
Recommendations from international agencies emphasize increasing the enforcement of existing laws, while NGOs devoted to protecting Talibé typically focus on providing alternatives to the Daaras, called modern Daaras. Both solutions fail to offer any value for Marabouts, who make their livelihoods off of the money that children make when they beg. Other critical stakeholders, such as families who choose to send their children to Daaras, alms givers who are funding the current system, and perhaps most importantly, the Talibés who will become the next generation of marabouts, are also excluded from the solution.
To identify a solution that all stakeholders value, the interests of every stakeholder must be understood. To do that, we will need help building empathy for, and engaging with, all those stakeholders. Luckily, my partners and I have spent years building a network of Senegalese partners, including our friends and family in the communities where we lived, professionals at development agencies and established NGOs, Peace Corps volunteers and staff, local government officials, and the business owners with whom we worked. The forces we are mobilizing to tackle this challenge are finely tuned for the task at hand, with reach, local knowledge, expertise, and the capacity for effective engagement with all stakeholders. I may be a crocodile, but I’ve got many important alligator friends.
Our network of volunteers has the experience, training, and cultural appreciation to develop attainable solutions to this challenge. We also have the local credibility to build an effective team that can conduct primary market research, determine a good value proposition for every stakeholder, test our ideas, and accomplish the mission.
The people of Senegal want change.
I have heard it many times and from people from all walks of life. The people of Senegal want to end the exploitation of Talibés, but they don’t yet have the tools to achieve it. President Macky Sall made a campaign promise to end forced child begging in his second term, and the people re-elected him. But the government of Senegal still hasn’t done enough to stop the practice. Inadequate child protective services, limited knowledge of the boys’ real families, a lack of foster homes, and political pressure from marabouts have all contributed to a lack of government action to protect Talibés.
The giving public also disapproves of the exploitation of children, while also supporting religious education and the virtues of Islam. Without easy options to give alms responsibly, they pay into a system of exploitation and abuse to fulfill the Zakat, a Muslim’s responsibility to give alms. An individual act of giving is a positive spiritual event for the giver, as well as the Talibé. But altogether, a harmful system of exploitation has been constructed around these individual acts of kindness and spiritual fulfillment.
The dilemma between spiritual fulfillment and not sponsoring abuse is the central challenge to protecting Talibés. But thankfully, they aren’t mutually exclusive. Almsgivers simply don’t need to face the dilemma. We believe that when the people of Senegal are empowered to give alms responsibly, they will choose a new path. Families will be able to send their children to quality Daaras for free, knowing their sons will grow up to be strong in faith and ability. Community care providers, already eager to help Talibé, will offer in-kind contributions to assist in raising and caring for the boys. Marabouts will embrace a social change that actively engages them in their role as Quranic teachers, and compensates them fairly for their value to society.
Human Rights are universal.
Throughout my time in Senegal, I encountered Talibés on the streets of Mbour and in other urban areas. Depending on my mood, my endeavor, or whatever other reason, I responded to their outstretched hands in dramatically different ways. On the negative end of the spectrum, hard rejections, and frustration. On the positive end of the spectrum, impromptu soccer games, talking to them and killing time at the outdoor garage by using small change to teach them simple arithmetic. Although I was stubborn at first, knowing my alms would only sponsor the abusive system, I later became much more generous with my giving. Alone, I couldn’t do anything to change the system. I gave money knowing that if nothing else, at least my generosity could help the boy avoid a beating.
Oftentimes, I ignored them. It was difficult to see human beings in that condition and to feel utterly powerless to help them. I have no doubt others are also resistant to seeing Talibés for the same reasons. These children are practically invisible and suffering in plain sight. Our non-profit, Mansa Musa Institute, seeks to start the trend of seeing Talibés, as human beings with rights and dignity. Once the trend takes off, we’re confident everyone will hop on the bus.
The purpose of human development ought to be to provide people with equal opportunity and rights under the law. Every child deserves the same set of opportunities. I was a little boy once, not American, not Senegalese, just a little boy, searching for faith. Culture can never separate us from our humanity. If we never challenged culture, progress on U.S. slavery and women’s rights would never have been possible. It takes effort and partnership, but sometimes, we must urge each other to evolve. If we have a vision for progress in human development, and if the public wants said progress and is empowered to choose that path, then it isn’t cultural imperialism, it is cultural evolution.