Open letter to Mantashe and Duarte

Open letter to Gwede (Mantashe) and Jessie (Duarte):

What is the lengths to which 'mainstream ANC' will go in countering Lekota's breakaway initiatives?

I address this and other questions as some-one who hails from Kwazulu Natal, and who as a UDF member saw at close range the horrible consequences of political violence. In violence of that kind, both sides lose, even the one that thinks it gained from violence. The latter will face loss or adverse consequences in the longer term.

In violence, people are maimed and die unnecessarily. In addition, the country loses materially and otherwise; destruction is visited on communities and households, and efforts to tackle poverty are set back. Negativity and bitterness – and even the shadows of revenge - are buried deep in the psychological ground. Although many work through it, trauma - spoken and unspoken - dogs communities, activists and leaders; it clouds perspectives and makes some people unable to ever function to their full potential again.

Although the freedom struggle has used non-violent mass action as a primary force, violence also features. Militarism is part of the lived experience of a good number of leaders/activists in the ANC. In addition, as argued before in these blog pages, Fanon's influence hangs over many liberation struggles (although the saga of overthrows, rebel movements and coups at certain points and in some parts of Africa and some other developing countries raises questions about the long term effects of violence). However, strong, principled, visionary and values-based leadership in the ANC has helped to curtail the use of violence in our liberation struggle. They strove to limit violent attacks to installations and physical structures and to prevent it from becoming the main element. In the view of these veteran leaders, violence would be used as retaliation against the repressive violence of the state but would never be lionised and worshipped.

In the current situation of tension between mainstream ANC and dissident groups it is clear there is a great deal of anger and irritation. The question is: How far is the ANC prepared to go in countering the Shikota initiative? This question, since we know the ANC policies and principles, has less to do with whether the party has formally initiated or approved coercive and violent actions. The questions are (a) whether the party will be ambiguous or unambiguous about condemning violence (b) whether the party will claim violence is justified because it was provoked (c) whether the party will look on and say something like 'it's not our business, we can't do anything since it represents local groups reacting to developments as they see fit'.

It is not good enough to blame the other side, and hence to argue that preventing violence is the responsibility of Terror Lekota. Such a response smacks of poor leadership. The ANC should be providing leadership and seizing the moral high ground. We expect nothing less.

Surely, in a case of tension between progressive forces, it is an ideal time to promote non-violence as way of engaging – and as the principle way of building Mzansi. The ANC has made a call to its activists to strongly resist what it calls the ‘renegades’ and to aggressively counter the Lekota’s key messages. It is within its rights to do so.

But we and it should also bear in mind that community members need to work together in future to deal with community issues, advance development and implement programmes to address poverty. Violence, coercion and intimidation, apart from the real danger of loss of life and destabilization, will break the trust that a governing ANC will need to draw on after the election to ensure effective community development. Violence will cause fear in communities and drive ordinary folk away from voting and involvement in political processes – feeding into trends of depoliticisation underway since 1994.

I therefore ask you: Speak out strongly and ambiguously against violence. It is the right thing to do. Through it, you will gain the moral high ground. You will be creating conditions for political participation at community level, and for active citizenship able to assume responsibility and call for accountability. You will be realizing – and affirming – the link between non-violence and development. You will be recognizing the link between local community action based on trust, co-operation and local democratic practice and the achievement of the longer term goal of a better life for all.

Do you agree with the points made in this open letter? What do you think - please comment.

ANC: There is no crisis as far as we are concerned

South Africa's ANC really dislikes the word "crisis". Whether it is the new team in power at party HQ or the old and recently sidelined group, they cannot abide the word.

The party's spokespersons get extremely wound up (and many of the 'troops' too) if there is any reference to crisis, either in relation to internal party issues or with respect to the national political situation.

Of course, while a part of this is excusable as the instinctive reaction of a (or any) political party, one must ask whether the phobia for the word 'crisis' as of way of describing events can be taken to extremes. And when it is taken to such lengths, I must add, it becomes highly humorous. Cartoonists and radio hosts who imagine themselves to be satirists really have a good time.

And so, in the last year, party hacks have expended tremendous energy in hitting back at any suggestion of a 'crisis', in attacking the use of the word and lashing out at those who dare use the term. In hotly disputing the idea of a crisis, party spokespersons often insist that:

• there are 'no divisions'
• the country's constitution has not been violated and is not under any threat
  all actions taken were permissible and within the legal remit of the particular authority figure taking it
• vicious conflict is alternately denied, natural, minor or 'blown out of all proportion'
• all pertinent raised issues are internal matters that should never have been publicly aired in the first place

The most popular line these days is that unless there is a major constitutional issue at stake, there can be no crisis. Put another way: the official definition of a crisis is that the country's highly regarded constitution was being violated or is under threat. Narrowing the definition in this way may start off as 'spin doctoring', but it soon becomes an entrenched way of seeing and analysing developments.

For me, of course, the reality is that there is a leadership crisis in the country. We have not been properly or adequately led for the past year. There is a lack of focus, little sense of direction and "at the top," no one is seizing the initiative on key issues. Seizing the initiative would mean zooming in in a proactive way on an area of major concern to the public, demonstrating listening and engagement, framing the issue from the leadership point of view, giving clear pointers of action (and expected roles in action) and clear motivational calls for sustained unity in responding.

In this regard, the political hubbub post Polokwane, the sharpening of battle axes, the numerous leaks about infighting, the actual internal conflicts, the rumour mill, the provocative noises of certain youth leaders have all taken their toll. Mental bandwidth (at the political level) for critical socio-economic issues appears to severely limited.

Instead, as everyone knows, much attention is on the jostling over (or an intensive process of clarifying) which sub-group or leadership configuration will have dominant influence over the course of events in the country. But the official line has always been that there is no crisis.

Some definitions of crisis emphasise danger and possible catastrophe: they refer to "situations of extreme danger" or an incident that might involve death or injury to people or a tipping point that – if not managed well – leads to catastrophe. There are also less dramatic definitions: those that refer to "a crucial stage" or "turning point" or "an unstable or crucial time or state of affairs in which a decisive change is impending" and a "threat to the ability to carry out mission". JF Kennedy said that "(w)hen written in Chinese, the word 'crisis' is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity".

For my purpose, the real (and only) question is whether there are major problems, issues and dynamics at the national level that require urgent, focused and highest-level attention. Although the word crisis is ordinarily used as a signifier of such, the recognition of such issues and challenges is more important than the semantic games as such.

What we are witnessing is a tussle over language and the use of words. The battle is about who can control the discourse – the media, the opposition party, the commentators, the leaders and/or strategists of key social movements. Whether explicitly or subliminally, these protagonists are keenly aware that she or he who controls the discourse controls the direction of events.

But denial of a crisis or of crises (like the crises that many say we have in the education and health arena) also means denying ourselves the opportunity of galvanising people and building unity. Such unity and popular mobilisation can lead to an effective response that exploits new possibilities or, at the least, to deft management of the crisis.

Those who flatly and automatically deny the existence of crises do not realise that there is no shame in conceding a crisis, just as there is no humiliation in admitting conflict. Crises and conflict represent contestation and contradictions that are necessary to propel a project or process to a new level of thinking. Looked at positively, crisis and conflict can lead to growth as well as to new capacities and knowledge. In South Africa's context, crises and conflict potentially lead to renewed national solidarity, focus, determination and joint resolve among key interest groups to work together to protect our fledgling democracy.

Crisis is a catalyst. Even though it's not advisable to wait to change, a crisis can jolt us into making changes and can prompt us into new ways of functioning in the world.

What is your view? Please add your comment …

Pregs Govender survives political pressures to tell a tale of courage

Love and Courage: A story of insubordination, a book about the life and times of former ANC parliamentarian Pregs Govender, is an important record, filled with insights.

The writing is a cut above Govender’s occasional opinion pieces where flashes of passion and inspiration are frequently offset by stilted and preachy segments. Love and Courage exemplifies a better way to write about ideological issues (such as socialism, feminism and political economy) for the wider public. By telling a story, and by discussing values, principles and vision as they are deployed in events and real-life situations, we give life to concepts and big ideas.

This book is well put together and reveals talented and evocative writing, leavened by a good number of wry observations. It chronicles Govender’s life and the factors that shaped her evolution as parent, feminist and hard-core activist. Growing up in a racially divided Durban, in circumstances ranging from poor to lower middle class, Govender’s teacher parents were a big influence and she imbibed her early political awareness from her father, the inimitable Ronnie Govender, playwright and author of At the Edge and Other Cato Manor Stories.

The task of completing Love and Courage could not have been easy for Govender. The appeal and power of biographical writing lies in the way it interrelates the subjective and the objective, the private and the public - and in the capacity to reveal feelings and personal development alongside discussion of the big issues. But putting oneself in the spotlight is difficult, more so for a high-profile and somewhat controversial figure. Will your approach be defensive, will you be self-deprecating in parts so as to avoid charges that you take yourself too seriously, how will you deal with antagonists (or people close to you who harmed you) who have no chance in the text to reply?

It is all managed pretty well in this book. Govender speaks openly about life and the challenges and hurdles she faced - including problems with her first marriage, its humiliations and the emotionally-taxing fallout. She tellingly conveys the messiness of politics. In her story, there was pain and points of sheer burnout, but she soldiered on in both her work and personal life, all the while enhancing her organizational and leadership capabilities. She has accomplished much and there is a sense that many - in the women’s movement and beyond - regard her as an inspirational figure.

In the book, she comes across as squeaky clean – as one who almost always does the right thing, and never regrets any choices made. But this comes across as bona fide and innocent, rather than deceptive. From what I know of Govender, this is the way she is and how she is viewed by those who know her. There is no doubt that she dedicated her life to the struggle. Govender is strongly value-based in all she does, and when she looks back on various aspects, her orientation is to appreciate what she has learnt from the diverse experiences and the key life stages. In fact, because she is such a “salt of the earth” person, her adversaries in the ANC find that mud does not stick to her – and are frustrated that they can harass and needle, but are never able to deliver a final, vanquishing blow.

From the onset – in fact from the title, which indicates that “insubordination” is part of her identity - the book surfaces the tension between insubordination and adherence to party discipline.

This dilemma may be summed up as follows: Most times your strong convictions fit in well with the party; but at other times you find the collective position weak and ineffectual. Will you speak out? Related questions are: Which battles will you fight to the end, and where will you give in? And what will be the personal cost of taking independent paths based on strong convictions? Govender for the most part solved/managed these tensions through a life that kept the focus on adding value to important political processes. In the latter period as covered in the book, however, she answered it through her withdrawal as an MP and (it would seem) from an active role in party politics. At all stages, there were costs and pressures.

Govender – as she tried to fulfil her parliamentary role - clashed with her party on the arms deal and its approach to HIV/Aids. She also voices a more general gripe: that the democratic government has, in her view, insufficiently prioritised fighting poverty and mistakenly adopted the GEAR macroeconomic policy.

Her experience in the party echoes that of Deputy Minister of Health Madlala-Routledge in Cabinet, where the latter faced huge pressures as a result of expressing herself more clearly and openly than her colleagues on issues such as the right to decent hospital services and the importance of effective rollout of ARVs for people living with Aids. Parties strive to maintain “the line” and are likely to push back when one in their ranks goes against an agreed or officially sanctioned way of handling an issue. This makes striking out alone (if you are unable to change the party’s view) risky and career-limiting. This is the stuff of all parties. For the Govenders and Maldlala-Routledges of the world, there are many factors to weigh up before taking a stand than may offend certain senior Party figures, but it seems the enormity of a national issue is what finally propels such persons to speak out.

Love and Courage, furthermore, gives us an insider’s perspective of the manoeuvring that takes place around policy making. Decisions are based on information, but data and opinion (especially the views of the most influential and powerful) get intermingled until sometimes it is difficult to know which is which. There are party hacks who desire – due to certain agendas at play - a particular end and who make no pretence of engaging with relevant information. Thankfully such “hack” behaviour co-exists with many more instances of sound decisionmaking.

The background role of experts, also with interests and agendas, is woven through all of this.
In many of her roles, and in the light of the gender-related portfolios she often occupied, it can be said that Govender wielded influence rather than power. In some battles her influence won the day, while in others – especially in head-on clashes over direction, strategy and policy choices – formal power trumped influence. This book gives a rare view of life behind the scenes in politics.

On reading this book, her adversaries may be angered - and will probably find in its pages confirmation of their view that she does not meet the requirements of a good and reliable party person. But other people will find in Love and Courage evidence that Govender is a woman of integrity who contributed in distinctive ways to the construction of the new South Africa.

Despite confusion in the political world, a time to build hope

With the arrival of spring 2007, is it not time to encourage and engender a more positive mood among South Africans?

Although calendar demarcation lines such as a "new year" (and decades for that matter) are artificial markers of time, Spring is much more real, grounded in meteorological reality. Maybe we can use nature’s gear change as leverage to spur on the shift in mood as we enter the last four months of the year.

Despite the problems and challenges of developing countries - and ours in particular - how does one contemplate the future without a bucket or two of optimism? Without hope, we remain trapped within the past, and within the limits it imposes. Our thinking becomes narrow and we run low in generosity and openness to others.

Being optimistic is a choice. We can opt to look at things differently. Indeed, we can choose the lens we want; we can decide what must be in the frame. This is applicable as much at a personal level as at the broader level of social awareness.

Of course, any talk of a so-called positive mind, conjures up the image of the motivational speaker, which in turn provokes sniggers among the skeptics. Motivational speakers are renowned for framing their positive outlook in terms of the maxim: you can be whatever you want to be. Of course, you need to make sense of such a sweeping claim: what it really means is that - by shifting one’s perspective and refocusing your energies - you can always do better. Or you might take it to mean that – as I heard one motivational speaker confess – you can be what you want to be, provided that you can build a credible bridge to that goal.

Hope is not just pie in the sky; it is a life-giving force. In her edited book, Hope: new philosophies for change, Sydney-based Mary Zournazi ropes in several leading philosophers to explore the “politics of hope” and “revolutionary hope”. For her, hope is not just “the desire for things to come” but “the drive or energy that embeds us in the world” and makes us a vibrant part of what she calls the ecology of life.

In the current context, where politics momentarily seems rudderless and many politicians appear estranged from their constituencies, being hopeful and optimistic means asking: how can we as a country emerge from this stronger and more aligned with each other in terms of broad national goals. What stance can we take and what actions, responses and comments can we make that would tilt us in such a direction?

The country’s brand statement “Alive With Possibilities” can be instructive here. The core argument in the brand statement is that because of who we are (personality), what we have (attributes) and what we do (capabilities), we offer the world (anyone who engages with use) unique new possibilities. This line of thinking does not entail that we close our eyes to problems, challenges and missed opportunities; what it means is that if we believe in the country and can see what is possible (based on how we overcame the odds in the past), we will work harder to make this democracy better and more effective.

We have many things going for us. Sustained economic growth that raises the possibilities of improving the lot of the many who live in poverty and deprivation. South Africa’s robust constitution that is backed up by key institutions. We are gearing up for a Soccer World Cup that will give visitors a unique experience: the best of soccer coupled with easy-to-reach beaches, game parks, cultural tourism and some of the most scenic spots in the world. We also boast a diverse people with a rich cultural life.

Of course, the skeptics and the cynics who seemingly include large numbers of South Africans, will look at these aspects and argue that they are not enough. Yet at the same time, researchers tell us that many more South Africans feel good about being citizens of Mzansi. According to a report (29 Aug 2007) on the research results of the World Values Survey, 96% of South Africans are proud of their country. And while 5 years ago, 83% of white people viewed themselves as proud of SA, that figure has since jumped to 95%.

The lead researcher, Dr Hennie Kotze, ascribes the good results to “positive socio-economic trends”. The survey also found that, although a substantial number are concerned about crime, South Africans' confidence in state institutions had increased by 11%.

So despite the glum mood on the surface, beneath it all, South Africans clearly recall where they have come from and their basic long term perspective remains good. Let us build on these robust foundations.