Structural DiscriminationKnowledge Production in Post-Colonial Societies:Examples from the Caribbean
©Verene A. Shepherd
The University of the West Indies, Mona, Jamaica
9thSession of the WGPAD
Geneva, April 13, 2010
Madame President, distinguished representatives of States, NGOs and Civil Society, it is an honour to have been invited to join the other members of the Working Group of Experts on People of African Descent to carry out their prescribed mandate. I also wish to register my appreciation to the staff of the HRC Secretariat for the efforts they made to get me to this meeting at such short notice. I recognize the presence of the Distinguished Representative from Haiti and bring greetings and an expression of solidarity from the Haiti-Jamaica Society. Caribbean people recognize the importance of Haiti in the regional emancipation movement in the 19th century and in the global struggle of people of African descent for dignity, human rights and justice; and we hope that the post-earthquake reconstruction efforts will keep those ideals and historical legacy firmly in the forefront.
I am saddened by the events that resulted in my appointment to the WGPAD, especially the death of Prof. Rex Nettleford. I cannot hope to fill his shoes. In addition, it is an enormous responsibility to hold the title of “expert” on people of African Descent. But Prof. Nettleford would have wanted me to embrace the challenge and to contribute to the on-going project of mental and political decolonization, intervening in the discourses of structural discrimination, especially in the field of education in Africa and the African Diaspora.
Nettlefordoften liked to recall that he, like so many of us, was bred in the crucible of a colonial education. But he was proud of the fact that, as Bob Marley said in his “Babylon System”,“we refused to be what they wanted us to be, [because]… we are what we are”, people who, in his poetic formulation, used “guerilla” or Maroon strategies to seek to proclaim and live a more liberating narrative of self. Such a liberating narrative of self allows those affected by the triple effects of colonialism, slavery and patriarchy to be anchored to a more empowering past. It has long been argued that education is a key component of development, a needed investment in nation-building and a means of empowering a nation’s people and developing their minds.Marcus Mosiah Garvey put it well:”Education is the medium by which a people are prepared for the creation of their own particular civilization and the advancement and glory of their own words”.[1]
It is with the obstacles to that post-colonial project of mental liberation through an education system that promotes a more liberating narrative of self with which I am concerned today. A related pre-occupation is the racism that masquerades as classism even in contexts where African descended people are in the majority; as well as the sexism in some of the textsused in the schools in many of our societies. In this regard, I am addressing dimensions of structural discrimination in education that depart from the usual, and very critical, preoccupation with access and physical infrastructure. The typical definition is “the policies of empowered race, ethnic, gender institutions and the behaviour of the individuals who implement these policies and control these institutions which are race/ethnic/gender neutral in intent, but which have a differential and/or harmful effect on minority/race/ethnic/gender groups.”[2]
But I am looking more at situations when a neutral, or seemingly harmless, policy, rule or practice [such as competitive examinations that place children in secondary schools], has a discriminatory effect against a certain group of people; when a policy or procedure which appears to treat everyone equally [everyone is free to take the exams and progress to a secondary school], has the effect of disadvantaging certain groups.
So, let me stress that the problem in many post-colonial societies is not the laws with regard to education – laws which appear to guarantee the right to access to primary and secondary education for all - but their insidious practices. I am more concerned in this particular presentation, therefore withquality, equity, relevance and impact on racial identity and ethnic pride.More specifically, I wish to address:
Differential access to quality secondary education because of the competitive entrance process and the disadvantageous primary education in some cases
Education that does not always accept cultural differences (e.g. Rastafari; non-Christians)
The content of history education/history textbooks, which does not empower people of African descent, Asians and indigenous peoples
Sexism in history education
While some of my empirical examples might be grounded in the Caribbean reality, the issues I will raise have broader application which can guide us as we search for a meaningful agenda for 2011.
In order to contextualize the discussion I need to revisit the colonial legacy, which will no doubt be familiar to many in this audience. Historically, discrimination has been a major cause of the lack of access to primary, secondary and higher education in the Caribbean and Latin America because of the racism of the colonizers. In the case of the British-colonized Caribbean, concern with popular education was not manifested until 1833 when the “Negro Education Grant” was introduced.[3] Up to then, Caribbean society was characterized by the presence of a majority of uneducated, under-educated or downright illiterate people from all classes and ethnicities. When popular education was introduced, it became a potential avenue for social mobility. But that potential was not realized for the majority because colonial education was structured, since the nineteenth century, to maintain class divisions and to narrow opportunities for such mobility. The idea of popular education had been accepted as part of a system geared to producing leaders and followers and preserving the region’s racial status quo. As Janice Mayers emphasizes, the development of the English education system, the model for the British-colonized Caribbean’s system of education, is attributed principally to the philosophical basis of the Platonic ideal. With its stress on inherited inequality and differing capacities for performing appropriate social functions, this philosophical source supported a stratified society and education for leadership.[4] By the 1870s there had developed a 2-tier system of education that cemented the class system. Thus in the late 19th century, a governor in Jamaica, Sir Anthony Musgrave, would reject the suggestion of compulsory elementary education in the interest of allowing the planters access to child labour.[5] The distinction between elementary and secondary education was effectively made by a colonial official in Barbados in the early 20th century, as Mayers points out:
The purpose [elementary] is a school training which will end at a comparatively early age, and may produce the intelligent and industrious labourer, or form the groundwork on which may be built the technical skill required by the mechanic or artisan. The latter [secondary] is carried on to an age when manhood is approaching, and aims at fitting for their work the thinkers of the community, those who follow the learned professions, the leaders and organisers, or at least those who serve in the higher ranks of industry and commerce.[6]
Obviously, the desire for social control and character formation was still paramount among decision-makers in the 19th and 20th centuries
OUR PROGRESS:
The former colonies in the African Diaspora have come a long way since emancipation and independence, with improved access, resources and infrastructure, allowing higher literacy rates (Table 1) and upward social mobility.
TABLE 1
COUNTRY / LITERACY RATE (% ) / POPULATION SIZEBAHAMAS / 95.8 / 307,552
BARBADOS / 99.7 / 257,083
GUYANA / 99.0 / 777,000
JAMAICA / 79.9 / 2,391,000
MONTSERRAT / 97 / 11,852
ST KITTS & NEVIS / 97.8 / 42,291
ST LUCIA / 94.8 / 152,335
SURINAME / 90.4 / 520,000
T’DAD & TOBAGO / 98.7 / 1,116,595
ANTIGUA & BAR. / 99.0 / 65,962
GRENADA / 96.0 / 96,600
CUBA / 99.8 / 11, 050,729
DOM REP / 89.1 / 7,998,766
ST. VINCENT & GRENADINES / 88.1 / 119,818
DOMINICA / 88 / 71,183
BELIZE / 75.1 / 307,899
HAITI / 54.8 / 6,780,501
Source: UNDP, 20009
They have engaged in revisionist curricula to rid their societies of the legacies of colonialism. But the impact of the colonial ideology of education has proven hard to dislodge. And the multiple effects of colonialism, slavery and patriarchy are still evident in their education system,a situation which promotes social exclusion. This is why many argue that the region I come from still displays structural discrimination in its system of education.States would deny that they intend to, but the effects are there as proof and we have to continue our fight to eliminate them.
THE EVIDENCE OF STRUCTURAL DISCRIMINATION:
So how is structural discrimination manifested in some ex-colonial societies? One manifestation in the former British colonies is the differential access to quality education because of the competitive nature of the movement from primary to secondary level. Let me elaborate for those unfamiliar with this system. The existence of the British colonial relic, the Common Entrance examination, or its modern day reincarnations(see Table 2 below), means that there is no automatic progress of 11 year olds from primary to secondary schools.
TABLE 2
BAHAMAS / Grade Level Assessment TestBARBADOS / Common Entrance Exam (CEE)
GUYANA / National Grade 6 Assessment
JAMAICA / Grade 6 Achievement Test (GSAT)
MONTSERRAT / Continuous Assess’t Programme
ST KITTS & NEVIS / Continuous Assess’t Programme
ST LUCIA / Common Entrance Exam (CEE)
SURINAME / High School Practice Tests (HSPT)
T’DAD & TOBAGO / Secondary Entrance Assessment
ANTIGUA & BARBUDA / Common Entrance Exam (CEE)
GRENADA / Common Entrance Exam(CEE)
Source: caribbeanexams.com / Must pass to progress to Sec. Sch.
In addition, despite protestations to the contrary, certain schools get all the so-called “bright” children, leaving other schools to cope with more academically challenged students. So, some students are exposed to good teachers, good infrastructure, smaller classes and co-curricular activities that balance their educational experience. Others have never touched a computer, sit in hot, overcrowded classrooms with barely trained teachers. They typically have less facility in the formal language of education, being more fluent in the creole language, which, they are told, should not be spoken in the classroom. Language, then, constitutes one key element in discriminatory practices in education.
Another issue, and this applies more broadly, is the content of the history curricula. For developing countries, the issue cannot only be related to that of the provision of hardware and software but also of inputs. More specifically the provision of quality inputs in terms of the textbooks used, must be related to the overall objective of education as articulated by governments, which is to improve not just access, but also quality, equity and relevance.”[7] The debate surrounding the factors responsible for the lingering racist andsexist content of the syllabus (like the quarrel over classism in the movement from primary to secondary), ebbs and flows, but it cannot be denied that structural discrimination is the result if not the intent.
I have singled out history education because alongside its socializing function, post-colonial education has a major responsibility for identity formation; and this identity can best be fostered though history education that also incorporates gender identity. We do not often include the content of education in discussions of institutionalized racism, but increasingly textbooks and curricula are coming under scrutiny because of the effect they can have on people of African descent, especially women. An education that empowers boys by teaching that they were naturally in the leadership and managerial positions while women existed in the private sphere; that empowers Asians (who are represented as innately business savvy as opposed to people of African descent who are lazy and non-entrepreneurial) and that does not stress the non-slave dimension of the African experience is potentially damaging to the psyche of people of African descent.
With respect to the matter of sexism, my contention is that several of the books used to teach history to children reinforce hegemonic masculinity and therefore the images about masculinity already perpetuated by the larger society, the home and the media. The school curriculum, like the media and other external forces, gives boys a role-identity, an imaginative view of themselves, the basis on which they continue to aspire to hegemonic models of masculinity.[8] Thus while the forces of production are reproduced through the capitalist economic system, ideological state apparatuses reproduce the social relations of production.[9]
In the specific case of history education, despite great strides since the 1970s, the texts do not all provide boys with the kind of information they need to overturn their views of women as the subordinated sex; and gender stereotypes abound. Many still believe that the woman’s place is in the house (and they do not mean the House of Representatives); that women are more suited to inside work and that females have certain inherently physical and psychological characteristics which predispose them to non-marketable roles such as child-rearing and home maintenance. Masculinity is presented as essentialist; i.e. intrinsically different natures are attributed to men and women. These attitudes find legitimacy in the larger society and are reinforced through education. The treatment of resistance is a case in point, with many texts ignoring women’s fundamental role in armed revolt. If anyone is in doubt, then this sample of those who participated in the 1831/32 emancipation war in Jamaica and were punished for such role, should provide evidence.
TABLE 3
Name / Property/Enslaver / Parish / Sentence[10]
Catherine Brown / Cascade Pen –
Mrs. Griffiths / Hanover / Death – commuted to 50 lashes & 6 weeks imprisonment.
Catherine Clarke / Dr. W. Skirving / Hanover / 50 lashes & 3 months in prison at hard labour
Name / Property/
Enslaver / Parish / Sentence
Ann James / Free / Hanover / Death/executed
Christina James / Cascade Pen –
Mrs. Griffiths / Hanover / 50 lashes & 3 months in prison at hard labour
Eliza James / Coventry / Hanover / 100 lashes, 2 months & 50 lashes when discharged
Susan James / Coventry / Hanover / 200 lashes, 2 months & 50 lashes when discharged
Ann Ramsay / H. Bean / Hanover / 100 lashes, 6 months & 50 lashes when discharged
Mary Campbell / Not stated / St. Elizabeth / 150 lashes
Nancy Campbell / Ipswich / St. Elizabeth / 50 lashes
Sarah Darling / Mitcham / St. Elizabeth / 15 lashes
Anna Freeburn / Ipswich / St. Elizabeth / 50 lashes & 3 months in prison
Sarah Jackson / Ginger Hill / St. Elizabeth / Transportation for life
Sophia Maitland / Not Stated / St. Elizabeth / 25 lashes
Jane Maitland / Not Stated / St. Elizabeth / 25 lashes
Matty / Ipswich / St. Elizabeth / 50 lashes
Amelia Murray / Not Stated / St. Elizabeth / 100 lashes
Betsy Powell / Not Stated / St. Elizabeth / 20 lashes
Priscilla / Ipswich / St. Elizabeth / Transportation for life
Caroline Smith / Lacovia / St. Elizabeth / 100 lashes
Charlotte Smith / Ipswich / St. Elizabeth / 50 lashes
Mary Walker / Not Stated / St. Elizabeth / 10 lashes
Suzanna Wright / Mitcham / St. Elizabeth / 25 lashes
Nancy Wright / Mitcham / St. Elizabeth / 20 lashes
Rosanna Wright / Not Stated / St. Elizabeth / 25 lashes
Elizabeth Ball / Free / St. James / 24 lashes
Jenny / Kirkpatrick Hall / St. James / Death
Eliza Lawrence / John H. Morris / St. James / 50 lashes & 6 months in prison
Kitty Scarlett / Cambridge / St. James / Death/commuted to transportation
Rebecca Grant / Content / St. Thomas - East / 100 lashes
Frances Douglas / Charlton / St. St. Thomas Vale / 39 lashes
Frances Duncan / Dumfries / Trelawny / Death
Eve / Pantrepant / Trelawny / 1 year in prison
Mary Fowler / Dromilly / Trelawny / 6 months in prison
Elizabeth Samuels / Bunkershill / Trelawny / 100 lashes & 6 months in prison
Annie Steele / Orange Valley / Trelawny / 3 months in prison
Charlotte Reid / Lambs River / Westmoreland / 6 months in prison
Eliza Whittingham / Cowpark / Westmoreland / Death
Jane Whittingham / Cowpark / Westmoreland / Death/hanged
Another issue relates to the cues that history education send out to children of African descent. Despite the efforts of post-colonial regimes, misrepresentations and stereotypes about people of African descent persist in some of the textbooks used to teach history. Indeed, the Caribbean has been affected by a historically constructed image that still influences self-knowledge as well as global attitudes towards its citizens. This image, paraded as ‘truth’ and ‘ knowledge,’ was the product of the minds and pens of generations of writers from the North Atlantic System, who appropriated the project of producing knowledge on the Caribbean for overseas consumption. The knowledge produced had a discrete political purpose: to support European imperialism and “dislodge and disorient” the Caribbean in the same manner that it did Africa and the Orients, following Dani Nabudere’s and Edward Said’s formulations.[11] Caribbean scholars were forced to engage in a project of reconstruction, constructing indigenous interpretations of the Caribbean experience, fashioned by explicit formulations and theoretical constructs and offering the antithesis to the imperialist view of the Caribbean world.
I cannot go into all the details of how the Caribbean was represented. I will simply select a few examples relevant to the writing of slavery and the post-slavery period. The early writings produced, especially descriptive accounts of Africa and Africans, were not necessarily the result of careful research grounded in truth and objectivity. Yet, this ‘knowledge’ was powerful enough to result in the condemnation of indigenous and African ethnicities to the experience of the colonial ‘Other’ and to have a lasting impact on Caribbean and African diasporic identity, imagination and consciousness. In the specific context of slavery, the purpose of the production of knowledge about Africa and Africans was to prolong slavery and colonialism and discourage self-confidence among Black people by demonizing blackness and the geographical origins of African diasporic peoples and promoting whiteness (or even Creolité/hybridity) as the ideal.
Of the works produced by contemporary and modern writers, it is perhaps the subject of slavery that has attracted the most attention, however; and the existence of enslaved and free Africans within a white supremacist social order fuelled a spate of writing that painted a less than empowering image of Blacks. A sampling of some of the works produced about Africa and Africans by writers such as Edward Long (1774), Maria Nugent (1802-05), M. G. Lewis (1815-17), Cynric Williams (1823), A.C. Carmichael (1833), Thomas Carlyle (1845), Anthony Trollope (1860), James Anthony Froude (1888) all originated the negative representations of Africa, which are still embedded deeply within the consciousness of Caribbean people.[12]