This is the second in Glenn Farred's Encounters with Biko. As someone from a younger generation, he engages with holders of the legacy and discusses how, often, memory work is controlled and misused for untoward ends. He uses these encounters to restate the need to go beyond the instances of gatekeeping and seek the essence of Biko's legacy: to continue to resist conditions of oppression and exploitation. By GLENN FARRED
Even the most
casual observer of history will recognise that the monuments and statues built
to immortalise people or events are an act of deception. Monuments and memory
are not the same; they are built precisely to tell us what someone else wants
us to remember and more importantly, what it is they want us to forget.
This deception
is built on the quite incontestable advantage the living have: the dead cannot
speak.
My first year of
high school began with my history teacher initiating the study of the subject
with E H Carr’s “What Is History?”
Throughout those five years my assignments and exam scripts were marked, in red
of course, with a recurrent admonishment: “Nothing is inevitable except death!”
The exasperation
and palpable frustration cannot accurately be conveyed through the word
processor on a laptop. It was scrawled, slightly slanted, ink pressed hard into
the paper, underlined twice sometimes to underscore the point. Between our two
divergent viewpoints we could never agree. We were making history, not merely
studying it. The caution of the teacher cannot tame the courage of the pupil,
no matter how wise that counsel may be. Revolution is for the young and the
young will not be restrained.
And we believed
that what was to be was inevitable because we were the
architects of our own destiny. We would not depart the stage of history as
those before us had done: defeated, exiled or imprisoned. Our historic mission
would end in victory, or as the slogan said, death. We would not retreat and we
would not surrender. We were young…and we were the many. When we commemorated
all those historic days and events back then it held an undertone of criticism
from one generation to the previous ones: their foolishness and foibles would
not be ours.
But History is a
cruel teacher; the lessons, if not learnt, will be taught again.
In 1987, ten
years after the death of Steve Biko at the hands of Apartheid’s thugs, it was
obvious that the event should be marked by some greater effort to celebrate and
salute the memory of this great hero. I found myself on a student body in the
portfolio of “Public Relations Officer”. In truth I thought this portfolio was
some kind of ironic joke. In those days just about every organisation in resistance
to the state found itself proscribed under the State of Emergency laws in force
at the time.
Q: “How exactly does one publically relate the message
of a banned organisation comrades?”
A: “That’s your role. Find a way!”
Of course, one
then had no choice but to “find a way”. As it happened, it was actually
possible, due to a loophole the Apartheid state had not quite gotten around to
closing.
You could use what
was said in court, quote and speak around what was presented or petitioned in the
legal representations in Apartheid’s very own unjust persecutions and trial proceedings.
The opportunity of course depended on the State prosecuting people, which it naturally
did with abandon, sadly for those caught in its dragnet.
This meant
spending an unhealthy amount of time with lawyers and advocates, in part to
coax certain statements out of them for presentation in open court and for use
in the wider public domain.
Advocates Chambers;
Lawyers consulting rooms; Magistrates Courts; Jail cells – these now became
essential spaces of battle. Every opportunity had to be taken to craft the
message, which could then be quoted, legally, with all the limitations that
inherently carried. Finding that line with fastidious legal minds, such as the
late Dullah Omar, could often prove difficult. Lawyers, even though they were comrades,
were still lawyers, sadly.
If this sounds cynical
from today’s vantage point, it has to be placed in the context of the Apartheid
regimes efforts at smashing the mass movement having gone into over-drive, as
the trial of Wynberg Seven,for example,showed us. It was a particularly
hateful, indeed, intentionally cruel display of injustice, done with
purposefulness to frighten ordinary people from resisting or showing sympathy
for those who resisted. Sending children to jail, not as political prisoners,
but into the general prison population was truly evil, even by the Apartheid
regime's admittedly low standards. The heavily-tainted
FW De Klerk’s bloody fingerprints can be found all over this case, as then
Apartheid Minister of Education, he could, if he chose, have intervened for
clemency. If you are not familiar with this lesser-known trial, I would
recommended it for your edification because of the chilling fact that those on
trial were not political activists, but mere children, whose worst crime was
throwing a stone or being in the vicinity of stone-throwing. Think over what
taking a child to prison means and then, if you have ever doubted those who
hate De Klerk, justify how he received a “peace” prize for a lifetime of such
deeds!
Not everything
could be left to “legal loopholes” and every opportunity had to be taken to
resist, mobilise and organise, regardless of the security apparatus or the fear
the Apartheid state wished to spread amongst the people to crush their spirit
and isolate activists. The tenth anniversary of Biko’s death was an event, no
matter the repression, which had to be marked and marked publicly – cowering behind
closed doors would be to give the regime exactly what it wanted and needed. If
they could crush this wave of resistance, as they had before, they could gain a
temporary but significant advantage over the mass movement. They could set the
terms of negotiations from a position of strength; no more nor less than the
terms of our surrender would be demanded, which they would be happy to
negotiate. To hold out, even for a stalemate, was enough to give the masses a
fighting chance in the battles which lay ahead. All this we understood; all
this we knew required sacrifice.
In that moment, I
encountered the typical individual which all great struggles give rise to:
Those-Famous-By-Association! This is a by-product of struggle: people who are present when great moments or events happen; they are not the architects but the
supporting cast. They gain fame and stature disproportionate to their actual
role in events, they gain prestige by association. Once it is safe and the
great storms and tribulations have passed, they claim the mantle and speak in
the voice of the dead. We called these people opportunists, living off the
reflected glory of another’s sacrifice. Today we give them titles and positions
and public acclaim.
In preparing the
Biko 10th Anniversary event, two people stood out as potential
speakers to give testimony about Biko, the man and person. The political
messaging from them was not important - that’s what the comrades on the podium would
do. But for the sake of completeness, surely personal reflections would add
value and insight? Why not bring flesh and bone to memory of the martyr? Each
of these personal associates of Biko were contacted and in a manner of
speaking, encountered.
In an informal setting
I met PC Jones. He was warm, quite open and approachable. If a person can be
“happily scarred” then PC Jones struck me as being exactly that, and in that
contentment, it seemed both unkind and unnecessary to invite him onto a public
stage, with all the potential danger that entailed, to relive his time with
Biko. It seemed wiser to let those on their path of healing to proceed without
public spotlighting. Not every trauma needs public scrutiny and personal
reminiscences are sometimes best left in private spaces.
The other option
was far more high profile, not above gratuitous name-dropping, reminding all
and sundry of her association with Biko. None of this must be taken as an
insult to this person, her personal history, achievements or contributions. She
should, as we all must, be judged on her own merit. It was striking how different her engagement was and is with
the life and legacy of Steve Bantu Biko. Haughty, self-important and arrogant,
the encounter was marked from the off by hostility:
“Who are you? …Do you know who I am? ... What kind of
event is this? … I am far too busy!”
Unfortunately,
my generation lacks the kind of reverence for accidental and incidental people,
heroes and giants of their own imaginings. Attempts at rhetoric will be met
with logic. If you ask a question, expect an answer, exposition and argumentation.
You will not escape reason by fanciful declarations of self-importance. Many
veterans, returning exiles and Robben Islanders found themselves shocked by the
impertinence of young people who would not be silenced by the mere mention of
names or recitations of “struggle credentials”. In those days, we still
believed in accountability, actual accountability, not in words but deeds.
My failed
attempt focused attention on the power of black consciousness and the power of
appropriation. This narrative of the self-made, liberated black achiever is not
Black Consciousness, as those who proclaim it believe. It represents a
fault-line, a chasm, between black consciousness as personal mantra, and Black
Consciousness as political movement. The very notion of “self-liberation”
equating to “my liberation” betrays an anti-Black consciousness.
Because the dead
cannot speak, the masquerading cast of supporting characters continues to
impersonate the real thing. If you believe that Biko intended you to enrich
yourself, attain personal wealth and pronounce on the sorry state of our
people's morals you are quite are quite entitled to do so. What you are not
entitled to, what you must be called out on, is the meaning and intent of Black
Liberation - and your position and role in the achievement or hindrance of it.
This assumed
moral superiority displays a complete disregard for the material conditions of
oppression and exploitation black people endure while you have taken the money
and comfort white people give you. Don’t quibble – if you gained anything by
your efforts you gained those rewards
from someone! Who hands out those rewards? And what did they gain in
return?
Don’t presume to
teach us morals or tell us how to resist. We do not need “psychological”
liberation and lectures on our “dependency on hand-outs”. We exist and resist,
despite, not because of you. You are either part of the problem or you are part
of the solution.
As the poet
said:
“When you are sick
And tired
Of being sick
And tired
Remind the living
That the
Dead
No longer
Remember”
We Speak For Dead
Because We Demand The Right To Live!
Biko Lives!
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