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13 March 2024 Photo Sonia Small
Prof Sethulego Matebesi
Prof Sethulego Matebesi is an Associate Professor and Academic Head of Department of Sociology at the University of the Free State.

Opinion article by Prof Sethulego Matebesi, Associate Professor and Academic Head of Department of Sociology, University of the Free State.


There was a time when weekly news coverage of South Africa was dominated by various forms of racism, racial discrimination, xenophobia, and related intolerance incidents that painted a grim picture of respect for human rights

However, in the history of contemporary South Africa there has been plenty of optimism about the prospect of deepening the understanding of human rights in order to entrench a human rights culture among citizens. This optimism is underscored by a range of deliberate actions by the South African government to promote, protect, and monitor the development and observance of human rights through, for example, the South African Human Rights Commission and the Commission for Gender Equality.

Yet, while these institutions – and many other policy instruments to ensure compliance – are central to creating an environment conducive to advancing rights enshrined in the Bill of Rights, citizens also hold significant responsibility to prevent the escalation of discrimination and racial tension. But many of us face an uncomfortable truth we have become accustomed to avoiding: the ability to show unusual restraint in the face of injustice.

The challenge of combating practices that glorify intolerance

Beyond formal political rights, human rights also entail the progressive realisation of the right to the structural social determinants of well-being, such as access to clean water, food, and a healthy environment. However, while the process of social change in South Africa has many unique attributes, the response to the process reflects two extremes.

There are, on the one hand, those who cultivate an image as defenders of the rights of the ‘oppressed’ and are predominantly black activists, and on the other hand, anti-transformation forces who stall the move of the country towards a more inclusive and egalitarian future and are primarily white activists. These activists, whether advancing the reclamation of rights, perpetuate legacies of the past instead of asserting a positive commitment to eradicating socially constructed barriers to equality.

These activists are found everywhere. They are part of our education, religious, political, and social establishments. Reflecting on the painful past of the country, these activists do not help foster diversity as an ethos but advance the conscious and unconscious practices of structural racism. Aided by hyper-personalised social media feeds, these activists can stretch the boundaries of logic and destabilise fragile and established democratic and human rights.

The problem, they claim, is that those who embrace diversity and want to find amicable solutions to longstanding social injustices are either advocates of white supremacy or want to abrogate their right to freedom of expression. In such cases, when people in a hate frenzy find something to hate together, they become bonded. And anything contrary to their beliefs goes into an echo chamber of mockery. 

I do not want to establish a potentially trivialising affinity with branding activists who assert their rights as an attack on human rights. But attention is drawn to instances where noble objectives to confront the tentacles of human rights abuses have been weaponised against what is perceived as ‘the other.’

But how can we navigate this fundamental societal defect? Collective agency to advance the ethos of human rights

After three decades of democracy, attempts to eliminate systematic and institutionalised under-privilege must be welcomed. Likewise, our response to the perceived threats to efforts to enhance diversity as an ethos in public institutions and society matters. In many instances, when subjugated to hatred, hostility, or even violence, there is a tendency to believe that the best approach to such an absurd situation is more absurdity. At its most benign, such a response is not helpful to efforts to embrace diversity. At its weirdest, it garners public sympathy for hate groups and activists.

While there have been concerted efforts internationally and nationally for the progressive realisation of social rights and efforts to strengthen democratic resilience and rights-respecting societies, South Africans have been passing the buck. Rights-respecting citizens have a choice to make. They can continue to pass the buck or help build a culture where everyone achieves their potential and develops into responsible citizens.

I am convinced that beyond formal politics, the attainment of respect for cultural diversity and professing the freedom, equality, and unity of all peoples are contingent upon our collective activism and shared commitments to these values. This collective approach – although some may view it as illusory – is, in fact, our most potent weapon. Reinforcing its commitment strengthens our collective agency and resolve to respect human rights and fundamental freedoms.

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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