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06 June 2022 | Story Prof Francis Petersen | Photo Sonia Small
Prof Francis Petersen
Prof Francis Petersen, 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.
It is our harsh South African reality that racially charged incidents, such as the recent incident at Stellenbosch University, can happen at any institution at any time. Disheartening as they may be, they should not detract us from the very real journey towards true transformation and social cohesion that is taking place on South African campuses of higher education.

Along with all the various forms of change and transformation that different sectors in our country have undergone over the past few decades, there has also been a definite shift in the role of public universities. It has evolved from an almost exclusive focus on academics to a more society-focused role. An undeniable and very important part of universities’ mandate in modern-day South Africa is to make a positive difference in the communities we serve. This inevitably includes embracing transformation, inclusivity, and diversity. In short: universities must be microcosms of the kind of community that we want to see in the broader South African context.

Transformation in higher learning 

Since 1994, all university campuses have in one way or another implemented well-designed transformation processes and social cohesion programmes – reflected in their institutional culture, physical environment, and the Academic Project. What we should always bear in mind, though, is that transformation in its very essence can never be a complete process. It can never simply mean changing from one thing into something else, but it is rather an ever-continuing process that requires incessant focus and a resolute acceptance that you will never really arrive at a final destination. What this implies for universities is that – true to our nature – we should always challenge the status quo, question conventional wisdom, always wrestle with complex issues, and never settle. Only by doing this will we achieve perpetual renewal, which is what true transformation boils down to.

Over the years, there has been an important shift at traditionally white universities that runs much deeper than just a superficial change in numbers and racial composition. Black South Africans at these institutions have reached a critical mass, which means they can now more freely express their convictions about their individual lived experiences, and in the process assist in shaping the institutional culture in ways that recognise diversity. And often, certain events can act as triggers for them to express these lived experiences as a collective.

Trigger events that cause us to pause and reflect

In the past, transformation efforts at universities were centred around attempts to absorb, assimilate, and homogenise individuals into the dominant culture, instead of institutions shaping their institutional culture to adapt to their changing student population. The latter approach is far more effective and organic, requiring institutions to not only recognise and embrace diversification, but also to respond and adapt to it. Undesirable incidents or phenomena, whether in the form of acts of racism, gender-based violence, bullying, or any form of othering or intolerance then become triggers that should make us pause and reflect on where we are in our journey towards transformation, and whether we need to adapt in any area or in any way.  

I want to differ from observers who feel that the Stellenbosch urinating incident is not worth spending any time or discussion on. I believe it is vital that we understand these ‘triggers’, because it is in the process of grappling with it as a university society – in those sometimes-uncomfortable conversations that challenge us on so many levels – that true transformation occurs.  

Former trigger events at the UFS

A distressing trigger event in our own university’s history was in 2016, when white rugby spectators attacked a group of black protestors at the UFS. What made this particularly painful was that it happened almost a decade after the notorious Reitz video incident, when a racially offensive, humiliating student video made in response to the university’s residence integration policies at the time, surfaced. The Shimla Park incident was an immense disillusionment for the university leadership, as it flew in the face of the great strides made towards social cohesion in the preceding eight years. It was a stark reminder that transformation will always be a ‘moving towards’, as opposed to an ‘arrival at’. True transformation is a process that requires a constant listening to diverse student and staff voices from all angles, an unrelenting focus on visible leadership, constant interaction with the diverse groups that make up a campus community, which is then consistently translated into action and institutional reform. 

It also requires a continuous creation of spaces where students and staff can express themselves without fear. It is vital that platforms are created in different parts of an institution where diverse voices can be heard. And it is equally vital that we listen to these voices, and that intensive discourse be followed up with real action, ultimately shaping the institutional culture. It requires that we use these painful trigger events as moments to pause and reflect on our transformation journey. What is imperative, is that the entire institution should be involved in this reflection process – not only the policy drafters or those who specifically deal with social cohesion. 
 
Youth Month – an opportunity to assess involvement

Youth Month gives us the opportunity to consider just how well we are listening to the voices of young South Africans – specifically in our higher education sector. We need the youth to speak out, and to take up the positions that institutions of learning have created for student representation in their leadership structures as an important part of the transformation process. We also need them to respond in a very circumspect and mature way to the trigger events that challenge our transformational journey. They should expose and denounce them in no uncertain terms, but guard against triggering similar actions in the process, which will only lead to further polarisation and discord. Instead, they should treat trigger events as opportunities to pause and reflect on how they can become part of the journey towards solutions.

Trigger events don’t define individuals or institutions

There are numerous challenges facing universities countrywide: racism, gender-based violence, xenophobia, mental health challenges, intolerance, and many more. Try as we might, we cannot always prevent these challenges from ‘breaching our defences’.  And when they do, we need to draw on all sectors of our university community to come to terms with it as an institution and devise a strategy going forward. It is in this process that we make progress on our journey towards true social cohesion.

I recently came across this very apt description relating to mental health – which is one of those issues we need to continuously and openly address on our campuses:  

“Mental health problems don’t define who you are. They are something you experience. You walk in the rain and you feel the rain, but you are not the rain.” 

In the same way, trigger events that happen in our university spaces are issues that we have to deal with, talk about, address, and learn from. They are part of our students’ lived experience and should therefore shape our institutional journeys. But they do not define, limit, or reflect who and what we are. Or what we may become. 

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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