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18 March 2022 | Story Dr Chantell Witten | Photo Supplied
Dr Chantell Witten is from the Division Health Science Education, Faculty of Health Sciences, at the University of the Free State

Opinion article by Dr Chantell Witten, Division Health Science Education, Faculty of Health Sciences, University of the Free State (UFS). 
As we count down to Human Rights Day commemorated annually on 21 March, we are acutely aware of the failures of the state to realise and satisfy the human rights enshrined in our Constitution and Bill of Rights, especially for children.
Since the dawn of democracy in South Africa in 1994 the country has struggled with a persistent high level of child malnutrition measured as stunting, when children are too short for their age.  This is not just shortness of height but it is a proxy for compromised health and a risk factor for lower cognitive development, lower education attainment and lower future productivity both in work output and in earning capabilities. Unhealthy children are likely to be our future unhealthy adults and compromised human development.

Protect children from hunger

It is for this reason that all efforts must be explored to protect children from hunger. Since the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic more than two years ago, there have been huge negative impacts on global health and development which are bearing down on the youngest members of the planet, our children. These impacts on children are costing their lives now and well into the future. South Africa has the largest social protection programme for children on the African continent with a child support grant that benefits more than 12 million children under the age of 18 years. On 23 February 2022, Finance Minister Enoch Godongwana announced that the child support grant would increase from R460 to R480 per month as from 1 April. A mere 4% increase, against a year-on-year food and non-alcoholic beverages inflation of 5.5%, rendering the already measly child support grant ineffective to keep hunger at bay, much less to address the nutrition that children need to grow and be healthy. In Section 28 of the Bill of Rights in our Constitution states that “every child has the right to basic nutrition, shelter, health care and social services, as well as the right to be protected from maltreatment, neglect, abuse or degradation”. But the high levels of child malnutrition, almost one in three children are stunted, while one in four households reported child hunger. This is a result of the failure to protect children.

One of South Africa’s leading civil society organisations, the Black Sash, undertook research with the South African Medical Research Council to explore how households receiving the child support grant managed with respect to food procurement and dietary patterns. I was approached to assist with child nutrition data interpretation and policy implications. It was not surprising to find that all 12 households included in this qualitative study were not able to cope or meet their food needs. These households’ food purchasing patterns were insufficient in quantity and in dietary quality. All household members were not able to eat regularly or sufficiently to keep hunger at bay. Even for children, hunger was a norm. Even for a household of a single mother and her five-year-old child, the child support grant was not enough to buy enough food, and other essentials like electricity, toiletries and cleaning materials. This was a huge cause for concern, given the context of COVID and the need to wash hands and surfaces regularly.

Trauma of  caregivers to provide food

The nutrition evaluation of the foods that were purchased was lacking in diversity, nutrient-density and low-quality foods, raising the issue of food safety as well. Poor households dependent on the child support grant, even with multiple grants, was not enough to buy enough food for all the household members. Many adults are forced to go without meals or reduce the amount of food they eat and to rely on food relief efforts like soup kitchens, food packs and food charity. The most heart-wrenching finding is the constant experience of trauma faced by caregivers to provide food for their hungry children. Caregivers expressed feelings of shame and guilt knowing that their children are hungry, for sending their children to ask for food from neighbours and community members. The constant cries for food would drive caregivers to ‘hit the children and send them to bed’. Sleeping is an escape from hunger and having to deal with hunger. These households are under severe psychological strain, re-emphasising that hungry people are angry people. This is not conducive for optimal child care and highlights hunger as a driver of child ‘maltreatment, neglect, abuse or degradation’ as listed in the Bill of Rights.

While caregivers are resourceful in trying to stretch the food budget by buying cheaper, smaller quantities of food products, giving small children many smaller snack foods and taking cash loans to buy foods, these efforts do not shield or protect children from the physical and psychological harm of hunger. A whole-of-society response is needed to create more provision efforts like community out-reach kitchens, food drives and donations, macro-policy initiatives to subsidise food for grant recipients, promotion and support of food gardens and to push government to institute a Basic Income Grant for unemployed persons 18-59 years of age. The child support grant is not enough to protect children from chronic hunger which itself is ‘maltreatment, neglect, abuse or degradation’ as enshrined in the South African Bill of Rights.

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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