CHAPTER 1
Cultures, spirituality, and development
Thierry Verhelst with Wendy Tyndale
This essay addresses some of the ways in which culture and spirituality may be taken into account in development processes. We shall consider the reasons for adopting an inclusive approach of this kind and ask to what degree it can enhance the effectiveness and sustainability of development policies in general and of anti-poverty programmes in particular. Many issues are simplified for reasons of space, but we trust that the following thoughts will help to stimulate discussion.
We shall focus on the development processes promoted by the multilateral institutions, such as the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, and the UN specialised agencies, and by individual governments and NGOs of the industrialised countries. These bodies have by no means taken a uniform approach to 'co-operation' with the countries of what used to be called the Third World and are now often referred to as 'the South'. Nevertheless, their combined influence has been and continues to be decisive for millions of people in the world.
Many of the concepts we shall be discussing are difficult to define, so wherever possible we shall provide examples to give a sharper edge to what sometimes seems rather a vague area of debate. A vital task ahead is to engage more systematically in a search for case studies that show how culture and spirituality can influence efforts to support people in moving out of poverty in its multiple forms, towards a state of self-fulfilment and contentment.
Transforming international development
In the 1950s and 1960s, the multilateral institutions and the governments of the industrialised North began to draw up development strategies for the 'developing countries' of the South. Broadly speaking, their aim was to achieve visible goals associated with material development in the Northern hemisphere. Much development planning has consequently been inspired by a vision of history as a linear evolution, and conceived of as a way of 'catching up' with 'modernity'.
The process has emphasised the importance of economic growth and the central role of development experts. It has been embedded in an understanding of knowledge which gives priority to technology and science; and it has been guided by a dualistic world-view which separates the material from the spiritual. That the former has been granted precedence over the latter is made apparent by the scarcity of any mention in development literature of cultural, let alone spiritual, concerns – despite the fact that religious beliefs are the prime source of guidance and support for most human beings, especially those who are materially the poorest.
Over the past two decades, it has become apparent that this approach to development has contributed to the destruction of many societies and community structures. It has brought with it the imposition of the cultural norms of the development institutions and their agents, as though these had some kind of universal validity. The concept of private property and the encouragement of competition over cooperation are just two examples of what have been promoted as universal norms. The sustainable livelihoods of people whose customs and value systems do not fit these norms have often been jeopardised as a result.
Some of the most glaring examples of such destruction of traditional ways of life are found among indigenous peoples, such as the Guarani, Quechua, and Maya in Latin America and the Maasai in East Africa. But the cost of encountering 'modernity' is not borne by indigenous cultures alone. There are many people outside the tribal communities in India, for example, who vehemently oppose the rapid spread of Western values and lifestyles, which they see as detrimental to much of what they most cherish in their culture, especially attitudes and customs related to their spiritual beliefs.
Today there is an increasing (though probably insufficient) awareness that quite different paths can be taken to improve human welfare, and that no programme can bring positive and lasting results unless it is well anchored in the cultural norms and values of the society in question. There is a gradual recognition of the need to acknowledge the central role of people, with their particular aspirations, attitudes, mentality, values, beliefs, spirituality, and sense of the sacred and of happiness, and with their own skills, expertise, and creativity, as a pre-requisite for the success of development programmes.
As all religions would confirm, to become fully human is more than a matter of improving one's material condition. That human beings do not live by bread alone is not only a Christian concept. As a Mayan woman from Mexico put it: "The heart of our struggle, the soul of our vision for a better future is to be able to live with dignity on the basis of our culture. Our culture tells us that our economic activities cannot be separated from social and religious life and cannot be reduced to economics.'
Who can decide what is positive or negative within any given cultural context?
To stress life's invisible and non-material dimensions seems to be interpreted by some as entertaining a romantic vision of material deprivation. But few people would defend living conditions which negate fundamental human freedom and dignity and which are offensive to social justice and equity. Cultures that discriminate on the basis of gender, race, or creed, for example – as many do – should surely be open to change. This does not, however, justify the all too common tendency of visiting experts to pass hasty judgement on other cultures, as if their own views were value-free and grounded in abstract objectivity.
Indeed, one of the questions often asked in debates on the issue of culture is: Who is to decide what is positive or negative within any given cultural context? The Nobel Prize-winning economist, Amartya Sen, is unambivalent in stating that people must set their own priorities: ' If a traditional way of life has to be sacrificed to escape grinding poverty or minuscule longevity (as many traditional societies have had for thousands of years), then it is the people directly involved who must have the opportunity to participate in deciding what should be chosen.'
Susan Waffa-Ogoo, Secretary of State for Tourism and Culture of The Gambia, agrees:
It is not all of our societal norms and values, customs and beliefs that can be said to enhance development, but there are those that have helped to keep our people together for centuries and are such an important value system that, in spite of increasing modernisation and development, they need to be preserved for posterity. I believe this is where the equation lies, showing that development is inextricably linked to the people, for whom it should bring some fulfilment in life and thus improve upon their living standards in a sustainable way.
What are the practical implications of the commitment of the multilateral development agencies to more inclusive processes?
The socio-cultural aspects of development are now established as elements of the official development agenda. In 1995, the World Commission on Culture and Development, chaired by former United Nations Secretary General Javier Pérez de Cuéllar, published, with UNESCO, a report on the importance of the contribution of different cultures to the world, entitled Our Creative Diversity. And in its recent report on poverty, the UNDP draws attention to '[a] new generation of poverty programmes' which 'focus on building community organisations to directly articulate people's needs and priorities – rather than concentrating on income-generating activities alone.'
Some years ago, the World Bank published a paper entitled Using Knowledge from Social Science in Development Projects, which squarely recognised the need for socio-cultural analysis. It would be interesting to find out how far its warning has been heeded: 'The penalty for not carrying out the social analysis and not incorporating social knowledge into financially induced growth programs is costly and swift.' The paper reports on a study of 57 World Bank-financed projects which examined the association between the socio-cultural fit (or misfit) of project design and the estimated economic rate of return at audit time. It found that the socio-culturally compatible projects studied had twice the average rate of return of the non-compatible ones.
More recent documents issued by the World Bank, such as the World Development Report 2000/2001 (WDR) and Voices of the Poor, indicate a growing attention to such non-material and culture-related issues as dignity, freedom, and the centrality of local conditions. The WDR speaks of 'demand-driven assistance' and, significantly, it argues that 'solutions that accommodate different perspectives on development' constitute one of the challenges in reforming international development practice. It concludes that 'history shows that uniformity is undesirable and that development is determined to a great extent by local conditions, including social institutions, social capability ...'
In his opening address to a conference on culture and development in October 1999, James D. Wolfensohn, the current president of the World Bank, repeated his often-stated belief in the importance of a focus on cultural issues. 'However you define culture,' he said, 'it is increasingly clear that those of us working in the field of sustainable development ignore it at our peril.'
Is respect for traditional cultures incompatible with modernisation?
All this is encouraging, but the importance of cultural issues to development is far from being universally accepted, even within institutions whose public policy statements would lead us to think otherwise. The socio-cultural impact of a programme, even within many NGOs, is often considered a 'soft' issue and reduced to a subsidiary question at the bottom of a questionnaire. The failure to take it as seriously as economics, technology, and infrastructure, for example, is undoubtedly partly explained by the difficulty of quantifying and evaluating the cultural impact of any piece of work.
But, as Wolfensohn points out, we ignore culture at our peril. The issue of cultural norms is at the heart of many current debates. Some types of behaviour are judged very differently in different cultures. What is seen by some to be corruption on the part of government or other officials, for example, is understood by others merely as the fulfilment of traditional expectations that gifts should be given to one's family or clan members.
Some schools of thought see the plurality of cultures in the world as a danger, rather than as a source of enrichment. Samuel Huntington foretells a 'clash of civilisations', as the forces of globalisation and modernisation challenge the values and beliefs that provide the bedrock of the cultures of certain regions of the world. Moreover, those who still understand development to mean catching up with the material standard of living of the industrialised societies perceive the world-views of certain cultures as obstacles to this sort of progress, on account of their approach to economics, to time, to community, and to nature, as well as their religious beliefs, their social organisation, and decision-making processes. There are still many who believe that the job of development agencies is to bring such cultures into the modern age, even at the cost of destroying them.
And, of course, there are other plausible-sounding arguments. David Landes speaks of'toxic cultures which handicap those who cling to them ... in their ability to compete in a modern world'. He then points to the unequal distribution of wealth and the machismo of Latin America as an example.
Easy causal connections aside, the question here is not whether these cultural characteristics are to be defended, but by what standard they are to be judged. Is Landes justified in his assumption that the cultural characteristics of Latin America are to be assessed as good or bad according to the extent to which they fulfil the 'duty' of that continent to 'keep up' (presumably with its northern neighbour)? In this context, it is important to note that the gradual opening up to more culture-sensitive approaches is linked to an increasing unease in the world about the shortcomings of 'modernity'. Many see our era as characterised by an undifferentiated obsession with technology, consumerism, the desire for quick profits (and quick solutions), and a general lack of respect for those who are left out of the benefits of the growth of prosperity. The supremacy of science and technology, greater efficiency, and the reliance on heightened managerial skills to solve problems have all been unable to bring an end to hunger and malnutrition. Moreover, widening disparities between the rich and the poor, social injustices, environmental destruction, and a creeping depression and sense of meaninglessness are all products of our age. In this context, a growing number of people are eager to see how differing cultural approaches to development can enrich and enhance each other.
It is not a question of rejecting all the benefits brought by modern scientific knowledge, but of weighing these up against the cultural losses that they often imply. As Denis Goulet puts it:
Chronic malnutrition and high mortality rates are doubtless dehumanising evils which ought to be abolished; and abolition requires the application of technology and 'modern' techniques. What is crucial, however, is that the people affected be helped to become fully conscious of the value implications inherent in proposed innovations.
Planners, educators, and technicians (from South and North alike), says Goulet, must take responsibility for being explicit about and appraising the trade-offs in values implied in their own recommendations.
Knowing people's culture: how should this knowledge be used?
In the light of the increasing attention being paid to culture, we also need to accept that the desire to understand the culture of a community is not always disinterested. There have been cases when the knowledge, or partial knowledge, of cultural issues has been used to integrate communities into programmes designed in another context by people of another culture, or even to deceive communities into believing that non-existent benefits will come their way. By restricting itself to an instrumental use of culture, this approach excludes the possibility of any genuine empathy and relationship of mutual learning between the development worker and the would-be beneficiaries.
An unfortunate example of this way of using culture are the many income-generating co-operatives set up by NGOs in various African countries in the 1980s. Building on the collective way of doing things which the development workers discovered within the communities, they quickly attracted people to take part in their programmes. But by overlooking the fact that traditional community ties in most African countries are based on a network of complex loyalties rather than on financial considerations, they often served to undermine community relations, causing rivalries and dissent.
But in other cases, a knowledge of local culture has been used to empower communities, so as to help their members to achieve more autonomy and engage in cultural regeneration and an assertive citizenship. There are many cases of programmes which, through respecting the experience, knowledge, and outlook of traditional (often religious) leaders, have taken advantage of the authority that they already enjoy within their communities to train them to be highly effective 'multipliers' of modern agricultural, marketing, or medical knowledge. Thousands of traditional midwives all over the world have, for example, been trained in skills such as the use of local substances for treating trace-mineral deficiencies, or oral re-hydration as a way to combat the effects of diarrhoea. But these have complemented, rather than replaced, the midwives' age-old wisdom, which often brings with it a stronger concern for the emotional and psychological state of the mother than most modern treatments.
