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15 June 2021 | Story Nombulelo Shange | Photo Supplied
A head and sholder photograph of Nombulelo Shange in front of the UFS Main Building.
Nombulelo Shange, lecturer in the Department of Sociology, says South Africa has betrayed the dreams of the youth of 1976.

Opinion article by Nombulelo Shange, lecturer in the Department of Sociology, University of the Free State.

 

Recent Stats SA statistics that put youth unemployment at 63.30% have recently re-ignited fees must fall protests because parents are feeling the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. Many have lost their jobs and are struggling even harder to support their children’s education and the growing costs of service delivery. These are all examples of our society’s failure to realise the hopes and dreams of the youth of 1976 who sacrificed their lives so today’s youth would not have to. The news of the Johannesburg Stock Exchange market recovering is also another example of how we have betrayed the youth who are still suffering from the socio-economic blow caused by the COVID-19 lockdown, it shows a society more concerned with capital gain over the wellbeing of the youth. When young people protest or challenge society’s contradictions they are accused of being unreasonable and spoilt and told they do not understand the economic complexities of service delivery and resource redistribution. They retreat and watch as the markets thrive in the midst of a pandemic that has exacerbated their struggles. They get painted as rude, entitled, and ungrateful when the truth is they have been more patient than anyone else

 

The youth of today is just as capable

While society undermines the youth, we forget they were victorious against the oppressive apartheid regime. They created the conditions for the freedoms we enjoy. Today’s youth is just as capable, if not more so. They show their resilience and resourcefulness by surviving in an uncaring society that is riddled with inequality and poverty. Just like the brave young people who challenged apartheid, today’s youth has it within them to address the hangover from apartheid suffered by South Africa and made worse by COVID-19. Political uprisings like the Arab Spring, which later influenced the rise of Occupy Wall Street, were sparked by smaller injustices than what the South African youth are faced with today. But our youth are still waiting patiently in the hope that our leaders will one day eventually show up for them.

The Arab Spring protests started in Tunisia in 2011, after Mohamed Bouazizi set himself on fire as a reaction to growing unemployment, corruption and poverty in Tunisia. The protests quickly spread all over the Arab world and eventually sparked global discussion and protests. At the time the Arab Spring took shape, unemployment sat at between 13.05% and 18.33% in Tunisia. South Africa’s unemployment by comparison is soaring at 32.6% and creating the most unequal country in the world, with the widest gap between the rich and the poor.

The unwillingness to address these issues disempowers the youth and society as a whole, by extension. The material conditions of the youth have been threatened. We place a lot of importance on who we are based on what we have materially. So when we don’t have we start to question ourselves, to the point of questioning our existence and sense of belonging. We see this lack of material possession as a representation of our incompleteness. And I believe that is what the pandemic has done to the youth.

 

Incompleteness in relation to blackness

In many ways it has made us feel incomplete and has added further tensions and stress to issues the youth have always been concerned with – these are problems such as access to education, healthcare, employment opportunities and the existence of systems and structures that can build their general well-being.

Bantu Biko has had a discussion around completeness which helped us to further understand the Marxist material discourse in relation to our colonial and apartheid history. Biko talks about incompleteness or the feeling of incompleteness in relation to blackness. He says when black people, especially black youth, explore their surroundings they see a lack, they see incompleteness. They look around, see their streets and find them inadequate. They look at their schools and find they are incomplete. They look around and see their homes which are often inadequate, and look at their playgrounds which are in poor condition.

As they gradually move out of their neighbourhoods, they see a shift when they enter white neighbourhoods. Suddenly the schools are beautiful, ivory towers of knowledge. People’s homes are beautiful and welcoming. Playgrounds are well-looked-after with resources that you don’t find in black communities. Even the way that structures and systems function is efficient.

What then happens is that the black individual, black community and the black youth, by extension, conclude that blackness is incomplete. If our schools, homes, streets, playgrounds, hospitals and the structures in our communities are not functioning as they should. Then something is wrong with them. And by extension because the structures belong to us, then there is something wrong or incomplete with blackness.

Well-run, well-functioning, complete and adequate white neighbourhoods and systems lead one to conclude that whiteness is associated with goodness and completeness. When we start to question our completeness we are questioning our humanity, sense of belonging and our very existence. This is dangerous. I think this is one of the biggest challenges for the youth and is reinforced by our colonial and apartheid history and a failed revolution that has done little to address socio-economic issues.

 

The youth have always led the struggle

Any revolutionary action throughout history and across the world has always had the youth at the heart of the struggle, leading that struggle. This also includes our own apartheid struggle, not just the Soweto uprising of 1976. When the apartheid system had dealt with the elders and leaders of the revolution by imprisoning them, killing them and banishing them into exile, the youth were left behind to ensure the victory of the revolution. Even the Arab Spring protests were led by the youth. The current discourse on the climate crisis is being championed by the youth while sluggish ageing leaders debate whether a crisis even exists. If we are to be victorious over the struggles caused by COVID-19, youth empowerment and engagement should be at the centre of these interventions. Youth leadership in all industries and structures is crucial. Support of youth innovations and entrepreneurship will not only end poverty, but has the potential to launch South Africa into the continent and beyond.

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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