Standing in opposition to the dominance of privilege

Being aware of one’s own privilege doesn't detract from the struggle - working to ameliorate its effects can only enhance what we are trying to achieve.

At risk of sounding recursive, I’d like to highlight problems with a New Statesman blog entitled “The problem with privilege checking”. Its author, Tom Midlane, won the privilege lottery, and reckons that we should stop highlighting problematic language and behaviour displayed by those with the luxury to not have to think about it, as it lets the right dismantle the welfare state while we’re not looking. 

Now, first of all, let us acknowledge that this exact assertion is very much untrue. The wheels have been in motion for a long time, long before the coalition came into power. None of these things happened because the opposition was too busy arguing over privilege to do anything else; they happened because we live in a system which is set up to benefit the people with the privilege. It doesn’t help that the tactics which may have historically worked - the marches, the boycotts, the coordinated letter-writing campaigns - don’t really work so well any more, as time marches on and the system develops resilience to these approaches. 

As it stands, those in power are comfortably conserving their social order, and making themselves a little more comfortable at the expense of everyone else. This must be opposed. All of it. Yet by avoiding checking our own privilege, the best possible outcome is that the social order will continue to be conserved, with those at the top taking less from everyone else. 

For those who benefit from the existing social order - the white, able-bodied, cisgendered, heterosexual middle-class men - this is enough. For many of the rest of us, it really, really is not. A lot more needs to change before we stop facing oppression, and that revolution begins in the mind. The conservatives are happy to dismiss this pressing need and continue doing what they are doing without a care in the world for the people that will be harmed. For the most part, it is not malice that motivates them, but sheer negligence. They just don’t care.

Those of us standing in opposition to this dominance cannot and must not fall into the same trap, or we run the risk of creating something which is merely another movement representing the interests of the privileged. This movement can never be as strong as the dominant order, as the majority of its target audience will inherently be part of the dominant order. So we need to do things differently. 

Far from detracting from struggle, being aware of one’s own privilege and actively working to ameliorate its effects can only enhance what we are trying to achieve. We must be willing to be radically different from those in power if we are to avoid alienating those less privileged than ourselves. It is utterly urgent that we listen to those who we claim to be fighting for and avoid contributing to any continuing oppression. Without getting our own house in order, we are coming from an inherently weak position.

Oppression is far more than hate speech. It is insidious, it comes in the form of words and deeds which we were unaware could ever be a problem. The effect of negligence can be exactly the same as the effect of malice. It is our responsibility to mitigate these effects: ultimately, I too hope for the day to come where we no longer call upon one another to check privilege. For me, this will only happen when my allies in social justice are doing this for themselves. 

In reaching this understanding, we will be far, far stronger. It is interesting that the phrase “fighting with” carries a double entendre. At present, it is a struggle against resistance from those unwilling to rescind their own privilege and act in solidarity. However, “with” can also mean “alongside”. And in the future, I hope that we all fight with each other a lot more.

 

"Fighting with" can also mean "fighting alongside". Photograph: Getty Images
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Scarred lands: visiting the villages Boko Haram left behind reveals the toxic legacy of terrorism

The progress and challenges of Nigerian communities rebuilding after Boko Haram’s insurgency begins to wane.

“Sometimes it’s when I go to bed that what happened comes back to me.” Two years ago, Boko Haram militants stormed into 23-year-old John Amida’s home late at night in a village in Gwoza, Borno State, northeast Nigeria. Shielding his eyes with his hands from the torchlight saved his life. He shows me the mark in the centre of his forearm where the bullet aimed for his head went instead.

“All my friends were either killed or abducted,” he says. “I don’t try to forget what happened because it’s not possible; it’s with you even when it is not in your mind. The best thing is just to keep on living every day.”

After a broadly effective 18-month military campaign, Boko Haram remains a deadly yet waning force. Many communities once occupied by Boko Haram are now liberated. In Adamawa, just south of Borno, over 630,000 people previously displaced by Boko Haram have returned home.

With them, over 170,000 internally displaced people (IDPs) now live in camps, or – like John and his family – in host communities. He and his family live in a home vacated and lent to them by a local. All over Adamawa, IDPs live in homes shared with residents or given to them temporarily in exchange for help, crops or token sums of rent.

Adamawa is a serene, largely rural, mountainous state. Even deep into the dry season, driving through the roads that cut between its vast countryside, its land is incredibly scenic. But within local communities, in more rural, isolated villages north of the state’s capital, Yola, the picture is more complicated.

Gombi, a small town a few hours’ drive from Yola, was recaptured from Boko Haram in late 2014. Much of what was destroyed in the insurgency – shops and small businesses – have been rebuilt or replaced. The local government buildings have been largely restored. The impact is still visible but, according to locals, decreasingly so.

But in less urban areas, like in Garaha, a village in Adamawa, rebuilt homes sit next to broken, abandoned houses, churches, mosques and buildings blackened by the fires that damaged them. Local government officials say the damage across Adamawa by the insurgency has set the state’s development back by a decade. Funding for rebuilding the state, which local governments complain is insufficient, is concentrated on urban areas.

According to Chief Suleimanu, a traditional ruler in Garaha, mental health issues are widespread but few are financially able to access support. While some people have been able to move on, others are still dealing with the consequences.

“Many couples and families have separated,” he tells me, detailing how in some couples one partner feels attached to their home while the other can’t face returning, or feel there is little to return to.

“The same with the children, some of the young people have gone to bigger cities like Kano or Abuja because of a lack of opportunities.”

Many returnees, who left camps in Cameroon to come back to Adamawa, are from families who have lived in their villages for generations. Their ancestral roots anchor them to their homes because their farmland is their main source of income. Non-agriculture-based industries provide few jobs. For many people, fleeing their homes meant abandoning their livelihoods.

As of 2015, 52 per cent of people in Nigeria lived in rural areas. Their relative isolation is a blessing and a curse. Larger rural spaces provide them with adequate land to cultivate their crops – but it also leaves them exposed.

During Boko Haram attacks on Garaha through to early 2015, there was minimal protection from security forces who often take hours to arrive.

For many people living in rural Adamawa, life is getting harder and easier at the same time. Armed herdsmen, mainly from the Fulani ethnicity have become a greater threat across Nigeria, partly due to tensions between land ownership and cattle grazing.

According to locals, killings by herdsmen have increased this year. But villages are addressing their vulnerability. Armed vigilantes, some of which formed due to the lack of military protection against Boko Haram, are increasing. The police services are often too far away or too under-resourced to protect them. But some vigilantes now have more weapons and vehicles due to help from state services and locals. It is not an ideal solution but it has made places like Garaha safer.

With this new-found relative safety, villagers have begun farming again. With cash grants and donated tools from charities like Tearfund, it has been easier for thousands of people to begin cultivating land. In many villages there are small, lively recreation centres where young people play snooker and watch sport. Many of their places of worship have been rebuilt.

But the situation is grimmer in communities where such charities are not present.  Without resources, state or non-government help, rebuilding is a real challenge.

Adamawa is a state maxing on its credit of hospitality, relative safety and appreciation of agriculture. A recession in Nigeria and a severe food crisis in the northeast have added pressures on returnees and IDPs. Liberated communities will need more help and attention before they truly feel free.

Emmanuel Akinwotu is a journalist based between Lagos and London who writes about Africa, migration, and specialises in Nigeria.