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22 September 2021 | Story Prof Francis Petersen | Photo Sonia Small (Kaleidoscope Studios)
Prof Francis Petersen is Rector and Vice-Chancellor of the University of the Free State.

Opinion article by Prof Francis Petersen, Rector and Vice-Chancellor of the University of the Free State.


South Africa is in trouble. No matter what your political or ethical persuasion – this much is abundantly clear. And if some of the opinions expressed lately by prominent economists are anything to go by, many are losing faith in whether we can still turn around a downward economic trajectory. 

 

But before we make up our minds either way, it is important to first face a truth that lies at the core of it all:  It is impossible to build a thriving economy on the back of a divided society. This makes societal reform a logical departure point for any economic relief efforts.  

And here the higher education sector has a definite and vital role to play.

On the battlefield of unexpected calamities, the South African economy can be compared to a soldier who has taken too many hits.  First, the devastating impact on so many sectors of our society caused by COVID-19 lockdowns and restrictions; followed by the question over misspent or missing pandemic support funds; and then the final agonising blow – the looting and destruction in Gauteng and KwaZulu-Natal in July, leaving a gaping hole of around 50 billion rand in damages

Equally heart-breaking and disconcerting as the physical damages and loss of life, is the damage caused to our nation’s psyche, with racist and classist fault lines reappearing, fuelled by the divisive rhetoric of unscrupulous leaders.
Looming ominously over this crowded battlefield, are the murky clouds of corruption at the highest level and of the most disturbing kind, which have been systematically and painfully laid bare by the Zondo Commission over the past three years.

We truly find ourselves at a very low point as a nation. Financially, morally, and mentally.

And, like all other sectors of society, higher education needs to ask itself what it can do – if anything – to help fix what is broken. 

Changing role of universities

Universities used to have a rather narrow focus on education and the creation of new knowledge. This role has, however, evolved considerably over the past decade or two. Their function nowadays is very much a societal one, where the focus on using skills and knowledge to make a real difference in the societies they serve and draw their students from – the engaged university.  

Let’s be clear: Higher education cannot solve poverty and inequality. That is the domain of government, which needs to ensure that appropriate policies are in place that will constructively stimulate investment and assistance from the private sector and industry.

The higher education sector needs to focus on its strengths. And that is to do research; to offer advice and come up with possible solutions; to educate and to provide skills that will help uplift individuals, families, and communities.

In short: universities need to deliver graduates who will ultimately build a better society, and through engaged scholarship change the lives of people. 

What has become abundantly clear, though, is that education alone is not enough. The corruption implications and moral dilemmas that many of our highly qualified politicians and leaders are embroiled in, prove that more is needed than just academic aptitude. 

The purpose of universities should therefore not only be to deliver good workers or thinkers. Universities need to deliver good citizens. Citizens that possess unshakeable values and ethics, enabling them to become good leaders.

During a recent 2021 University of the Free State Thought-Leader webinar titled Is South Africa falling apart – where to from here? panellists stated that the role of universities is to create a culture of active citizenry, to play a part in the holistic transformation of society, to ensure the sharing of research and discoveries, and to ensure inclusive academic excellence. These are no small feats and something higher education institutions should strive for.  

Creating a new generation of leaders

While young people spend time on university campuses, it is vital that – along with academic knowledge – universities educate them about the norms and values that form the bedrock of a healthy, thriving society. Not only teaching these values of social justice, respect, tolerance, and care – but also demonstrating how they find practical application.   
Universities should be microcosms of an ideal society, where respect for human rights and diversity, equality, and care underpin all our policies, communication, and interactions.

Universities should consistently use discourse platforms to promote these values and to speak out against things that threaten them, such as corruption, injustice, and prejudice in any form.

But once again, it goes further than that. Not only do we need to teach and encourage our students to speak out. We need to educate them on how to speak out. 

Unfortunately, so many of the student protest actions on our university campuses often fall short in this aspect, as valid concerns and demands are regularly overshadowed by disrespectful rhetoric, accompanied by unwarranted destruction of property and endangering lives. 

Recently, the University of the Free State had the opportunity to host a book launch by Helen Zille, the Federal Council Chairperson of the DA. Among the guests was EFF leader Julius Malema.

Afterwards, some Political Science students remarked how surprised they were to witness the very civil interaction between Zille and Malema – in the light of their very public political spats and differences.

And here lies an important lesson for our young South Africans: that there is a level of maturity that needs to be displayed if we want to take our country forward together. 

We can differ from someone – and passionately express our differences – but retain an atmosphere of tolerance and mutual respect. Our young leaders of tomorrow need to understand that, in the absence of such an atmosphere, reasonable negotiations become impossible, and they run the real risk of thwarting the very cause they are fighting for. 

Interconnectedness of our society

As much as higher education has a clearly defined role, it can only fulfil this role effectively if it is part of a well-functioning, larger system. |

As higher education, government, private sector, and industry, we are interconnected and unable to function properly in isolation.

Universities can, for example, teach young people the value of entrepreneurship and equip them with the necessary skills to contribute to the economy. But without an enabling environment created by government, policies, and commitment, as well as buy-in and support from industry, it all falls apart.

As much as I cannot thrive if my neighbour is suffering, we cannot rebuild our economy if we don’t acknowledge our interdependence and find new, innovative ways to collaborate to move ahead together.  

The age-old principles of ubuntu need to find a renewed, modern application in South Africa today. 

Involving our youth

Whatever form economic rescue efforts take, it must involve the young people of our country. Making decisions that will profoundly influence our youth without involving them in the process, is downright irresponsible. 

We simply cannot afford to alienate our leaders of tomorrow and then expect them to be ready to take over the baton and not repeat the mistakes of their predecessors.

At the University of the Free State, our student participation in university governance structures was at an all-time high of 70% last year. We see this as an important accomplishment – we hope to build on and expand this even further. In most of my dealings with our young leaders of tomorrow, I certainly get the impression that they are keen to make a positive contribution to our country. But they yearn for guidance, encouragement, and opportunities.  

‘Nothing about us without us’, is a slogan used widely in various contexts nowadays, with its roots tracing back to South African disability advocates in the 1980s. It is equally applicable to young people in our current South African predicament.

Our youth needs to be turned from apathy to active involvement. Without them, no economic ‘rescue efforts’ will have long-term sustainability. 

After all: it is their future that is at stake.

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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