My view on Leo Igwe’s “Humanism and its Possibilities in Africa”
by Aicha Dembele
Leo Igwe’s “Humanism and its Possibilities in Africa” article moved me, as someone from a deeply religious society, to reflect both hope and tension in the idea of humanism in our contexts. Igwe makes a strong, heartfelt plea for a rational, humane worldview that affirms human dignity without recourse to supernatural authority. In what follows I will highlight what I see as the three most important points he makes, and then share my own thoughts, agreements, and reservations, especially as I imagine how humanism might take root in Côte d’Ivoire.
Three Key Points
First, Igwe asserts that humanism offers an alternative ethical foundation grounded in human agency and reason, rather than in divine command or dogma. He emphasizes that one can lead a moral, meaningful life without depending on gods or religious texts. (He writes: “Humanism is a way of thinking and living … we human beings are capable of changing the world … without leaning on a god or dogma.”) This is fundamental: if humanism is merely atheism, it would lack a constructive vision. Igwe’s version is aspirational: we build ethics by our shared humanity and our capacities for empathy and reasoning.
Second, he argues that humanism in Africa must actively confront harmful traditions, superstitions, and religious practices that violate human rights. He cites rituals, witchcraft persecutions, caste‑like discriminations (e.g. the Osu caste among Igbo), and ritual killings as examples of how belief in supernatural causation can lead to cruelty. He sees humanism as a tool to critique and gradually dismantle such practices, to protect vulnerable people and to reduce violence anchored in irrational belief.
Third, Igwe confronts the social and political risk of promoting humanist ideas in religious societies. He narrates his own experiences of arrest, assault, and condemnation just for advocating rationalism and defending alleged “witches” or apostates. He does not shy away from acknowledging the dangers social ostracism, hostility, even physical violence that humanists face in many African communities. Yet he frames this as a struggle worth pursuing, because the status quo often inflicts suffering justified by belief.
These three points of ethical autonomy, critique of harmful traditions, and perseverance amidst resistance form the backbone of Igwe’s argument.
My Reflections: agreement, tensions, and hopes
Reading this as a young humanist in Côte d’Ivoire, I feel resonances and some cautions.
On one hand, I strongly agree with the central thrust: that human dignity should not depend on gods or priests, and that reason, compassion, and human responsibility are powerful foundations for ethics. In Côte d’Ivoire, religious belief is deeply woven into daily life in villages, neighborhoods, schools and to even hint at non‑belief or critique of superstition is often taboo. But I see everyday examples where unexamined beliefs cause harm: accusations of witchcraft against elderly persons, questioning of people’s character because of “evil eyes,” or decisions guided more by fear of divine punishment than by evidence or compassion. A humanist sensibility might help open space for people to question some beliefs without losing social connection.
Also, Igwe’s courage resonates. To speak up for those accused of witchcraft, to defend apostates, to risk one’s safety this is needed work. In Côte d’Ivoire, many people who leave a religion or express doubt do so quietly, for fear of rejection. A public, organized humanist movement could give voice to those who feel isolated.
Yet I also feel some tensions and challenges, especially in an Ivorian context. For one, Igwe speaks in strong terms against religious belief, but sometimes his tone risks alienating people who are devout yet open to critique. In Côte d’Ivoire, many are deeply religious (Christian, Muslim, or adherents of traditional faiths), and change must often come by persuasion and dialogue, not rejection. If humanism is presented as a clash with religion, it may be written off as an external ideology or threat. I think a careful balance is needed: critique of harmful practices, but also respect and humility toward believers.
Secondly, the article focuses a lot on extreme harms (ritual killing, witch hunts, caste discrimination). These are real and urgent. But much of everyday suffering is more subtle poverty, lack of education, corruption, inequality, injustice in law or governance. Does humanism offer concrete strategies to confront those? Igwe does not dwell much on structural change, on economics, politics, or culture beyond belief. In Ivory Coast, for example, people struggle with corruption, unequal access to health, tensions between ethnic groups, youth unemployment, environmental challenges. A humanist movement must address these systemic issues, or risk being seen as just another philosophy of the few.
Finally, one practical question: how to build safe spaces for humanists in societies where dissent is stigmatized or even dangerous? Igwe’s bravery is admirable, but not everyone can face arrest or hostility. In Côte d’Ivoire, I imagine that humanism might grow first in universities, social media, small discussion groups, literary circles, before becoming more public. The work of translating humanist ideas into local languages, into Ivorian realities is vital.
Overall, Leo Igwe’s essay is inspiring, courageous, and intellectually stimulating. The three key messages humanism as autonomous ethics, critical confrontation of harmful traditions, and perseverance in adversarial settings are well argued and necessary. As someone from Côte d’Ivoire with a humanist heart, I accept much of his vision, though I also see the need for gentler bridge‑building, practical engagement with structural problems, and creative strategies suited to our social realities.
Yes, I mostly agree with his outlook. But I also believe that humanism in West Africa must walk carefully: with humility, listening, and patience. It cannot be an import imposed from outside, but must grow from local soil reflecting Ivorian histories, languages, struggles, and hopes. That is my dream: a humanist movement in Côte d’Ivoire that speaks the languages of our people, that reaches villages and towns, that stands for justice, reason, compassion and that helps us imagine a future less bound by fear and more open to human flourishing.