Can You Become a Person?

Imagine your grandmother says something about someone in the neighborhood: “He’s not really a person.” She doesn’t mean he’s a robot or an alien. She means he’s selfish, irresponsible, doesn’t help anyone. He’s human, sure—but in her eyes, he hasn’t earned the title person.

Now imagine a different grandmother says: “Everyone is a person from birth. No one has to earn it. You’re a person even if you’ve done nothing, even if you’re a baby, even if you mess everything up. Being a person isn’t something you achieve—it’s just what you are.”

Which grandmother is right?

This isn’t just a family argument. It’s a real philosophical disagreement, and it’s at the heart of how the Akan people of Ghana think about what it means to be a person. Two leading philosophers, Kwasi Wiredu and Kwame Gyekye, have been arguing about it for decades. And the strange thing is: both of them can point to actual Akan sayings and customs to back up their case.

The Puzzle: Is Personhood Something You Earn?

Here’s the basic idea that started the whole debate. In the Akan language, the word onipa can mean two different things. Sometimes it just means a human being—a member of the biological species. But sometimes it means someone who has reached a special kind of social and moral status. You can be a human without being a person in this second sense.

This might sound weird if you’re used to thinking that “human” and “person” are the same thing. But consider: we already do something like this in English. We say someone is “a real mensch” (a Yiddish word meaning a person of integrity) or “a true human being.” We might say about a cruel person: “They’re not human.” We don’t mean they literally belong to a different species. We mean they’ve failed at something that matters.

The Akan version of this is more systematic. According to Wiredu, personhood comes in degrees. You can have more or less of it. A baby has very little. A wise elder who has raised children, helped the community, and taken on responsibilities has a lot. A selfish person who never helps anyone might have almost none—barely more than a human being with a pulse.

But here’s where it gets tricky. If personhood is something you earn, then what about people who can’t earn it? What about babies? What about people with severe disabilities? What about someone born into terrible circumstances who never gets a fair shot? Do they just… not count as persons?

That’s the worry that bothers Gyekye.

The Two Views

Wiredu’s view: Personhood is like a ladder.

You start at the bottom just by being born human. That gives you basic dignity and basic rights—nobody can kill you for no reason, nobody can starve you. But to become a person in the full sense, you have to climb. You climb by taking responsibility: getting married, raising children well, contributing to community projects, helping your extended family, showing up when someone dies or gets sick. The more you do, the higher you climb. The less you do, the lower you sink—though you can never sink below the basic dignity you had at birth.

Wiredu points to Akan customs that seem to prove his point. When a baby dies, there’s no funeral ceremony. Not because people don’t care—but because the baby hasn’t become enough of a person yet for that kind of send-off. The Akan believe the baby’s soul (okra) gets another chance: it will be reborn and try again. Adults who have lived well, on the other hand, get elaborate funerals. They become ancestors who watch over the living.

Gyekye’s view: Personhood is not a ladder at all.

Gyekye thinks Wiredu is confusing two different things: social status and personhood. Sure, some people get more respect, more fancy titles, bigger funerals. But that’s about social status, not about being more or less of a person. A lazy, selfish person might lose respect—but they don’t lose their personhood. A baby can’t do anything for the community—but the baby is still a person.

Gyekye appeals to a famous idea from the Western philosopher Immanuel Kant: that all human beings have equal moral worth just because they can think and reason. You don’t earn this worth. You don’t lose it by being bad at life. It’s just there, built into being human. For Gyekye, the Akan sayings that sound like personhood is earned (“he’s not a person,” “she’s a real person”) are just colorful ways of talking about character and social standing. They shouldn’t be taken literally.

Who’s Right? Let’s Look at Some Tough Cases

Case 1: The baby.

Both philosophers agree that Akan customs treat babies differently from adults. No funeral for a baby. But they explain it differently.

Wiredu says: The baby hasn’t achieved personhood yet. That’s why no funeral. The baby gets a do-over—reincarnation—to try again.

Gyekye says: The baby is a person. The different treatment is just about social utility. Big funerals are expensive and complicated; they make sense for adults who have built up relationships and obligations, not for babies. It doesn’t mean the baby is less of a person.

Which explanation is more convincing? Wiredu’s seems to fit the Akan belief in reincarnation better. But Gyekye’s avoids what might be an uncomfortable implication: that babies somehow don’t fully count as people.

Case 2: The person with severe mental illness.

Suppose someone in the community starts acting in ways that make no sense—shouting at nothing, unable to take care of themselves, unpredictable. Akan custom says these people get a kind of pass. The community might consult a specialist (a geomancer) to find out if the person is acting from free will or not. If it turns out they’re not in control, the community declares: “It is not her eyes, it is not her head, it is not her mind.” They shift from seeing her as irresponsible to seeing her as non-responsible—not blameworthy.

This is interesting for both views. Wiredu can say: this shows personhood is about the capacity for rational choice. When that capacity breaks down, the person hasn’t exactly lost personhood—but they’ve lost the ability to gain more of it through responsible action. Gyekye can say: the person’s basic status as a person is unchanged; what changes is how we treat them, which is a practical decision, not a judgment about their essence.

Case 3: The person born into a family of thieves.

This is a really hard one. Imagine a kid named Shijuruh, born into a family where everyone is a criminal, in a neighborhood full of criminals. He never had a choice about his circumstances. If personhood is about how much you contribute to the community, Shijuruh starts way behind. Is that fair?

Wiredu has an answer here. He says the criteria for personhood should be relative to where you started. An adult who behaves immaturely is judged differently from a child who behaves that way—because we expect different things from them. So maybe Shijuruh’s path to personhood looks different from someone born into a stable, wealthy family. The community can take his circumstances into account.

But is that really enough? Gyekye would say: the very fact that we’re talking about “paths to personhood” shows that we’re confusing personhood with social success. Shijuruh is a person no matter what. It’s not his personhood that’s at stake—it’s his opportunities and his social standing.

The Deeper Issue: Individual vs. Community

Underneath this whole debate is a bigger question: How much does the community get to decide who you are?

Wiredu’s view seems to say: you are largely defined by your relationships and contributions. Your individuality matters, but it’s shaped by your community. To be a person is to be part of a network of obligations and support.

Gyekye worries this goes too far. He insists that individuals must be able to stand back and judge their own community—to say “this custom is wrong” or “I reject that value.” If the community completely defines you, you lose the ability to criticize it. You become a cog in a machine.

But Wiredu can reply: moral reformers—people who change their society for the better—exist in Akan culture too. They’re the ones who, through reasoning and persuasion, get the community to change. They don’t reject the community entirely; they work within it. And when they succeed, they become ancestors remembered for generations.

So Who Wins?

Neither side has won the argument. Philosophers still debate it. And that might be the most interesting thing about it.

Wiredu’s view captures something real: we do judge people by what they do. We do feel that someone who contributes nothing to others is missing something important. Personhood feels like something you can grow into.

But Gyekye’s view captures something equally real: every human being has value just by being human. We shouldn’t treat babies or people with disabilities as “lesser persons.” There’s something dangerous about a system that says you have to earn your humanity.

Maybe the truth is somewhere in between. Maybe the Akan tradition, with its two levels of personhood (basic human dignity and achieved social personhood), is trying to have it both ways—and maybe that’s okay. Maybe you need both: a floor that protects everyone from being treated as worthless, and a ladder that encourages people to become their best selves.

The argument between Wiredu and Gyekye isn’t just about Akan philosophy. It’s about a question every society faces: How do we balance the value of each individual with the demands of community life? How do we respect everyone equally while also recognizing that some people rise higher than others?

There’s no easy answer. But the fact that smart people have been arguing about it for decades suggests it’s worth thinking about.

Appendix A: Key Terms

Term	What it does in this debate
onipa	The Akan word that can mean either a human being or a person who has achieved social/moral standing
okra	The spiritual core of a human being, given by God; it bestows basic dignity and makes someone human
personhood	The status of being a full person, which may either be something you’re born with or something you achieve
selective reincarnation	The Akan belief that souls who died before achieving full personhood get another chance to live and try again
ancestors	People who achieved full personhood in life and now watch over the living as moral examples

Appendix B: Key People

Kwasi Wiredu — A Ghanaian philosopher who argued that for the Akan, personhood is something you achieve in degrees through responsible action and community contribution.
Kwame Gyekye — Another Ghanaian philosopher who disagreed with Wiredu, arguing that personhood is innate and doesn’t depend on achievements or social status.
Immanuel Kant — An 18th-century German philosopher who believed all rational beings have equal inherent worth; Gyekye draws on his ideas to argue against the “earned personhood” view.

Appendix C: Things to Think About

What would it look like if your school treated personhood as something you earn? Would students who help others get called “real persons” and students who don’t get called “not real persons”? Would that be fair? Would it motivate people to be better, or would it just make some kids feel worthless?
If personhood is something you can have more or less of, is it possible to have zero personhood? What about people in comas? What about people who have done terrible things? Where would you draw the line?
Wiredu says the Akan believe souls of babies who die get reincarnated for another try. Gyekye says that’s best understood as a story that encourages good behavior, not a factual claim. Which way of understanding it feels more honest? Does it matter whether the reincarnation is “real”?
Both philosophers agree that people with mental illness who can’t control their actions shouldn’t be blamed. But they explain why differently. Does the explanation matter, or just the result?

Appendix D: Where This Shows Up

School grading systems — Are grades measuring your “achievement” of some status, or just providing information about skills? Do students with low grades lose status as “good students” but keep their basic worth?
Arguments about immigration and citizenship — Some people think citizenship is something you earn through contribution; others think it’s a basic right. This mirrors the Wiredu/Gyekye debate.
How we treat people with disabilities — Are people with severe cognitive disabilities “lesser persons”? Most people today would say no—but the philosophical reasons for that answer are exactly what Gyekye and Wiredu are arguing about.
Social media “clout” — In a weird way, social media creates its own version of earned personhood: you start with zero followers and “become somebody” through what you post. Does having more followers make you more of a person? Most people would say no, but the way we act sometimes suggests otherwise.