No
TEACHER GUIDE, No TEXTBOOKS, No CHAIRS:
CONTENDING
WITH CRISIS IN AFRICAN EDUCATION
Joel Samoff
Ó1999
Prepared for presentation at
the
43'd Annual Meeting Of the African Studies
Association
Philadelphia, 11‑14
November 1999
Revised: 23 October 1999
No Teacher Guide, No Textbooks, No Chairs:
Contending with Crisis in African Education'
Joel Samoff
The sense of excitement, hope, and anticipation in
African education has been replaced by widespread dismay, disappointment, and
discouragement. As the twentieth century closes, the general consensus is that
education in Africa is in crisis. Africa has of course also been the site of
imaginative experiments, innovations in the content and forms of education, and
critical reflections on the role of education in society. Both long before
Europeans arrived and to this day, Africa's intellectual contributions have had
global influence. Still, the prevailing wisdom highlights crisis. After a
period of rapid growth and dramatic progress, education in Africa, at all levels
and in all forms, is in dire straits, we are told. With few exceptions, both
schools and learning have deteriorated, and the situation is continuing to
worsen. Roofs leak and wind blows through paneless windows. There are too few
teachers to sustain expanded access, too many teachers have had little
preparation, and very few teachers have opportunities to improve their skills.
Universities have experienced stagnating or declining budgets and simultaneous
pressures to increase enrollment. Libraries are outdated, laboratories poorly
equipped, and funds for research nearly nonexistent. The need for action is
urgent. The challenge is to revitalize education in Africa and to do so in ways
that enable African countries not only to close the development gap but to leap
ahead.
Notwithstanding imaginative responses to crisis and
remarkable resilience in face of
adversity, commentators see no end for the decay and disarray.
In the 1990s and
beyond, institutions of higher education in Africa, especially the universities,
must contend with several interrelated major problems, whose combined effect
threatens to strangulate them. . . . . To say that higher education is in
Africa is in crisis does not mean simply that the funds available to run higher
education institutions are grossly inadequate .... More than that, African
countries and societies are going through a period of econon‑dc
uncertainty, political and social upheavals, plus other contortions, and higher
education has become a victim of the prevailing state of affairs. The situation
is likely to remain so, well into the twenty‑first century.1
How, then, to make sense of this transition from
the expansive expectations of the immediate post‑colonial era to
pervasive degeneration, from promise to progress to crisis? Like education
itself, the analysis of education in Africa requires attention to both content
and forms, and especially to context and process. In the remainder of this
brief overview, let us explore major issues and themes in education in contemporary
Africa.' My concern is draw on diverse sources to explore both outcomes and,
more important, analytic frameworks.
"Education in Africa," like "African
education," is of course a simplification fraught with risk. For most
purposes, neither exists. With care, it is possible to study education in
Guin6e or to explore the unique characteristics of, say, Ghanaian education.
But where the diversity within countries is vast and where most countries are
themselves of very recent origin, it is foolhardy to speak in general terms
about a continent of more than 50 countries. Still, to identify and understand
similarities and commonalities we must at times defer attention to individual
variations. Hence, as we consider here shared patterns across Africa, we must at
the same time constantly recall and respect Africa's rich diver. sity and
consider carefully the bounding conditions for each general comment.
Education
in Africa at the Century's End
The final decade of the twentieth century is a
period of reflection and reevaluation for African development. The optimism of
the decolonization of the late 1950s and early 1960s has been displaced by a
deep dismay at persisting poverty and a profound pessimism about the viability
of any strategy of social transformation. For many, the objective is no longer
broad improvement in the standard of living or self‑reliance but simply
survival.
Education, too, has experienced a similar
transition. Earlier, education, formal and nonformal, was expected to be the
principal vehicle for social change, both helping to define the new society and
enabling its citizens to function effectively within it. Not only were the
illiterate to be able to read and write, but they and other newly educated were
also to foster innovation, to accelerate the generation and diffusion of ideas
and technologies, and to monitor and manage a responsive political system.
Education was also to be the vehicle for redressing discrimination and
inequality, both in daily practice and in popular understanding.
There has been progress, in some countries very
substantial achievements. Still, in much of Africa, many children get little or
no schooling, illiteracy rates have ceased to decline or even risen, school
libraries have few books, laboratories have outdated or malfunctioning
equipment and insufficient supplies, and learners lack chairs, exercise books,
even pencils. As I have noted, nearly all observers characterize contemporary
African education as in crisis. Many, both inside and outside Africa, are
pessimistic about the ability of national authorities to address the crisis
effectively.
In
this setting, recourse to foreign aid has become a way of life. Almost without
exception, education reform proposals are presumed to require external funding.
In some, perhaps many, countries, even the day‑to‑day operation of
the education system is dependent on overseas support.
As the general crisis has unfolded, external aid
agencies have increasingly cor‑, to provide development advice as well as
finance. Notwithstanding its critical role, their funding remains a very .!est
portion of total education expenditures. Consequently, their influence may be
far greater than the absolute value of their aid suggests. Indeed, some
agencies, and especially the World Bank, currently assert that their
development expertise is even more important than their funds. "[The World
Bank's] ... main contribution must be advice, designed to help governments
develop education policies suitable for the circumstances of their countries.'
The increased reliance on foreign aid to support
education innovation and reform has been accompanied by another transition,
from a conception of education as a human right and general good to
understanding education instrumentally, primarily in terms of its contribution
to national growth through the development of the knowledge and skills
societies are deemed to need. Occasional voices continue to insist that
education is liberating and that learning is inherently developmental. Most
often, however, education is regarded as distinctly instrumental, an investment
in a country's future, a production system that (more or less successfully)
turns out people with particular competencies and attitudes, and a delivery
system that transfers wisdom, expectations, ways of thinking, and discipline to
the next generation‑ As we shall see, these two currents‑on the one
hand the expanded role for foreign aid and its providers and with it the
tendency to address education through the prism and with the tools of finance
and on the other understanding education primarily as preparation for work‑reinforce
each other with enduring consequences for education in Africa.
Let us review briefly that trajectory, from
education as social transformation, broad development engine, and foundation for
self‑reliance to aid dependence and education as targeted skills
formation.
Toward
Education for All
For
nearly all African countries, the starting point was an inherited education
system that excluded most of the population. For education to transform
society, therefore, the first task had to be to expand access, and to do so
massively and rapidly. Indeed, expanded access had become both a popular demand
of the anti‑colonial nationalist movement and a promise of the newly
installed leadership. The premise was personal as well as political. Access to
education was the primary route by which nearly all of Africa's initial
leaders escaped, or rather mitigated, the discrimination and domination of
European rule. Where there was a clear effort to reject race and other
ascriptive criteria for employment and promotion, education's selection role became even more important.
As well, opening schools in urban neighborhoods and rural villages was the most
readily achievable and visible manifestation of the new government's
accomplishments. The progress in this regard was indeed remarkable.
Unfortunately, before turn
ing to the data on African education, we must recognize that the apparent
precision provided by numbers is often fundamentally misleading. Put sharply,
the margin of error on reported African educa tion data is often far larger
than the observed variation. Hence, an apparent change over time‑say, in
enrollment or public spending‑may not be a change at all.
Table
1 On Africa Education Statistics
|
SOURCE |
PRIMARY
GRoss ENROLLMENT
Ratio (%)a SUB‑SAHARAN AFRICA |
||
|
|
1970 |
1980 |
1990 |
|
UNESCO, World Education
Report 1991 |
46.3 |
|
76.2 |
|
UNESCO, World Education
Report 1993 |
|
77.5 |
68.3 |
|
World Bank, Education in Sub‑Saharan.Africab |
48.0 |
76.0 |
|
|
World
Bank, African Development Indicators 1994‑1995 |
|
77.0 |
66.0 |
|
World
Bank, World Development Report 1993b |
46.0 |
|
68.0 |
|
World
Bank, World Development
Report 1995b |
50.0 |
|
|
|
World
Bank, World Development
Report
1996c |
|
80.0 |
|
|
World Bank, World Development Report 1997' |
|
79.0 |
|
The
problems are several. Available figures are often inaccurate, inconsistent, and
not readily comparable. Schools, districts, and other sources provide
incomplete and inaccurate information. Sources differ on periodization and on
the specification of expenditure categories. Especially common are the
confusion of budget and actual expenditure data and the comparison of budget
figures in one year with expenditure reports in another. Recurrent and
development (capital) expenditures are treated inconsistently. Often the
available data do not include individual, family, local government, and direct
foreign spending. Discussions of the cost of education in fact generally refer
to government expenditures on education. Inflation, deflation, and exchange
rates are treated inconsistently. Data series are frequently too short to be
sure that observed variation reflects significant change.
One
example of this problem must suffice as the caveat for the data that follow.6 How many children are in school? Or, more
important, what percentage of the relevant age group is in school? Table 1
lists the primary gross enrollment ratio for Sub‑Saharan Africa (recall,
available data generally exclude North Aftica) in 1970, 1980, and 1990 as re
ported in several wide ly used sources. Notice that that the reported figure
for for 1970 varies from46% to 50%-nearly a 9% difference –in diffrener edtion
of the World bank’s own publication. Similarly, in this small sample, the
reported figures for 1990 vary from 66%
to 76% a 15% diffrence. What happened
over those two decades? Did primary enrollment increase by two‑thirds
(from 46% to 76%) or half that (a 32% increase, from 50% to 66%), or something
in between? From the available data, we cannot be sure. What we can reasonably
say is that fewer than half the school aged
children were in school in 1970, that by 1980 progress had been substantial,
with some three‑fourths in school, and that there had been a significant
decline by 1990.
Table 2: Enrollment Growth,
sub-Saharan Africa, 1960-1995
|
Millions
and Percent |
Growth since 1960 (1995 as % of 1960) |
|||||
|
|
1960 |
1970 |
1980 |
1990 |
1995 |
1960-1995 |
|
Primary |
11.85 |
21.0 |
47.1 |
58.1 |
76.5 |
646% |
|
secondary |
0.79 |
2.6 |
8.1 |
11.9 |
18.8 |
2.380% |
|
Tertiary |
0.02 |
0.1 |
0.3 |
0.9 |
1.9 |
9.048% |
|
Sources: for 1960, 1970, and 1980: World Bank, Education in Sub‑Saharan
Africa. Tables A‑ 1, A‑2.and A‑4. for 1990: UNESCO, World Education Report 1993, Regional Tables 6,
7. and 8.for 1995: UNESCO, World Education Report 1998. Regional Tables 6, 7,
and B. |
||||||
|
Note: Forgiven years, UNESCO estimates are
higher than corresponding World Bank estimates. Hence, while the expansion of enrollment is clear, the magnitude of that change may be somewhat less than suggested by this
comparison of reported 1960and 1995 data. |
||||||
The implications seem clear. First, it is essential
to take seriously that margin of error, that is, to treat most national
education statistics as rough approximations. Second, small observed changes
may be more apparent than real. Even changes on the order of 5 ‑ 10% (or
greater) may reflect nothing more significant than random fluctuations, annual
variations, and flawed statistics. Consequently, apparent changes of that
magnitude are a weak foundation for broad inferences and for public policy.
Third, both researchers and policy makers must reject statistics whose
underlying assumptions require a level of precision, or linearity, or
continuity that the data do not reliably support. Finally, effective use of
available data requires seeing through the facade of precision and demystifying
the use of statistics. A profu. sion of numbers neither makes a particular
interpretation more valid nor renders a policy proposal more attractive.
Indeed, the numeric halo may well obscure far more than it reveals.
Duly cautious, let us consider the accomplishments.
Primary school enrollments increased more than sixfold from 1960 to 1995 (Table
2). From very small starting points, secondary enrollments were 23 times
greater in 1995 than in 1960, and tertiary 90 times larger. In societies where
at the end of colonial rule less than a tenth of the population was deemed
literate, illiteracy steadily declined (Table 3). Comparable figures for the
number of schools opened, postsecondary institutions created, and new teachers
recruited show similar substantial growth. Clearly, access to education
expanded dramatically and rapidly.
Yet, those growth rates could not be sustained.
Indeed, some measures showed important reversals where progress had seemed
assured (Table 4). For many countries the primary enrollment ratio stagnated or
even declined, one indication of the deterioration of public services and of
the inability of governments to meet their commitment to move toward schooling
for all their citizens. At the same time, the supporting infrastructure for the
rapid expansion was also sorely stretched. In many places buildings were not
maintained, crash teacher recruitment programs were not accompa. nied by in‑service
professional development opportunities, low salaries forced teachers to look
outside their classrooms to supplement their incomes, curriculum revision and
textbook preparation proceeded slowly if at all, and morale plummeted. By the
late 1980s African education was in crisis.
It is not
uncommon to find a teacher standing in front of 80‑100 pupils who are
sitting on a dirt floor in a room without a roof, trying to convey orally the
limited knowledge he has, and the pupils trying to take notes on a piece of
wrinkled paper using as a writing board the back of the pupil in front of him.
There is no teacher guide for the teacher and no textbooks for the children7
For
at least some countries the situation has continued to deteriorate, with a
decline in the absolute number of children enrolled in schools. Overall, the
proportion of Africa's school age children actually in school now is smaller
than it was at the beginning of the 1980s.
Note,
too, that access to education in Africa is substantially lower than in most
other regions of the world' SubSaharan Africa's primary gross enrollment ratio in 1995 was 73.9%, compared
to 99.1% for the Less Developed Regions as a group, 99.6% for the World, and
104.5% for the More Developed Regions. At the secondary level in the same year, Sub‑Saharan' Africa's gross enrollment ratio
is half that of the Less Developed
Regions: 24.3% (Sub,Saharan Africa), 48.8% (Less Developed Regions), 58.1%
(World), and 105.8% (More Developed Regions). At the tertiary level the gaps
are larger still: 3.5% (Sub~ Saharan Africa), 8.8% (Less Developed Regions),
16.2% (World), and 59.6% (More Developed Regions). Within Africa, the variation was large, for example at the
primary level from 29% (Niger) to 135% (Malawi).
In
1990 governments and international and non‑governmental organ‑
nizations enthusiastically committed themselves to Education For All.9 Though
it shared that commitment, indeed was and is one of its principal arenas of
action, Africa found itself moving in the opposite direction. Far from an
engine for social transformation, Africa's education systems found it
increasingly difficult to provide even basic schooling.
Table
3 Estimated Adult literacy Rate, Sub-Saharan Africa, 1960-1990
|
|
Percent |
||||
|
|
1960 |
1970 |
1980 |
1990 |
1995 |
|
Adult Literacy |
9.0 |
22.6 |
40.2 |
47.3 |
56.8 |
|
Sources: 1960: World Bank, Education in Sub‑Saharan Africa, Table C‑4. 1970: UNESCO, World Education Report 1991. Table R8. 1980: UNESCO, World Education Report 1995, Table 3. (Note that UNESCO, World Education Report 1993. gives 32.5% for 1980.) 1990: UNESCO, World Education Report 1993, Table 3. 1995: UNESCO, World Education Report 1998, Regional Table 3. |
|||||
|
Note: Estimates of adult literacy are likely to have a large margin of error and may be calculated and reported differently by different sources or by the same source in different years. For example. while the UNESCO World Education Report 1995 estimates adult literacy for 1980 to have been 40.2% (as shown above), the UNESCO World Education Report 1993 estimates adult literacy for 1980 to have been 32.5%. For another example, while the UNESCO World Education Report 1998 estimates adult literacy in 1995 to have been 56.8% (as shown above), the African Development Report 1998 estimates adult literacy for that year to have been 44% (Fable 1. /). Hence. although the data suggest steadily increasing literacy over this period, since the margin of error is likely to be greater than the annual, or even the five‑year. variation, we cannot be sure |
|||||
Large Commitments, Little
Wealth
What
had happened? In Africa as elsewhere it is common to blame governments for
education problems. What is particularly striking, however; is the extent to
which governments maintained their commitment to education even in periods of
dire economic distress. Many African governments adopted structural adjustment
programs, with a larger or smaller role for the international financial
organizations, the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank. Often termed
"liberalization," these programs generally emphasized substantial
devaluation, decreased direct government role in the economy, especially in
productive activities, reduction in the size of the civil service,
encouragement of foreign investment, and support for privatization of many
activities, including public services. Nearly everywhere the implementation of
these policies meant increased prices for consumer goods and new or increased
fees for social services, including education. Notwithstanding the pressures to
constrain or reduce education spending, for example by employing
paraprofessional or other lower paid instructional personnel, many African
governments maintained their basic commitment to funding education. Expressed
as a percentage of the national budget, spending on education did not
decline (Table 5). Indeed, in terms of the overall economy, the
level of spending on education in much of Africa is comparable to or greater
than that in the world's most affluent countries (Table 6).
A large portion of a small budget, however, is
still small. For Africa, government revenues did not permit a
continuing
increase in enrollments or even the maintenance of per capita spending that is
very low in
international terms. Over several decades, international terms of
trade have generally worsened for Africa. In
some
countries, servicing the national debt requires a share of the national budget
comparable
to that of education. That is, while Africa's relative spending on education
was high, the actual
amounts were very small. By 1995, Sub‑Saharan
Africa was spending $87 per pupil while North America was
spending
$5,150, Europe $4,552, and Latin America and the Caribbean, $444 (Table 7).
Equally dramatic,
while the per capita education spending increased
66% in North America from 1985 to 1995, 152% in
Europe, and 110% in Latin America and the
Caribbean, in Sub, Saharan Africa during the same period the
per capita spending de. clined 5%. That African
countries came to independence with few educated people
and a very small education infrastructure and have
a much larger school‑age population makes the
comparison
even more stark. Thus, while there has clearly been ineffective and inefficient
education (and
national) management, and while there surely can be
more effective use of limited funds, the principal
constraint has been not a lack of commitment or a
failure of leadership or inefficiency, but rather
the volume
of total government revenue. Increasing indebtedness, another consequence of aid dependence,
consumes an
increasing portion of the revenue that is available. Even with great
sacrifices, in absolute terms
there was
little money for education.
The resource constraint is compounded by a
generally conservative policy orientation that equates education with formal
schools and that is reluctant to explore alternative learning approaches that
depart significantly from the common classroom model. Education was to be the
developmental engine, the principal strategy for eliminating poverty and
closing the gap between the most and least affluent countries.
For education to play that role, however, especially in the absence of
radically innovative curriculum, pedagogy, and school organization, required
resources that were simply not available.
A consequence of this dilemma is that for poor countries‑most of the
world's poorest countries are in Africa‑the development gap is likely to
continue to expand. Education for all remains not only a distant, but
apparently a receding goal. It is useful to note here that within countries,
differences in communities' and individuals' ability to invest in education are
constrained by redistributive education financing. Though the specific
mechanisms vary, the common general principle is that the most affluent
segments of the education of the poorest children.
Table 4 Primary Gross Enrollment
Ratio, Sub‑Saharan Africa, 1970‑1990
|
Percent |
|||
|
1970 |
1980 |
1985 |
1995 |
|
46.3 |
77.5 |
76.1 |
68.3 |
|
Sources: 1970: UNESCO, World Education Report 1991, Table
R4. 1980: UNESCO, World Education Report 1993,
Regional Table 6. 1985: UNESCO, World Education Report 1998.
Regional Table 6. 1990: UNESCO, World Education Report 1993, Regional Table 6. |
|||
Notwithstanding the contemporary fascination with
globalization, there has yet to emerge a serious proposal for estab lishing
that pattern globally, that is for internationally redistributive education
funding. To date, foreign aid provides a very small percentage of Africa's
total spending on education, 10 and whatever its magnitude, much of the aid to
African education is in fact spent on personnel, services, products, and
scholarships in the aid‑providing country. Hence, in at least some
settings, far from redistribution toward Africa, foreign aid may in fact
function to generate a net outflow of both capital and skills from Africa.
Table 5 Public Expenditure on
Education As a Percentage of Total Government Expenditure. Sub‑Saharan
Africa, 1970‑1995
(Percent)
|
Percent |
|||||
|
1970 |
1975 |
1980 |
1985 |
1990 |
1995 |
|
16.7 |
16.6 |
16.2 |
15.0 |
16.7 |
17.6 |
|
Sources: 1960‑1980: World Bank, Education in Sub‑Saharan Africa, Table A‑ 14 (weighted mean). 1985: UNESCO, World Education Report 1998, Table 10. 1990: Association for the Development of African Education, A Statistical Profile of Education in Sub‑Saharan Africa, 1990‑1993, Table A‑ 14. 1995: UNESCO, World Education Report 1998, Table 10. Note: In view of my earlier
comments about unreliable data and in view of the multiple sources of error
in these derived figures, I present
them reluctantly. Since the margin of error is likely to be large, the most
reasonable interpretation is that these data suggest there has not been
significant change in the proportion of the Sub‑Saharan Africa's
national budgets allocated to education over this 25 year period |
|||||
Desegregation and
Resegregation
Along
with expanded access, the second major commitment of Africa's post‑colonial
leadership was to desegregate the schools and the curriculum. On that, progress
has been substantial. Formal racial restrictions were eliminated immediately.
Informal barriers weakened as senior civil servants and other more affluent
Africans moved into formerly white neighborhoods and sent their children to
elite schools. Although the most egregious elements were addressed immediately,
for example teaching the history of Africa as the history of Europeans in
Africa, revising the general curriculum has taken longer and proved more
difficult. Post‑colonial education systems had few African staff with
relevant expertise and experience, and in any case revising instructional
materials and teachers' guides is a time consuming and often expensive process.
Equally important, since curriculum revision revolves around issues of quality
and standards, proposed replacements for the inherited materials were often
sharply debated. Not infrequently, proposed modifications were rejected as
polemical or political. The persist‑ ing powerful role of national examinations,
widely accepted as the official and formal measure of the quality of educa tion
and revised much more slowly and less radically than instructional materials,
continues to be a brake on curricu lum revision.
Table 6: Estimated Public
Expenditure on Education, 1980-1995 as Percentage of Gross National Product
|
|
Percent |
|||
|
|
1980 |
1985 |
1990 |
1995 |
|
Sub‑Saharan
Africa |
5.1 |
4.8 |
5.1 |
5.6 |
|
World
Total |
4.9 |
4.9 |
4.9 |
4.9 |
|
North America |
5.2 |
5.1 |
5.4 |
5.5 |
|
Europe |
5.2 |
5.2 |
5.1 |
5.4 |
|
Latin America and Caribbean |
3.8 |
3.9 |
4.1 |
4.5 |
|
Source: UNESCO, World
Education Report 1998, Table 12. |
||||
At the same time, there are clear indications of
the reemergence of racial differentiation in at least some African countries.
The combination of deterioration (actual and perceived) in schools' quality and
financial crisis has led to efforts transfer a larger share of the costs of
schooling to students and their families, generally through school fees and in
some countries an expanded role for private schools. High fee schools, whether public
or private, can offer better prepared and better paid teachers, equipped and
staffed libraries, laboratories, and computer centers, and frequently increased
likelihood of success at the next selection point. Where that occurs, schools
become stratified. Notwithstanding commitments to equal opportunity, in
practice access to elite schools is a function of disposable resources. While
the differentiator is money rather than race, since the two are related, racial
distinctions have reemerged, in some countries even within government schools.
Ironically, where the (formerly) white schools are perceived to provide the
highest quality education, the newly admitted African elite often becomes the
staunchest defenders of their privileges. It seems likely this will prove to be
a particularly daunting problem for South Africa, where decentralized authority
provides some protection for white parents who seek to preserve their generally
better funded, staffed, and equipped schools.
Equality and Equity
A third commitment of the post‑colonial
leadership was to use the education system to address inequality. Expanded
access was an important but insufficient step in that direction. At a minimum,
schools were no longer to reproduce and reinforce the inequalities and injustices
of the larger society. Non‑ discriminatory recruitment and meritocratic
selection were to redress the inherited inequities.
Historically, schools had
been primary agents in reproducing a sharply unequal social order. Limited
recruitment and severely constrained academic pathways restricted most Africans
to less skilled and lower paying jobs and to their concomitant social status.
There were important exceptions. A few Africans did reach the highest levels of
the educa tion system, surpassing many of their European peers. A few poets,
novelists, and playwrights found ways to publish their work. A few West
Africans were elected to the French parliament and served in the cabinet.
Especially where missionary education had a longer history, a few families could
point to several generations of university graduates. That schooling was not
fully racially exclusive, however, did not make it egalitarian. Most Africans
simply never got the chance. Most of the few who did soon found they could no
longer proceed. Hence, to convert schools from institutions for creating and
maintaining inequality into vehicles for achieving equality would require a
fundamental transformation. What in fact has occurred in this regard? Framing
our efforts to explore that are several issues of terminology and public
policy.
First, common in much of the analysis of
education in Africa is a confusion of equity
and equality. This confusion is
potentially quite problematic for public policy, since although generally
equity requires equal treatment, there may be particular circumstances when
achieving equity requires differentiated treatment.
One manifestation of the
equation of the two terms is in the World Bank's 1995 review of education
policies, which assigns equity a high priority and defines it in terms of
access to school." Basic education should be universal, and
"qualified potential students [should not be] denied access to
institutions because they are poor or female, are from ethnic minorities, live
in geographically remote regions, or have special education needs." That
is, equity means equal treatment, and thus the confusion.
Equality
has to do with sameness, or in public policy, with non
discrimination. Equality has to do with making sure that some learners are not assigned
to smaller classes, or receive more or better textbooks, or are preferentially
promoted because of their race, or gender,
or regional origin, or family wealth. While there may be valid educational
grounds for differentiating among students, equal access requires that status
differences not function to limit or guide admission, promotion, and selection.
Table
7 Estimated Public Current Expenditure on Education, 1985 and 1995 Per Pupil
and Percent of GNP Per Capita
|
|
US $ and Percent |
|||
|
1985 |
1995 |
|||
|
US $ |
% of GNP per Capita |
US $ |
% of GNP per Capita |
|
|
Sub-Saharan Africa |
92 |
29.0 |
87 |
30.4 |
|
World Total |
683 |
22.4 |
1, 273 |
22.0 |
|
North America |
3 107 |
19.0 |
5, 150 |
22.0 |
|
Europe |
1 803 |
22.1 |
4, 552 |
22.7 |
|
Latin America and Caribbean |
211 |
11.7 |
444 |
12.9 |
|
Source: UNESCO, World Education
Report 1998. Table 13. |
||||
Equity,
however, has to do with fairness and justice. And there is the problem.
Sometimes the two do not go together, at least in the short term. Where there
has been a history of discrimination‑which of course is the common case
for essentially all former colonies‑justice may require providing special
encouragement and support for those who were disadvantaged in the past. Given
its history, what is equitable education in post‑apartheid South Africa?
Clearly, repealing discriminatory laws will not in itself achieve equality of
access any time soon. Nor will the discriminatory elements embedded in
curriculum, pedagogy, and examinations disappear of their own accord. The
circumstances in which focused attention and additional assistance are required
and appropriate are and ought to be a matter of public debate. But where it is
deemed reasonable, that affirmative action may involve pursuing policies that
treat different groups of people in somewhat different ways. The point, of
course, is not to keep the advantaged group out, but rather to help the
disadvantaged group to join in.
To achieve equity‑justice‑may require
structured inequalities, at least temporarily. Achieving equal access, itself a
very difficult challenge, is a first
step toward achieving equity.
But to define equity as equality distracts attention from injustice rather than
exploring and addressing the links between discrimination and injustice.
As well, even within the more limited specification
of equity as equality, what is generally envisioned is equality of opportunity.
But how is it possible to know whether or not opportunities have been equal
without considering outcomes? A careful study might, for example, find no
visible gender discrimination in selection to primary school, or in the primary
school pedagogy. But if that study also finds that the attrition and failure
rates are much higher among girls than among boys, we might conclude that
opportunities were not equal after all. Similarly, if regional origin, or race,
or ethnicity is clearly visible in examination results, notwithstanding the
lack of obvious regional or racial or ethnic discrimination, we might again
conclude that in fact opportunities were not equal. That is, measures of access
are insufficient for assessing equality of opportunity. Discovering and
redressing inequalities of opportunity requires considering outcomes as well as
starting points.
Second, also common in discussions of equality and
equity is the assumption of a fundamental tension between growth and equity.
African countries must choose, commentators often assert, between allocating
resources to promote growth or instead using those resources to achieve equity.
While it is certainly the case that African governments must make development
choices, it is far from clear that growth and equity are alternatives,
especially in education. Where inequality is associated with the concentration
of wealth and persisting poverty for the majority, for example, limited
consumer demand may constrain the expansion of production and productive
capacity. Where competencies and understandings are not widely diffused, there
may be chronic difficulties in filling skilled labor posts and thus continued
reliance on much more expensive expatriates, and it may be correspondingly
difficult to reorient the work force as forms and circumstances of production
change. Intensified inequality is both a barrier to broad participation in
democratic governance and a breeding ground for socially disruptive discontent.
Though less often argued, there is a strong case for the view that growth and
equity are not alternatives but mutually dependent, each requiring and
advancing the other.
Third, as access has expanded, in part because of
the massive resources required to transform primary education for a selected
elite into basic education for all, that broadened base quickly narrows into a
highly selective education system in most of Africa. The exclusion point has
moved farther along in the school cycle. As Table 8 shows, for all of Sub‑Saharan
Africa, fewer than one‑fourth of those who start school proceed beyond
the basic level and only 2.5% reach tertiary education. Comparable percentages
for Latin American and the Caribbean are 31.6% and 9.9% and for North America
are 88. 1% and 6 1.0%. These
continental figures surely ob‑ scure significant variations among African
countries. Still, they show clearly that for most Africans, schooling is a
process of ever narrowing selection, with only a few learners able to proceed
to the advanced levels.
Fourth, while earlier discussions of (in)equality
and (in) equity in education were generally concerned with region (a surrogate
for ethnicity and, more commonly, tribe), in recent years the principal focus
has shifted to gender. Explaining that transition in focus and exploring its
consequences is beyond the scope of this paper. It is important to note,
however, that there is substantial and reliable evidence that access to and
success in school is in many places sharply differentiated by region, religion,
race or national origin, and class. Learners from one area of the country, for
example, are more likely to be selected and do better than their peers from
other areas. Available data indicate that Christian communities generally have
more schools, more children in school, and more graduates than Muslim
communities. Within Africa, Koranic and other Muslim schools have not been a
serious academic alternative to secular (that is, western and at least
unofficially Christian) education. Where relevant data are collected, the
systematic finding is that children from more affluent and higher status
families are more likely to find school places and to proceed to higher levels.
Notwithstanding the ample evidence of these inequalities, they are far less
often the focus of discussion and systematic research than gender
differentiation. Several countries have adopted gender affirmative action
programs. But there seem to be no comparable initiatives to assist prospective
learners discouraged or disadvantaged by region, ethnicity, race, national
origin, religion, or socioeconomic status. Earlier age,related affirmative
action, for example, mature age entry schemes for higher education with
reserved places for older applicants, seem to have been deemphasized or
discarded.
Table 8 Enrollment and Selection. Education in Sub‑Saharan
Africa,
1995
|
Level |
Total Enrollment (millions) |
As
Percent of
Preceding Level |
As
percent of Primary
Enrollment |
|
Primary |
76.5 |
_ |
_ |
|
Secondary |
18.8 |
24.6% |
24.6% |
|
Tertiary |
1.9 |
10.1% |
2.5% |
|
Source: UNESCO, World Education Report
1998, Tables 6. 7. and 8. |
|||
Let us now turn now to efforts to encourage and
support girls to enter and succeed in school. As Table 9 shows, while the
percentage of literate adult females in Sub‑Saharan Africa has more than
tripled over the past quarter century, still half remain illiterate while two‑thirds
of the adult males are literate. Progress toward equal gender access to primary
school has been clear, though for the countries of Sub‑Saharan Africa as
a group, females do not yet constitute half the enrollment (Table 10). From
lower starting points (one‑fourth of the secondary school population and
one tenth of tertiary enrollment in 1960), there has been similar progress at
secondary and tertiary levels. Still, by the mid 1990s females constituted only
slightly more than one‑third of total tertiary enrollment. The variation
among African countries is substantial. At the primary level, for example, the
female gross enrollment ratio in 1995 varied from 22% (Niger) to 134%
(Namibia).12 In the same year, the variation in the female gross enrollment
ratio at the secondary level was from 4% (Chad and Malawi) to 88% (South
Africa), and at the tertiary level from 0. 1 % (Chad and Tanzania) to 15.2%
(South Africa)13.
A recent research overview concluded that
although
tremendous gains have been made since the 1960s in most places, participation
levels of girls still remain lower than those of boys. Repetition, drop‑out
and failure is very high among girls, beginning at the primary level and
continuing throughout the system: many girls remain outside the formal
education system. The small number of girls who remain in the system tend to be
directed away from science, mathematics and technical subjects ....
Consequently, female participation in the [formal] labour market is limited
.... Female illiteracy remains high."
It
is striking that in a very short period the concern with females' experiences
in education has moved from relative inattention to a central focus of
education analysis and in at least some countries, of education policy and
planning. A review of nearly 150 broad studies of African education undertaken
during the late 1980s found little explicit attention to girls' education. A
review of some 240 studies completed in the early 1990s found that essentially
all addressed that topic. 15 That increased attention has been accompanied by
the development of organizations, institutions, and networks concerned with
females' education at the continental, national, and local levels. Several of
the external funding agencies, international, national, and nongovernmental,
many within the context of their own gender or women in development programs,
provide significant sup, port for efforts to increase girls' recruitment and
school success.
Table
9 Estimated
Adult Literacy Rates in Sub‑Saharan
Africa, 1970‑1995
|
Percentages |
|||
|
year |
Total |
Female |
Male |
|
1970 |
22.6% |
13.2% |
32.5% |
|
1980a |
32.5% |
22.3% |
43.2% |
|
1980b |
40.2% |
29.2% |
51.8% |
|
1985 |
45.6% |
34.9% |
56.7% |
|
1990 |
47.3% |
35.6% |
59.5% |
|
1995 |
56.8% |
47.3% |
66.6% |
|
Percentage of literature adults in the population aged 15 years and older. Sources: 1970 UNESCO,
World Education Report. 1991,Table R8. 1980' UNESCO, World Education Report,
1993. Table 3. 1980' UNESCO, World Education Report. 1995, Table
3. 1985 UNESCO,
World Education Report. 1998, Table
3, 1990 UNESCO,
World Education Report, 1993,Table 3. 1995 UNESCO,
World Education Report, 1998.,Table 3. |
|||
At the same time, dissonant voices persist. As
elsewhere, some believe that the differential experiences of males and females
simply reflect deep characteristics of human society and therefore cannot be
modified dramatically. Others see the concern with gender as yet one more value
and priority imported to Africa and imposed by outsiders, often as a condition for foreign aid.
Still others accord gender no special prominence, insisting instead on
addressing gender as part of a broader focus on equality and equity.
The most common research orientation in this arena
reflects very clearly both the dominance and limitations of what has come to be
the standard model for social science research. Generally, the starting point
is a set of instrumental assumptions about the value and importance of
educating females, especially expanding and strengthening the skills of the
work force, increasing employability, improving family health, and reducing
fertility. If educating females produces clear social and individual benefits,
then when do they not constitute half the school population? Researchers then
seek to identify explanatory factors for lower enrollment or higher attrition,
both in and out of school. The candidate causes are by now well known: parental attitudes, gender‑differentiated
expectations for future income (based at least in part on gender‑differentiated
salary scales), fernales' labor and house hold responsibilities, the absence of
role models at home and
in school, explicit and implicit discouragement for
pursuing particular courses of study, parents' level of education, family
religious and moral precepts, sexual harassment and early pregnancy, and more.
Much of this commentary talks of bringing women into the development process.
Some analysts, however, stress that as primary
producers of agriculture and reproducers of the family women are already at the
core of the development process. In that view, the problem is not one of
malintegration but rather the relations of power and authority. From this
perspective, since schools reflect the social order in which they function, it
is not surprising that societal gender distinctions infiltrate and orient the
schools. That is, to confront gender inequality in education requires not so
much identifying individual causative factors but reconstructing social, and
therefore economic and political, relations. In this approach, schools must
function not to incorp incorporate females more efficiently into an
inegalitarian society but rather schools must become locations and agents of
social ‑ansformation. This
understanding of the problem and approaches to it, though forcefully presented
in the general literature on African development, is with few exceptions little
evident in the studies of African education, which for the most part continue
to list variables and attempt to test their relative importance.
Education and Development
Education has many missions. At the most basic
level, education is responsible for developing across society the literacy and
numeracy that modem society expects of all its citizens. As it develops that
foundation, education also links generations and people, transmitting culture
and values and modifying them in the process. The contemporary world demands
competencies that go well beyond basic literacy and numeracy. Successful
farmers have always comparativists, noting the advantages and disadvantages of
planting a bit earlier or closer, or harvesting sooner, or interspersing
particular crops. Today,those comparisons require reading, writ ing, and calculating, indeed more. Successful
farmers need to be able to receive nd assess weather forecasts, to under stand
when fertilizer will make things grow and when it will bum crops, to learn from
experts' experiments and distant experiences, and to project the costs and
potential benefits of a particular innovation. Education is thus important not
only to a society's elite but to all its members. Knowledge is not static.
People refine what they know and often discard what they thought they knew, replacing it with new understandings. Hence, education must
enable learners not only to acquire information and skills but also, and far
more important, to learn how to
learn. For learners to adapt to changing situations, to take charge of those changes rather than suffer them as victims,
education must be a lifelong process, continually renewed and revitalized.
Table
10 Female Enrollment by Level, as a
Percentage of Total Enrollment contemporary in
Sub‑Saharan Africa. 1960‑1995
|
Percentages |
|||
|
Year |
Primary |
Secondary |
Tertiary |
|
1960 |
34% |
25% |
10% |
|
1970 |
39% |
31% |
16% |
|
1980 |
43% |
34% |
21% |
|
1985 |
45% |
41% |
25% |
|
1990 |
45% |
40% |
26% |
|
1995 |
45% |
44% |
35% |
|
Sources: 1960 World Bank, Education in
Sub‑Saharan Africa, Tables
A‑ 1. A‑ 2, and
A‑4 (weighted average). 1970 World
Bank, Education in Sub‑Saharan Africa, Tables A‑ 1. A‑ 2, and
A‑4 (weighted average). 1980 UNESCO, World
Education Report, 1993, Tables
6, 7. 8. 1985 UNESCO, World
Education Report, 1995, Tables
6, 7, 8, 1995 UNESCO, World
Education Report. 1998, Tables
6, 7, 8. |
|||
The focus for Africa's farmers lies well beyond their fields and the
village market. To improve their standard of living, they must understand and
address how frost in Brazil influences coffee farmers everywhere, how
collapsing currencies in South Asia affect the market for cloves, how to put to
productive use new findings from distant research centers on cotton blight, and
how to organize their own society so that they are not exploited by merchants,
landlords, or corrupt politicians. What is usually termed globalization is not
new to Africa. As Wallerstein notes,
As used by most
persons in the last ten years, 'globalization' refers to some assertedly new,
chronologically recent, process in which states are said to be no longer
primary units of decision‑making, but are now, only now, finding
themselves located in a structure in which something called the 'world market,'
a somewhat mystical and surely reified entity, dictates the rules."16
Clearly, the international integration of goods,
technology, labor, and capital has a
long and energetic history. Throughout that period controllers of capital have
been powerful decision‑makers, not infrequently determining state
behavior. And while new technology does permit instantaneous transmission from
one end of the world to the other and does enable researchers in Africa to
consult the same electronic databases as researchers in, say, Sweden, Japan, or
the U.S., the movement of labor remains sharply controlled and restricted by
nationally‑set rules. Colonial rule was, among other things, a general
strategy for integrating Africa into the global political economy on terms set
largely in Europe. Africa's underdevelopment is in large part a function of
global rules that facilitate the flow of capital and restrict the movement of
labor. Formally managed by the World Bank and the IMF, structural adjustment
plays a similar role. What has changed for Africa in the current era is that
information technology accelerates those flows. As Rugumamu puts it, "What
distinguishes the nature and magnitude of the impact of globalization on respective
actors is the unequal access to dominant organizations, institutions, and
dominant transactions in the emerging global order."' 7 For Africa, then,
the challenge of globalization is to employ the new technologies to Africa's
advantage. To achieve that, education must assure that Africa is able not only
to produce cotton, but also to manufacture textiles and to make the looms,
build the factories, and create the economic enterprises required to do so
efficiently and effectively. Even more. Africa must innovate as well as
operate. The development of Africa requires that education enable Africans to
be not only effective consumers and managers of production but imaginative and
creative producers of production.
We live in an
age in which the role of science based technologies as a major determinant of
the pace of social and economic change, as well as of global power structures,
has become even more pronounced. In the past, there were great civilizations in
the South that were fertile in scientific ideas, but the bulk of new knowledge
now originates in the developed countries of the North. . . . .
Unless the South
learns to harness the forces of modem science and technology, it has no chance
of fulfilling its developmental aspirations or its yearning for an effective
voice in the management of global interdependence. All its societies must
therefore mount a determined effort to absorb, adapt, and assimilate new
technological advances as part of their development strategies. Simultaneously,
their technological, economic and social structures must acquire a built‑in
inducement and capacity to generate new technologies in accordance with their
development needs.
The foundation for the build‑up of scientific and technological capabilities in the South is an educated and
skilled labor force, with ample opportunities for continuing education and
updating of knowledge and skills throughout the productive career. To achieve
this, all countries of the South should give priority to providing a high
standard of education to all children between the ages of 6 and 15 years, with
basic sciences and mathematics being given the importance that is in keeping
with the requirements of the modem technological age. The tree of knowledge can
flourish only if it is securely planted in the educational system.18
Thus, understandings of education's role in
development in Africa diverge sharply, with important educational and political consequences. Efforts to expand access,
desegregate the schools and curriculum, and
promote equity reflect the premise and promise of decolonization. From that
perspective, education has a broad and transformative mission. Parallel to that
orientation and often in tension with it has been a narrower view of the
relationship between education and development (understood broadly as of
improved standard of living and the economic changes required to achieve that).
Often mechanically economic, this view assigns primary importance to the
instrumental role of educa. tion in expanding production and productive
capacity and generally considers other education objectives to be societal
luxuries that must be deferred as currently unaffordable. However desirable,
the humanist aspirations of liberal educa‑ tion, the moral obligation to
redress inequalities, the expected social benefits of promoting equity, and the potential power of political
mobilization and expanded democratic participation all must wait, or
alternatively be achieved as by, products of insisting that schools focus on
preparing the next generation for their expected roles in the national and
global economies. These are indeed difficult choices, its advocates insist, but
unavoidable for poor countries.
That orientation is reinforced by the widespread
concern with what is generally termed "educated unemployment." The
widespread adoption of this terminology is itself revealing. What in fact is
the problem here? What distinguishes the unemployment of the more educated from
the joblessness of those with little or no schooling? Surely neither the
society at large nor the young people who cannot find jobs would be better off
if they were illiterate as well as unemployed. That young people who finish
school are frustrated in not finding jobs, or the jobs they think they should
have, is primarily a function of job creation (understood broadly) and not of
schooling. While those in power may find threatening the rising level of
education among the unemployed, that is primarily a problem of politics, not
education.
Still, the common assumption is that modifying education's content and practices will
either increase employabil‑
ity or alter expectations, or both. Yet, even with better trained and paid
teachers, less crowded classrooms, and suffi. cient instructional materials,
the education system cannot on its own overcome the consequences of a stagnant
economy. Where there are more seekers than jobs, a modified school curriculum
may affect which students find employment but not how many. Life experiences,
far more than school lessons, shape expectations. Efforts to reduce unemployment
among those who finish school and to reduce their frustration and alienation,
must focus on job creation (including providing tools, start‑up capital,
and the like) rather than on schooling. In the absence of more jobs‑that
is, economic growth‑neither the subject content nor the political
education in schools will do much to reduce the frustration or relieve the
political elite's concerns.
Combined, the common view of education's role in
development and this concern with educated unemployment have generated a series
of efforts to link education closely with perceived skills needs. Over time,
the strategies for forging that link have evolved. Earlier, the core notion was
termed manpower planning, which relied on projected labor needs as the major determinant
of current education programmes and allocations. While still widely used, that
approach has also been widely criticized. It is difficult and perhaps
impossible to develop precise projections of needed skills very far into the
future, especially in a growing economy in the midst of rapid industrial and
technical change. As well, this approach commonly underestimates the extent and
rapidity of career changes. Since it understands education primarily in terms
of its skills training consequences, this approach tends to disregard
intellectual growth, the develop, ment of critical and problem‑solving
abilities, the encouragement of creativity and expression, and many other dimen‑
sions. of education that have no immediate and direct vocational outcome.
In part a response to humanpower planning, an
alternative approach emphasized the broad societal interest in access to
education and used social demands to shape education programs. This approach,
too, has been both widely practiced and widely criticized. While focusing on
demand enables education institutions to be very sensitive to changing
perspectives and preferences in the population, it is also subject to
misunderstandings, fashions, and special circumstances that make it difficult
to develop a coherent and integrated national education agenda. A different
response to humanpower planning was to locate principal programmatic decision
making within education and training institutions. Clearly, this supply
orientation maximizes institutional autonomy. Where institutions are especially
sensitive to their economic, political, and social context, that autonomy may
be very desirable. At the same time, this approach is not readily compatible
with efforts to set national policies and priorities. Nor does it facilitate
coordinating the activities of different institutions. And where institutions
are primarily responsive to their own internal pressures for new and enlarged
programmes, the risk of a mismatch between labour market demand and graduates'
specializations is very high. Most recently, attention has heavily turned
toward decentralized education decision making, to which I shall return below.
The effort to link curriculum and the education
system more generally to the labor market has also led to the regularly
reiterated charge that schooling is too academic and too humanist. Education
must be, the constant refrain goes, relevant to national needs. In this view,
most often national needs, relevance, and the curriculum implications of this
claim are construed very narrowly. Beyond a rate and pattern of economic growth
that enables people to improve their standard of living and develop their
spiritual as well as material lives, what exactly are national needs?"
Steel mills and a microelectronics industry? More village boreholes and grain
mills? What of higher quality and more reliable public services? Or the demand‑often
termed "need"‑ for more video recorders and other consumer
goods? And what of the need for moral and ethical behavior, or non‑violent
conflict resolution, or equitable treatment of all citizens? Where to rank
cultural, aesthetic, and literary needs? All societies continually redefine
their needs and priorities. In all societies, some groups assert that their
needs are the national needs. Education surely has a role in both shaping and
addressing national needs, but equally surely there are no linear paths to be
followed.
Relevance
also makes sense only in terms of context and process. Often, for
example, the observation that most people in Africa are rural agriculturalists leads to the assertion that education
should focus on farmers' tools and skills. From that perspective, schools that
teach languages to introduce young people to other cultures or that assign
books intended to expose learners to new ideas and different ways of thinking
or insist that students use microscopes to understand and master systematic
observation and comparison are wasting time in irrelevant programmes. But if
so, how will Africa ever escape its dependence on others' ideas and
technologies? How will Africa move beyond exploiting non‑renewable
resources to creating and developing new resources? If no Africans experiment
with sub‑nuclear particles, or write new computer programs, or devise new
approaches to dysentery, malaria, and AIDS, how can Africans assume
responsibility for their own direction? How will Africa prepare the next
generations to innovate, to invent, to create? If education is to expand
horizons rather than limit them, determining what is relevant requires not a
simple statement of the obvious but an on‑going engagement with values,
expectations, and constraints in each society. Relevant programs emerge not
from an authoritative decision but from collaboration and negotiation. In
practice, however, it has generally been the narrow construction of needs and
relevance that has prevailed. Unemployment is attributed to miseducation, this
is, to studying history and language rather than chemistry and accounting.
In sum, there have emerged two sharply divergent
perspectives on education and development in Africa. In one, education's role
is transformative, liberating, and synthetic. Education must enable people to
understand their society in order to change it. Education must be as much
concerned with human relations as with skills, and equally concerned with
eliminating inequality and practicing democracy. Education must focus on
learning how to learn and on examin. ing critically accepted knowledge and ways
of doing things. Favoring innovation and experimentation, that sort of
education is potentially liberating, empowering, and as such, threatening to
established structures Of power, both within and outside the schools. This
orientation has remained the minority view.
Notwithstanding occasional initiatives to redefine
the core and practice of education, for example, education for self reliance in
Tanzania and production brigades in Botswana, the second‑and dominant‑perspective
understands education primarily as skills development and preparation for the
world of work. The emphasis on relevance assigns low priority to educating
historians, philosophers, and poets, and thereby to cultivating the historian,
philosopher, and poet in all learners. Fearful of unemployed graduates, leaders
expect schools to limit learners' aspirations. Shaped by national examinations,
curriculum revolves much more around information to be acquired than around
developing strategies and tools for acquiring that information, generating
ideas, or crafting critiques.