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16 October 2020 | Story Prof Theodore Petrus | Photo Supplied
Prof Theodore Petrus is Associate Professor of Anthropology at the University of the Free State.


The recent events in Senekal in the Eastern Free State have, for the umpteenth time, thrust the related issues of farm murders, racial tension, violent crime, and the responses of political leaders to these issues on the national agenda. The latest outrage was sparked by the murder of farm manager Brendin Horner. On Tuesday 6 October 2020, demonstrators – mostly white farmers – embarked on a violent protest at the Senekal Magistrates’ Court, following the appearance of two suspects for allegedly murdering Mr Horner. According to reports, a gunshot was fired, and a police vehicle was set on fire. 

In response, EFF leader Julius Malema called on his ‘ground forces’ to attend the Senekal trial of the murder accused, scheduled for 16 October 2020, to ‘defend’ state property and democracy. This response has generated a polarised reaction from the public, with some supporting this call, while others criticised Malema for inciting violence and racial division.

This drama is playing out while the country is still reeling from continuing incidents of gender-based violence and violence against children.

Violence in South Africa

This begs the question: Do we have a culture of violence in South Africa?

The concept of culture is often used (and misused) to refer to a range of different things. For some, culture refers to the observable distinctive traits of a particular group or collective, such as dress, food, or technology. For others, it refers to more abstract traits such as language, beliefs, or customs and traditions. For still others, culture refers to an appreciation for human expression in the form of art and music. Culture is all of these things, but it is also more than this. 

Anthropologically, culture is a central concept that helps us to make sense of human social dynamics and behaviour across all times and locations. As such, culture is seen as a complex system that both shapes, and is shaped by, humans within specific contexts. Culture thus has three key characteristics that concern us here. First, culture is shared. Second, culture is learned. Third, culture is symbolic.  

The question of whether or not we are in a culture of violence in South Africa raises further questions about whether we can, or should, speak of a culture of violence in the first place. What can we observe if we analyse this concept in relation to the three characteristics of culture outlined above?

Is violence shared?

As a country, we indeed share a history of violence. We share a history of multiple levels of violence, including structural, political, economic, social, and even cultural violence. We also share in the mass media consumption of violence, be it through movies, television, or even news reports of violence in our society. 

Is violence learned?

A culture survives over time because it is learned by successive generations. Values, beliefs, customs, practices, language, and many other symbols of culture are transferred from generation to generation through enculturation or socialisation. Experiences of violence, whether as perpetrators or victims or both, are inherited by successive generations. This is why we see many examples of history repeating itself in, for example, violent protests, or excessive force by police, or perceived violence inciting rhetoric. None of these are new, as there are various examples throughout our history as a country.   

Does violence have any symbolic significance?

What does violence mean in South African society? What is its symbolic value? Violence has become like a language. It is a form of communicating or expressing a range of negative emotions and attitudes, including anger, frustration, fear, anxiety, intolerance, and disrespect for basic human rights. It is still perceived by many as a valid symbol of resistance and may be justified on this basis. How often do we hear people involved in violent protests saying that “violence is the only language the government understands!” Thus, violence certainly has symbolic value in the South African historical and contemporary context. 

From the above, it could well be argued that, in terms of the three characteristics of culture, there indeed exists a culture of violence in South Africa. 

Addressing the culture of violence 

But what can we do about it?

Perhaps the best way to address the culture of violence, is to start with the successive generations. In any society, if you want to change the culture, you need to start with the youth. Cultural values are more easily shaped and adopted by the youth than by older generations who tend to be more rooted and set in their ways of thinking and behaving. If we want to change the culture of violence, we need to start changing the values, attitudes, and traits that may engender violence among the youth. These changing values then need to be enculturated among the youth in the hope that it will be internalised sufficiently to promote new ways of thinking and behaving.

How do we achieve this? By demonstrating proper leadership and by being the examples that we want our youth to become. We cannot expect to dismantle the culture of violence if we have leaders who, whether intentional or not, are perceived to be promoting the very values that encourage violence and anarchy. We need to demonstrate a willingness to use more productive and constructive ways to resolve differences or conflict, other than resorting to destruction of property or harming others. 

Lastly, it is imperative that we address the structural violence of an enduring social and economic system that continues to victimise and marginalise many. Culture and environment are interlinked. In order to change the culture of violence, we need to change the environment of violence. 

 

Opinion article by Prof Theodore Petrus, Department of Anthropology, University of the Free State .

News Archive

Media: ANC can learn a lesson from Moshoeshoe
2006-05-20


27/05/2006 20:32 - (SA) 
ANC can learn a lesson from Moshoeshoe
ON 2004, the University of the Free State turned 100 years old. As part of its centenary celebrations, the idea of the Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture was mooted as part of another idea: to promote the study of the meaning of Moshoeshoe.

This lecture comes at a critical point in South Africa's still-new democracy. There are indications that the value of public engagement that Moshoeshoe prized highly through his lipitso [community gatherings], and now also a prized feature in our democracy, may be under serious threat. It is for this reason that I would like to dedicate this lecture to all those in our country and elsewhere who daily or weekly, or however frequently, have had the courage to express their considered opinions on pressing matters facing our society. They may be columnists, editors, commentators, artists of all kinds, academics and writers of letters to the editor, non-violent protesters with their placards and cartoonists who put a mirror in front of our eyes.

There is a remarkable story of how Moshoeshoe dealt with Mzilikazi, the aggressor who attacked Thaba Bosiu and failed. So when Mzilikazi retreated from Thaba Bosiu with a bruised ego after failing to take over the mountain, Moshoeshoe, in an unexpected turn of events, sent him cattle to return home bruised but grateful for the generosity of a victorious target of his aggression. At least he would not starve along the way. It was a devastating act of magnanimity which signalled a phenomenal role change.

"If only you had asked," Moshoeshoe seemed to be saying, "I could have given you some cattle. Have them anyway."

It was impossible for Mzilikazi not to have felt ashamed. At the same time, he could still present himself to his people as one who was so feared that even in defeat he was given cattle. At any rate, he never returned.

I look at our situation in South Africa and find that the wisdom of Moshoeshoe's method produced one of the defining moments that led to South Africa's momentous transition to democracy. Part of Nelson Mandela's legacy is precisely this: what I have called counter-intuitive leadership and the immense possibilities it offers for re-imagining whole societies.

A number of events in the past 12 months have made me wonder whether we are faced with a new situation that may have arisen. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and highly committed South Africans across the class, racial and cultural spectrum 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. It must have something to do with an accumulation of events that convey the sense of impending implosion. It is the sense that events are spiralling out of control and no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a handle on things.

I should mention the one event that has dominated the national scene continuously for many months now. It is, of course, the trying events around the recent trial and acquittal of Jacob Zuma. The aftermath continues to dominate the news and public discourse. What, really, have we learnt or are learning from it all? It is probably too early to tell. Yet the drama seems far from over, promising to keep us all without relief, and in a state of anguish. It seems poised to reveal more faultlines in our national life than answers and solutions.

We need a mechanism that will affirm the different positions of the contestants validating their honesty in a way that will give the public confidence that real solutions are possible. It is this kind of openness, which never comes easily, that leads to breakthrough solutions, of the kind Moshoeshoe's wisdom symbolises.

Who will take this courageous step? What is clear is that a complex democracy like South Africa's cannot survive a single authority. Only multiple authorities within a constitutional framework have a real chance. I want to press this matter further.

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 become "the opposition". In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there was no longer a single [overwhelmingly] dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of change. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than ones that seek to prevent it. 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 currently is 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 itself in different articulations of itself, which then contend for social influence.

In this way, the vision never really dies, it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. If the resulting versions are what is called "the opposition" that should not be such a bad thing - unless we want to invent another name for it. The image of flying ants going off to start other similar settlements is not so inappropriate.

I do not wish to suggest that the nuptial flights of the alliance partners are about to occur: only that it is a mark of leadership foresight to anticipate them conceptually. Any political movement that has visions of itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few 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 1990s. 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. It is not a time for repeating old platitudes. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed up to the adoption or our Constitution?

Morena Moshoeshoe faced similarly formative challenges. He seems to have been a great listener. No problem was too insignificant that it could not be addressed. He seems to have networked actively across the spectrum of society. He seems to have kept a close eye on the world beyond Lesotho, forming strong friendships and alliances, weighing his options constantly. He seems to have had patience and forbearance. He had tons of data before him before he could propose the unexpected. He tells us across the years that moments of renewal demand no less.

  • This is an editied version of the inaugural Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture presented by Univeristy of Cape Town vice-chancellor Professor Ndebele at the University of the Free State on Thursday. Perspectives on Leadership Challenges In South Africa

 

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