Addams’ Democracy & Social Ethics

Over a hundred years ago, an American author wrote a book about her country's moral failings. But in doing so, she also held up a mirror to societies like ours.

Published in 1902, Democracy and Social Ethics isn’t special simply because it was written by a Nobel Prize winner. Nor is it unique for its critique of America’s supposedly “democratic” culture.

No, what makes this book special, especially for us Ethiopians, is that it gives us a scathing and relevant take on societies like ours. 

Societies that are extremely hierarchical. 

Now some might be interested in this book simply because it was written by Jane Addams, a courageous and progressive woman that was born in the 1860s. Others might appreciate the substance of her arguments, particularly her take on materialism, gender equality, and the rigid structures of privilege in American society. 

But I know that some Ethiopians, especially those who solely judge a book by its title, have come to believe that Democracy and Social Ethics is about one simple idea: cultural determinism.

I imagine most, if not all of you, are very familiar with this idea. In fact, I am sure you have at least one politically minded person in your life who, because of either disappointment or ignorance, swears that a democratic system can never be established in Ethiopia. 

You might hear them argue that we are, by definition, an undemocratic people; that we have not developed like Western countries; that we, when it comes down to it, don't put much faith in democratic ideals.

You might even hear them say that most Ethiopians prefer a “ጠንካራ መሪ”, for we have a culture that supposedly reveres authority and order more than it respects the rights and freedoms of our fellow citizens.   

But I wonder if those of us who claim to be more democratic than the average Ethiopian are being honest with ourselves. 

Is this book just about cultural determinism? Are democratic ideals like equality, equity and fairness only meant for outward judgment? Or are they meant for inward reflection and principled action? 

Well, lucky for us, there is one chapter in Addams’ book that can help us answer these questions. A chapter that, in my mind, will put most of our so-called “democratic” countrymen to shame. 

A chapter on የቤት ሰራተኞች. 

Now, I know that most of us don't see this particular social issue through a democratic lens. 

I know how we are. 

I know how we fixate on a small set of important, yet limited principles when we talk about democracy. Principles like የህግ የበላይነት, freedom of expression and free and fair elections are usually, if not always, seen as the only markers of a functioning democracy. 

But to think that democratic norms do not, nor should not, regulate our social relationships is not only a severe misunderstanding of what it means to be a democratic society. It is also a severe misreading of Addams’ book.

In this respect, Addams uses the treatment of domestic servants as a way to measure a country's democratic health. She points, for example, to how Americans expected የቤት ሰራተኞች to live in separate and isolated spaces, distanced from the rest of the household. She also notes how they were expected to prepare separate food for themselves, as if their social position excluded them from sharing in the meals they helped make. American employers, she observed, also tried to routinely restrict their personal freedoms and social lives — at times even attempting to regulate their romantic relationships. She even showed how modest requests for time off or reasonable pay were seen as signs of entitlement or ingratitude.

Sounds familiar, doesn't it? 

For Addams, all these behaviors were not just signs of individual misdeeds. Instead, they were signs of a particular kind of collective dysfunction —  the kind that not only contributed to the suffering of others. But the kind that also allowed the wrongdoer to remain blind to it. As she put it: 

“A listener, attentive to a conversation between two employers of household labor —  and we certainly all have the opportunity to hear such conversations —  would often discover a tone implying that the employer was the abused party.”

As such, by framing the mistreatment of የቤት ሰራተኞች as a democratic issue, Addams’ critique of American society and its democratic health should not be ignored. Instead, her take on social ethics, empathetic relationships, and their direct relationship with democratic ideals like equality, equity and dignity makes this book a must read for contemporary Ethiopians. 

Especially for those of us who claim to be more democratic than our fellow citizens.

For what does it say about us, the self-appointed champions of democracy, when we treat የቤት ሰራተኞች in the same way Americans did in the 1800s?

What right do we have to claim moral superiority over other Ethiopians if we treat የቤት ሰራተኞች as second class citizens?

What kind of people are we when we build our whole lives on the indispensable labor of የቤት ሰራተኞች, only to treat them like they are expendable? 

What is the point of spending so much time arguing over what to call domestic servants — ገረድ, የቤት ሰራተኛ, ረዳቴ or ቀኝ እጄ — if we don't respect them enough to materially improve their working conditions? 

Why do we pretend that hiring የቤት ሰራተኞች is an act of generosity — a way of providing employment opportunities— if we refuse to pay them a livable wage?

What, my dear reader, does it say about us when we think of democracy as a mere slogan rather than a serious standard in which to judge our own actions?

Some, I imagine, might call us unethical.

Addams, I am sure, would call us undemocratic.

But I want to be honest and call us out for what we really are. For there is an Amharic word that best describes our unethical, undemocratic, and uncaring ways: 

በዝባዦች