Introduction
Sitting comfortably on a sofa in his apartment and catching up with news from a year passed, my architect friend Mwangi (he/him) started narrating an experience he had while DJing at a club in Malindi in the Northern Coastal region of Kenya.Footnote 1 One could see how transported he was as he described the scene. He had offered to organise a musical evening for a community made up of plantation owners (mostly non-Kenyan and European), tourists (both local and international) and the locals, some of whom worked for the plantation owners. As the night arrived and all the equipment was set up, Mwangi went through the music itinerary to ensure that he had music that would be appreciated with such a diverse socio-economic and cultural group. As the patrons began pouring into the venue and the music started, the energy of the room seemed to gain a momentum of its own. At no point, Mwangi observed, did the dancefloor have only one group of people, even when the music was unfamiliar to some at any given moment. They seemed to adapt to the change of rhythm and style, choosing their entry/exit points at will. ‘It was amazing, even spiritual’, he continued.
I smiled at the familiarity of the experience and remembered the research by Mutonya (Reference MŨTONYA2005) and Ogude (Reference OGUDE2012) on the cultural nights of Nairobi. They explored the diverse and egalitarian music spaces in what is known as ‘cultural nights’ – a musical space found in some of the urban recreational venues in Kenya. These spaces are characterised by the music, dance, food, décor and language of a specific tribe. Although the patrons are predominantly of that tribe, all who were willing to experience the tribe were also welcome. Ogude describes it as a space that flattens all kinds of hierarchies to allow all to share in their musicality no matter who they are. For instance, the housemaid would dance with a top-ranking professional, and the young with the old. Mutonya explores the interrogation of old and new meanings through acts of transgression against traditional ways of being, yet at the same time mimicking them in parody.
What piqued my interest in Mwangi’s experience was his role, that of the ‘master musician’ in that musical space. As the main facilitator of that space, I was interested to hear of how he navigated the diversity and what decisions he had to make to include/exclude so that all patrons felt a part of the space or had sufficient access to the space. As one held responsible for the coherence of that musical space, there is much that can be gleaned as regards music-making spaces and their educational imperative, particularly the matters pertaining to power and influence, hierarchy and participation.
To explore these matters, this paper seeks to tease out the philosophical and theoretical underpinnings of the concept of inclusion and exclusion in music education through the eyes of Utu, a theoretical approach found in East and Central Africa. The approach postulates that participatory music-making is an educational space governed by an alternative understanding of relationality and connection (Katingima Day, Reference KATINGIMA DAY, CHAPPELL, TURNER and WREN2024). The discussion will begin with an outline of the main principles of Utu and move on to discuss inclusion/exclusion through belonging. It will then discuss the implications these have for music education. The argument put forward affirms that through belonging, there is a fundamental human right to be included through participation. Similarly, there is a requirement for exclusion through aesthetic discernment, which involves critical and creative action.
To prepare readers not familiar with non-Western philosophical discourse and approaches, especially those that emanate from Africa, it is prudent to be aware that the discussion hereafter is unapologetically biased towards African thought systems and ways of knowing. It is also recognised that Africa is a large continent with diverse knowledge banks that cannot be contained in a short article. The footnotes help to mitigate any further curiosities or interests in the issues raised.
Through the eyes of UTU
For pragmatic and theoretical reasons, a definition of Utu is counterproductive to understanding the complexities of the phenomenon. Not least of all, it confines Utu to a mechanistic description of characteristics when the phenomenon is predominantly tacit and transient. It will suffice to say that Utu comes from a Kiswahili word that means ‘the essence of being human’ or, put differently, ‘that quality that makes us human’.Footnote 2 Some scholars of anthropological linguistics, such as Brühwiler & Hollington (Reference BRÜHWILER, HOLLINGTON, HOLLINGTON, MITCHELL and NASSENSTEIN2024), argue that Utu in Kiswahili is linked to morality, and this is based on the premise that only human beings have moral agency. However, this is debatable according to Rowlands (Reference ROWLANDS2015) and Shapiro (Reference SHAPIRO2006), for instance, who question the moral hierarchy implied in this notion. Although this is not the focus of this discussion, it begs to question the nostalgic and naïve view that human beings are moral creatures when the complexity of being human encompasses their imperfection as well, as expressed in the saying ‘to err is human’. But this is not all. The premise that the prerogative of philosophy and theory is the remit of a language or text constrains the understanding of any given phenomenon, meaning that language on its own is limited and insufficient for our understanding of Utu.
This brings us to the question of the philosophy of Utu as an epistemology. The epistemology in this discussion refers to the validation of Utu as a way of knowing, including the nature and scope of that knowledge and how it can be scrutinised (Kahphangwani and Malhebre, Reference KAPHANGWANI, MALHERBE, COETZEE and ROUX1998). According to Katingima Day (Reference KATINGIMA DAY, CHAPPELL, TURNER and WREN2024), Utu’s epistemology is rooted in human experience, meaning that how we know we are human is for the most part determined by the experiences with ourselves, others and our contexts. Katingima Day further highlights a distinction between ‘knowing’ and ‘knowing about’ and the dynamic nature of such knowledge. In other words, knowing is experiential, embodied and intimate, while knowing about is often abstracted and disconnected from intimate experiences. Utu’s epistemological approach is based on how that knowledge is produced, the aim of the knowledge, who communicates that knowledge and who validates its truth.
Since Utu is based on human experience, this implies that the epistemology of Utu is primarily based on its ontology, which means that a human being knows what it is to be human through their ways of being, becoming and doing. Therefore, the cyclical saying from Kenyan philosopher John Mbiti (Reference MBITI1970), that ‘I am because we are and since we are I am’, demonstrates the dynamic nature of transformation in all facets of our lived experiences. The ‘I am’(being) is interdependent with ‘we are’ in an interaction of relationship and connection (doing) and in a continuous transformational process (becoming).Footnote 3 And thus, two key principles in Utu are relationality and connectivity. The former represents the potential for all life entities to participate in life, and the latter represents the links and points of action of these entities (Katingima Day, Reference KATINGIMA DAY, CHAPPELL, TURNER and WREN2024), as illustrated in Figure 1 below.
Relationality and connectivity in the onto-epistemology of Utu. (AI generated by Image Playground).
These principles of Utu demonstrate and validate the capacity that all in life – all beings and things, physical or nonphysical, tangible or intangible – have a right to exist and participate in life. Given this understanding of Utu, it would be more appropriate to describe where Utu is in life as opposed to what it is in life. This methodological approach of asking ‘where’ embraces both the positional and dynamic nature of Utu and aligns it to the dynamism of life.
Belonging in UTU
Belonging, through the eyes of Utu, is the bedrock upon which inclusion or exclusion is realised. Human experience, upon which the epistemology of Utu is based, is defined by contexts and spaces that require the choice of one or the other or both. In other words, inclusion and exclusion are a part of life, regardless of what roles they play within a human experience. It is therefore argued that neither inclusion nor exclusion are oppositional but are interrelated and complementary, especially when underpinned by belonging.
Belonging in Utu bears similarity to other African thought systems and ways of being.Footnote 4 One such thought has been articulated by Kwame Nkurumah (Reference NKURUMAH, HORD (MZEE LASANA OKPARA) and LEE1964), who said,
‘As far as African ontology is concerned, …there is no such thing as dead matter: every being, every thing -be it only a grain of sand -radiates a life force, a sort of wave-particle; and sages, priests, kings, doctors and artists all use it to help bring the universe to its fulfilment.’ (pp49)
Some of the tensions that arise from the use and/or abuse of inclusion and exclusion in any given human experience stem from the lack of understanding of belonging. A large part of African scholarly writing on belonging, for instance, surrounds matters pertaining to ethnicity, identity and economic and political governance in the continent. But this is not the understanding taken in this discussion. Belonging here is taken to mean a participant’s potential to make connections, not only because of some form of kinship or identity, but because of their relationality. This gives them the right to be in a particular space at a particular time for a particular purpose.
Belonging can and has been undermined by power and influence, evidenced by the loss of agency, voice and access of participants in any given experience in life. This act of violence against the participation of human beings in doing (acting) and becoming (transforming) is tantamount to a violation of what it means to be human. Put differently, the marginalisation or closing of access to finding value in connecting with other participants of any given space, whether that may be a musical space or not, denies and undermines those participants from creating, producing, embodying, transforming and contributing to knowledge.
Belonging in Utu, as demonstrated in music and music-making, flattens any hierarchical tendencies and perforates implicit and explicit boundaries within human experience and provides access for all to participate in life.
Belonging in music and music-making
Inclusion through participation
Music, hereby regarded as the aesthetic product, and music-making, regarded as the aesthetic experience, has been a powerful tool in many participatory indigenous traditions in Africa. Their social, political, historical and cultural role in society affirms one’s belonging in life.Footnote 5 This is why with Utu, an affirmation of one’s humanity through music and music-making is not sufficiently demonstrated by a list of behavioural characteristics but by a way of being. This means that music and music-making recognise one’s inherent musicality as a human being. In simple terms, human beings are musical beings. Music and music-making permeate their way of being through the way they move, socialise, interact with other parts of their reality and engage in human action wherever they are. One’s belonging in life is endorsed by the extent to which they participate in life, including their music and music-making, and that forms their aesthetic of life (Katingima Day, Reference KATINGIMA DAY, CHAPPELL, TURNER and WREN2024).
Given Utu’s theoretical underpinning that a human being is a musical being with the essential potential for music-making, it follows that their education is an aesthetic education, one that heightens the awareness of the participant of other participants (human/nonhuman, tangible/intangible, physical/metaphysical) and their potentialities for relationship. This implies that the music-making space is not only populated by the human participants engaging with sound but also the unseen and tacit participants based on the context and purposes for the musical experience. For instance, the presence of affect in music-making facilitates the connections of the diverse set of participants, helping to keep the musical space coherent (Katingima Day, Reference KATINGIMA DAY, CHAPPELL, TURNER and WREN2024).Footnote 6 They encourage their active interaction with these participants so as to make meaningful and relevant connections. Without the willingness, generosity and proactive approach of the participants, they remain potentialities waiting to be realised. The emphasis on active participation allows a sharing of what each participant can bring to the music-making space. Even then, for the connections to be meaningful, they will need to ‘consider the other’ for their role in that space and actively negotiate the relevant connections with them where necessary.
And this is the crux of the music-making process: that being active gives one agency to negotiate connections with reference to the type, strength and tenancy of such a connection. It highlights the unpredictable and emergent space the music-making experience can be. Consequently, music-making facilitates transformation for all participants and the emergence of new knowledge. The relationship between being present as a participant and actively engaging in the connection with other participants determines the level of transformation, as will be explained below. It implies that music-making, like education, is transformational, and in most Kenyan Indigenous Communities (KIC), this transformative quality was recognised for its usefulness in creating, embedding through embodiment and storing new knowledge.
For the reasons outlined above, music-making is a holistic aesthetic experience that has the potential for transformation. This makes it an aesthetic education that is more than the manipulation of sound and other musical elements (such as rhythm and melody) for the production of music artefacts. Instead, it embraces the diversity of participants as potential agents of interaction based on the role they can play in that space. These participants bring with them a diversity of their proficiencies (musical or not), and their interaction brings richness to the music-making space. As mentioned earlier, potential remains a potential when it is not realised in action. This means that the extent of one’s participation influences the extent of their transformation and that of others. In most KIC music-making spaces, there was little room for spectators and consumers of music-making. Put plainly, life is lived, not spectated. Using the earlier example with the musical space in Malindi, it would be reasonable to imagine that not all patrons of the club were making music all the time or even any time. There was plenty else taking place – food to be eaten, conversations to be had, getting on the dance floor, singing along – such that the one who sat quietly in a corner is less likely to have the same visceral transformation as one who actively engaged with most of what was happening in that space.
But consider this. If music education is restricted to the technical aspects of producing music artefacts, the transformation of the human participant will be similarly limited, because this aesthetic is disconnected and distant from its relationship with other facets of life. It also betrays the ‘art for art’s sake’ understanding of aesthetics, which has, according to Singer (Reference SINGER1954), the propensity to define the ‘artist’ as one proficient and perfected in their skill and primarily subservient to technique. The echoes of this approach to music and music-making still ring today, creating hierarchies based on technical proficiency which form only a part of what being musical is about. It is not surprising, therefore, that if one asks a group of people how many of them consider themselves to be musical, the first (or even only) criterion used is that of technical proficiency. This kind of hierarchy (the ‘musical’ and ‘non-musical’) is perpetuated in music education today (Elliott, Reference ELLIOTT2021) and, in so doing, excludes those with limited technical competencies. This is not where to find Utu in music-making spaces.
Rather, music-making spaces in KIC encouraged participation by creating an egalitarian space like the one Turino (Reference TURINO2009) describes below.
‘Participatory traditions and events are special in that they are, by nature, the most inclusive and egalitarian; they have the experience of communitas as a goal; and they are performance spaces that allow for, actually encourage, everyone to take part in the performance activity regardless of skill level.’ (pp112, italics by author)
Although his reference to skill does not mention the unobservable participants of the space, such as meaning and affect, the concept of ‘communitas’ is what is of interest here. It was first mentioned in participatory contexts by Victor Turner (Reference TURNER, STRETENOVIC and TURNER1969), who distinguished the word ‘community’ from ‘communitas’ by describing the latter as a space occupied by participants who form an intense attachment based on their purpose rather than any social relationships or physical space they share.Footnote 7 Communitas is ‘of the now’ (pp. 100, 120), and in music-making it implies that the processes and participants are subservient to the purposes of that space, a present space that is temporal. Therefore, Utu presupposes that the diverse array of participants of that music-making space are present for a purpose, and therefore, the underlying modus operandi is that all have a right to be included for their potential to relate and connect.
The purpose of music-making in Communitas undermines any hierarchy (social, technical or political). Going back to the earlier example of Mwangi in the club in Malindi, the musical space demonstrated communitas, brought together by the shared purpose of social interaction and entertainment. Although there was an implicit socio-economic hierarchy, for instance, between the plantation owners and their workers, the space was further diversified by the presence of local or international tourists, local members of the public and a diverse range of demographic groups. Mwangi explained how this complex community led him to carefully consider his itinerary to reflect the different kinds of communities that would be gathered, ensuring that something recognisable was present for each of them. This brings us to the process of exclusion that can be found in music and music-making spaces.
Exclusion through aesthetic discernment
Mwangi’s careful consideration is what Katingima Day (Reference KATINGIMA DAY, CHAPPELL, TURNER and WREN2024) identified as aesthetic discernment in music and music-making. This is not ‘a gaze’ into music aesthetic objects using traditional historical frameworks (Prendeville, Reference PRENDEVILLE2005), the aesthetic concept (Elliott, Reference ELLIOTT1995) or the Kantian disinterested aesthetic judgement of beauty (Kant, Reference KANT1790/Reference KANT2000). Instead, aesthetic discernment, in alignment with the aesthetic of life, involves the recognition of relationships between diverse participants, the facilitation of expression for all, the creation of points of connection and the assignment of value for all in the musical space.Footnote 8 Asked how he achieved coherent flow, Mwangi said that he looked for the musical elements of familiarity in one type of music that would be reusable or adaptable in another. For instance, on finishing a rendition of a piece in South African kwaito style, he would find a complementary element in the next rendition with sufficient musical connection. This process of seeking points of connection with sometimes diverse and seemingly incongruent elements takes intuitive social and cultural knowledge as well as technical competence. It describes the fundamental role of the master musician in most KIC, that of creating a ‘moving, dynamic and generative space’, to use the words of Richard Rhoh (Reference ROHR2024).Footnote 9
The music-making space is a dynamic and creative space that aims to spark potential relationships into action and similarly to make critical and discerning connections for transformation. Aesthetic discernment, therefore, is the process of being aware of the relationality of participants and what contributions they bring to the space, as well as the reflection and interrogation of what connections would form the most relevant and transformative impact. It should be remembered that through the eyes of Utu, all participants in the music-making space already belong to that space, and therefore, their inclusion is already established by virtue of their relationality (potential). However, the chaos that can emerge because of diversity and difference should not be underestimated. The potential for connection is no assurance of a connection happening. A music-making space could be destabilised and disconnected, thereby missing out on the transformational impact. For this space to be maintained and sustained in a coherent manner, it is inevitable that at some point it would seem that as one is included, the other is excluded. But this is not necessarily so. Instead, specific roles need to be fulfilled by specific participants at specific points of the musical experience for the space to hold its coherence. If, for instance, Mwangi randomly selected his itinerary of music with no consideration of the points of connection, then he was more likely to destabilise the flow of music that evening. Put differently, diversity in music-making spaces provides an opportunity for thoughtful, critical and creative consideration. A homogenous space could provide easy stability but less room for emergent and enriching transformations.
This is what distinguishes Utu from other approaches: that the process of including and excluding in such spaces does not undermine their belonging. Goodin (Reference GOODIN1996) argues, for instance, that inclusivity need not be about expanding a catchment or letting in those who are left out. Rather, such spaces ‘should change their nature – making them at one and the same time both less exclusive and less inclusive’ (p. 344). This implies that the conceptualisation of inclusion/exclusion when underpinned by the drive to be inside or outside boundaries tends to mark participants as insiders and outsiders, those who belong or those who do not belong. For a musical space to be less exclusive and less inclusive and still maintain coherent flow requires participants to make use of their agency to engage and act willingly as well as their generosity in allowing others to do so. The borders of such a space are porous enough to allow the free movement in and out of the space without the need to validate their belongingness or actions. Therefore, music-making spaces should not be defined by who can be included/excluded but by the purposes of any inclusion or exclusion being underpinned by the belonging of all.
Implications for music education
The understanding of music education in this discussion encompasses all music-making spaces (formal, informal and nonformal) as aesthetic educational spaces based on the aesthetic of life. In investigating the ways in which Utu can be enhanced within these music educational spaces, caution is taken to give a list of prescriptive actions and allow for contextualised and emergent policy and institutional and communal solutions using this approach. For instance, when national or regional educational policy considers music or creative arts education as peripheral to the education of their citizens, it implies that their policies of inclusion are, as Goodin (Reference GOODIN1996) described, exclusive. It means that on a systemic level education has become exclusive to specific subjects or disciplines in line with broader political and economic aims. At best, these aims serve an exclusive group of people and marginalise further those who are not aligned to such an education. The exclusion of music education or creative arts education in most global educational curricula has been identified by Aróstegui (Reference ARÓSTEGUI2016) to include the limited provision of resources, declining interest in the important role music plays in most societies, reduced teacher training and a lack of understanding of musical tradition and cultural heritage. This is despite the inclusion of the subject in national curricula and educational policy. For instance, in the current Kenyan national curriculum, the Competency Based Curriculum (CBC) https://kicd.ac.ke/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/CURRICULUMFRAMEWORK.pdf, music falls under one of three career paths, that of Performing Arts and Sports. This compartmentalisation of disciplines not only sets music and the creative arts in competition with the humanities and sciences but also denies those who choose or drop music an opportunity for a more holistic education. A reductionist approach to education in the name of specialisation has an impact on the agency and humanisation of learners in formal education. This is because of its tendency to create a hierarchy or fixed boundaries of knowledge, thereby homogenising human experience. Not everyone will be a rocket scientist or a concert pianist, but everyone has a right to be who they can be without being put on an educational path that is compartmentalised when their lived experiences contradict this.
It may be argued that this reductionism and compartmentalisation of education allow students to start their career paths early, and that is a valid concern. However, two assumptions can be made using this argument. First, that young people know at an early age exactly what career path they want, and second, up to that point they have received holistic education and are ready to specialise. There is no conclusive evidence to support the validity of the argument, in part due to the complexity of factors that build towards a career path and the structural systems or support available for such choices (McMahon and Watson, Reference MCMAHON and WATSON2022). This raises questions such as, what are the purposes of education? Is specialist training distinct, and if so, what different approaches are required? What are we preparing young people for? How can we accommodate the diversity of needs without compromising on basic competencies? Is the educational policy, such as that proposed by Kinuthia (Reference KINUTHIA2022) in Kenya, which advocates for the Africanisation of education for economic growth, colonial and dehumanising? These are not easy questions to answer, but they highlight the tensions of inclusion/exclusion in education, especially when motivated by the need to specialise in music or otherwise.
At another level, music education that is limited to one way of being fails to recognise the multiplicity and complexity of different ways of being and the enriching possibilities afforded by it. Music and music-making spaces, especially in African indigenous contexts, can never be homogenous (Nketia, Reference NKETIA1969) given the level of diversity in types of participants, the diversity of musical styles, the purposes of the experience, the contexts in question, the unpredictability of how connections will be made and the resultant musical artefact. Yet, it could be argued that this is the unique contribution that music and music-making bring to knowledge production – the ability to accommodate so much diversity. When handled with awareness of the relationality and connectedness of participants and an accommodation of difference and diversity, an aesthetic education can be effectively facilitated. Who takes the responsibility to handle and facilitate such spaces? I would argue that anyone with sufficient aesthetic discernment. This includes anyone who can suggest, direct, encourage or lead other participants with due respect to participants belonging to that space; they can do so whether they are peers, role models, instructors or experts. By shifting the focus and attention towards what can connect participants, they can help mitigate the inclusion/exclusion tension because the music-making will be based on the relevance and significance to these principles (relationality and connectivity) rather than technical competence exclusively. That is not to say that technical competence or mechanical skill is unimportant. On the contrary, it is a very useful means to an end, but in the eyes of Utu, it should be as holistic as the education it aims for – discerning, aware, respectful and proactive in making relevant connections for transformation.
Conclusion
This discussion has outlined the theoretical approach of Utu by describing its etymology, epistemology and ontology and proceeded to demonstrate how belonging underpins inclusion and exclusion not only through the eyes of Utu but also in the realisation of the principles of relationality and connectivity. It went on to explore how belonging impacts music and music-making and argued that Utu validates the right for all to participate in life through music and music-making as a means of an aesthetic education to develop their aesthetic of life. In other words, music and music-making affirm our humanity by validating our belonging in life for creative and transformative living.
The presence of Utu in music and music-making ensures that this aesthetic of life is available for all since being human is not exclusive to specific persons. Because music and music-making endorse inclusion by encouraging participation and exclusion by aesthetic discernment, they fulfil the right to create, produce and share knowledge as well as the right to educate and be educated. In other words, music and music-making are a prerogative and imperative to life just like education is and should be facilitated and developed for all. Therefore, anything or anyone who facilitates the humanisation of another human being, especially through and in music and music-making, is living in the spirit of Utu.
Competing interests
The author declares no competing interests.
Nancy Katingima Day (Her/She) is a music educator trained in both African and Western classical music in Kenya. She is currently a tutor with the master’s programme on Creativity in Education at the University of Exeter. Her doctoral research teased out the theoretical approach of Utu for music education in contemporary Kenya. This involved finding a nexus between African philosophy, African music and education. Her research interests also include areas such as decoloniality and indigeneity.
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