Latest News Archive

Please select Category, Year, and then Month to display items
Previous Archive
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: 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