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04 June 2020 | Story Prof Hussein Solomon. | Photo Sonia Small
Prof Hussein Solomon.

As young Political Science undergraduate student, phrases such as ‘national security’ made sense. It was the 1980s and the machinations of the Cold War rivals fascinated me. In the national context of apartheid South Africa, the national security management system of former President PW Botha drew my attention. The realpolitik of the time, both global and national, resulted in me avidly reading countless tomes of first-strike capabilities of the nuclear powers and regional destabilisation strategies of the apartheid pariah. 

National security considerations vs lived experiences of ordinary people
With the passing of time, I grew increasingly disillusioned with national security as a suitable fit for contemporary times on account of two reasons. First, national security considerations were far removed from the lived experiences of ordinary people. A US factory worker in Michigan is more concerned about the closure of his local automotive plant than the machinations of Beijing in the South China Sea. National security always reflected the concerns of the elites in their respective societies, as opposed to the bread-and-butter considerations of the vast majority of humanity. In the African context, such elite-driven state security was often purchased at the expense of the human security of ordinary citizens. Here, the guns of the military were often directed at marginalised and hapless citizens, as opposed to being directed at keeping borders safe from a possible foreign invading force. National security therefore needs to be expanded to incorporate the concerns of ordinary citizens. Second, in this rapidly globalising world, insecurity anywhere is a threat to security everywhere. The COVID-19 pandemic illustrates the point well, whether one resides in Wuhan, Milan, Moscow, New York, Sao Paolo or Cape Town. The world is one, and national security needs to be jettisoned in favour of more integrated conceptions of security.

Regional mobilisation
The current locust plague sweeping across East Africa vividly highlights the need for more expanded definitions of security. This locust plague has been labelled by the UN as an “extremely alarming and unprecedented threat”. Currently, Sudan and South Sudan, Ethiopia, Kenya, Somalia, and Uganda are all affected by swarms of locusts travelling at 90 miles per day and eating their own body weight in crops. To put matters into perspective, a swarm of locusts of only one-third of a square mile can eat the same amount of food as 35 000 adults. This undermines food security across the region. To exacerbate matters, the lockdowns as a result of the coronavirus has hampered efforts to eradicate the swarms. Regional governments are overwhelmed, as Helen Adoa, Uganda’s Minister of Agriculture, admitted. This admission highlights the fallacy of national security in a globalising world. Regional governments need effective regional organisations to support their efforts and should partner with international organisations, including the UN Food and Agricultural Organization, civil society, and business, to holistically respond to the threat. I write this paper on Africa Day, 25 May – a day celebrating African solidarity. 

This African solidarity stands in sharp contrast to the realpolitik and insular politics embraced by the concept of national security and its corollary national interest. Sovereignty in defined areas needs to be ceded to regional organisations and global institutions in an effort to craft truly regional and global solutions. No one country can deal with either COVID-19 or swarms of marauding locusts.

An integrated understanding of security 
The origins of the current locust infestation currently overwhelming East Africa also points to the imperative for integrated understandings of security. Climate change has created the ideal breeding ground for the locust population in the Arabian Peninsula to increase by 8 000 percent. A phenomenon known as the Indian Ocean Dipole created unusually dry weather in the east, which resulted in wildfires ravaging Australia. The same phenomenon, however, also created cyclones and flooding in parts of the Arabian Peninsula and Somalia. The resultant moist sand and vegetation proved the ideal conditions in which desert locusts could thrive. Aiding the burgeoning locust populations is the collapsed state authorities in both Yemen and Somalia, ravaged by civil war and fighting Al Shabaab insurgents. As the writ of the ‘governments’ in both Sanaa and Mogadishu hardly goes beyond the capital, neither country can even launch a national response to the locust plague. 

The origins of the swarms of locusts devastating east Africa link climate change, civil war, state authority and capacity, and the COVID-19 pandemic. This stresses the need for holistic solutions which are rooted in expanded and integrated conceptions of security. We cannot afford to work in silos at national, regional, or international level.

Extraordinary times call for more holistic conceptions of security. The Cold War is over, my undergraduate lectures on security are a poor fit to today’s realities. The world stands at a pivotal point, much as it stood following the Thirty Years’ War in Europe and the resultant 1648 Treaty of Westphalia, the 1815 Congress of Vienna following the Napoleonic Wars, and the aftermath of the Second World War. We need to be brave and refashion our security architecture to reflect integrated, global, and human security considerations. 

This article was written by Prof Hussein Solomon, Senior Lecturer in the Department of Political Studies and Governance, and first appeared on Muslims in Africa.

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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