1 Vitality and Bantu Ontology

In this section, we will consider a key historical figure in the theorisation of the idea of vitality in African philosophy, Placide Tempels (1906–1977), a Belgian missionary who worked in the Belgian Congo (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) during the colonial era. Tempels’ book, titled Bantu Philosophy, originally published in Flemish but translated into English in 1959 has been crucial in articulating and systematising the notion of vitality in African philosophy through a reconstruction of the Bantu thought system that embodies the ideas, practices, and cultural worldview of the Baluba people with whom he had close encounters during his missionary work. Tempels believed that his efforts would help provide missionaries and colonialists acquire the proper lenses through which they could understand Bantu beliefs and practices and, in so doing, ease the burden of their so-called ‘civilising mission’ (see Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, pp. 19–20).

Indeed, Tempels criticises other fellow Europeans for their purely static outlook towards the ontological worldview of the Bantu people and, by extension, Africans. This static outlook viewed Africans as incapable of rational thought since, according to the view, Africans lacked the capacity for rationality. While the primitive and savage Africans were dehumanised and demonised, the so-called civilised European Christians were glorified. In response, Tempels argues that his fellow Europeans should imbibe a dynamic outlook that would be open to the ontological worldviews of others, such as the Bantu. He cautions that ‘[t]he gulf dividing Africans and Whites will remain and widen so long as we do not meet them in the wholesome aspirations of their own ontology’ (Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, p. 18). Thus, for Tempels, it is by including African thought systems within the purview of what is taken to be a legitimate ontology that Europeans come to bridge the epistemic and social gaps between themselves and the African other and unveil the African as capable of some form of rational thought. Such unveiling, as E. Possoz (Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, pp. 11–12) notes in the book’s preface, will force Europe to admit its ‘ethnological mistake’Footnote ³ by recognising the rationality, logicality, and philosophy of Bantu ontology. One could, of course, argue that the belittling of African thought did not stem from any ethnological mistake but from a deliberate ideology that foregrounded the exploitation and exclusions of Africans, which will be a matter for another project. In any case, European colonisers (Tempels’ audience) were largely averse to the African worldview and refused to approach it with any form of objectivity. And so, Tempels admonishes his audience to ‘refrain from all such judgments (i.e., judgment upon the intrinsic worth of Bantu philosophy) keeping only to ethnology’ and to ‘understand Bantu philosophy, to know what their beliefs are and what is their rational interpretation of the nature of visible and invisible things’ (Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, p. 24). This move, for Tempels, will foster open-mindedness and the bracketing of all prejudices when approaching the African worldview, as well as the notion of vitality from the Bantu perspective.

In discussing the concept of vitality, we must bring our readers’ attention to the fact that the concept is not exclusive to the Bantu or Africa. In fact, there is a significant body of literature in the West that engages vitality from scientific, biological, metaphysical, philosophical, and religious perspectives. We will not go into much detail and/or attempt to fully trace the history of the concept in European thought. But we must briefly mention the contributions of members of the Montpellier Medical School, especially in the mid-to-late eighteenth century, who proposed the vital force as a basic principle in living organisms (Haigh, Reference Haigh1985; Stollberg, Reference Stollberg2000; Thornhill, Reference Thornhill2020; Wolfe, Reference Wolfe and Kirchhoff2022). Individuals like Paul-Joseph Barthez and Albrecht von Haller were among the early pioneers of this school. Barthez’s ‘vital principle’ (see Haigh, Reference Haigh1977) and Haller’s ‘irritability and sensibility’ account (see Cimino & Duchesneau, Reference Cimino and Duchesneau1997) suggest that bodily activity and its organic function are independent of metaphysical properties like the soul. They describe bodily processes and functions as constitutive of the sort of animation propelled by vital force. Others like Georg Ernst Stahl [whose work on animism was brought to the Montpellier school by Francois Sauvages de Lacroix (see Thornhill, Reference Thornhill2020)] consider bodily functions to be caused by a special metaphysical force referred to as the soul. The soul was taken to be a life-giving force created by God to animate living organisms. Furthermore, the presence of this special metaphysical force meant that a thing was alive, and its absence meant that it was inanimate/dead. By the last quarter of the nineteenth century to the early twentieth century, the idea of vitality had assumed a life of its own in the sciences, especially in the neo-vitalist works of Hans Driesch and Henri Bergson (see Spaulding, Reference Spaulding1906; McLaughlin, Reference Mclaughlin and Baldwin2003; Garrett, Reference Garrett, Normandin and Wolfe2013; Bolduc Reference Bolduc, Donohue and Wolfe2023; Posteraro, Reference Posteraro, Donohue and Wolfe2023). They both believe that the life processes, growth, and evolution of living organisms cannot entirely be explained mechanistically. For instance, Driesch (Reference Driesch1914) maintains that there is an immaterial causal entity responsible for the life processes, development, and evolution of living organisms, which he calls entelechy. He supports this with his empirical experiment with sea urchin embryos, where he observed that removing one of the four blastomeres (dividing cells) did not stop the cell from developing into a full organism. For him, this showed that there is an immaterial vital entity that guides and regulates the development of the sea urchin embryos. On his part, Bergson (Reference Bergson2023) introduced the élan vital (vital impetus) as a force that drives life, creative evolution, and self-organization in living organisms.

With this massive body of literature on vitality in the West, one might question why Tempels introduced the concept of vital force in his book without referring to any of the existing works on the subject or why the view is often thought of as a ‘peculiar trait of African philosophy and the cosmology which defines and shapes the framework within which the interwoven concepts of personhood and community, as extensions of Africa’s concept of “being”, are founded and reified’ (Italics original, Ngangah, Reference Ngangah2019, p. 48). Furthermore, one might wonder whether Tempels’ elucidation of the view was not an imposition of a popular philosophy in Western thought (at the time) on Bantu ontology. However, notwithstanding these questions, Tempels’ interpretation and exposition of vital force within the African Bantu worldview, one can argue, added an African voice to the discussion and enriched the philosophical discourse on vitality.

In discussing the notion of vitality in Bantu ontology, Tempels points out that vitality plays a pivotal role in the lives of the Bantu people and their worldviews. As he puts it, ‘ … the key to Bantu thought is the idea of vital force … ’ (Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, p. 33). In defining what is meant by the vital force,Footnote ⁴ a close reading of Tempels’ work suggests that it is a non-physical (i.e., spiritual) and supra-sensible (i.e., not accessible to human empirical observation) principle that animates both living and non-living entities. Bantu ontology accounts for the processes and functions of living and non-living activities in terms of the indwelling activities of this vital force, which is spiritual and inaccessible to human empirical observations. Consider the following passages:

And:

The above passages show the immateriality, empirical non-perceptibility, and near-inaccessibility of the vital force. Regardless of its immateriality, certain claims about the phenomenon can be made. If vitality is the embodiment of life and well-being (or a stronger life), and if it is true, as Tempels notes, that various types of activities can augment this vitality, then it would follow that all processes that allow for the increase or strengthening of one’s vitality are desirable for a good life. This eventually culminates in what one might call the basic principle of Bantu ontology, which is that one ought to continually seek/pursue ways of increasing one’s vital force, and one ought to refrain from anything that diminishes one’s vital force.

For Tempels, the idea of force is the Bantu equivalent of the notion of being (although, in the dominant European view, force is only an attribute of being). While (for Tempels) the West has a static conception of being, the Bantu have a dynamic conception of being. That is, unlike the Europeans, who differentiate between being and force, the Bantu people make no such distinction. The Bantu, for Tempels, see force as being and not as an attribute of being. He writes:

In the above extract, Tempels holds that for the Bantu, being is force, not because it possesses force, for that will mean that force is an attribute of being, but because it is reality at the most fundamental level. This implies that the essence of all that exists is force. Tempels maintains that God, who is ‘the Strong One’, endows all living and non-living beings with vital force. Since vital force permeates all beings, the Bantu believe in the existence of ‘divine force, celestial or terrestrial forces, human forces, animal forces, vegetable and even material or mineral forces’ (Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, p. 35). In other words, Tempels holds that both animate and inanimate entities possess life force within Bantu ontology.

Now, some scholars like Patrick Aleke (Reference Aleke2022, p. 10) are quick to dismiss the idea that inanimate objects possess some vitality. According to him, ‘[i]t would be ridiculous and at best strange to think that inanimate objects have life or vital force in African thought.’ Aleke considers this view ridiculous because of Tempels’ failure to demarcate between ontological force and vital force/the principle of life. As he argues, ‘Definitely [inanimate objects] do have existential or ontological force, but not vital force. Existential or ontological force is the force that all beings (entities) have by the very fact that they do actually exist, while vital force is a superadded perfection that only animate things have.’ He explains ‘superadded perfection’ as ‘the qualities or properties that are possessed by particular kinds of beings, for instance, life for all living things, feeling for all sentient beings, and rationality or capacity for reasoning for rational beings’ (Aleke, Reference Aleke2022, p. 10). While questions might be raised about the possibility of an overstretched interpretation of the Bantu view, some Contemporary African philosophers, like Agada (Reference Agada2020a, Reference Agada2020b), following the proto-panpsychist perspective, have doubled down on the idea that all existent beings possess vitality, understood as a type of proto-mind that instantiates and animates being.

Extending the vitalist view even further, Tempels mentions that the varying levels of vital force that constitute an entity form an ontological hierarchy and determine that entity’s place in that hierarchy. So, God, the Supreme being, occupies the top of the hierarchy of forces. This is followed by certain spiritual agents, such as the first archpatriarchs, who are the founding fathers of the various Bantu clans and to whom God first endowed the vital force. Then there are the dead who, in order of primogeniture, serve as a medium through which the archpatriarchal agents exert their influence on their living generations as a way of ensuring that vital force remains with their progeny. Next in the hierarchy are the living human beings, who are also stratified according to quantity and quality of vitality. After living humans, there is a category of lower forces, such as animals, vegetables, and minerals, which is also classified according to the quantity/quality of their vital power.

According to Tempels, vital energy is something that can be manipulated through various forms of interaction. This is especially true for conscious beings such as God, ancestors, and humans. For Tempels, this interaction of forces follows three immutable laws. The first law states that ‘[human beings] (living or deceased) can directly reinforce or diminish the being of another man. Such vital influence is possible from man to man.’ The second law stipulates that ‘[t]he vital human force can directly influence inferior force beings (animal, vegetable, or mineral) in their being itself.’ The third states that ‘[a] rational being (spirit, manes, or living) can act indirectly upon another rational being by communicating his vital influence to an inferior force (animal, vegetable, or mineral) through the intermediacy of which it influences the rational being’ (Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, p. 45–46). From these laws, a few things are clear. First, the augmentation or diminution of an individual’s vitality is dependent on how one interacts with other persons and the sorts of interactions that that individual receives from other rational agents. Second, it seems clear that beings at the higher end of the hierarchy of beings can directly influence the very essence (vitality) of beings at the lower end.

Finally, Tempels assures us (of the highly controversial claim) that the ontology of all ‘primitive people’, all Africans and all Bantu people, is based on this principle of vitality. This assumption of unanimity of African perspectives, what Asouzu calls the Tempelsian damage, has continued to be an unfortunate factor in how African philosophy is presented and how African philosophy is perceived. Also, if Tempels had been careful enough to admit that his vital force only mirrors the worldview of the Baluba/Bantu people, some of the criticism that trailed his philosophy would have been largely avoided (see Okafor, Reference Okafor1982; Hountondji, Reference Hountondji1983; Matolino, Reference Matolino2011; Ogbonnaya, Reference Ogbonnaya2014). In his ‘The Problem of “Man” in Bantu Philosophy’, Kagame (Reference Kagame1989) provides a different interpretation of being in Bantu philosophy. Basing his analysis on the Kinyarwanda language of the Rwandan people, he shows that the concept of being is integral to all cultures but linguistically expressed differently. He categorises Being into muntu (human being), kintu (things), hantu (place and time), and kuntu (modality). Kagame describes Ntu as the universal vital force manifesting and unifying these various categories of Being. Unlike Tempels, who generalised that his analysis of Bantu ontology represents the religious and philosophical beliefs of all ‘primitive’ Africans, Kagame makes it clear that his analysis centres on the worldview of the Rwandan people. However, Kagame has been criticised for being too Aristotelian in his interpretation of the view since he invested so much energy in attempting to prove that Aristotle’s categories, like substance and relation, correlate with Bantu ontology (see Negedu, Reference 58Negedu2014; Roothan & Bello, Reference Roothaan and Bello2024).

Paulin Hountondji has been vocal in his critique of Tempels’ and Kagame’s analysis of vitality in Bantu ontology. In a book chapter titled ‘On African Philosophy’ (Reference Hountondji1983), he describes both Tempels’ and Kagame’s Bantu philosophy as ‘ethnophilosophy’. The designation of these two versions of Bantu philosophy as ethnophilosophy resulted from Tempels and Kagame seeking to excavate the supposed myths and folklore of the Bantu people and presenting the same as a legitimate philosophy seen as common to all Africans. In the words of Hountondji (Reference Hountondji1983, p. 22), Tempels’ ‘only weakness is that the philosophical form of [his] own discourse has been created in terms of a myth disguised as a collective philosophy.’ Hountondji concludes that Bantu philosophy is nothing more than mythological thinking since it lacks the scientific rigour that is definitive of philosophy proper, and so cannot be passed on as such.

Others like Stephen O. Okafor (Reference Okafor1982) and Matolino (Reference Matolino2011) have criticised Tempels’ Bantu philosophy as promoting the colonial agenda of racialism and the subjugation of Africans. For instance, Matolino argues that, first, Tempels’ claim that Africans cannot engage in abstract metaphysical theorising and unpack their worldview philosophically is a refurbished version of the general enlightenment view that Africans are incapable of rational thought, as proposed by the likes of David Hume and Immanuel Kant (see More, 1996) and the views of anthropologists such as Lucien Levy-Bruhl (Reference Levy-Bruhl1926). Matolino calls this ‘philosophical racialism’ and argues that for Tempels to claim that the Bantu are ignorant of their worldview, he invented the word force to render Africans and their worldview in magical terms. Matolino also claims that Tempels’ Bantu philosophy was aimed at aiding the colonial process (by providing a means of viewing the Bantu worldview – and, therefore, the mindset of the Bantu people) and providing some justification for the inferiorisation of Bantu people, by subtly questioning their ability to philosophise at the level of their European counterparts. We will say more about this criticism in Section 7.

Recently, Neils Weidtmann (Reference Weidtmann and Ogude2019) criticised Tempels for relying heavily on his Western Christian tradition to theorise vitality in Bantu philosophy. Notwithstanding this criticism, Weidtmann goes on to redefine vitality in relation to his interpretation of Ubuntu philosophy. While Ubuntu is often translated to mean ‘humanness’, Weidtmann rather takes it to ‘refer to something like the generalization of vital force’ (Weidtmann, Reference Weidtmann and Ogude2019, p. 108). He bases his interpretation on the idea that the suffix ‘-ntu’, in words like muntu, ubuntu, bantu, and so on, ‘ … literally means vital force’ (Weidtmann, Reference Weidtmann and Ogude2019, p. 108). Weidtmann (Reference Weidtmann and Ogude2019, p. 108) claims that the vital force ‘must not be understood in the way Tempels … did but has to be seen in the context of experiencing the multidimensionality of human reality through a continuous revival of community at all levels’. Furthermore, for Weidtmann, vital force is neither the being of individuals nor their essence, as Tempels would have us believe.

However, Weidtmann is not particularly clear about what he means by ‘experiencing the multidimensionality of human reality through a continuous revival of community at all levels’ – a phrase he uses several times in his work – and how that sort of thing constitutes vitality. However, we interpret the phrase to mean the following: that for one to fully partake in all the possible dimensions of human experience, whether emotional, spiritual, rational, moral, physical, and so on, one must not only belong to a community but must also seek to enhance and rejuvenate that community. Consequently, one experiences vitality when one partakes in and enhances/rejuvenates the community.

This view of vitality, which is not explained further (at least ontologically) by Weidtmann, is not without problems. For instance, Weidtmann, at least in our interpretation of his view, takes vitality to be the experience and/or the recognition of a special type of well-being that comes with positively participating in a community. If true, then vitality is synonymous with the conditions that allow for the enhanced use of a human being’s capacity to experience the world in a variety of ways. In other words, vitality would be consistent with human flourishing. If true, then the concept of vitality seemingly adds nothing to our understanding of the world, would be mostly redundant, and would seem like an arbitrary attachment of the term vitality to an already explained phenomenon since the proposed redefinition of vitality has already been captured in the literature by terms such as well-being (see Dzobo, Reference Dzobo, Wiredu and Gyekye1992, Metz, Reference Metz2012), flourishing, the joy of being (see Asouzu, Reference Asouzu2004), and so on.

2 Vitality and the Concept of Ase in Yoruba Ontology

In this section, we will discuss vitality as it expresses itself in the Yoruba tradition, specifically in relation to the Yoruba concept of ase. In Yoruba thought, vitality is synonymous with the word ase (we will use both terms interchangeably, especially in this section), which literally means creative power, authority, and order. Others like P. R. McKenzie (Reference McKenzie1976, p. 191) have interpreted ase to mean a sort of ‘secret and sacred power’. This interpretation of vitality or ase is based on a religious understanding of the concept. Our aim would be to reconceptualise ase and reveal its philosophical rendering while still drawing insights from its mystical/religious interpretation. We will also demonstrate that ase is a vital force and that the existence of things in the world is largely dependent on ase within the Yoruba worldview.

The first point to note is that ase, as vitality, is an all-pervading essence of all existent things. According to Margaret Thompson Drewal (Reference Drewal1992, p. 27), ase is a ‘generative Force or potential present in all things–rocks, hills, streams, mountains, plants, animals, ancestors, deities, humans–and utterances—prayers, songs, curses, and even everyday speech’. Similarly, Roland Abiodun (Reference Abiodun1994, p. 72, quoted from Vega, Reference Vega1999 p. 46) defines ase as ‘ … “power”, “authority”, “command”, “sceptre”; [and as] the vital force in all living and non-living things; or coming to pass of an utterance, “a logos proforicos”.’ A few things are worthy of note from what has just been said. Ase, defined as power, generative force and/or potential, implicates the view that it is vitality, as an essential property, that forces being into existence. One could even say that it is vitality that instantiates being (see Agada, Reference Agada2020b). As the seed of existence or life, vitality is necessarily inherent in all things, and all that exists must express vital energy through varying degrees of activity. Indeed, Henry John Drewal (N.D., online), Roland Abiodun (Reference Abiodun1994), and Nicole Mullen (Reference Mullen, Winn and Jacknis2004) have argued that because of this vitality, no existent thing is lifeless and inanimate in the Yoruba worldview. Secondly, all existent things possess vitality, including God, divinities, spirits, ancestors, humans, animals, plants, stones, trees, gestures, songs, dances, rivers, and so on, and vitality is all-pervading because it is the very essence of existence, the primordial stuff from which things in the world emerge.

Furthermore, conscious instantiations of vitality, such as human beings, deities, and so on, can transcend mindless liveliness or activity and can manipulate the vital force itself. In this way, the vital force has intrinsic and instrumental value for conscious beings. Its intrinsic value lies in the conscious individual’s very possession of vitality itself (as the essence of a thing and with the special property of consciousness). Its instrumental value lies in the capacity for good character or desirable activity (iwa rere) as a way of augmenting one’s ase, as well as the active use of individuals’ ase to realise their well-being and that of the community.

In discussions about ase in traditional Yoruba religion/ontology, one crucial question emerges, and this has to do with whether or not vitality reflects being at its most fundamental nature or whether it reflects a property of being. Recall that in Tempels’ explanation of the vitalist view, he urged his readers to believe that, for the Bantu, being is synonymous with force. However, a problem arises when God is revealed to be a primordial being and the source of vitality (in which case, one might ask whether being – in particular, God – predates ase). This problem reveals itself when one considers traditional Yoruba cosmology.

In traditional Yoruba cosmology, there are two distinct but inseparable realms of existence: Orun (the non-physical/immaterial realm) and aye (the physical realm). Beings that exist in Orun are Olorun (God – also known by other cognate names such as Olodumare, Eleda, Eleemi), etc.), Orisa (divinities), oro, iwin, ajogun, and eghe (spirits), and ara orun (ancestors) –all of which possess ase in varying degrees.

Olorun, God, is the possessor of ase. Olorun is also the source of ase and is considered to be a necessary being. This means that Olorun necessarily exists and cannot fail to exist. As a necessary being, Olorun is the foundation of the cosmos. In other words, all that exist take their token of existence from (and are dependent on) Olorun. These are all very interesting claims that the reader must bear in mind, as they lead to a variety of possibilities regarding the nature of ase. In the first instance, Olorun might be interpreted as a necessary and primordial entity that is responsible for the emergence of the vital force. This view is sustained and supported by the fact that God is seen as an entity that also has some sort of personality, with intentions and goals. This latter fact suggests that God is a being that is separate from pure vitality because if pure vitality reflected consciousness, personality, rationality, and so on, then all entities, including inanimate entities, would reflect these specific Godlike features (since all that exists expresses vitality). If God is separate from vitality in this way, then it must be the case that vital force is not synonymous with being since vitality is not, according to this view, synonymous with God. Thus, according to this reading, it would be true that in Yoruba metaphysics, ase is merely an important attribute of being.

In the second instance, one could say that Olorun is an embodiment of vitality, not unlike other instantiations of vitality (other existent things), but also the purest manifestation, embodiment/instantiation of vitality. This interpretation may seem contrary to the view that God is the source of vitality, but if one reflects on God as a necessary embodiment of vitality, then that contrariness fades away. Furthermore, God as the source of vitality might only reflect the idea that other instantiations of vitality only spring into existence because of the existence of the vital force, which God necessarily embodies. God, being conscious, might instantiate itself in varying degrees, thus creating the hierarchy of beings that is based on what instantiation of God best reflects the Godlike properties of consciousness, personality, rationality, and so on, properties that are also all essential to God’s nature.Footnote ⁵ This view, which can be interpreted as a form of pantheism (although some might argue that it is a type of panentheism), would also align with the alleged intuitions of the Bantu that being is force.

There is a third possible interpretation that might view ase as a primordial force, which is just as necessary as Olorun but also a property of God. In the creation of other beings – Yoruba cosmology posits that Olorun works with the Orisa (other lower divinities) to create the world (see Idowu, Reference Idowu1962; Abimbola, Reference Abimbola2006; Fayemi, Reference Fayemi and Odimegwu2007). Olorun imbues all created beings with this Godlike property in varying degrees. While it is hard to know if ase is an essential property of God, one could argue that ase is an essential/fundamental property for other created things.

Beyond all these arguments, some scholars, like Emmanuel Ofuasia (Reference Ofuasia2024), take substance metaphysics as a poor lens through which to view African/Yoruba metaphysics. In this way, thinking of ase as some static essential property on which some accidental properties inhere might reflect an undue imposition of Aristotelian-type metaphysics on an African worldview. Thus, a more dynamic/process/event-based interpretation would be important, where ase is an ever-evolving thing that instantiates itself in various ways across time. According to this sort of thinking, Olorun and all else that exists are all expressions of an ever-evolving vitality. Olorun would thus be subject to ase and not prior to it (similar to our second interpretation above).

Despite the variety of arguments provided in this section, one thing that seems clear in the literature is the view that Olorun possesses ase in some way, and Olorun is responsible for the presence of ase in everything that exists (Drewal, Reference Drewal1992; Abiodun, Reference Abiodun1994; Hallgren, Reference Hallgren1995; Mullen, Reference Mullen, Winn and Jacknis2004; Roothan & Bello, Reference Roothaan and Bello2024).

The dominant traditional Yoruba view suggests that Olorun endows all entities in Aye with ase. Aye is the physical realm and the realm of contingent things in which entities come into and go out of existence. These entities that exist in the physical realm include visible and material entities encountered in everyday life, such as human bodies, stones, trees, land, and so on. Ase flows through all contingent existence, breathes life into Aye, and sustains it.

The nature of Olorun’s relationship with Aye has been explained in a variety of ways, and the extent to which Olorun interferes with the affairs of other creatures in Aye has been hotly debated. Two kinds of explanation have assumed some degree of prominence in Yoruba metaphysics. The first one is the idea that Olorun is present in Aye. There are two versions of this idea in the literature. The first version rests on monotheism, which is championed by scholars like Bolaji Idowu (Reference Idowu1962), Adebowale Akintola (1999), Omotade Adegbindin (2011), and Oyeshile (Reference Oyeshile2021). Utilising resources from the monotheistic Christian tradition of the West, Idowu (Reference Idowu1962, p. 204) developed a form of ‘diffused monotheism’ that recognises Olorun as the ultimate controlling power and works with other divinities to maintain order in Aye. Oyeshile (Reference Oyeshile2021, p. 4) explains that ‘[t]he Yoruba trace their source to the Supreme Being because they believe that human existence has both natural and supernatural sources, giving precedence to the latter and seen [sic] the former as being dependent on the supernatural.’ Here, all entities in Aye seem to be dependent on Olorun for their sustenance without Olorun depending on them. That is, all entities in Aye need Olorun in order to exist and survive, while Olorun necessarily exists without depending on any of these entities. The other version leans towards panentheism, of which scholars like Ofuasia (Reference Ofuasia2020) are major proponents. In his process panentheism, Ofuasia builds on Alfred North Whitehead’s process metaphysics. In Ofuasia’s view, Olorun and Aye are distinct entities, but both are actually and ontologically the same, thereby avoiding dualism and diffused monotheism. Since they are ontologically the same, both Olorun and Aye fundamentally share the same existence: Olorun being in Aye and Aye being in Olorun, regardless of their differences. God as an actual entity constitutes two aspects: mental/abstract and physical/concrete states, which makes them dipolar. He affirms that, through this dipolar state, ‘ … the world depends on God’ and ‘God also depends on the world’ in Yoruba metaphysics (Ofuasia, Reference Ofuasia2020, p. 53).

The Olorun-Aye interaction is interwoven in a web of relationships, involving a relationship of mutual dependence. This shows that Olorun is greatly present in Aye and very much actively involved in the events in Aye, and interferes with the affairs of the world and vice versa. The second explanation, which is a reaction to the first one, is that Olorun is detached from Aye. This explanation is closely related to deism, in which God created the world and then became distant from it. Drewal, Pemberton III, and Abiodun (Reference 55Drewal, Pemberton and Abiodun1989, p. 14) uphold this position when they claim that Olorun is ‘conceived as the creator of existence … and generally distant, removed from the affairs of both divine and world beings.’ They believe that after Olorun created Aye, Olorun allowed it to operate without interfering. They claim that while other divinities, spirits and ancestors interfere with Aye, Olorun stays away. Each of these explanations has advantages and disadvantages worthy of philosophical engagement, which unfortunately will not be done here. But it is worth noting that the Yoruba religious/metaphysical worldview strongly affirms the presence of ase in the world without Olorun and Aye losing their distinct identity.

We now explore how ase expresses itself in human beings. For the Yoruba, the nature of the human being is characterised by the presence of ase, which is connected to the ultimate realities of Orun and Olorun. Ase in humans is equated with emi, which signifies the life-giving property/entity. However, there is controversy in Yoruba ontology on how emi should be translated into the English language. Scholars like Wande Abimbola (Reference Abimbola1971), Akin Makinde (Reference Makinde1984), Babatunde Lawal (Reference Laval2005), Oyelakin Taye (Reference Taye2013), and Akinola Akomolefe (2016) claim that emi should be translated as ‘soul’ – a purely immaterial, spiritual, and invisible entity animating the human body. Makinde (Reference Makinde1984, pp. 191–192) establishes that ‘emi, the real thing that gives a body its life, is not subject to destruction by human beings precisely because it is not moulded out of physical substance but a spiritual gift from Olodumare [Olorun] – a divine breath of Olodumare himself.’ He concludes that ‘the soul, like its creator, never dies; this is why we talk of “dead bodies” but never of “dead souls”. Rather, it deserts its temporary earthly abode – the mortal body – and goes back to its creator, Olodumare (God) in heaven.’ In this sense, emi is also the divine spark in humans and the imperishable and indestructible element that does not die when an individual dies but returns to Orun, where it becomes an ancestor.

Other scholars like Olufemi Morakinyo and Akinsola Akiwowo (Reference Morakinyo and Akiwowo1981), Barry Hallen and Sodipo (Reference Hallen and Sodipo1986), Segun Gbadegesin (Reference Gbadegesin and Wiredu2004), and Oladele Balogun (Reference Balogun2007) disagree with the translation of emi as soul and insist that it is a vital force or life-force or life breath. According to Morakinyo and Akiwowo:

This implies that emi, as life force, is what activates the body (ara), without which the body will be lifeless (and it is Olorun that supplies the body with life). Clearly, this controversy is not about whether emi exists as part of human makeup but how it should be translated. Delving into this controversy in detail, although philosophically worthwhile, will be a great digression. One thing we can glean from this controversy is that humans possess a life principle, be it soul or life force, that powers and energises the body.

The Cyclic Transference of Ase

Another important idea in the Yoruba conception of vitality is the cyclic transference of ase or vitality (see Figure 1).

Figure 1 A diagram of the cyclic transference of ase

In the diagram in Figure 1, Ase₀ symbolises the non-physical world (Orun), the spiritual realm of existence that includes Olorun (the creator and source of ase) and other deities, spirits, and ancestors. Ase₁ represents the physical world that comprises the material realm of existence, which includes, among other entities, humans whom Olorun endows with ase. Ase_-1 signifies the dead loved ones transitioning to the realm of Orun to become ancestors, and/or where they await to be reborn. Furthermore, Ase₀ are necessary beings who cannot fail to exist; Ase₁ are contingent beings who live, die, and reincarnate; Ase_-1 are ancestral beings, and Ase₊₁ are merely possible beings that do not exist but could exist, for instance, through reincarnation. The diagram shows the cyclic process in which human existence unfolds as the self-actualisation of ase. This cyclic process is the continual drive of ase toward self-transcendence. While Ase₀ permeates all existence, it actualises self-transcendence through human lives and activities. Once humans have lived the number of years assigned to them by Olorun, they die and carry back their Ase_-1 to Olorun, and they will be reborn as a child endowed with some portion of their ase (Ase₊₁), and this process is continuous. The cyclical nature of ase is the belief that ase manifests itself as/through Aye and returns to Orun in a cyclic motion, and humans play their role in this process through a protracted struggle of nurturing and growing one’s ase.

Humans can develop, nurture, and grow their ase. As Angela Roothan and Saheed A. Bello (Reference Roothaan and Bello2024, p. 68) put it, ase is ‘developed, nurtured, and activated through personal/life experiences and the ontological journey of Yoruba ritual and cosmology.’ Positive life and religious experiences (rituals, divinations, and worship), including the fulfilment of one’s destiny (ori) enhance one’s ase in much the same way that negative experiences tarnish one’s ase.

The communal components to nurturing and growing one’s ase involve the active and positive use of one’s vitality. Even though ase is something that individuals have by virtue of being born, they must play an active role through their actions to nurture and grow it. The Yoruba believe that individuals progressively nurture their ase as they participate in ongoing communal relationships by fulfilling their obligations and duties. The proper use of one’s ase involves contributing to the general well-being of the community. This communal component of nurturing and growing one’s ase is tied to individual iwa (character), and one’s current iwa impacts one’s life circumstance as well as the future possibilities of being an ancestor and being reborn. For instance, Iwa rere (good character) leads to good circumstances in life and increases the likelihood of one becoming an ancestor. On the contrary, iwa buburu (bad character) leads to unfortunate circumstances in life (see Ofuasia, Reference Ofuasia2024). According to Drewal, ‘[i]f one makes positive contributions during one’s life, a portion of the person’s performative power or being (ase) may come back again as a new individual with a new spiritual head or destiny’ (Drewal, Reference Drewal and ClarkeOnline, p. 215).

Since reincarnation is possible (see Idowu, Reference Idowu1962; Awolalu & Dopamu, Reference Awolalu and Dopamu2005), the cyclic process of ase allows humans the opportunity to develop their ase by performing morally good actions that build character throughout each birth and making spiritual efforts to become an ancestor and possibly reincarnate (see Fig. 1). The Yoruba often refer to those who have developed and nurtured their ase as Alaase. They include diviners, queens, priests, kings, masqueraders, and so on. (see Drewal, Pemberton III, & Abiodun, Reference 55Drewal, Pemberton and Abiodun1989).

From a wider metaphysical perspective, one way that the theological perspectives of the Yoruba, as they relate to ase, can be interpreted is by thinking about the view as a metaphor for a grander philosophical point. One can, for instance, view the Orun and aye, as representative of the dual but complementary nature of ase as a primordial being that is both physical and non-physical and capable of instantiating itself as such. In Yoruba metaphysics, all beings possess an ori or destiny, which they must fulfil, and this idea can be interpreted to show that an ever-evolving ase instantiates various entities in a determined variety of ways. In other words, from the cosmic perspective, the striving of human beings to fulfil their destiny only reflects the unfolding of human beings as instances of ase. Destiny, in this sense, is nothing more than the predetermined process of the unfolding of the individual as one instance of ase.

Furthermore, the cyclic transference of ase, described in this section, can be understood to reflect the ever-changing nature of the various instantiations of ase, as they manifest themselves as a physical entity, as an immaterial entity, and as ase in its purest form. Thus, one can conceive of ase as being qua being, and all that we know to exist are purely instances or a specific manifestation of ase. According to this interpretation, ase is not a property of being and is not (technically) an all-pervading energy. It is rather being itself.

Now, there is one small controversy that friends of the traditional vitalist view (including the Bantu and Yoruba view) ought to deal with in order to avoid contradictions with the above view. The first is the more serious problem. Recall that earlier, we mentioned that, according to the Bantu ontology, the diminution of the vital force is what constitutes immorality or a lack of well-being, finally to the point of death. In other words, it is taken for granted that the total diminution of the vital force in the human being causes death. If this is true, then what are we to make of the claim that at death, the individual’s vital force re-congregates, once again, at the non-physical realm (either to re-emerge as an ancestor or to return to God)? If the total loss of vitality brings death, what then returns to God or becomes an ancestor?

This problem is not well dealt with in the Bantu view,Footnote ⁶ but our current interpretation of the Yoruba view can provide us with a plausible response. It could very well be true that various manifestations of ase interact with each other in various ways. And it might very well be true that certain forms of interactions (negative interactions) might cause a particular instantiation of ase to cease to be (what one might call death). Still, death, in this view, would not mean a total loss of vitality (in the sense that one’s vitality ceases to exist) but rather (1) a recession of ase into its purest form and/or (2) re-instantiation of ase in other forms (physical and/or spiritual). In other words, certain forms of interaction can force an instance of ase to recede from its specific manifestation back to its original form (or, perhaps, manifest in other ways), or those interactions might force an instance of ase to re-instantiate itself as a specific physical (say a dead body) and/or immaterial entity (say as some sort of spiritual agent). Through the interaction between various instances of ase, the transference of ase from instance A to instance B can also result in (1) and (2) for A and B, or even the enhancement of B.

3 Vitality and ‘Ndu’ in Igbo Ontology

In this section, we present and critically examine the idea of vitality from the Igbo religious/philosophical context. The first concept that immediately comes to the fore in the Igbo conception of vitality is the concept of ndu, which is etymologically interpreted as ‘life’. According to Elochukwu Uzukwu (Reference Uzukwu1982, p. 195), ‘ndu is a noun meaning life, existence, being. The verb di or du means to be, to exist (to be alive).’

Now, there are a few things to note following what we have said so far. If ndu or life expresses being-becoming [as Anyanwu (Reference Anyanwu1984, p. 74) notes] and at the same time expresses vitality, then it must be the case that existing is synonymous with vitality, and for a thing to exist at all in the world, it must possess vitality. If ndu is described in this way, then vitality is essential to being since it is the very thing that instantiates being in the world. In other words, both existence and vitality (which we take to be synonymous) point not merely to a static property of being but to the capacity to be in its most fundamental form, which is not static, and for which the different things in the world are merely instances or expressions of that capacity. Ndu as the capacity to be is itself expressive of this capacity and so manifests itself as a fundamental reality that is necessary and constantly becoming, for if it brings life to being(s) as we know them (that is, if it is responsible for projecting being to the world and to the conscious mind), and if ndu is the capacity to be then it makes sense to think of this pure capacity to exist as, itself, an embodiment of existence. For if it were not an existing thing (or better put, the embodiment of existence itself), then it could not do the job of instantiating/projecting the variety of things we perceive into existence. This might sound slightly tautologous, but there is no better way of explaining the view.

As the capacity to be, ndu is present in all reality. This is what Uzukwu means when he insists that ndu “stands out for the Igbo as a value around which other values find their meaning. Ndubuisi (life is first), ndukaku (life is greater than wealth) are proper names pregnant with meaning” (Uzukwu, Reference Uzukwu1982, p. 195). Perhaps the word ‘pervade’ does not properly capture what we mean, but an illustration might help. Things in the world are markedly different – a stone is, for instance, different from a person – but different things have in common the fact that they exist because of ndu. In fact, one can conclude that these things are specific instances of ndu manifested in various compelling ways. So, when K. C. Anyanwu (Reference Anyanwu1984, p. 90) says that ‘[f]or the Igbo, everything in the universe is alive or a life-force, that is, life-force or life is what every experienced reality possesses’, we do not interpret him to mean that even non-living things are animate and possess some sort of mentality (although one can very much argue that this is the case). What we interpret the claim to mean is that the very thing that presents a thing as an existent thing in the world is ndu. Life or life force, here, does not merely mean animation but something more – the inherent capacity of a thing to be present in the world. Thinking of ndu in this way showcases it as something that is inherently and intrinsically valuable since it is the very thing that allows things to manifest themselves as existent things. In a way, existent things are synonymous with ndu, or are an instantiation of it, since nothing exists without ndu – in other words, we cannot think of anything separate from ndu because every component of that thing exists because of ndu.

One important point to note in all this is the idea that the way objects in the world manifest reflects a capacity that is already present in ndu. Living things, for instance, are seemingly animate, and so the capacity for animation is already present in ndu.

For the traditional Igbo philosophers, the human being is seen as a manifestation of goodness and beauty, which is also inherent in ndu. This thinking can be derived from a linguistic analysis of the Igbo description of the human person as mmadu. In one interpretation of the term, Jonathan Chimakonam and Lucky Ogbonnaya define it (from their understanding of its etymology) as ‘“muo di ndu” (the spirit that is alive and can be touched)’ (Chimakonam & Ogbonnaya Reference Chimakonam and Lucky Uchenna Ogbonnaya2015, p. 278). This definition establishes the human being as a particular kind of physical instantiation of ndu. The human being is not merely a physical being but a spiritual thing in physical form. Indeed, the human being is seen as a prime example of the conscious expression of the intertwining of the spiritual and the physical. Mmadu, in this case, serves as a vital link between entities in uwa mmadu (the realm of physical reality) and uwa mmuo (the realm of spiritual reality). As a vital link, human beings are in a relationship with other spiritual entities such as God (Chi/Chukwu), ancestors, spirits, nature, and their fellow humans. And since life is the ultimate reality, humans become aware of this relationship as they go on to live or experience life. This sort of thinking plays into the general vitalist understanding of the human being as essentially vital force and animated by a vital force.

In another interpretation, some scholars like Raymond Arazu (Reference Arazu1978), Uzukwu (Reference Uzukwu1982), and Emmanuel Edeh (Reference Edeh1985), believe that mmadu (sometimes referred to as mmadi) means let beauty/goodness be/exist. Others like Okafor (Reference Okafor1982), Andrew I. Isiguzo, George Ukagba, and Nkeonye Otakpor (Reference Isiguzo, Ukagba and Otakpor2004), and Udobata Onunwa (Reference Onunwa2012) disagree. For Isiguzo, Ukagba, and Otakpor (Reference Isiguzo, Ukagba and Otakpor2004), Mmadu literally means the beauty/goodness/crown point of life. These two interpretations, though very similar, are slightly different. In the first interpretation, as in the second, there is an indication that the ndu that projects the human being in the world has an inherent goodness/beauty. But, admittedly, it is unclear if this goodness or beauty is intrinsic or externally observed. Perhaps one can conclude that inherent in ndu (as the capacity to be) is also the capacity to be good or bad, and this capacity relies on the idea that relationships between instantiated things might be beneficial or detrimental, depending on context. In terms of differences, one gets the sense that in the first interpretation, the goodness or beauty of the human being is in process. In other words, the way in which ndu is instantiated in the human being projects a potential for special goodness or beauty. This interpretation is supported by the various normative conceptions of personhood (both radical and moderate) that we find in the literature on African philosophy. In the second interpretation, the thinking seems to be that the human being, as a special manifestation of ndu, is inherently beautiful and good. This goodness or beauty, as we understand it, is more aesthetic than it is moral. Either way, both interpretations gesture to the fact that the ndu that instantiates the human being is of a special kind. This is also why human life, within the Igbo worldview, is of ‘supreme value’ (see Uzukwu, Reference Uzukwu1982, p. 203; Anyanwu, Reference Anyanwu1984, p. 100).

There are some, like Obiajulu Ibeabuchi (Reference Ibeabuchi2013), who, like Tempels, believe that the life force in human beings (referred to as ‘Obi’ in Ibeabuchi’s work) can be increased or diminished depending on the performance of certain activities. Indeed, Ibeabuchi believes that, in the Igbo worldview, humans can strengthen their obi/ndu/vitality through certain rituals or by living a good life. Conversely, living a bad life, as well as the interference of some other life forces, such as witches and unappeased deities, could diminish individuals’ obi. The similarities between the views expressed by Ibeabuchi and Tempels are uncanny, and one wonders whether the former’s view is not a product of the strong influence of Tempels’ view.Footnote ⁷ However, if it is the case that vitality is legitimately understood in this way within the traditional Igbo metaphysical worldview, then we can interpret the augmentation or diminution of vitality as a product of the interaction of the various instantiations of ndu/obi, and we can agree that an increase or reduction of ndu/obi results in a change in the very nature of a (human) being. In this way, a reduction in vital force reduces the capacity of the human being to remain an instance of a human being, and an increase in vitality may not only entrench the human being as a strong instance of a human being but might also lead to some sort of transcendence. In other words, the weaker one’s vitality, the higher the chances that the individual ceases to remain a human being, or an existent thing. The stronger one’s vitality, the more vibrant the individual becomes. And it is further possible for such persons with very high levels of vitality to transcend normal human capacities (examples would be diviners, priests, etc.).

Despite this criticism, we believe that the concept of vitality in Igbo ontology has some merits. Ndu, as the universal life-force, is celebrated through its active presence in humans and humans’ direct participation in it. This has positioned humans at the centre of the universe and as a life-force interacting with other life-forces with which they form an organic whole. This organic whole is sustained by ndu and apprehended as humans experience life.

4 Vitality and Ethics

5 Vitality and Dignity

One question that has ramifications in law, ethics, social and political relations, and so on, is the question of human dignity. This is a question about what, if anything, makes the human being special and worthy of a high level of moral regard. According to Molefe:

Finding such a feature is not as easy and uncomplicated as one may imagine. Take the Kantian approach, for instance. The usual move for adherents of this approach is to locate human dignity in something like our capacity to set goals or our capacity for morality (Pele, Reference Pele2016). However, such a view fails to show how young infants or individuals born with severe cognitive abilities might possess dignity. Of course, one can add potentiality into the mix, but such a move does not take care of our intuition that in cases where a trade-off is necessary between an adult human being and, say, a human zygote or embryo in a petri dish, many would believe that there are good reasons to consider the adult human being first. Beyond this, the fact remains that potentiality is not actuality, and to equate the two would be to take an uncomfortable inductive leap – it is, for instance, true that we do have the potential to be the president of our countries but we would most likely contend with armed law enforcement if we marched to the seat of power and expected to make decisions as ‘potential’ presidents. In African thought, one may attempt to locate dignity in the capacity for communion (see Metz, Reference Metz2012). Again, the same problems identified above might arise. How does one account for the dignity of infants who are only objects of communion? One move would be to relax the requirements to involve being an object of communion. But then, would pets, for instance, possess dignity?

All these questions are important because if we want to establish a grounding for human dignity – one that has real-world consequences for how we treat other persons – such a grounding must be strong and resistant to a significant amount of criticism. A conception of dignity that is based on the idea of vitality may present itself as a viable candidate. It is important to note here that we do not claim that a vitalist conception of dignity is the most viable theory of dignity. Rather, since this is an Element on vitality, it is pertinent that we present, examine, and discuss plausible conceptions of human dignity that are based on the notion of vital force.

6 Vitality and Meaning in Life

The question of whether or not life has meaning or whether or not moments in life can be considered meaningful is, for us, a philosophical question above all philosophical questions. While this question had been largely ignored by African philosophers in the past, apart from Munyaradzi Mawere’s (2010) article on the topic and hints by the likes of Kwasi Wiredu and Monday Igbafen, the discussion on life’s meaning from an African perspective only began to receive new life in 2019–2020, following a Workshop on ‘African Conceptions of the Meaning of Life’, held at the University of Johannesburg and the publication of a Special Issue by the South African Journal of Philosophy (2020). In these works, the vitalist view has entrenched itself as a strong contender for a viable conception of meaning in life, with scholars like Attoe (Reference Attoe2020, Reference Attoe2023), Metz (Reference Metz2020), Mlungwana (Reference Mlungwana2020), and Agada (Reference Agada2020a) all proposing plausible conceptions of meaning in life based on the vitalist view.

In what follows, we intend to provide the reader with a brief account of the vitalist conception of meaning in its ‘traditional’ form and also provide an account of those conceptions of meaning that have evolved out of this traditional view.

7 A Racial Foundation

For scholars like Asouzu (2007) and Matolino (Imafidon et al., Reference Imafidon, Matolino, Agada, Attoe and Mangena2019), there is a problem in the way in which the vitalist view was couched by Tempels [whose attempt to articulate an African philosophy was among the first attempts in what Chimakonam (Reference Chimakonam2014) now calls systematic African philosophy]. Both scholars are scathing in their critique of Tempels’ project as well as projects built on a similar methodological framework.

For Asouzu, the problem with Tempels’ view (what he calls the ‘Tempelsian damage’) starts from the use of Aristotelian metaphysics (which he calls elitist and bifurcating) to examine Bantu metaphysics. Asouzu claims that Tempels used the idea of vitality as a smoke screen to entrench the view that Bantu metaphysics is a debased form of rationality and non-transcendental metaphysics (beyond superstitions and magic) when compared with Western metaphysics (Asouzu, Reference Asouzu2007b). By claiming, as Tempels (Reference Tempels1959, p. 34) does, that ‘[w]e [the West] can conceive the transcendental notion of “being” by separating it from its attribute, “Force”, but the Bantu cannot. [And that] we hold a static conception of “being”, they a dynamic’, Tempels is (un)intentionally suggesting that Bantu ontology and metaphysicians lack the inherent ability/capacity for transcendental/abstract views. Indeed, Tempels further states: ‘We do not claim, of course, that the Bantu are capable of formulating a philosophical treatise, complete with an adequate vocabulary. It is our job to proceed to such systematic development. It is we who will be able to tell them, in precise terms, what their inmost concept of being is. ’ (Tempels, Reference Tempels1959, p. 23). One can then imagine that in the re-articulation of Bantu thought, distortions are inevitable from the eyes of an individual whose logic of comprehension is different.

It is, thus, strange, for Asouzu, that it is this vitalist ontology, with its colonial underpinnings and its many distortions, that is ‘being paraded in many quarters today as the very essence of African ontology and experience of reality’ (Reference Asouzu2007b, p. 75). Even more unfortunate, says Asouzu, is the difficulty in exorcising Tempels’ ghost, as it pertains to the idea of vitality, since the view is ideologically attractive, as it projects an ontology that is sufficiently different from ‘Western’ metaphysics, as African philosophy searches for its unique identity.

Matolino, in his critique of Tempels’ project, does not stray too far from Asouzu. Matolino is particularly scathing in his critique of Tempels’ project. According to Matolino:

The main claim here is that the foundation on which the idea of vitality was originally conceived was/is a distorted foundation – one where the ontological views of the Bantu are deliberately distorted to portray difference for the sake of the colonial project. These distortions are real and fundamental. Tempels, for instance, claims that force is equivalent to being, an ontological claim that is crucial to the vital force view. Yet, for Matolino, this claim is a trick – one that continues to be projected as an authentic African notion of being. This trick, for Matolino, does not have its roots in reality but primarily in the need to differentiate the Bantu from the West, to inferiorise the Bantu, and to establish the need for a colonial project. This last point is further exacerbated by other claims that Tempels himself made; for instance, in a revised hierarchy of being, Tempels appears to place Europeans on a higher pedestal than all Africans. Tempels claims:

If Asouzu and Matolino are both right in their critiques, then one would have to be suspicious of the whole vitalist project as one that is, at the very least, deeply flawed in many respects. Now, it is difficult to refute Asouzu’s and Matolino’s arguments, and, by extension, it is also difficult to have confidence in the vitalist project. One response would be to point to various ethnophilosophical accounts of vitality scattered across the literature and argue that those descriptions of vitality in those African cultures do represent the actual ontological ideas within the cultural worldviews after consideration. Any distortions in Tempels’ accounts would then fail to rub off on these separate accounts or, at the very least, may not totally undermine them. If true, then the vitalist account reflects an African metaphysical theory, although it would reflect an ontology that needs some critical reconstruction. Friends of the vitalist position might accept this minimal response and move on.

8 The Supernaturalist Critique

For the traditional vitalists, one of the more pressing concerns is responding to criticisms about the nature and/or the reality of the vital force. The critique can be crystallised as follows. If we take it to be true that there exists this ethereal or spiritual energy that emanates from God and is present in all things, then proponents of such a view are admitting a few things: that (1) they possess justifications for holding the view – whether logical or empirical – and that (2) they hold such an understanding of the reality of the vital force that they can state/predict how this energy behaves and what implications may arise from its behaviour. For the vitalist view to work, assumptions (1) and (2) must be shown to be factual. For critics of the vitalist view, both assumptions are, unfortunately, untrue.

In the first instance, critics argue that there are no real justifications for holding the vitalist view except for tradition. Tradition, of course, is not enough – if philosophical discourse is the goal. For instance, there are some who traditionally upheld the view (and for a long time) that the Earth was the centre of the Universe until Copernicus proved the view to be false. Empirically, the vitalist view fails as we have yet to positively encounter and point to this vital force. Indeed, several attempts to dissect the human body or perform live surgeries on the human body have failed to show that such a thing exists. Furthermore, there has been no indication that such a thing exists in various animals whose anatomy we are aware of. The same applies to plants, rocks, and organisms that exist at the cellular level. Friends of the vitalist view would immediately retort that the vital force is spiritual, so searching for material evidence is fruitless. However, such an argument logically destroys our ability to provide empirical evidence for the phenomenon, so we must depend largely on logical evidence for our justification for the claim. But what is this logical justification? So far, theorists of vitalism have not provided a clear logical justification for the view. Fortunately, one can deduce one such argument/justification from what has been said in the literature. The argument could be as follows: It is true that there is evidence of animation in human beings. While we can point to body parts of all kinds, one cannot point to this factor of animation. Indeed, a fresh human corpse is a good expression of this point, for while the body parts may be intact, the person is dead because that animating character has ceased to exist within the body. Thus, we can plausibly deduce the existence of vitality from the effect it creates – the animation of the human body.Footnote ¹⁵ Unfortunately, this argument is quite problematic. The main reason for its problematic nature is that the animation of the human body is easily explainable by a simple recourse to neuroscience. We will not explain, in neuroscientific detail, how the central nervous system in human beings works (we do not have the space to do so), but the view is that brain function, along with the neuro-chemical and electrical processes that go on in the central nervous system are the precise reasons why we can will our bodies to move and it does (Churchland, Reference Churchland1981; Dennett, Reference Dennett1991; Churchland, Reference Churchland2002). It is also an injury/injuries to certain parts of this nervous system that ensures that a human corpse or the body of a human person in a vegetative state remains inanimate. If this is true, then the argument from animation fails. If there are good reasons to be severely sceptical of the existence of the vital force, then, empirically or logicallyFootnote ¹⁶ speaking, there is little grounding for the view.

The above leads us to the second point (2). If the reality of the vital force is unjustifiable, then it follows that whatever understanding one might have about the nature, workings, and effects of this vital force is spurious. One cannot, for instance, claim that it is the vital force that grants one dignity or that the pursuit of vitality somehow equates to the pursuit of morality (if it is true that there is no real evidence for the reality of the vital force). What this then means is that original claims made about the nature and functioning of the vital force are neither based on empirical evidence nor logical discernment (per se) but on something else –false propositions.

The failure of these thick (and possibly) false metaphysical propositions has led some to propose a so-called naturalistic version of the vitalist view (see Metz, Reference Metz2012; Lougheed, Reference Lougheed2023), as we have noted earlier in this Element, where things like power and creativity, growth, creative work and increase, and so on, take the place of spiritual energy. However, such a move is not without its problems. These items represent some factual experience, but there are no real reasons to believe that these items should go the extra mile to represent vitality. Occam’s razor is not merciful here. For instance, increase, or fertility, simply represents or equates, in one sense, the ability (and expression of the ability) to procreate. Nothing more. What justifications do we have to multiply entities beyond necessity by claiming that fertility implies a show of vitality beyond equating the expression of the ability to procreate? Proponents of the liveliness view have yet to provide an answer to this point.

But there is still one possible move for friends of the vitalist view to make. This involves appeals to physics where energy is considered a sort of non-physical fundamental property of reality, which can neither be created nor destroyed and is transferable from one entity to another in one form (potential, electrical, kinetic, etc.) or the other. It is this energy that drives the human being, even down to the cellular level, and the extreme diminution of this energy could imply death or a different form of being that might be different from the mode of existence that is typical of a healthy and living person. It may very well be the case that this move is viable, and we do not explore it in detail, but the question that remains is whether such a move truly portrays a vision of vitality that equates to the original traditional vision of vitality that the anonymous traditional African philosophers of the Bantu school of thought supposedly had long ago. It is unlikely. However, contemporary African philosophers might find this move plausible and a consideration for future research.

9 Critiquing the Naturalist View

Metz offers a couple of interesting critiques against the vitalist view that proponents of the theory ought to respond to convincingly. His critiques can be summarised or categorised into two main strands – the knowledge critique and the progress critique.

In the first instance, Metz notes that the vitalist theory of meaning fails to account for the sort of meaninglessness (or even anti-meaning) that comes with incorrectly relying on a false belief or the meaningfulness that comes with discovering some novel fact for its own sake. The failure arises from the fact that the augmentation or diminution of vital force does not lie squarely on the possession of knowledge for its own sake or the harbouring of false beliefs. Metz notes:

In other words, if it were ever the case that some knowledge was false but believed to be true, or that some knowledge had no practical relevance it would seem that the vitalist view would have no explanation as to why possessing such knowledge/beliefs (say believing in the Flying Spaghetti Monster God), in itself, is something that undermines vitality/meaning (when our intuitions tells us that it does). Of course, one could bite the bullet and insist that truth is not relevant for meaning and that the relevant feelings of esteem and admiration (for instance), or the appeal of a religious life as an end that is worth pursuing for its sake, might just be enough. But, as Metz notes, such claims are counterintuitive and may lead one towards a dangerous slippery slope.

Perhaps there is another way out. One assumption that Metz’s argument makes is the assumption that only one activity or event (belief in a false God) is the direct and only cause of the effect of an increase in vitality/meaning. But is this really the case? Notice that though the foundational belief is false, and may very well have a negative impact on the life force of the believer, that negative impact may well be overwhelmed by the performance of other activities that are in themselves positive. Suppose that in the community of believers of the flying spaghetti monster, there is a great sense of brotherhood, mutual sharing, love, faith in something, and so on. These activities, on their own, can plausibly increase one’s vitality despite whatever decrease might arise from the initial false belief. In this way, it is not that the false belief fails to decrease vitality; it is that other factors/activities increase the individual’s vitality beyond the decrease in vitality caused by the false belief. Even the courage to have conviction in one’s belief is something that might increase one’s vitality, regardless of whether one is holding a false belief or not, and whether that belief decreases or increases one’s vitality. It is the same way that certain heroic acts during the Second Gulf War were meaningful, even though it may be true that the war itself was fought on the basis of a lie (that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction).

In any case, Metz furthers his critique by pointing out that the vitalist viewpoint cannot properly account for the intuition that there is something more meaningful and/or valuable about, say, Darwin’s discovery of evolution than there is about knowing the number of craters on the moon.

In relation to the ‘progress’ arguments, Metz says the following:

Notice what is at stake here. For Metz, the vitalist view cannot show why novelty, in itself, is worthy of admiration, or why it is an end worth pursuing for its own sake. The vitalist cause would be something like one’s creative power, which allows one to produce the necessary knowledge – but this cause is not the bearer of meaning. If we imagine that a hermit, X, in 2024, discovered, on her own, that the earth revolved around the sun, such an individual would have produced knowledge with her creative power, but it would not be as much of a meaningful contribution to knowledge as Copernicus’ contribution of the same kind, which was produced centuries ago.

To respond to this view, one route to go would be to admit that meaning, as per the vitalist view, manifests itself in degrees. But this does not really strike at the heart of Metz’s comment, and it only provides a first step. To respond to Metz’s point, we appeal to Kirk Lougheed’s response to Metz on this issue (Lougheed, Reference Lougheed2023). For Lougheed, in order to decipher what makes novelty meaningful in the vitalist view, one can turn to Metz’s definition of meaning for clues. Earlier, Metz had defined meaning as follows:

For Lougheed, it would be these same variables that would help the vitalist view in deciphering what use of creative power possesses a higher degree of meaning. The argument is that since novel discoveries are inherently worthy of esteem and admiration (since they ultimately lead to unprecedented progress), worth pursuing for their own sake (since knowledge is presumably worth pursuing for its own sake) and inherently transcend our animal nature (in this context, our base use of our cognitive abilities), any product of novelty that is borne from the Godlike property of consciousness, rationality and/or creativity is inherently more meaningful than non- novel knowledge. If a person were able to count and know the number of blades of grass in her backyard, such knowledge would be presumably less meaningful than knowledge about what precisely cures cancer. The novelty of the latter discovery naturally elicits more esteem and admiration (for instance) than the former discovery. Thus, even if one could argue that both pursuits elicit some sort of self-realisation, it could also be true that the sort of self-realisation that comes with the latter example is stronger, for the reasons outlined above.

Concluding his critique, Metz (Reference Metz2020) observes that the vitalist view fails to show how a repetitive life is less meaningful than one that is not a repetitive one – especially when one is unaware of that repetitiveness. This is, admittedly, a difficult point to respond to, but we will say that the problem is by no means peculiar to the vitalist view (and, in fact, generally haunts accounts of life’s meaning). One way that friends of the vitalist view might respond, however, is by claiming that life, even if repetitive, remains meaningful, insofar as that repetitiveness fails to undermine the individual’s vitality in some other way. For instance, if one were to pursue a moment of meaning repetitively in such a way that the discovery of that repetition drains that individual’s creative power or depresses the individual, then that sort of repetitive pursuit eventually undermines vitality (especially if the loss of vitality from depression or the draining of one’s creative power overwhelms whatever gains are achieved by repetitive pursuits). This would also mean that repetitive pursuits that fail to cause a strain, even due to ignorance, would not be meaningless after all, and the vitalist might bite the bullet in this way. Of course, proponents of the vitalist view may, in the future, provide a more robust response to Metz’s view, and these arguments are worth examining.