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19 March 2021 | Story Nombulelo Shange | Photo Andre Damons
Adnombulelo
Nombulelo Shange says this year it is important to look inward, focus on individual healing, growth and reflect on the losses pre- and post-COVID-19.

By Nombulelo Shange, lecturer in the Department of Sociology, University of the Free State

With Human Rights Day nearing it is important to remember the sacrifice of those who lost their lives in the 1960 Sharpeville Massacre in the fight for our freedom. This year I think it is also important to look inward, focus on individual healing, growth and reflect on the losses pre- and post-COVID-19.

The strength and resilience of the Sharpeville community is an important reminder of the hardship we have to overcome; it is an important reminder that we can overcome even this challenge. But on this Human Rights Day our strength lies in our vulnerability and being strong enough to admit we are not okay and ask for help even when societal norms make it hard to do so. Do this without being embarrassed or carry resentment when those we lean on can’t be there because they are also not coping. And for those who give a lot of themselves, it is okay to admit that you have nothing left to give and that you need time to replenish yourself because you can’t bring light into other people’s lives while your own flame is dimming.

The collective cannot be strong when individuals are broken

Many of us were raised in families where communalism, ubuntu and caring for the collective are prioritised over the individual. And to put ourselves and our own wellbeing first feels like a betrayal of these virtues we were brought up with. But I would argue the opposite is true, the collective cannot be strong when it is made up of broken individuals.

Not putting ourselves first would be a betrayal to the same ideals of ubuntu many of us were brought up with. It sounds like a contradiction because we are taught to look at the world in polarised ways and ubuntu ends up being portrayed as a philosophy that puts the masses first and sometimes at the expense of the individual. We see this kind of thinking and application in our own lives where families and communities at times uncritically impose ideas and practices that seemingly benefit the community over individuals. We see it in African discourse that theorises ubuntu and its relevance to traditional and modern spaces, its relevance in human rights discourse, decolonial discourse that broadly calls for “African solutions for African problems”. All of these are important and provide useful analysis, but they sometimes erase the individual.

Individualism is associated with Western imperialism and is rejected and vilified

Individualism is often rejected and vilified because it is associated with Western imperialism that saw the introduction of a greedy capitalist system in Africa that goes against almost every core belief we have. The capitalist system broke our connection to the environment and turned it into a commodity to be exploited for economic gain. It pushed competition and individual wealth over social wellbeing and community. And most importantly it took everything from Africans, our land, language, culture and sense of self. So as we grow and rebuild, it is difficult for us to imagine that these two seemingly contradictory ideals can coexist, where individualism is celebrated and encouraged for the betterment of a collective that will be stronger because it is made up of strong individuals. Instead we polarise, we conclude that if Western imperialism is exploitive and individualism is closely associated with it, then individualism must be bad too. If ubuntu and the collectivist thought around it protected the environment and promoted social wellbeing, then collectivism is good and to question it is to put your own selfish individual needs over the needs of the community and collective human rights.

But if we step away and look at ubuntu beyond our polarised ways of thinking, we see that ubuntu does place a great deal of importance on the individual. The main theoretical tenet of ubuntu says, “Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu”, which translates to “I am because we are”. This expression shows the mutually beneficial coexistence of the individual and the collective. The collective is nothing without the individuals, and if the individuals who make up the collective are weak, the collective will also be weak. Individuals also need the community for their own enrichment, sense of self and overall wellbeing. If individuals are not nurtured and supported by the collective, they will not be able to give back to the collective, and the cycle continues.

It is time for us to focus on healing and introspection

So, what do we do when our collectivism is threatened by a global pandemic that is threatening to topple even the world’s strongest nations? What do we do when we can no longer tap into the collective strength we have built everything on? So much of our way of life is built on this collective strength as Africans, from the monthly stokvel meetings that offer people solutions to the worst socioeconomic challenges, while offering support and strength. Even church spaces are more than just a place to worship. It is here where people discuss the challenges faced by the community and offer whatever they can to address them. Our funerals and weddings do not just bring families together they bring communities together in shared grief or celebration. You do not even have to invite neighbours to events. The moment they see the tents, chairs, animal sacrifice etc arrive, they come days prior to the event to help the family prepare, celebrate, or cry. Even our ritualistic healing practices are not an individual lonely process in the way that Western biomedical models offer healing. At some point or another, the involvement of family and even the community will become important in African healing practices.

COVID-19 has threatened all of this and future environmental and public health crises might test us even more than COVID-19 has. I think this is the time for us to focus on healing and introspection, many of us were broken long before the pandemic hit. We have carried past intergenerational traumas into our present, but we have an opportunity to ensure that we do not carry them into our futures. We have been depleted by systems that seek to erase our entire existence as people of colour, women, LGBT+ communities and people with disabilities. After a while we start to believe that we are not worthy of love, we believe our poverty is a result of our own laziness and discount the fact that we have been starved of opportunities and resources. We stop challenging the abuses of our individual and collective human rights. This forced isolation is an ideal time to reflect on these things, heal and build ourselves as individuals through talking and sharing deep intimate pain with loved ones, trying to be in nature, attempting to “phahla” or mediate. The process will be different for everyone. Our own mental health depends on it and so does part of our ability to access our human rights. The restoration of our strength as communities will also depend on it during COVID-19 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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