The dominant idea of ‘universality’ is a product of Western philosophical tradition whose most extensive accomplishment, at least in this regard, has been to universalize the heteronormative, white male experience. There are no doubt far more comprehensive accounts of the evolution of universality, or the universal experience, as a concept, yet perhaps one of the most well-known examples of its propagation was the French Revolution and the Enlightenment that preceded it. These historical moments arguably serve as an inaugural moment within ‘modern history,’ that the Western man became the basic, individual unit of life and its experiences; where, within the Western canon of philosophical thought, Western political and socioeconomic structures also became the universal norm. While colonialism had been well underway by the French Revolution’s inception, the development of the ideal (e.g. universal) Western man added a new dimension to colonial power dynamics: it seemingly provided a justification to “universalize” certain political norms and, of course, racial capitalism through the occupation and control of territories inhabited by non-white peoples.
Though colonialism formally ended in the mid-20th century, the concept of the universal continues to not only be weaponized against states, as well as people and communities, in the Global South, but more broadly non-normative, non-white individuals who occupy the Global North. Universality was arguably the foundation for the rhetorical justification for the foreign policy initiatives of Western countries, specifically the US empire, in the 20th century that carried out various coups, sanctions, wars, etc to ensure the dissemination of liberal democracy, or at least the appearance of it, and, above all, capitalism. The problematic nature of the universal is also arguably apparent in bioethics and other epistemic frameworks due to its disregard, and even denigration, of non-white and/or Indigenous knowledge and experiences that fall outside of the basic unit of life- the Western (white) man. In regards to epistemic and political structures, the concept of universalism is harmful as it not only perpetuates colonial power dynamics, but it also limits one’s ability to engage with non-Western, non-white experiences and knowledge in a reciprocal, non-exploitative manner and ultimately undermines the ability to protect biocultural rights. It is deeply important to not only remain critical of the ‘universal,’ but to actively seek out non-white and Indigenous knowledge, structures, and experiences related to bioethics.
Various epistemic frameworks, particularly bioethics, are constructed within the context of the landed, white male and his seemingly universal experiences and approaches to life. The dichotomy between Foucault and Mbembe highlights this marriage of the so-called universal and whiteness. In “Right of Death and Power over Life,” Foucault situates the individual within the context of the French Revolution: “Western man was gradually learning what it meant to be a living species in a living world, to have a body, conditions of existence, probabilities of life, an individual and collective welfare, forces that could be modified, and a space in which they could be distributed in an optimal manner” (142). Here is an example of the Western man, presumably white and able-bodied, being cast as the basic unit of all life; the relationship between human and life has been cast in a specific context that has been univeralized- thus scholars such as Foucault ignore the plethora of ways in which such an intimate relationship can be configured. Furthermore, Foucault’s notion of biopower, while useful in some contexts, demonstrates its limitations as it is only contextualized with uniquely Western experiences. For example, Foucault argues that biopower was crucial to the development of capitalism for its labor, but makes no mention of the forced extraction of labor from enslaved peoples. Additionally, Foucault primarily discusses violence within the context of interstate warfare that encompasses entire populations, especially with the advent of atomic weapons, without mention of the violence inherent to colonial projects. Of course, these observations are arguably true to a certain extent, yet they are limited in scope as they rely on the idea of the universal experience.
Mbembe challenges Foucault’s biopower and its omission of the experiences of formerly colonized states and peoples. He says: “Any historical account of the rise of modern terror needs to address slavery, which could be considered one of the first instances of biopolitical experimentation” (Mbembe 21). Mbembe subsequently argues that the enslaved person is kept in a perpetual state of injury where they have lost their home and rights over their body, which is another extreme type of violence. Foucault’s notion of the universal experience poses epistemic issues as it is extremely limited and lacking in imagination, despite its insistence on being universal and/or all-encompassing. When one ignores non-Western, non-white, non-male experiences, one is doing a disservice to knowledge production as it immediately limits the applicability of certain ideas and, in general, prevents the creation of a truly robust knowledge framework. Beyond the basic epistemic framework, Foucault’s insistence that the Western, white man and his knowledge are synonymous with universality ultimately upholds whiteness; it not only continues to marginalize Indigenous or other non-Western forms of knowledge, it allows for whiteness as an institution to remain above accountability.
In terms of political practice, the prevalence of universality, particularly within the liberal international order, perpetuates colonial dynamics in real time. Mgbeoji discusses the concept of biopiracy which can be understood as “...commercial use of plants and TKUP without compensation and/or without the acknowledgment of the intellectual inputs in the improvement of the plants or in the creation of TKUP, and without gaining the prior informed consent of the owner(s) of the plants or practitioners in question” (90). Mgbeoji also argues that biopiracy is “part of the cultural war with non-Western peoples, cultures, and epistemological frameworks” (87). Indigenous epistemological frameworks are devalued and labeled as “unscientific and inherently inferior to those of Western empiricism” (Mgbeoji 87). This is insidious for a multitude of reasons: Indigenous peoples have been stewards of their local environments and biodiversity for an inconceivable amount of time; the fact that their epistemic approaches are labeled as inferior is arguably a justification of the Global North’s political practices which involve stealing Indigenous resources. Mgbeoji points out that biopiracy is framed within the idea of a “common heritage” which both the Global North and South use to fulfill certain political interests, yet the difference is that while the Global South actively seeks to control their own resources, the Global North seeks to undermine these efforts by “...proclaiming that this concept [common heritage] applies to plant genetic resources, which are found mainly in the South” (98). This not only demonstrates the ways in which universality is weaponized against Indigenous knowledge, but it also highlights how the idea of a universal experience or “common heritage” are employed to reinforce the political objectives of the Global North which are rooted in (settler) colonialism and racial capitalism, thus undermining the biocultural rights of various Indigenous groups whose objectives are antithetical to political and economic elites.
In the context of plant resources, the idea of a common heritage implies that such resources are approached and utilized in the same way within the international community and that every individual will benefit. However, that is simply not true: different cultures approach natural resources in different ways and to obfuscate that fact is not only an epistemic failure, but a practical one too. Furthermore, under the pervasive forces of colonial politics and racial capitalism, the utilization of plant resources and their potential benefits are intentionally made to benefit various public and private actors who uphold such structures. A key example of this is the Khoikhoi’s relationship with Rooibos and how that has been exploited. The Khoikhoi are an African Indigenous peoples from Southern Africa who believe that “land is a sacred gift from nature, rather than an economic commodity” and that they “...shared commitment of a sacred duty to care for nature, as it cared for them” (Jansen and Sutherland 221-222). In terms of Rooibos, which is endemic to Southern Africa, the Khoikhoi have passed down their knowledge of the plant through generations; their traditional knowledge has long understood the physical benefits of Rooibos (Jansen and Sutherland 222-223). However, the Khoikhoi were subjected to the mechanisms of settler-colonialism, Apartheid, and, later, a new government that still did not recognize them as a legitimate group within South Africa. These processes have resulted in the theft of their land and criminalization of their traditional practices. In 2010, Nestle applied for patents to the use of Rooibos without consent of South Africa, who is the technical resource provider; however, neither of these two actors asked and/or received consent from the Khoikhoi and the San, another Indigenous group, who both are considered the traditional knowledge holders of Rooibos (Jansen and Sutherland 231). While traditional involvement of the Khoikhoi and the San were ultimately recognized, which resulted in them receiving some compensation from the marketing of Rooibos, this example highlights the ways in which Indigenous people and their traditional forms of knowledge are not recognized as legitimate actors in knowledge production, yet public and private actors extract traditional knowledge for the purposes of accumulating more profits.
There are many ways in which we can expand the limits of our epistemological frameworks, alongside the practice of upholding and protecting biocultural rights of Indigenous communities and other marginalized groups, we must arguably abandon the idea of the universal, which includes the notion that an individual, or a series of them, can account for the experiences of everyone. The Western man cannot serve as the basic unit of life and the ways in which we understand it due to the fact that this subject has been formed by certain political, economic, and social contexts that have ultimately been replicated at a detriment to others. Instead, bioethicists should actively be seeking out the experiences and knowledge structures of Indigenous peoples, and other non-white communities, to better formulate our relationship to nature and knowledge, as well as each other. For example, the Khoikhoi have stated that they “‘have a transgenerational link to the transmission of the traditional knowledge and that this is evident in the knowledge that [they] hold and share’” (Jansen and Sutherland 223). Here the Khoikoi are expressing knowledge as something that connects community members and that it is something to be shared- not extracted. Not only does this expand the horizon of epistemology, but it also serves to create and implement more robust and respectful political practices that recognize Indigenous relationships to life and bioethical practices.
References
Foucault, Michel. “Part Five: Right of Death and Power over Life.” The Birth of Biopolitics , St Martin's Press, 1979, pp. 135–165.
Jansen, Lesle, and Rayna Sutherland. “The Khoikhoi Community's Biocultural Rights Journey with Rooibos.” Biocultural Rights, Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities, edited by Fabien Girard et al., Routledge, London, UK, 2022, pp. 221–240.
Mbembe, J.-A. “Necropolitics.” Public Culture, Translated by Libby Meintjes, vol. 12, no. 1, 2003, pp. 11–40.
Mgbeoji, Ikechi. “The Appropriative Aspects of Biopiracy .” Biopiracy: Patents, Plants, and Indigenous Knowledge, UBC, Vancouver, 2002, pp. 87–118.