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23 July 2024 Photo Barend Nagel
Nhlanhla Simelane
Nhlanhla Simelane is a second-year Language Practice student, majoring in South African Sign Language. He is also a former Chairperson of Signals – a student association that is aimed at promoting SASL and Deaf awareness.

Opinion article by Nhlanhla Simelane, Student Assistant: South African Sign Language and Deaf Studies, Faculty: The Humanities, University of the Free State.

It has been a year since the president signed off on the amendment bill to include South African Sign Language (SASL) as one of the country’s official languages. And one may wonder, what has changed since then? After all, many individuals and organisations, including the Deaf Federation of South Africa (DeafSA), the National Institute for the Deaf (NID), and Deaf rights activists from the Deaf community, believed that official recognition of sign language would lead to significant developments for SASL and the Deaf community.

Since then, SASL has mostly benefited from exposure from the SASL Indabas that PanSALB held on 9-10 March 2023 and another one on the 1-2 February this year. These Indabas were aimed at “discussing the standardisation of SASL and mapping a way forward”. They included several stakeholders, including our very own institution. They also had an impact on the development of SASL in various institutions, including UNISA and University of Cape Town (UCT), and it is hoped that this influence will extend to other institutions.

However, one must not overlook the fact that despite being a minority language, SASL already enjoyed significant language rights. For example, the South African Schools Act recognised it as an official language in 1996. The Use of Official Languages Act of 2012 provided another benefit that was not even enjoyed by the other 11 official languages; with this act, state entities had to establish a language policy outlining the use of official languages for public communication, specifically if a member of the public chose SASL as their preferred language. It also benefited from protection under the South African Sign Language Charter, launched by the SASL NLB (National Language Board) in 2020, roughly three years before it became official. Even Prof Theodorus du Plessis, Professor Emeritus in the Department of South African Sign Language and Deaf Studies, University of the Free State (UFS), in a previous opinion article, mentioned that there would be little to gain from officially recognising SASL, aside from the added symbolism associated with such a move. As a matter of fact, SASL had more to lose than gain due to its official recognition, as you will learn later in the article.

A human rights level

On a human rights level, which is more relevant to those living with hearing impairments in the country, the officialisation of SASL still had no significant effect on any of their human rights. This is simply because these persons already enjoyed their rights. However, what the officialisation cost the Deaf community* is the privilege as mentioned earlier that the Use of Official Languages Act of 2012 provided – users of SASL having the right to choose SASL as their language of interaction with the state – the very one that official languages do not enjoy. This is thus a disadvantage to the Deaf community, considering that they already suffer from a lack of interpreters in the county. An article by Nicky Bezuidenhout early this year highlighted that there is a “lack of access to crucial services like healthcare and justice due to a shortage of qualified South African Sign Language (SASL) interpreters”. Therefore, many Deaf people rely on untrained or unqualified individuals and mostly even family members to act as interpreters. This was mostly the case in my life, being a CODA (Child of a Deaf Adult) and having to interpret for my parents. And besides my proficiency in SASL, there was still the matter of a breach of confidentiality. This is a common problem for many people. Therefore, more SASL interpreters (SASLi) are needed. Additionally, it is up to everyone to take it upon themselves to learn SASL through the various provisions that are available today.

More development for SASL as a language

Thankfully, the UFS, among a few other institutions such as the Wits University, North-West University as well as the Durban University of Technology, makes such a provision through its SASL short course. Another way to learn is through mobile applications such as DEAFinition and the NID SASL Dictionary. The previous platforms also offer inexpensive online courses. This way, one can be equipped with SASL fundamentals to at least be able to hold a conversation without the need for an interpreter. Furthermore, we can only anticipate that since SASL is officially recognised, it will become more accessible in higher education institutions, as mentioned earlier, and will be included in the South African school curriculum, particularly for mainstream schools. As a result, more people will have the opportunity to learn SASL. Moreover, we can expect to see an increase in the number of qualified teachers with not only teaching skills but also proficiency in SASL.

Nonetheless, it has only been a year and matters regarding language plans and policies often require a great amount of resources, with time being the greatest of all. We can only hope that its officialisation has indeed led to the cultural acceptance of SASL and the relevant community, promoting substantive equality, and preventing unfair discrimination based on disability. But more importantly, we hope that this is not the end of the road for SASL in terms of its development as a language.

*Footnote: It is important to make a distinction between deaf people who are deaf but do not identify as part of the Deaf community and do not use SASL (who are referred to with a lowercase “d’’), and those who are deaf and are part of the Deaf community, making use of SASL as their first language (who are referred to using a capitalised ‘D’).

• Nhlanhla Simelane is a second-year Language Practice student, majoring in South African Sign Language. He is also a former Chairperson of Signals – a student association that is aimed at promoting SASL and Deaf awareness.

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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