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25 May 2020 | Story Dr Nitha Ramnath. | Photo Anja Aucamp
Dr Nitha Ramnath.

While Africa can boast many achievements today, it also faces a myriad of challenges.  With its diverse political and socio-economic landscapes, blend of cultures and traditions, no two countries in the continent are the same. While important advancements have been achieved in many areas, societies are still plagued by discrimination, racism, and inequalities. The multifaceted and complex challenges facing Africa can only be tackled effectively through inclusion. 
The African proverb ‘Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu’ can be translated to mean that to be human is to recognise the humanity of others. The notion of Ubuntu is developed from this proverb when discussing problematic situations and appealing to individuals to be humane and to ensure that human dignity is always at the core of people’s’ actions, thoughts, and deeds when interacting with others. Having Ubuntu is showing care and concern for others, lending a helping hand, and displaying an understanding of the dignity with which human beings ought to be treated – because they are human. Ubuntu is the hallmark of inclusivity, an example of tolerance and solidarity in ordinary life. It denotes brotherhood, neighbourliness, benevolence, human dignity, equal treatment and respect, solidarity, human rights, and tolerance towards outsiders. 

In April 1998, Thabo Mbeki addressed the United Nations University, where he called on Africans to appreciate their importance and equip themselves for development shaped for equal economic activity and good living. With a superior insight into the importance of brotherhood and neighbourliness, premised on African renaissance, Thabo Mbeki warned Africans against intolerance towards outsiders. He said the following:

“I owe my being to the Khoi and the San whose desolate souls haunt the great expanses of the beautiful Cape. I am formed of the migrants who left Europe to find a new home on our native land. Whatever their actions, they remain, still, part of me. In my veins course the blood of the Malay slaves who came from the East. I am the grandchild of the warrior men and women that Hintsa and Sekhukhune led, the patriots that Cetshwayo and Mphephu took to battle, the soldiers Moshoeshoe and Ngunyane taught never to dishonour the cause of freedom. I am the grandchild who sees in the mind’s eye and suffers the suffering of a simple peasant folk…”

“I come of those who were transported from India and China. Being part of all these people, and in the knowledge that none dare contest that assertion, I shall claim that I am an African!” 

However, these wise words and the concept of Ubuntu of Africans, stands in stark contrast to the bout of xenophobic attacks, and the pandemonium of violence recently seen in South Africa.

Despite the many challenges that the South African state is grappling with, it is a known fact that the country continues to offer much-needed economic attraction for most Africans from poor nations. South Africa’s sophisticated economy is an attractive pull force for many Africans, and regardless of the European concerns about Mediterranean migrants from Africa, most of the migration occurs within the African continent itself. 

As such, South Africa has seen a surge in violence in recent years, where African nationals – mainly economic migrants – were exclusively targeted, resulting in the deaths of 12 people in 2019. Mainly from Somalia, Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, thousands of these African foreign nationals found themselves displaced and their shops looted and vandalised. The assumption that people have come to ‘take the jobs’ of South Africans has subjected individuals to xenophobic attacks. 

The violent attacks were soon followed by African refugees and asylum seekers protesting xenophobia and staging months of sit-ins on the streets of Cape Town from September 2019. A makeshift camp quickly grew on the pavements of the city’s main tourist attractions, the Greenmarket Square. Another camp sprung up outside the District Six Museum – with protesters inside the Central Methodist Church on Greenmarket Square and outside the District Six Museum. These protestors were demanding relocation to any other country.

The language of fear and intimidation has become embedded in our national dialogue and has often dominated news headlines locally and globally. President Cyril Ramaphosa emphasised that turning on foreign nationals can never be justified. He said: “We want foreign nationals here to obey the laws of South Africa. They must obey the laws. They must live in accordance with our protocols, laws, and regulations. If they are committing crime, they are criminals like any South African would be a criminal for doing the same thing.”

In response to the violent attacks on foreign nationals, the African Union and African countries have criticised South Africa, threatening economic sanctions. South African embassies were attacked and the South African ambassador to Nigeria was summoned. The attacks saw the withdrawal of the Zambian soccer team from a match and the cancellation of a concert by a Nigerian Afrobeat star – all in protest against the attacks. South African businesses were also under threat. 

In response to the attacks, the government launched a National Action Plan to combat xenophobia, racism, and discrimination, in order to address the widespread human rights abuses arising from xenophobic and gender-based violence and discrimination.

However, the Action Plan has glaring gaps and fails to address the problem of lack of accountability for xenophobic crimes. No convictions have been reported and perpetrators of such violence got away, setting the stage for similar attacks in the future. 

Xenophobia found itself a threat to the idea of the African Renaissance – the ideals of harmony and diversity were suddenly threatened. It seems that South Africans soon forgot about the good old African Ubuntu and its own struggles and attempts to overcome the injustices of the past and its many projects of social cohesion and inclusive nation-building, all premised on the idea of Ubuntu?

We are therefore faced with uncomfortable questions as South Africans – why are we treating people so inhumanely? How is it that 25 years after the first free and fair elections, coupled with our own struggle for human rights and the need to end discrimination, we support the displacement of communities and watch the destruction of the lives of many?  
South Africa has taught the world many lessons about forgiveness and reconciliation. As violent anti-immigrant rhetoric sweeps through Europe and the United States and many other parts of the world, perhaps this is another opportunity for us to teach the world about how hatred emerges and how it can be stopped.

SA stands to gain tremendously from the diverse nature of society, and we need to remind ourselves again of the principle of Ubuntu – our attitude of benevolence and tolerance towards foreigners or strangers before xenophobia.
We need to ask ourselves – how did we fare during the recent xenophobic attacks, and have we done enough to put an end to these atrocities that stand to threaten the very fabric of Ubuntu in the future. Have we allowed xenophobia to dilute Ubuntu?

This article was written by Dr Nitha Ramnath, Deputy Director: Communication and Marketing at the University of the Free State.

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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