Reflections on Historical Entanglements and Cultural Sensitivity

“There is that great proverb — that until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”[1]

Chinua Achebe’s famous statement resonates deeply with the essence of my reflections on the excursion to Ghana. Achebe’s words invite us to critically reevaluate historical narratives through the perspectives of those who have been marginalized by colonial discourses. Achebe’s insight lays the groundwork for my exploration and serves as a reminder that the dominant narrative of history often reflects the perspective of the victor, the colonizer, thereby obscuring the complexities and nuances of the colonized cultures and peoples.

Echoing Achebe, Argentine philosopher María Lugones further explores colonization’s impact on identity and culture, articulating that “(…) colonization invented the colonized and attempted a full reduction of them (…).”[2] Her perspective aligns with Achebe’s and underscores the constructed nature of historical narratives and the prevailing power dynamics – where certain individuals wield the authority to define reality, employing their power to dictate the narrative. The legacy of colonialism has deeply tinted the lens through which knowledge, especially in scientific realms, is produced and disseminated, necessitating a thorough reevaluation and redefinition of these narratives. In this essay, I seek to broaden the narrative by highlighting contemporary realities, striving to shed colonial bias.

Following the preparatory seminar “What’s God got to do with it? Colonialism and the Basel Mission in Ghana”, in which my engagement with texts, missionary notes, and documents from the archives of the BM spanned diverse topics from the mission’s mandate, gender roles, and slavery to urban planning and Western medicine, a complex picture of colonial entanglements and cultural imperialism emerged. This left me grappling with the upcoming excursion’s implications.

The narratives shaped by the BM through detailed reports, diaries of missionaries, or articles published in the mission’s magazine Evangelischer Heidenbote have not only crafted a specific worldview across generations in Switzerland but have also propagated certain notions of civilization and progress. This narrative was not unique to the BM; similar stories were told by other missions, explorers, traders, and colonial entities, collectively shaping Switzerland’s perception of Africa and its understanding of civilization, progress, and development. These pervasive notions, propagated through various channels, are still reflected in some concepts and approaches of many development organizations today, including the adoption of practices and structures from missionary activities. This broader context underscores the significant influence of not just the BM but also of other colonial and missionary efforts in shaping contemporary development practices and organizational structures. While the term “development” carries with it historical associations with Western ideals of linear and coherent progress, which often overlook the diversity of local cultures and identities,[3] it’s crucial to recognize the agency of African actors in this discourse. Many Africans today engage with the concept of development more actively and perhaps differently than we might, appropriating this discourse and making it their own. This transformation reflects a dynamic process where African individuals and communities are not merely passive recipients of externally imposed concepts but actively reinterpret and reshape these ideas to reflect their realities and aspirations. Despite the term’s historical baggage and its evolution within the framework of missionary organizations and other colonial enterprises, its contemporary usage by African actors underscores a significant shift. This shift highlights how the conception of development cooperation, while still influenced by its origins in ideas of civilization, progress, superiority, and a commitment to aiding the “needy,” has been reimagined by Africans themselves. Such agency is pivotal, as it illustrates the capacity of African states and societies to navigate, contest, and redefine the parameters of development in ways that acknowledge their unique contexts and challenges. Thus, while the historical influence of organizations like the BM remains evident in aspects of contemporary development cooperation, the active engagement of African actors with the discourse of development signals a complex interplay of influence and transformation, challenging the notion that the colonizer had the power to shape discourse entirely.

My selection of this reflection topic is deeply rooted in my background in development cooperation, enriched by continued education courses and scholarly contributions.[4] This combination of professional engagement and academic inquiry has provided me with a comprehensive understanding of how contemporary development practices are influenced by colonial legacies. Through my work in the NGO sector, I have gained firsthand insights into the complexities of these practices, recognizing the critical need to examine them through a lens that is both informed by historical context and open to questioning existing narratives. This awareness of the intricate connections between the past and the present in development work underpins my approach to the subject, encouraging me to continuously reflect on my own perspectives and the potential biases they may carry.

While my prior research had me well-prepared for the excursion, I soon realized the importance of going beyond just being prepared. Instead of solely relying on what I already knew, I made a conscious effort to step back, observe, and ask questions. This approach helped me see beyond my initial assumptions and understandings. It was a reminder that our preconceptions can guide but also limit our insights, showing me the value of being open to new perspectives and challenging my own views. For instance, during our excursion, some Ghanaian interlocutors expressed a desire to revive the Basel Mission Trading Company (BMTC), viewing it as a potentially positive force, while I, having read various papers on the subject, held a more ambivalent view of this institution due to its colonial past. This divergence in perspectives highlighted the complex legacies of colonial enterprises and their varied interpretations today. Furthermore, the valorization of values brought by missionaries, summarized as the “3 H’s” – changing the head, the heart, and the hand – was another area where my perspective diverged from some locals. While these values are held in high esteem by some, I found the notion of imposing such changes on people to be rather intrusive.

A particularly striking example was in Abokobi, a historically Christian settlement established by the BM, where it was explained to us that one cannot become a chief unless one is a Christian or a member of the Presbyterian Church of Ghana (PCG). This stipulation, along with frequent discussions about “control” and altering people’s status through “intervention”, vividly illustrated how colonial legacies continue to shape social structures and individual identities. These encounters served as concrete illustrations, prompting me to delve deeper into the questions of decoloniality and decolonization, especially focusing on the dynamics of unequal privileges and the asymmetrical relationships between Ghana and Switzerland.

For me, decolonization also involves a discourse on the nature of knowledge and its subjects. Periodically, I find myself reflecting on whether my approach remains aligned with the “correct” path or if I’ve inadvertently strayed, perhaps influenced by the precarious terrain of inherent biases and preconceptions. It feels akin to walking a tightrope, necessitating constant vigilance to ensure I’m not weighed down by the wrong equipment—be it background, ideology, or education. This introspection, while philosophical, compels me to continually reassess my intellectual “gear.” It’s a commitment to ensuring my work perpetually aligns with the ideals of justice and inclusivity.

Seeing the scholars and PCG members grappling with the deterioration of the first missionaries‘ houses, along with other structures we often perceived negatively, such as the old schools in the so-called Salems, was both challenging and eye-opening. It was difficult to place these experiences into our pre-existing categories, and witnessing our Ghanaian interlocutors’ struggle with decay was astonishing. This disparity in perception became particularly evident when we noted that, for the local community, these sites hold personal and often positive memories, contrasting sharply with our group from Basel, whose members tended to view these buildings primarily as negative remnants of the colonial era, overshadowing the personal significance these buildings also held. It made it clear to me that here, people connect their personal and often – contrary to my expectations – positive histories with these places. For instance, they associate them with childhood memories. These locations represent the past of individuals who now have to watch them deteriorate as if they were worthless or meaningless. No one seems to take care of them or feel responsible. This realization underscored the complexity of heritage and memory, revealing a stark contrast between our initial perceptions and the lived realities of those connected to these historical sites.

Ann Laura Stoler underlines this perspective by reminding us that the remnants of colonialism are not merely physical structures but are deeply embedded in the social fabric and collective memories of communities. She highlights how “imperial formations” continue to exert influence, shaping the landscape and the perceptions of communities in ways that are both visible and subtle. According to Stoler, recognizing the complexity of these colonial legacies allows us to see beyond mere physical decay, understanding the profound significance and personal memories these sites embody for the local community.[5]

A former classroom in the Salem in Osu with a collapsed roof (my own photograph).
A former classroom in the Salem in Osu with a collapsed roof (my own photograph).

A notable experience occurred in Akropong when during a reception the local chief queried if Switzerland could support refurbishing the BM’s inaugural school, illuminating the enduring impact of colonial ties. This appeal for assistance was a powerful testament to the enduring connections between our shared histories. Far from displaying a mere continuation of colonial dependence, this request symbolizes a proactive stance toward heritage conservation and educational advancement. It reflects a community’s respect for the historical contributions of the missionaries, while also articulating a clear vision for the future—a desire to leverage historical assets for the betterment of current and future generations. By seeking support, he is actively engaging in a dialogue that honors the past, addresses present needs, and paves the way for mutual growth and understanding.

In a similar vein, Professor Henry N.A. Wellington, a heritage scholar and member of the PCG, who also shared his personal connection as a former student of the Salem School in Osu, gave us a tour through Osu on the first day of our excursion. He explained the historical sites and highlighted the challenges of cultural preservation in the face of incomplete historical records. His efforts to gain access to archival documents concerning the history and specifically the house of the prominent philologist and Basel missionary Theophilus Opoku (1842 – 1913), aiming to maintain it as it was originally intended, and his request for my assistance, underscore the ongoing challenges in securing resources crucial for safeguarding Ghana’s cultural and historical inheritance. Contemporary Ghanaian researchers‘ continued dependence on the archive of the BM – an archive in Switzerland that is hardly accessible to them – further underlines the struggle to secure these documents without help from those with direct access to the archives in the historical colonial center, emphasizing the imbalanced nature of past and present connections.

These scenarios not only showcase the persistent influence of colonial legacies on current development and cultural preservation efforts but also raise fundamental questions central to decoloniality and decolonization. They call for an in-depth reconsideration of how historical connections, established through colonialism and missionary endeavors, persist in influencing contemporary expectations, relationships, and the very language of „development.“

Also, when we met missionary descendants who could trace their family trees back to their German or Jamaican ancestors and repeatedly emphasized how proud they were of this ancestry, it became clear to me again that we cannot escape our very own positionality. Even when we are super reflexive. It depends on our worldview.

The entire excursion group with descendants of the first missionaries of the Basel Mission in front of their house in Osu, Accra. Courtesy of Rafael Feind
The entire excursion group with descendants of the first missionaries of the Basel Mission in front of their house in Osu, Accra. Courtesy of Rafael Feind

Building on this foundation, I endeavor to scrutinize and question the nature of interventions and development cooperation. Additionally, I view this as an opportunity to shed light on how colonial narratives have influenced these cultures, through the lens of hybridity—a concept that recognizes the blending of diverse cultural identities to form new, distinct entities.

A poster of the recent Asante Opoku-Reindorf Lecture (all names of early Basel missionaries) on African Agency home and abroad photographed in Akropong next to the Akrofi-Christaller Institute (my own photograph).
A poster of the recent Asante Opoku-Reindorf Lecture (all names of early Basel missionaries) on African Agency home and abroad photographed in Akropong next to the Akrofi-Christaller Institute (my own photograph).

This often helps me to question the one-sided portrayal of development cooperation as a lopsided cultural transfer and emphasizes the importance of recognizing cultural diversity and the creative power of hybrid forms. Culture is an open and changing concept. Decolonization means something different in and for Europe than in and for Africa. We have different tasks to perform and different perspectives to change. Asserting that individuals should discard their colonial legacy by denouncing missionaries, demolishing related structures, and abandoning the cultural practices and lifestyles developed during that period might be interpreted as a form of neocolonialism. It’s essential to remember that this history wasn’t passively absorbed; people actively engaged with it, molding it within the context of their own agency. Thus, our goal shouldn’t be to study places like Ghana from an outsider’s perspective. Instead, we should trace these perceptions back to their roots, understanding them as outcomes shaped by our own European history.

Questions and misunderstandings on both sides remain, but let us not hesitate to address and discuss them openly. This has happened daily thanks to the mixed group during the excursion and has always been challenging but also very enriching. If I victimize people, I’m patronizing them again, overhear their voice, and overlook their agency.

In reflecting upon our excursion and the engagements with historical narratives, it is evident that the history of colonial interactions and their legacies requires a nuanced understanding that goes beyond surface-level observations. The encounters with the chief at Akropong and Professor Wellington in Osu underscored the living impact of colonial history on Ghana’s cultural preservation and development. These experiences illuminated the complex dynamics of memory, identity, and the ongoing struggle for agency within post-colonial contexts. As we move forward, it’s crucial to foster dialogues that recognize and value the diverse perspectives and voices of all communities involved. By doing so, we not only honor the complexity of our shared history but also contribute to a more equitable and understanding global community. This journey reaffirms the importance of revisiting our preconceptions and actively engaging in the decolonization of our perspectives, ensuring that the narratives of history and development are inclusive and reflective of the diverse tapestries of human experience.

Basel Street in Accra. Courtesy of Dorothea Schiewer
Basel Street in Accra. Courtesy of Dorothea Schiewer
Portrait Benedikta Spannring Salzgeber
About the author:Benedikta Spannring

As the founder and director of a foundation that pursues the development and support of people in any kind of need in Ethiopia, I have repeatedly dealt with the Basel Mission in my work as well as during my studies. Through two of my seminar papers as well as a research seminar in the context of my MA programme in African Studies at Basel, I kept coming into contact with the work of Basel Mission in Ethiopia, although this was not actually a mission area of BM. I am particularly interested in how today’s developmental aid is shaped by such institutions as the BM. Since I have always dealt with Southern, Northern and especially East Africa (also related to the BM) in my studies, but also during travels or work assignments, this project has been an excellent opportunity for me to broaden my horizon to West Africa and probably make interesting contacts for the future.