Charles Villa-Vicencio

The confident prediction in the mid-20th century that religion was disappearing from the political stage has been proved wrong. In the early 21st century, it is occupying and reoccupying political space in many parts of the world, not least in Africa. It refuses to go away. It is the underbelly that impacts the initiatives of the secular state – for good and for bad.

The Ugandan Minister for General Duties, Professor Mondo Kagonyera, who opened the deliberations of this conference, acknowledged the positive role that religions have played in Africa, while suggesting that “religion is [also] a key factor in causing, furthering and sowing seeds of conflict and violence,” in Uganda and elsewhere. “Why,” he asked, “do religious people end up doing things that are irreligious, immoral and unethical?” Well, why not? To the extent that religion gives expression to the most basic spiritual and emotional needs of people, it is to be expected that religion will contain sources of both light and darkness.

There is good and bad in all religions – your religion, mine, ours and everyone else’s. This poses the question why some among us have, during our time together, sought to present a rather romantic portrayal of African Traditional Religion, holding it up as a golden age that once existed. Twice we were told that Africans have never used religion as pretext for war. The historic records show this not to be the case. The Inyanga had direct access to the king or chief and it is inconceivable that any traditional African leader would have gone to war against another tribe without the counsel of the Inyanga. In a system of belief and social structure where religion was integrated into the very fabric of tribal identity, it was inherent to all aspects of life, including war. We need to look deeply into all our belief systems to understand those forces that lend themselves to being appropriated in the promotion of violence. To fail to do so is to invite these forces to continue to shape our lives.

Against this premise I offer four models of religion that encompass the good and the bad, as I have heard them articulated in our deliberations: Religion as a source of political power, as a vehicle of dissent, as a means and hindrance to nation building, and as a source of peacebuilding.

Religion as a source of power

A strong underlying theme of our deliberations has been the coalescence of religion and politics in a range of different contexts, including Uganda, Sudan, Tanzania, Senegal and Kenya.

Given our location in Uganda, we were helpfully exposed to the influence of religion in the different phases of modern Ugandan history. Protestants and Roman Catholic jockeyed for influence at the time of independence, while being less influential in subsequent years. The Idi Ami period saw Uganda experiencing the ascendance of Islam and impact of the Arab world. The religion seesaw tilted this way and that in the immediate aftermath of Amin and in Obote’s second term of office. It became less and less influential as Museveni focused on national inclusivity. His failure to settle the conflict in the North was soon, however, to reintroduce religion into the national debate, with the influence of the Lord’s Resistance Army, having radicalized the Holy Spirit Movement of Alice Lakwena. As Museveni moves closer to the West and adapts to U.S. foreign policy demands, so radical manifestations of Islam and persistent forms of indigenous African culture and religion are re-emerging as vehicles of state destabilization.

Gerrie ter Haar has shown us how politicians look to religion as a source of power and support, not least in the spiritual milieu of Africa. While individuals and groups readily resort to religion as “known sources of power” when states fail or implode, political leaders seek to augment their political power with religious or spiritual legitimacy. This said, it needs also to be recognized that religious leaders are often as ready to look to politicians to acquire social influence and political power as politicians are to enjoy their support. Eager to be more than a moral voice in society or the conscience of the state, religious leaders are determined to occupy a central place in the political arena that endows them and their religion with power and influence. If power does indeed tend to corrupt, the contribution of religion to the affirmation of power ought to be viewed with suspicion. It is Mikhail Bakunin who reminded us, “Whenever a chief of state speaks of God … be sure he is getting ready to shear his sheep.”

Religion as a vehicle of dissent

The session on the politics of indigenous revivalism was important, especially within the context of the transitional justice debate and in the challenges facing new democracies. Religious groups are often part of the necessary attempt by an emerging democracy to promote a shared culture and identity, grounded in a secular, modern, transparent, inclusive liberal democracy. The pursuit is necessary. Societies torn apart by oppressive rule, exploitation and war need to create a sense of belonging. The social tissue that old democracies often take for granted is simply not there in post-conflict societies. It needs to be created. The task can go horribly wrong, however, allowing the powerful to dominate ? and dominant religious movements are eager to be part of such an emerging alliance.

Religious movements can also become a vehicle of discontent for those who are deliberately excluded from the “shared democracy.”

Grace Wamue described the exclusion of the Mungiki from the emerging democratic state in contemporary Kenya. Alienated from the dominant Kenyan culture, the Mungiki consists significantly of young males, whose youthful leaders refer to themselves as bishops, giving expression to a sub-culture that is anti-Western and anti-Christian. The movement is opposed to a market-driven economy and other manifestations of modernity. Drawing on traditional forms of religious belief and cultural practices, they are deliberately excluded from the ruling alliance that chooses to see them as a reactionary force that needs to be isolated in the attempt to build a new Kenya. They are demonized and rejected – a group to be kept in submission by force and state control.

Koen Vlassenroot read a paper on the Mayi Mayi in the Kivu provinces in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Locating the movement within the historic dynamics of the Congo, he showed the region to be a breeding ground for resistance, drawing on cultural and traditional religious forces, magic, ancestor veneration and the traditional forms of spirituality to give expression to their socio-economic marginalization and alienation.

Robert Baum’s case study of Casamance people in Senegal shows how Diola culture and religion are grounded in their struggle for survival, with the material merging with the spiritual. Such material essentials as land, rice and rain are spoken of almost with the same breath as ancestors, spirits and the Supreme Being. Alienated by the dominant Senegalese culture and social economy, the Casamance secessionist movement is driven by religious and cultural symbols and ideals.

Others spoke of the exclusion of Northern Uganda, frequently referred to as the “other Uganda.” We heard of the wanton suffering of the people of the North – caused by both the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) militia and the government forces – in deeply moving addresses by Archbishop Ogulu Odama and Bishop Ocholla. George Piwang-Jalobo, in turn, spoke of the suffering of women and children, placing the conflict into the context of the historic alienation of the North, the complexities of religious conflict and the failure of the military option in seeking to resolve the problem. The question needs to be asked whether the elimination of Joseph Kony and other top leaders in the LRA would resolve the North-South problem. What we have heard in this conference suggests it will take more than that to bring peace to northern Uganda.

All this begs the question on how to build an inclusive state in situations of deep historical, cultural, religious and material divisions. James Smith’s paper stresses the need to address the historic memories and repressed identities of those who cannot bring themselves to the point of joining the emerging “shared culture” that secular politicians and others espouse. Recognizing that their cultural alienation is often grounded in material deprivation, he reminds us of the need for nation building to address the socio-economic restructuring of the state. The question is how to ensure that the economy grows in a way that benefits the poor, rather than simply increasing the gap between the haves and have-nots.

The intertwining of religion, tradition and culture with material deprivation in the dynamics of group alienation is fascinating. Why do dissident groups resort to cultural and religious language, rituals and practice to express their alienation? A difficult question. It has been the topic of conversation with John Paul Lederach and others in the corridors of this conference and on the banks of the Nile these past days. Could it have something to do with the depth of the sense of marginalization and alienation experienced by the historic poor? Historic and enduring, impacting on body, limb and soul, with implications for social identity, human meaning and what is left of hope, the cry is from and to the very ground of being itself. It is a cry to the most essential sources of life – the ancestors, the spirits, the soil, tradition and the gods. We as believers, religious activists, scholars of religion, social anthropologists and social scientists need perhaps to spend more time trying to understand and explain this reality.

A final word in this regard. New nations often seek to create a common, inclusive vision of the emerging nation. South Africa is a case in point. Through its Constitution, Bill of Rights, culture-building activities, national symbols and dominant rhetoric, the state has sought to affirm the citizenship of all its inhabitants. The focus, and wisely so, is on “feeling good” about being South African. The question is to what extent this cultural focus distracts from the material alienation and economic challenges that breed discontent. The material and the cultural are intertwined. How do we use culture, spirituality and religion to persuade the nation as a whole to address the needs of dissidents?

Religion as a source of and hindrance to nation building

The need is to create an inclusive society. The difficulties of doing so in the face of competing strong religions in Senegal, Uganda and elsewhere, have been carefully illustrated in a conference session on Islamic Activism and Peacemaking.

Sakah Mahmud reminded us of the dominant media perception of Islam in the post-9/11 context. Penda Mbow spoke of the complexities in the struggle for women’s rights in Senegal, contrasting the pragmatism of civic Islam with the dogmatic demands of the Shar’ia as proclaimed by the Muslim Brotherhood. Dina Badri spoke of the importance of interfaith dialogue and understanding in Sudan.

A participant in the discussion suggested that the difficulty in nation building is frequently as much a result of misunderstanding and a lack of communication as it is a result of reducing religion to extremist views. In a workshop between Sudanese leaders of church and civil society, a Dinka elder suggested to me that reconciliation and peacemaking means “being prepared to sit under the same tree with your enemy and talk.” Conflict and violence is at the very least aggravated by adversaries being unprepared to take one another seriously enough to talk.

In deeply divided societies, where individual citizens and groups have conflicting memories and experiences, lack of trust is a common and understandable consequence. The traditional notion of a homogenous state, structured on common symbols and beliefs, is increasingly rare. States are in many instances no longer the provider of common services, which are frequently privatized. These range from domestic business interests and multinational companies, to international NGOs and religious organizations. Amy Stambach’s paper on the involvement of evangelical churches in the schools in Tanzania is helpful in this regard. Third World countries, unable to provide the basic services of their citizens, are offered medical, teaching and other services by outside organisations. The quid pro quo is “evangelism in return for services.” If a state provides ever fewer cultural symbols that unite its diverse citizens and increasingly less basic services, the question is, “What does it offer its people?” More and more people find themselves in a nation without being a part of it.

It is not easy to build a nation. The pull of “mine” over and against what is “yours” is strong – not least when you have most of the material and social resources, while I languish in poverty. The national vision needs to include signals of inclusivity and belonging that dissident groups as well as those who are comfortable in the projected national culture recognize as their own.

Religion as a source of peacebuilding

Religion can tear nations asunder. There is plenty of historical and contemporary evidence of that. But can it heal, can it help build a nation, and can it build peace?

Charles Schaefer spoke on the fourth century origins of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church as a synthesis of African, missionary Christian and contextual political demands that culminated in the Kebra Nagast. He spoke of the “restorative justice with a bite” claims within this tradition. The Kebra Nagast of course, also gives rise to the very synthesis of politics and religion about which I have raised concerns. Perhaps the ”good” and “bad” already referred to can be discerned in the tradition to which Schaefer referred. Ambivalence between restoration and retribution is deeply imbedded in the Christian tradition. Peacebuilding is about releasing the restorative resource within the tradition.

The NGO panel spoke directly to this need, sharing ways in which local initiatives for peacebuilding are working in different situations. The imbeddedness of African spirituality in the pursuit of peace is an area of research that the Kroc Institute and others will do well to explore.

“Buhoro, buhoro.” The wise words of Deusdedit Nkurunziza. “Slowly, slowly lead the crocodile to the river,” he counseled, reacting strongly to the suggestion by a conference participant that we simply shoot the crocodile! Pointing to the link between buhoro (slowly) and amahoro (peace), he reminded us of the slow and heedful process that is needed in sustainable peacemaking. He suggested the process has as much to do with mindset and worldview as technique. It involves more than a set of rules or dogma.

“Religion is for people who believe in hell,” he said, “spirituality is for people that have been there.” Nkurunziza uses spirituality as the internalization, contextualization and practice of those things that make for peace.

Spirituality is, of course, a double-edged sword. There are exploitative spiritualities. An uncontrolled market-driven ideology is itself as much a form of “spirituality” as the most deeply ascetic forms of religious spirituality. It is a secular, internal force that shapes and drives huge areas of our daily lives in a globalized world. Nkurunziza’s spirituality is of different kind. His is a spirituality of humanity. He uses the word “vitalogy.” I think it conveys the life-giving forces that inspire African spirituality, what the Tswana people call Seriti. In Xhosa it is Isithunzi. It is a shadow or force that comes from Modimo or God. It involves engaging one’s adversary in careful listening and deep talking. It is about ubuntu, a notion that carries within it what is perhaps an anthropological if not a primordial longing for wholeness and reconciliation.

We have heard of enemies sitting under the same tree, looking one another in the eye, engaged in deep talk. We have heard, in Peter Berger’s words, the “signals of transcendence” – the “rumors of angels.” Scott Appleby reminded us of Berger’s words in acknowledging the signals of hope and renewal that this conference has afforded. There are resources in the soul and the soil of Africa that sustain peacebuilding initiatives.

I end where I began. Religion is alive and well in Africa. The question is whether it will be used to destabilize and undermine peace on this continent or as a resource for peacemaking. Probably both. We must seize the moment to make a positive difference in a continent that continues to seethe under the yoke of suffering that is imposed from without and from within.

This article was excerpted from a conference summary presented in Jinja. Charles Villa-Vicencio is executive director of the Institute for Justice and Reconciliation, based in Cape Town. He was formerly the National Research Director for the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission.