By Cássio Aoqui, Jéssica Gonçalves & Letícia Cardoso
“Until the lions have their own historians, hunting stories will continue to glorify the hunter.”
This African proverb, already cited by intellectuals such as Emir Sader and Eduardo Galeano, expresses well the core of why it is important for us to reflect – and act – in order to promote a decolonial turn in philanthropy.
In fact, talking about post-colonial or decolonial philanthropy [1] In Brazilian reality, it is nonsense in itself. This is because philanthropy was born here as the result of a colonial project, that is, it arises from the perspective of the colonizer and religious missions dedicated to charity and linked to Christian values of mercy, compassion and love for others. [2]. Not surprisingly, the term philanthropy itself comes from the Greek “love of humanity”.
Between the lines of these colonial origins, the premise of moral superiority based on religiosity emerges, with, on the one hand, the dominant class as a civil power and, on the other, the beneficiary or beggar, belonging to the subordinate classes. [3].
In fact, from a more systemic view, the very definition of “humanity” presents an intrinsically colonial place. As Ailton Krenak states, the efforts undertaken to protect humanity were a linear exercise on the diversity of existing people, languages and cultures, grouping them in a superior and separate place from nature, to overlap in relation to this entire plurality of existence, “same model and progress that we are encouraged to understand as well-being” [4].
If the notion of philanthropy migrated from a religious to a secular perspective throughout the 19th and especially 20th centuries, it cannot be said that the colonizer/colonized dichotomy was overcome in such a process. The so-called “professionalization” of philanthropy, especially since the 1990s, and the adoption of concepts and models such as “private social investment” and “venture philanthropy” (risk philanthropy) are evidence of what many philanthropists come to see as “evolution” and which, in our view, mirror the spirit of the times in this 21st century in terms of discourses and narratives – not without inconsistencies and internal disputes between the most diverse civil society agents [5].
Regardless of the premises and paradigms that underpin the different currents of philanthropy, one cannot deny its relevance – and that of all its actors –, even more so in the current political-economic and health context. [6]. And it is in this sense that we defend the urgency of promoting a decolonial turn in the way we practice philanthropy, which brings within its practices, logics and ways of thinking remnants of its colonial genesis, including the legacy of slavery and profound inequalities that have increasingly confronted us since then.
It is worth remembering that notions of post-colonialism are nothing new. Conceptually, the postcolonial argument has its first elaborations in the 19th century in Latin America; it is later inspired by the productions and resistance actions of the Martinicans Franz Fanon and Aimé Césaire and the Tunisian Albert Memmi at the beginning of the 20th century; and gained strength from the 1970s and 80s, with the Subaltern Studies Group – with thinkers such as Indians Ranajit Guha and Gayatri Spivak.
Post-colonialism thus arises from the identification of an antagonistic relationship par excellence, that is, that of the colonized and the colonizer, with the term “colonial” alluding to different situations of oppression, defined based on gender boundaries, ethnic or racial – and, in our view, territorial. The concept shares, amidst its different perspectives, the decentering of narratives and contemporary subjects [7].
The notion of decolonial turn emerged more recently, in 2005, coined by Puerto Rican Nelson Maldonado-Torres. It basically means the movement of theoretical and practical, political and epistemological/knowledge resistance to the logic of coloniality. At this point, it is essential to highlight the concept of coloniality of power, published by the Peruvian Aníbal Quijano in 1989, based on the observation that colonial relations in the economic and political spheres did not end with the end of colonialism. Coloniality reproduces itself in a triple dimension: that of knowledge, that of being and that of power, the latter represented by the control of the economy, authority, nature and natural resources, gender and sexuality and subjectivity and knowledge .
Thus, when we transpose such concepts advocating for a decolonial turn in philanthropy, however paradoxical it may be, we are talking about (starting to) essentially and actively promote an anti-racist, feminist, anti-patriarchal, non-heteronormative and truly inclusive philanthropy on the part of all involved. Furthermore, a philanthropy that combats epistemic racism [8] and value the knowledge and knowledge of the Global South. Also a philanthropy of border thinking, in the sense of affirming the space from which thought was denied by colonial modernity, left or right. In other words, looking with new lenses and approaches to old Latin American and, above all, Brazilian problems, however provocative and uncomfortable this process may seem and be.
In practice, it is necessary to problematize and focus on structural questions such as “where do philanthropic actions come from?”, “how is it governed?”, “who has the decision-making power?”, “how and on what basis is knowledge (re)created and shared?”, “Are we really moving towards the decolonization of power, knowledge and being, in a more systemic vision of philanthropic initiatives? [9]“.
Finally, considering Latin America as the founding continent of colonialism and the first testing laboratory for racism in its service, we have the unique opportunity to develop an essentially Latin American – and Brazilian – philanthropy that counterpoints this history. After more than 500 years of typically colonial philanthropy, it is high time to take another look at structures without fear of radically transforming them, seeking new possibilities (which are already emerging in every corner of this country). [10]), even if starting from new utopian horizons. It's time to co-create “new” stories, to enlighten “new” historians and to build new narratives in a world that still glorifies its lion hunters.
Jessica Gonçalves – Project coordinator at PonteAponte, graduated in Communication and Multimedia (PUC-SP) and postgraduate student in Social Project Management in Third Sector Organizations from the same institution. I move between photography and production of projects focused on valuing Afro-diasporic culture and the empowerment of black women. I support the Girassol Podcast project, which offers a space for dialogue through the exchange of experiences about different life processes. I believe that through my work I can contribute to the social transformation of the country.
Letícia Cardoso – Project assistant at PonteAponte and graduated in Public Policy Management (EACH-USP). I am a mentor at Rede Potências Periféricas, an intersectional feminist, peripheral and motivated by the reduction of any and all expressions of discrimination and social inequality. I also like learning how to cook nutritious and delicious foods, enjoying a samba circle and creating imaginary steps.
