Intercultural complexity

‘For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple and wrong.’ (H.L. Mencken)

Steve walked along a dry mud path between two fields in rural Uganda. To his left, the field was dry and sun-baked with a few wizened banana plants dotted around. To his right, the field was filled with lush, green banana crops. His Ugandan colleague invited Steve to reflect on: ‘Why is there a difference between the two fields, and what’s the solution for the field on the left?’ Steve wondered, ‘Perhaps the farmer who owns the field on the left isn’t thinking about or seeing his neighbour’s field, or perhaps he's too poor to make a sufficient investment to improve it.’

As I listened to Steve, I found myself wondering if the difference could have been, perhaps, a consequence of different irrigation systems, fertilisation methods or seed quality. A proposed solution: what if the farmer on the left could learn from and replicate whatever the farmer on the right is doing? In effect, I was seeing the issue as primarily technological. Without realising it, I was looking at the question through my own cultural lens and considering solutions that emerge naturally from my own cultural paradigm. And I was missing the point completely.

Steve’s Ugandan colleague explained. ‘The farmer on the right lives far away in Kampala. The farmer on the left lives here, on his own land. In this context, if the farmer on the left were to copy the farmer on the right, and if his crop were suddenly to improve, the first thing that could happen is that he would be accused of witchcraft. After all, according to local belief systems, what else could explain such a seemingly miraculous change in his fortunes? This would be both devastating and dangerous for the farmer and his family and could, potentially, put their lives at risk.

Assuming that didn’t happen, what certainly would happen is that his extended family, friends and community would see his betterment and expect or demand that he share his new-found prosperity with them. If he refused to do so, he and his family would be accused of being selfish, and ostracized. If he did share his new-found wealth with them all, he would be back to square one again – meaning all the extra hard work he would have to put in to improve his own lot wouldn’t be worth it. The farmer on the right, living in a city, is not subject to those pressures.’

This was a powerful illustration of the complex relationship between culture and development and helps to explain why, alongside other factors such as conflict, corruption, climate change (and sometimes sheer craziness), well-intentioned efforts and investments may be rejected, ineffective or fall apart over time. The key lays in relationship – to work alongside local people in a spirit of humility, curiosity and collaboration to understand: why are things as they are, what their hopes and aspirations are; and what would need to happen if they were to be fulfilled.