the language of education in africa: the key issues

The Language of Education in Africa:

The Key Issues

by Seyoum Hameso

This article was published in Language, Culture and

Curriculum, Vol. 10. No. 1, 1997, pp.1−13.

Language of Education in Africa by Seyoum Hameso

The Language of Education in Africa: The Key Issues .......................1

The Language of Education in Africa

i

The Language of Education in

Africa: The Key Issues

by Seyoum Hameso*

“The use of African languages in complementary and equitable fashion,

alongside other languages, will be part of the full development of Africa's

own genius and of the continent's search for its own path of

development.” (Robinson, 1996: 180)

1. Introduction

Whether our concerns are about the everyday lives of people and their

social interaction, or about social change and education, the issue of

language is as vital as it is complex. The complexity is best demonstrated

by its inextricable links with a society's cultural, economic and political

life. It also has inevitable historical embodiments. Thus any inquiry into

contemporary Africa takes us to the past−the colonial past. In one way or

the other, that past had been one of conquest and domination, one of

suppression by alien rule facilitated by alien languages. Except in a

handful of cases, like Kiswahii in Tanzania, most colonies were run in

colonial languages.

Independence came, promising hope, freedom, improved living standards

and progress. The promises made by nationalist politicians following, in

some cases, a protracted struggle, seemed to warrant change of

circumstances. In the midst of high expectations, those who inherited the

political kingdom took over diverse population groups with distinct

The Language of Education in Africa: The Key Issues 1

languages and cultures alongside alien and haphazard territorial

boundaries. At the time, the rule was simple: to wrest authority from

colonial powers, as Julius Nyerere boldly hinted. But no one other than

Kwame Nkrumah said it all in the most remembered phrase: 'Seek ye first

the political kingdom, and all else will be added unto you'. That grand

seizure implied the need for consensus and reduction of diversity. At one

extreme, one central government was envisioned along with one

language and probably one leader for the whole continent. The vision

belonged to another millennium and the idea was shortly rejected. The

same preoccupation with the kingdom also seemed to engender

permanent relegation of all other issues, including the people, their

cultures, their languages, and above all their diversity, to a lesser degree

of priority.

In those heady days of the late 1950s and 1960s, informed leaders were

influenced by the vogue ideas of the day: modernization and

nation−building either through capitalism or socialism. While the most

aggrieved of the leaders opted for radical socialism, the less aggrieved

went along with their uncomfortable legacy. Either way, the means and

the destinations were never mutually unintelligible. For all found comfort

in centralism and stubborn singularity in their national policies. Contrary

to historical precedents in Europe, where nations were, by and large,

formed on the state's ethnic and linguistic congruity, Africa's leaders

found it fit to build states by destroying the real nations: the Ewes, the

Ibos, the Hausas, Oromos, etcetera. For the word nation has become so

attractive that, to be modern, they named their project: nation−building.

The task was pretty daunting. It was one that took Europe centuries of

blood and toil. For the newly formed African states, it meant a lot of

things. It required enlightenment and reformation following the

well−known and well−trodden path taken by European empires and



nations. It required Weber's rational−regal state driven by a Marshallian

rational economic man. It seemed to entail expansion of education, i.e.,

literacy. The economy was to be transformed from agricultural to

industrial, and the process was named 'industrialisation' along the lines of

the Industrial Revolution in England in the nineteenth century. The

societies 'needed' transformation from 'primitive' and 'tribal' to the

'modern', whatever that meant. This implied physical migration away

from the 'idiocy of rural life', and away from the curse of Babylonian

multiple tongues to the promised land−the town−where you speak one

pidgin. And pidgin, it was.

All this was needed to be done in the matter of a decade or so. After all,

the UN Secretary General, Dag Hamerskjold announced the year 1960 as

'The Africa Year'. Economists, (one among them was Arthur Lewis, later

Sir, who advised Nkrumah's government in Ghana), the most notorious

social engineers of the modem age, were called upon to manufacture the

infamous Five Year Development Plans. And so they accomplished the

task with remarkable speed, calculating how quickly 'unlimited supplies

of labour'−unfortunately stuck in the zero marginal productivity

sector−could move to shanty towns blackened by scorched earth mining

and the loading and unloading of foodstuffs. With only the remotest

relevance to the African beyond the villages of Timbuktu, the most

revolutionary resolutions (full of physical targets never to be achieved)

were passed, promising a balanced 'big push'. And because of their

remoteness, these blueprints were left to gather dust on the shelves of

planning agency warehouses, just like a bible does in a secular Western

family. In the meantime, political leaders, at the height of their political

power in the newly inherited kingdoms, made their choices on behalf of

the public as a matter of urgency with costly and massive outcomes,

some intended and some not. One, among the many public choices,

impinged on the language of education.



2. The Language of Education: Choice and Policy

Language performs different functions including a means of

communication, expression and conceptualisation. It can also be used as

a means of domination and discrimination; an instrument to give or block

access to economic and political processes. It is the latter aspect that

brings the issue of language to the centre stage, and that is partly our

concern here. Once the functions and importance of languages are

recognised, the choice of languages of education is often made on

historical, political (nationalistic) and cultural grounds as much as on the

basis of pedagogical and linguistic ones.

For historical reasons, the determination to keep indigenous languages

from the public domain was a favoured option by many of Africa's

non−nation states. It so happened that in the hazy atmosphere of early

1960s, given the artificial nature of boundaries, the new leaders signed, in

the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) formation in 1963, to respect

'the sovereignty and territorial integrity of each state' endorsing the

borders that do not, by and large, coincide with sociolinguistic

boundaries. By that endorsement, speakers of one language were

fragmented across artificial boundaries. In West Africa, for example,

Mansour (1993: 67) states that out of 15 million Pulaar speakers, Guinea

accounted for 40% in 1986. The respective figures for the same language

in Guinea Bissau, Senegal, Gambia, Mali, Niger, and Nigeria are 23%,

21%, 18%, 14%, 14%, and 9%, respectively. Similar cases hold true for

Manding, Wolof, Hausa, Yoruba, and other speakers. In this inconvenient

arrangement, the choice or imposition of one ethnic group's language for

official and educational purposes, as it happened in Ethiopia, was a cause

for deep social conflict. The very fact of historical mischance that diverse

groups are put together under one political roof, meant that the choice of



one group's language serves a defacto declaration of war on the others.

3. Nation and Non−nation States

Even though the general pattern throughout much of Africa is the same,

one should account for country specificity. With reference to the choice

of languages and policy parameters related to this, there are slight

variations. Where the idea of nation and state is coterminous, as in

Somalia, the Somali language was accorded a national status. It was also

developed as the medium of instruction in 1972. In the case of Kenya and

Tanzania, an indigenous language in Kiswahili has been in use as official

or second official language and medium of instruction. As a 'neutral'

language−−at least it does not belong to any one particular ethnic group

in both Kenya and Tanzania−−it was positively encouraged. In the case

of Tanzania in particular, the language issue is approached with

conscious, and to some extent, autonomous understanding; but the

professed intentions failed to materialise. By 1967, the Arusha

Declaration recognised that education was vital for self−reliance. Among

African languages, Kiswahili has an unusual history. The fact that it was

widely used by the Germans and later by the British colonial powers

helped its status. At the same time, the use and promotion of Kiswahii

was viewed in terms of the overthrow of colonialism, furtherance of its

linguistic development, and a means of ensuring unity in Tanzanian

society. Despite these broad political intentions to make Kiswahili the

language of instruction beyond primary school level, there has been

reluctance to pursue the policy to its logical conclusion.

In many other African countries, informed language policy was

forestalled by the choice of foreign languages (mainly English, French or

Portuguese) as they constituted a 'neutral' solution. (Yet, this language

neutrality is debatable, since different languages and cultural frameworks



impart different world perceptions.) Assuming sovereignty over

population groups, cowed and confused by alien rule, inheriting an

economic base best suited to exports of raw minerals and cash crops, and

controlling the political system that is often alien (hence authoritarian),

the non−nation states of Africa faced a stark reality. Some leaders, in a

vain attempt of pretending to shy away from the colonial legacy, went to

the opposite extreme, making more mistakes than would be warranted by

common sense. In one way or the other, what took root was a perverse

scenario of inorganic states, artificial boundaries, and artificial languages

and cultures that were only remotely relevant to the people's daily needs.

The urge to communicate and to train the messengers required a quick

decision and the only readily available media were the languages of

former colonial administrations. Soon these languages were 'enshrined' in

constitutions that were to be easily discarded following every other

violent change of regime. In the case of Cameroon, as elsewhere,

Robinson (1996) states that no provisions were made in reference to

indigenous languages. Therefore, most of these countries settled on

inconvenient compromise, often choosing the languages of former

colonial powers for official and educational purposes.

On the basis of this mooted agreement went the legacies of the

postcolonial alien state machinery, an acceptance of authoritarian and

repressive political methods, the perpetuation of economically dependent

centrism, and the socially pervasive assimilationism of the past. With

these, Africa's own institutions, nations, and nationalisms were

denigrated as backward, tribal and narrow in contrast with the

progressive, modern, civilized and universal ethos of capitalist

nationalism. These meant modernization of state structures of control

(mainly the military and the bureaucracy) and the system of education

aimed at bolstering them.



The superimposed, floating state, found it easy to push aside the issue of

indigenous languages, even for educational purposes. The debate over

cultural and linguistic diversity was muted for the sake of the overriding

need to build a political kingdom on the premise of unity. While a nation

by definition is based on linguistic, cultural and ethnic affiliation and

homogeneity, the way African states were programmed to operate was

quite different. In this conflict, a number of factors militated against

indigenous languages. In the following section, therefore, we will ask to

what extent the determination of language policy and choice should take

account of the advantages and disadvantages of both foreign and

indigenous languages as media of education.

4. The Use of Foreign Languages in Education

4.1 Advantages

Foreign languages are used in different countries in business, diplomacy,

media and scholarship. Inability to understand these languages costs

resources while knowledge of them can only be an asset.

Secondly, they have become prerequisites for acquiring science and

technology. Thus, Western education, scholarship, business, and science

and technology were rendered impossible without acquiring those

languages, mainly English and French, but occasionally German and

Japanese. Linguistic dependence such as this, and lack of vision as to

what to do about it, engendered a scenario of arrested development. In

the case of Tanzania, Judith Barrett (1994: 6−10) details the reasons why

English was retained and defended as a way of preventing Tanzania

being isolated from the rest of the world, as well as a means of keeping

abreast of technological and scientific achievements in international fora.

Thirdly, foreign languages are viewed as symbols of power and a means



of securing good, secure jobs. As far as members of the elite are

concerned, the use of such languages is a sign of prestige, and a higher

competence in them is known to entitle the speakers to a legitimate claim

to power.

Yet while learning and knowing these languages is beneficial, there is no

prima facie case for them to serve as the media of instruction. They could

as well be taught as subjects in schools like mathematics or economics.

Apart from this, there are a number of reasons why foreign language

would be ineffective as the medium of instruction. Trappes−Lomax

(1990: 96−7) details such reasons.

4.2 Disadvantages

Firstly, foreign languages are foreign and lack authenticity. They are not

the people's language. Being uncomfortably foreign, they remain the

language of the few, namely, the elite who are a class of their own and

are also alienated both from their own society and from their counterparts

elsewhere with whom they are also unable to merge. Therefore, foreign

languages remain languages of academia, languages of university

education, languages of research and scholarship. This foreignness of the

language of instruction has been a major force in making education a

culturally alienating process. Whereas language is supposed to help in

bringing education close to the learner, and therefore in motivating

learners to invest energy and time 'in the intrinsic excitement and

self−regenerating dynamo of learning' as Samof (1993: 213) says, the

lack of integration of educational goals with the cultural context and

African values has contributed to the present educational crisis in Africa,

in which education is geared mainly to the (re)production of ruling elites.

That is also partly how education has made itself increasingly irrelevant

to the real issues of the masses and to Africa's development. This further



indicates the elitist nature of education where students are forced to

receive education in foreign languages beyond primary schools in many

African countries.

Secondly, foreign languages are not teachable in the sense that it is

difficult to ensure language proficiency of teachers in foreign media. The

case is pronounced when the teachers are not native speakers themselves.

As far as learners are concerned, a foreign language is hardly ever

experienced outside the educational environment. In pedagogic terms, it

is noted that foreign languages remain secondary for pupils (they are only

rarely used outside classrooms with poorly trained and equipped

teachers). Worst of all, they are foreign to young pupils who have been

brought up in their own mother tongue and find them completely

unintelligible.

It is for these reasons that UNESCO has been in the forefront of

promoting the idea of education in indigenous languages.

Yahya−Othman (1990:46) points out that students enter secondary

education without adequate understanding and knowledge of the medium

of instruction. Such a system results in 'individuals hampered by

linguistic deficiencies in their thinking, in their critical observation, in

their questioning of ideas and facts, and in the interpretation of what is

communicated to them'.

Last but not the least, by perpetuating cultural and linguistic dependence,

the use of a foreign medium saps nationalist energy. Exorbitant national

costs need be incurred to possess knowledge materials produced in the

chosen medium. Policy adjustments and broad conditions need to be

fulfilled to acquire the most valued and expensive raw materials of the

twenty first century−relevant information. Yet the corollary of these

arguments is not that foreign languages are an obstacle per se to national



growth and hence should be banned. On the contrary, they are extremely

useful and should be learned. What is in dispute is making these

languages the medium of education. Looking into the vitality of

indigenous languages better makes this point.

5. The Use of Indigenous Languages in Education

Education through the medium of mother tongue ensures that a 'child's

educational development is rooted in his own cultural heritage ...' (Criper

and Widdowson, 1975, quoted in Trappes−Lomax, 1990:94). It is also

pointed out (e.g. by Rugabumya, 1990; Robinson, 1996: 173) that

evidence from international research shows that use of the first language

is a factor in educational achievement and that the educational process in

any society ought to be conducted through a language that both learner

and teacher command well. Moreover, in situations where students learn

best within learning institutions, Barrett (1994: 9−10) maintains that this

can be done by starting where the pupils 'begin with their experience and

existing knowledge and thus position them as "knowers" ... and by

allowing them 'to use their own language within the classrooms'. This

indicates the need for the cultural contextualisation of education.

Otherwise, if the shift from one language of instruction to the other

continues, as it often does, education turns out to be a constricting and

restricting factor. This argument is made by Yahya−Othman (1990: 51),

based on observations made on Tanzanian children, who, upon finishing

primary schools in the medium of Kiswahili, shift to the English medium

in secondary schools.

5.1 Obstacles

The adoption, use and promotion of indigenous languages faces a number

of obstacles. It is already noted that African history is burdened with



pervasive legacies. One of them is linguistic, and it is reflected in

self−denial, part of which is rooted in despising African languages as

'tribal' and 'primitive' and nothing but vernaculars. The position is

adopted by both 'educated' natives and external apologists. This very fact

was raised by Robert Armstrong (1963: 69) who said, 'If we are ashamed

of our own language, then we must certainly lack that minimum of

self−respect which is necessary to the healthy functioning of society'. The

same author further argued that:

if the young people come to despise their father's language, the

chances are that at the same time they will reject their father's

wisdom. The emotional importance of a language lies in the fact

that it contains the choices of one's mother, father, brothers and

sisters, and one's dearest friends. (Armstrong, 1963)

The general tendency to favour foreign languages as official languages

and as the media of instruction is the major obstacle to the use of

indigenous languages. It is a tendency that is reinforced by political and

economic constraints.

Politically, one notes the desire of the bureaucratic elite to reproduce its

own class through the medium of education in international languages.

On the basis of Tanzanian experience, Barrett (1994: 13−14) is of the

opinion that the retention of foreign languages best serves the interest of

the elite who use these languages as screening devices to higher

positions, and hence maintain their position.

The above position is reinforced by arguments based on the cost

associated with changes. Economically, that is, the initiative to replace

African languages as the media of instruction requires resources in terms

of teacher training, developing grammars and orthographies, producing



and translating textbooks and supplementary materials. Where written

scripts are not developed, they should be designed. The cost issue is one

of the arguments used against development of indigenous languages,

namely that education in different mother tongues is not affordable. In

particular, a poor country with meagre resources can hardly pay for the

additional expenses of teacher training and materials production

associated with instruction through the medium of indigenous languages.

But the argument does not take into account the educational needs that

can be met only through the indigenous languages, and the fact that

ability in these languages already exists without cost.

None of these arguments is intended to be decisive. The matter is

complex, and it is conceded that there are also cases in which the use of

foreign languages is beneficial. In order to explore the complexity still

further, we now look at the case of Ethiopia.

6 Ethiopia: Language Policy and Practice

Whereas the general patterns that prevail elsewhere in Africa are also to

be found in Ethiopia, there are some unique scenarios. Ethiopia was an

empire, and hence the imperial imposition of dominant power (Amhara)

on other ethnic groups occurred. The history of domination began in the

1880s when Emperor Menelik, a Shoan Amhara, expanded his domains

beyond the traditional feudal Abyssinia. The effects of territorial

expansion was soon matched by linguistic, political and cultural

influence. With the centre's approval, imperial soldiers were settled in the

South, taking over land and property, reducing the indigenous people to

mere serfs and peasant labourers. Most of the settlers were from the

northern highlands, and were mainly, but not exclusively, Amharic

speakers. There were Guraghes, a few Tigreans and others, most of

whom were assimilated to the politically dominant culture. Thus the



southern nations, most of whom had their own languages, cultural

symbols and socio−political institutions, came under Amhara rule. The

process of conquest, bloody, and in places disastrous, as it had been, was

followed by a consolidation of imperial power which brought about the

need for training and education.

That being the case, the present−day Ethiopia is home for three major

language groups, Cushitic, Semitic, and Nilotic Omotic. Under this broad

category, no precise numbers of languages and dialects can be given,

since the relevant studies are lacking. Mention however, could be made

of the main languages as including, Agaw, Amharic, Afar, Hadiya,

Guraghe, Kembata, Oromo, Sidama, Tigre, Wolayta, and others. The

Oromo language is by far the most common being spoken by all Oromo

people who constitute about 40% of the whole population. But then,

Amharic dominance meant that other languages were not to be accorded

national status and they were often referred to as 'minority' languages.

6.1 The Position of Amharic

On this basis, taking over an empire, Emperor Haile Selassie and his era

saw continued Amhara dominance that was momentarily interrupted by

Italian colonial occupation (1935−41). The latter introduced new

initiatives, not the least of which was replacement of Amhara domination

by Italian colonial rule. When the Italian army surrendered to Allied

powers, the Emperor was accorded a favourable image and generous

support from the outside world, mainly the West. Then in an attempt to

'modernise' absolutist feudal autocracy, he undertook initiatives for

change, but these 'modernisation' drives primarily served the purpose of

defending the empire.

Accordingly, new measures were introduced including a constitution,



formation and training of professional military service, establishing

schools and a university (in the 1950s, named after the Emperor, and now

the Addis Ababa University) and improving the system of tax collection.

These measures were accompanied by the policy of assimilation into

Amhara culture and the imposition of the Amharic language. That was

how a language of one ethnic group became the medium of instruction

for all in primary schools, and the sole official language, seconded by

foreign languages. The same imposition also secured the dominant

position of the Amhara elite in all walks of life for almost a century. At

the same time the Emperor's advocacy of Western governments (which in

turn brought about economic and military support) promoted the use of

English as the medium of instruction in secondary schools, in addition to

being the second official language.

Given an absolutist feudal system, the very demands of modern

education posed, sooner rather than later, a threat to imperial monarchy,

and the whole system crumbled in the face of devastating famine and oil

price hike of the early 1970s. Accordingly, a military junta replaced the

ageing emperor in 1974. To many it sounded like a revolution, but it is

best compared with what followed the Russian Revolution in the Soviet

Union, in the sense that there was no fundamental change in the imperial

nature of Ethiopia. In the guise of socialism, policies of proletarian

internationalism and aggressive militarism, centrist and assimilationist,

were pursued to their extremes. Although a mass literacy programme was

pursued in the spirit of mass mobilisation, for which purpose indigenous

languages were used, the script was Amharic and all formal education

continued to be delivered in Amharic. At secondary and university levels,

English continued to be used as the medium of instruction.

This imposition of Amharic in a country where the majority of

people−most of whom live in the countryside−neither speak nor write



Amharic, had an influential role in higher education. According to

Edmond Keller (1991: 140) the status given to the Amharic language as

the medium of education in primary schools in the majority

non−Amharic speaking areas was fiercely resisted as unfair and unjust, as

it favoured some indigenous speakers at the expense of others in the state

sector. The Oromos, Eritreans, Somalis (i.e. Somalis in Ethiopia),

Sidamas and other nations within the Ethiopian empire resented the use

and imposition of the Amharic language 'not only because it

disadvantaged them in the competition for university places, but also for

the implication it had for the destruction of their own languages and

cultures', not to mention its implications for jobs and other social and

political activities. This, coupled with the centrist, authoritarian policies

of the military, known as the derg, wreaked havoc in whole societies; the

economy was overwhelmed by shortages and economic crisis; and the

war in Eritrea and other parts worsened an already precarious existence

for the majority of the poor, who were caught in the margins of

impending disasters (most of which were manmade), such as drought and

concomitant famine.

6.2 The 1994 Constitution

All these issues led to a change of regime from military dictatorship to

military insurgency led by a Tigrean elite. The transitional charter and

arrangement has introduced some changes. Initially, it was a process

where different ethnic groups participated, although the dominant

position was claimed by a northern Tigrean ethnic group and the Tigrean

People's Liberation Front (TPLF), which formed the Ethiopian Peoples

Democratic Revolutionary Front (EPRDF). Such predominance

notwithstanding, participants to the transitional government agreed on an

interim education and language policy. Accordingly, in 1992, new

measures of primary education in ethno−national languages were



introduced as opposed to the policy of the ancien régime. Moreover, most

languages became working languages of the respective, so−called

administrative zones. Apart from this minor achievement, the political

process was fraught with problems, eventually leading to the withdrawal

of almost all opposition parties from the transitional government. This

enabled the EPRDF to draft and approve a constitution, and to design

language and education policies, not to mention broad, far−reaching

economic and political guidelines.

The 1994 Constitution states, in Article 5, that Amharic shall be the

'official language of the Federal Government'. It also states in Articles 2

and 3 respectively that 'all Ethiopian languages shall enjoy equal state

recognition' and that 'the member states of the Federation shall determine

their respective official languages' (Ethiopian Constitution, 1994).

Whereas the practice of such broad constitutional provisions is yet to be

seen, the direction of language of education has no constitutional

reference, and it is not clear how indigenous and foreign languages are to

be treated in the future. Except for the brief interlude of transitional

arrangements in 1991−92, there has been no positive and open discussion

on language policy in Ethiopia. Secrecy underpins language policy

discourse. The fact that Amharic is still the official language of the

central government carries all the weight, and makes it in practice the

medium of instruction in schools in the north and centre of the country.

As far as the south is concerned, for the sake of administrative

expediency, more than ten language groups are forced to form one

'Federal Administrative Region', which makes it difficult for this region

to use any of the constituent languages other than Amharic. And this

makes it likely that the previous policy will revive, in effect forcing a

switch to Amharic at secondary schools. This would exhibit what the

conflict between Kiswahili and English did in Tanzania; namely that the



language of education instead of becoming a liberating, door−opening

agent ... becomes constricting and restricting factor, where basic concepts

which should grow with a child, and be added constantly as the child

learns more, are shaken midway by an ineffective change of medium'.

(Yahya−Othman, 1990: 51)

Currently at least, primary schools in most of the southern areas use

indigenous languages and Latin scripts that are found to be more suitable

than the Sabean (Semitic) scripts often used for Amharic and other

northern languages.

But problems still abound. There is a lack of education materials. This

was particularly so regarding the lack of supplementary books other than

text books, where students need to develop further their analytical

understanding of the text. Yet the most serious problem regarding

language policy is the lack of political commitment, and the severely

authoritarian nature of the political leadership, which lacks political

opposition. When Eritrea reclaimed its independence in 1993, Amharic

was replaced with Tigrinya and Arabic as the media of education and as

official languages.

The events in Ethiopia and Eritrea have common precedents in recent

developments across the world and in Africa, to which we now turn.

7. Contemporary Developments

'Transition' is the word that comes and goes relating to Africa's

sociopolitical landscape. Once it was the 'wind of change'. Later on, those

disenchanted with the first wind wished for 'the second liberation'. A

number of social experiments were tried in the name 'revolution', 'African

socialism', 'apartheid', 'kleptocracy', and gun−loaded insurgency. Today,



with the end of the cold war, another experiment is on its way, if it has

not already expired: multiparty democracy. Being one reflection of the

unidirectional process of changes along Western lines, democratization

was equated with concepts such as party competition and liberal

economics to mention but a few. Most of these are forced on Africa

where the Western realities are a long way from being obtained.

Of all of these, 'multiparty politics' is a much bandied about term, which

at least has the advantage of referring to initiatives that have been tried

and are still being tried. It is beyond dispute that if handled with

sensitivity and care, genuine democratisation presents a number of

opportunities. It gives people the chance for change, in particular the

chance to change unyielding, unwanted authority. It enables societies to

look for alternatives in place of social and political decay. It makes

public officials accountable to the people and to their express needs.

The possibilities are diverse; but the brief experience so far is by no

means encouraging. While few governments were willing to be voted out

of office peacefully, in many cases incumbent regimes remained in place

by using all the means at their disposal, such as harassing opposition,

creating surrogate parties and manipulating the political procedure. There

is also a clash of perception as to how democracy comes into being and

functions, irrespective of the sociopolitical environment. That is, it is less

clear what strictly constitutes a democratic process. The outcome of

competitive party rule, in an environment where ethnic domination has so

far been concealed in single party system, is not necessarily that which

one would expect from American or British elections where, by and

large, two main parties compete for a share of votes, and where issues

and interests are clearly articulated through 'free' and informed media (the

Fourth estate). But these models are hardly the ones African regimes

have followed, often curbing, if not circumscribing the freedom of the



media. Due to a constellation of historical and political conditions,

African democracy will take shapes that are not precisely the same as

Western liberal thinking. For example, if true democracy prevails in an

African village, people will choose as their representatives those who

share their own languages, address their concerns and grievances, and

who support local initiatives. These scenarios would serve as distinctive

features of African democracy.

On the economic front, the trend has continued of 'opening up' the fragile

economies to market forces, to multinationals, as a precondition to

getting 'adjustment' loans and access to external capital. The effect of

globalisation and the trend in technology and information are yielding

diverse outcomes, sometimes eroding the economic and political base of

Africa's non−nation states.

The trans−border flow of electronic data and 'electronic' capital in the

information age, is rapidly crossing the artificial boundaries, where and

when men failed to cross them. It is not as of yet known what precise

impacts these phenomena will have on African economies. But one thing

is certain: the ill−conceived rush to state−building at the cost of genuine

nation−building was never warranted. Alternatives ought to be sought

along the lines of people−oriented development and political

participation, all of which will require the revival and activation of

indigenous languages and cultures. This might also require ever more

regional cooperation among the states. In stipulating this grassroots

alternative, Robinson (1996: 171) reckons that non−government

organisations (NGOs) are well poised to undertake contextual

development activities, and to choose appropriate strategies so as to

support local initiatives and build capacity (though, like their

governmental counterparts, they also may be prone to waste of resources

through corruption). He further argues that these institutions would



strengthen respect for local cultures, and they are 'more likely to use the

local language in their communication, since their actions are premised

on the participation of the people'.

Socially and culturally, the trend of Westemisation embodies elements of

cultural and linguistic imperialism. Positive attitudes are created towards

using foreign languages with incentives attached, such as a good job for

those educated through them. On the other hand, there is a defence of

cultural and linguistic autonomy manifested in the proliferation of

identity movements. One only has to note the protracted struggle for

independence in different countries. The central issue is popular

participation, redressing past injustices and changing or reversing

prevailing ethnic domination. In this equation, the vitality of ethnicity in

the language debate is notable. As Robinson (1996: 168) puts it:

since language is readily available as a symbol of ethnicity, any

promotion of African languages can be interpreted as a desire to enhance

the political power of these speakers [and that] genuine pluralistic

policies must make space for communities to choose their own language.

Furthermore, due to the move towards pluralism and democratisation,

parties may support policies that yield popular support which means

development that is suited to the local needs and means of

communication, (see Mansour, 1993:87).

8. Conclusions

History is replete with the legacies of the past. In the case of former

colonies, this meant the use of foreign languages as the media of

education and of government. These languages are beneficial in that they

are international and serve as the means of transferring modern science

and technology. The problem is that they are foreign and difficult to



teach and that they may fail to equip the students well for adult life.

On the other hand, indigenous languages do reflect learners' backgrounds

or address their needs while positively influencing their educational

achievement. In that sense they are relevant, practical, and necessary for

the revival of Africa's institutions. Yet there are a number of obstacles,

most of which emanate from historical, political and economic reasons.

That is precisely why one recommends that language policy ought to take

all these broad considerations into account at design and implementation

levels. The consequences of failing to reckon with Africa's own

background has come back to haunt entire societies. And people have

become increasingly aware of the need to revive African cultures and the

use of African languages in the revival of African economic and political

institutions. To this end, African policy makers and opinion formers need

to look into the possibility of using indigenous languages in education

and government and, in order to do so, they will also need a

multidisciplinary research agenda to inform the development of new

language policies.

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Reference Style: The following is the suggested format for referencing

this article:

Hameso, Seyoum. The Language of Education in Africa: The Key Issues

[online] URL:

http://www.sidamaconcern.com/hameso/language_of_education_in_africa.htm



This article was published in Language, Culture and Curriculum, Vol. 10.

No. 1, 1997, pp.1−13.



the language of education in africa: the key issues

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