Latest News Archive

Please select Category, Year, and then Month to display items
Previous Archive
04 February 2020 | Story Michelle Nöthling | Photo Johan Roux
Fragility read more
The colloquium brought together students, staff and administration to work together on resolving ongoing problems within the higher education sector.

Where does resilience – or the lack thereof – in higher education come from? What does resilience and fragility even mean? These were some of the core issues examined during a recent symposium titled ‘Fragility and Resilience: Facets, Features and (Trans) Formations in Higher Education’. The Unit for Institutional Change and Social Justice hosted the event from 28 to 31 January 2020 on the University of the Free State (UFS) Bloemfontein Campus. The symposium – now in its seventh year – is a collaborative endeavour between the UFS, the University of California, Los Angeless (UCLA), and the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam (VUA) to learn and share knowledge. “The real aim of the symposium is to address diversity and transformation issues from different contexts so that we can compare and contrast and learn best practices,” said Dr Dionne van Reenen, Senior Researcher in the Unit for Institutional Change and Social Justice, and convener of the event. 

Against the Psychologisation of Resilience

In a keynote address, Prof Michalinos Zembylas from the Open University of Cyprus argued against the potential psychologisation of resilience. According to Prof Zembylas, the concept of resilience is often framed as the psychological capacity of the individual to thrive through vulnerability and change. Such a view inevitably places the responsibility for success or failure on the shoulders of the individual and ignores the collusion between systems of oppression and structural inequalities. “The concept of resilience has become part and parcel of neoliberal governmentality – a growing emphasis on autonomous and reflexive individuals who have the capacity to conduct their own risk assessments and pursue their own life opportunities,” Prof Zembylas said. Therefore, within this neoliberalist ideology with its emphasis on the individual, people are led to believe that they need to continually adapt to threats that are essentially out of their control. A resilient person is, in other words, someone who permanently transforms themselves to accommodate the world without the possibility of actually changing that world. 

What impact does this have on higher education? Prof Zembylas noted that a neoliberalist perception of resilience discourages students “from imagining themselves as political agents who could collectively work to challenge harmful or unjust working and life practices”. Although universities use a great variety of tools and interventions to address students’ fragility, these approaches often focus on the vulnerability of the individual. Instead, Prof Zembylas proposed a shift towards an ontology that regards vulnerability as produced by conditions of oppression. A pedagogy of oppression is different from a pedagogy of vulnerability, since “instead of focusing on vulnerabilities, you would rather instil confidence in subjects to say no to abuse of power”.

The nature and role of student hope and meaning in goal setting and life satisfaction

Prof Itumeleng Khumalo, Associate Professor in the Department of Psychology at the UFS, delivered the following day’s keynote address. “Many studies concerned with youth have focused on their fears, worries and anxieties, instead of positive functioning and satisfaction with life,” Prof Khumalo remarked. In contrast, he opted to look at how hope and meaning shape students’ goals for higher education. Focusing on hope and meaning, however, does not deny the fact that South African students, in particular, are faced with substantial challenges. The majority of students enrolling in higher education in South Africa are first-generation entrants. Seventy percent of students do not have a graduate parent, and 45% do not have any family members who graduated. Most of these students are burdened with fears of failing, financial problems, difficulties with accommodation, worries about family members, inadequate knowledge regarding digital technology, and lack of support. 

Despite the above, a study by Prof Khumalo and Dr Angelina Wilson Fadiji showed that 85% of their student sample expected life would get better as a result of their education. The vast majority of students indicated that their main goal was to attain employment and build a career as a result of tertiary education. Students believe that getting an education will afford them opportunities to get ahead in life and enable them to become financially independent. “The perceived linear pathway from education to a better and successful life remains the dominant belief among these students, rendering education an undisputed panacea,” Prof Khumalo said. Ultimately, hope and meaning are sources of direction and motivation, and institutions of higher learning play a crucial role in human capacity development.

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

We use cookies to make interactions with our websites and services easy and meaningful. To better understand how they are used, read more about the UFS cookie policy. By continuing to use this site you are giving us your consent to do this.

Accept