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06 February 2020 | Story Michelle Nöthling | Photo Johan Roux
Symposium bridges the gap between students, staff, and management
Students from the UFS, UCLA and VUA shared on their collective experience within higher education at the colloquium.

The Unit for Institutional Change and Social Justice at the University of the Free State (UFS) united with the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), and the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam (VUA) on the Bloemfontein Campus in a symposium discussing ‘Fragility and Resilience: Facets, Features and (Trans)Formations in Higher Education’. “It is really the only conference that brings together support staff, academic staff, students, and upper administration management, which includes vice-chancellors, rectors, presidents, and provosts,” said Dr Dionne van Reenen, Senior Researcher in the Unit for Institutional Change and Social Justice, and convener of the event.

Dr Van Reenen further explained that, when it comes to matters such as policy changes, contact between these various groups at a university is crucial. In general, upper management has very little contact with students. Students would rather approach academic staff. In turn, academic staff members are often reluctant to approach support staff, since support staff are already burdened with administrative tasks. But, Dr Van Reenen continued, all these stakeholders actually need to move closer to each other, since the Academic Project goal is the same: delivering excellent-quality graduates and producing new knowledge. With this in mind, the symposium programme specifically included panel presentations and discussions by academic as well as support staff and students. What emanated from these discussions was a rich variety of topics speaking to various aspects of fragility and resilience. The following are only a few excerpts from these engaging dialogues. 

Using counter-stories to narrate fragilities and resilience in higher education institutions in South Africa

Dr Fumane Khanare, Dr Ntombizandile Gcelu, and Pearl Larey – all three academic staff members in the UFS School of Education Studies, and Lihle Ndlovu, Head of Department for Business Studies at the uMfolozi TVET College – use narratives to interrogate fragility and resilience among black women in higher education. They wanted to go beyond surface conversations about how each was doing and decided to use critical race theory to question even their own stories through collaborative learning. They share, listen, question, and reflect, and as a result, create new narratives through counter-stories. “We are trying to explore our narratives,” Dr Khanare said, “not only as the outsiders, but as the insiders as well. From our background, we cannot ignore that we came here full of potential, but full of fragilities as well.” 

The ambiguity of change: The stories that South African student narratives tell 
Continuing the exploration of narratives, Dr Frans Kamsteeg from the Department of Sciences at VUA shared his research among students of the UFS who were part of the Leadership for Change programme. The programme, that came to an end in 2016, took UFS students through a process of leadership courses and training and included a trip to one of the external participating foreign universities. Dr Kamsteeg subsequently received several groups at the VUA and became interested in how these students engage in transformation processes at the UFS. Presenting seven vignettes of students’ narratives, Dr Kamsteeg revealed a tapestry of multivocality and fragility, and a meandering path of self-identity and transformation. “They learned a lot about academic citizenship and becoming responsible citizens,” Dr Kamsteeg added.

Keeping up with changing times: Student leaders, resilience, fragility, and professional development

Dr Marguerite Muller, Pulane Malefane, and Liezl Dick were all residence heads at the UFS. During the #FeesMustFall period, they realised that the role of student leaders had begun to change. They saw how these roles evolved and became interested in how student leaders became stakeholders and decision makers at the UFS. An interesting outcome from the arts-based research was that in the individual drawing exercise – in which students had to represent their lives as a winding river – fragility did not feature at all. Instead, the student leaders chose to depict sources of challenges and support, and how these factors built resilience. However, in the group exercise where students had to stage a puppet show, the stories revealed clear areas of fragility. Essentially, the students were willing to show fragility as long as they were fragile with others. “What we learned was that it is really important for student leaders to understand the complexity of their roles. Student leaders also need to learn and understand that it is okay to fail, that you need to grow and need to change, and that fragility in this sense is not necessarily a weakness,” Dr Muller concluded.

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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