We can learn much from culture about ourselves and our world. My potted dabbling in movies, books and plays - as opposed to more extensive exposure and enjoyment of what is available -signals considerable gaps in my continuing education.
I have not seen many movies lately, although I managed to catch titles such as Queen and Last King of Scotland. The last major South African movie I viewed was Drum, which focused on life in Johannesburg in the 60s. The place featured in the movie (Sophiatown) is like a frontier town – the rough- and readiness, a definite vibrancy, the urban-rural connections, communities in formation and the co-existence of trust and danger. The apartheid state also contributed to the edginess, what with its raids on shebeens and a variety of controls on the movement of the black population. In the end, the bulldozers won the day as the regime sought to make a white spot out of a residential area it viewed as a black spot.
Being and Afro-phile, I went to the movies anticipating the Last King of Scotland to depress me out of my skull. I expected dead bodies piled high and indeed that was so, but Forrest Whittaker gave a performance that lifted the movie. The film also gave insight into the recruitment, selection and formation of (firstly) a dud leader and a dictator. On display was also the Hollywood technique - par for the course in movies about Africa - of having (for commercial reasons) a white person in a major lead role. In Last King of Scotland, a fictional white medical doctor interprets what happened.
Turning to the theatre front, a past blog entry has referred to the play Dream of the Dog directed by Malcolm Purkey which is still running at Market Theatre. Purkey once told me that he believed the challenge in theatre was to lay down the new paths (moving forward from the rich history of protest theatre). This play sits in the transitional space between the new directions and the old forms. The play also nicely symbolizes Mzansi’s current position, located as it is in the interregnum which involves grappling with past injustice (insufficient closure on the past) while making advances towards a new and fundamentally different future.
I also recently saw Ntsako Mkhabela’s student production Sis Dolly’s Place which played at one of the small theatres at Wits University. The play could have done with a stronger story line. On the other hand, this deficiency gave the play a strongly post-modern flavour and featured some exciting juxtapositions. Sid Dollys Place skillfully conveyed the edginess of Johannesburg: the vibrancy, the seduction (always drawing newcomers, it seems) and those ragged and jagged edges. The play had no discernable lead role, but featured various main characters on an almost equal footing. There’s the procrastinating writer who is dreaming instead of actually writing, there’s a tough cookie of a shebeen owner (Sis Dolly), there’s the depressed person with a large suitcase of letters searching vainly for her husband and there’s a narrator darting/flying around the room declaring undying love for Johannesburg. With a little reshaping and fine-tuning, this play could easily be taken beyond the student scene.
On the literature front: currently on my bedside table is Zachariah Rapola’s The Beginning of Dream. This text fuses instances of magic realism with references to a local world that is all too recognizable. We see the parochial viewpoints of people whose horizons are confined: the petty jealousies, fraught and competitive interactions between women and intergenerational/ interfamily pressures coming into play. But we also see strange things happen and witness the dead engage in dialogue while maneuvering and schlentering - and trying to steer the lives of the living. Happily, "Dream" avoids contrived and the trap of trying to be too clever: Rapola is at ease as he weaves these two worlds together. His is a potent voice.
I am also rereading Oswald Mtshali’s Sounds of a Cowhide Drum and the work of Wopko Jensma’ Sing for the Execution. I am reading them - apart from my enjoyment of their craft – because I am perturbed that these artists and others who were enormously influential in the early eighties (and the preceding decade) are completely unsung in the new South Africa.
Mtshali wrote powerfully about ordinary life, but often with an ironic twist in the tale. In one of his poems, the central character sees a person collapse after being assaulted, the blood flowing “from his nostrils” into the street. The observer averts his gaze and walks on and into a church. When the self-satisfied and now-blessed observer returns from church, a neighbour asks: “Have you heard? They killed your brother?”
Jensma, for his part, marries texts with images, and his striking black and white woodcuts set off explosions of awareness that invigorate consciousnness and perception.
Proving that there is little thematic connection between the books I read, I have also started on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Of course, Harry is no hero or genius; in fact, he is all too frequently helped out of trouble by Hagrid, Dumbledore, Hermione and many guardian spirits. But he is a good soul and takes an implacable stand against the use of magic to harm muggles (us ordinary folk who don’t use magic). It seems that not only is it okay for Westerners like JK Rowling and Shakespeare to write of ghostly happenings – they are often feted for it. But stories with similar supernatural happenings penned from an African perspective are not appreciated and are often viewed as reflecting backwardness. But - what the heck! - the Harry Potter books are making the kids read, and that is an eminently good thing!
I exhort you the reader to access relevant plays, books and films as one of way of learning more about other South Africans, and perhaps about yourself.
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Friday, 3 August 2007
Old Word with New Meanings?
The term ‘native’ has re-entered the SA political debate. This entry is positive – unlike in the past when ‘native’ accompanied a long line of terms such as ‘Bantu’ and ‘Plural’ that were used as the name of the government department charged with the administration of the majority in the black population.
Firstly, the current use of the term ‘native’ is interesting. The word ‘native’ leapt into the public arena through the formation of The Native Club about a year ago.
We all know the meaning of the word as per the Webster’s or Oxford dictionary. Used in its political sense, however, the term originates from the context of the colony and colonisation. It conjures up a graphic image of the coloniser (hard, aloof and frequently patronising) and the locals (exploited in many different ways). Today “native” is often used in tandem with the term “settler”. Sometimes, however, it is deployed interchangeably as referring to the hardships and oppression that arise from the vestiges of colonialism as well as the evils of human subjugation prevalent during imperialism.
There appears to be some link to debates about who can be regarded, I suppose, as true and genuine South Africans, those with a genuine interest and a more legitimate stake in the future of the country.
I believe that when considering who is a South African, we should steer away from essentialist notions. Such notions get you into all kinds of trouble. When trying to categorise people, terms that at first seem clear, after a while – especially at the margins where categories interface – become murky and nebulous. You would be in danger of becoming entangled in problematic debates about genetics, bloodlines and eugenics.
South Africans include:
a) indigenous people, those who can trace their forbears as far back as possible and still place their footprints and fossils in Southern African soil.
b) groups/individuals that have no home in another place, no place else either geographically (or in their consciousness) where they can run to when things become too much for them in Mzanzi.
c) people or individuals who make a commitment to and identify with Mzanzi and its nestling within the region and continent; such a stand means the exercising of an option and a political commitment to Mzanzi.
These categorizations should not be the building blocks of prejudice and intolerance; rather (more positively) they should indicate the deep reservoirs of human experience, insight, perspectives and ways of living that we can draw on as we define our distinctiveness as South Africans into the future.
However, I must ask: how important is it to draw a distinction between being native and non-native as we dialogue about the future of the country and debate each other’s positions?
There is some use or merit to the term being employed in debate. For example, it seems to come into play in the quest to unmask power relations. It is a tool in discussion about how major solidarities develop and sustain themselves. Its use can lead to a deeper discussion and reflection about the motivating forces for change. In this regard, the term can be deployed to indicate persons whose vested interests stand in contrast to those of imperialists. It puts the spotlight on sets of people or organised groups seeking redress against specific cases of historical exploitation.
At another level, the term has little value. Our constitution gives citizenship rights to all South Africans and such rights (which include voting rights) imply that we can all take part in debates about the future of the country. Even the Freedom Charter, which appears to provide the philosophical underpinning for our democracy, states that Mzanzi belongs "to all who live in it".
In terms of these seminal documents, this opening up is much more than a liberal concession; they punt such an inclusive stance as a radical position that is distinct and intentional against a backdrop of historical (in South Africa) and contemporary (many parts of the world) racist exclusivity.
Although the term native has undoubted currency - and appears to be adding spark and vibrancy to political debates - those who use it should bear in mind the following issues:
* The term is weakened to the extent that it overlooks or submerges the class factor. It suggests that persons organized in terms of nationalistic solidarity fundamentally and always share common perspectives. But in today’s South Africa, as COSATU frequently points out, people who have a shared heritage, historical experiences and even common national heroes often have significantly diverging interests and priorities. In the trade union federation’s view, a huge gulf exists between the “native” capitalist mogul that has benefited from affirmative action and the native unskilled worker.
* The term does not bring to the fore gender differences in a meaningful way, nor does it adequately deal with other differences within, for example, the black community. The danger is that those who then aim to articulate the “native” position run the risk of downplaying the diversity of views, and instead put forward monolithic views that in themselves can be stereotypical.
* We should not become so caught up in the use of jargon (or “in” terms understood by a few) that we neglect to explain what we mean. If a term gets used as shorthand, or as a sociological term with specific meaning, it will be helpful if those using such a term continuously explain what the term means. In this way we would ensure wider participation in debates and ensure that discussion of real issues is not undermined by poor hearing and distorted inferences.
* Categorisations are a problem if they paint us into a corner and limit the possibility of forward movement. Once we have completed the classification of who is a native and who is not, or who is an African and who is not, what then? Where do we go from there? As someone who works in social change and transformation, I am perturbed by rigid categories that suggest no change is possible. Even the original communist thinkers that emphasized the primacy of class categorisations conceded the possibility of "class suicide". Thus, whereas in the context of a nationbuilding, terms such as "native" and "settler" help us to openly discuss the legacies of oppression and exploitation; they also lead us to a dead end if the peddlers of such terms close off possibilities of moving forward, of working together on shared priorities, and forging new solidarities based on some shared grasp of past truths and future possibilities.
What is your view as a reader on this issue? Let's widen participation in the debate.
Firstly, the current use of the term ‘native’ is interesting. The word ‘native’ leapt into the public arena through the formation of The Native Club about a year ago.
We all know the meaning of the word as per the Webster’s or Oxford dictionary. Used in its political sense, however, the term originates from the context of the colony and colonisation. It conjures up a graphic image of the coloniser (hard, aloof and frequently patronising) and the locals (exploited in many different ways). Today “native” is often used in tandem with the term “settler”. Sometimes, however, it is deployed interchangeably as referring to the hardships and oppression that arise from the vestiges of colonialism as well as the evils of human subjugation prevalent during imperialism.
There appears to be some link to debates about who can be regarded, I suppose, as true and genuine South Africans, those with a genuine interest and a more legitimate stake in the future of the country.
I believe that when considering who is a South African, we should steer away from essentialist notions. Such notions get you into all kinds of trouble. When trying to categorise people, terms that at first seem clear, after a while – especially at the margins where categories interface – become murky and nebulous. You would be in danger of becoming entangled in problematic debates about genetics, bloodlines and eugenics.
South Africans include:
a) indigenous people, those who can trace their forbears as far back as possible and still place their footprints and fossils in Southern African soil.
b) groups/individuals that have no home in another place, no place else either geographically (or in their consciousness) where they can run to when things become too much for them in Mzanzi.
c) people or individuals who make a commitment to and identify with Mzanzi and its nestling within the region and continent; such a stand means the exercising of an option and a political commitment to Mzanzi.
These categorizations should not be the building blocks of prejudice and intolerance; rather (more positively) they should indicate the deep reservoirs of human experience, insight, perspectives and ways of living that we can draw on as we define our distinctiveness as South Africans into the future.
However, I must ask: how important is it to draw a distinction between being native and non-native as we dialogue about the future of the country and debate each other’s positions?
There is some use or merit to the term being employed in debate. For example, it seems to come into play in the quest to unmask power relations. It is a tool in discussion about how major solidarities develop and sustain themselves. Its use can lead to a deeper discussion and reflection about the motivating forces for change. In this regard, the term can be deployed to indicate persons whose vested interests stand in contrast to those of imperialists. It puts the spotlight on sets of people or organised groups seeking redress against specific cases of historical exploitation.
At another level, the term has little value. Our constitution gives citizenship rights to all South Africans and such rights (which include voting rights) imply that we can all take part in debates about the future of the country. Even the Freedom Charter, which appears to provide the philosophical underpinning for our democracy, states that Mzanzi belongs "to all who live in it".
In terms of these seminal documents, this opening up is much more than a liberal concession; they punt such an inclusive stance as a radical position that is distinct and intentional against a backdrop of historical (in South Africa) and contemporary (many parts of the world) racist exclusivity.
Although the term native has undoubted currency - and appears to be adding spark and vibrancy to political debates - those who use it should bear in mind the following issues:
* The term is weakened to the extent that it overlooks or submerges the class factor. It suggests that persons organized in terms of nationalistic solidarity fundamentally and always share common perspectives. But in today’s South Africa, as COSATU frequently points out, people who have a shared heritage, historical experiences and even common national heroes often have significantly diverging interests and priorities. In the trade union federation’s view, a huge gulf exists between the “native” capitalist mogul that has benefited from affirmative action and the native unskilled worker.
* The term does not bring to the fore gender differences in a meaningful way, nor does it adequately deal with other differences within, for example, the black community. The danger is that those who then aim to articulate the “native” position run the risk of downplaying the diversity of views, and instead put forward monolithic views that in themselves can be stereotypical.
* We should not become so caught up in the use of jargon (or “in” terms understood by a few) that we neglect to explain what we mean. If a term gets used as shorthand, or as a sociological term with specific meaning, it will be helpful if those using such a term continuously explain what the term means. In this way we would ensure wider participation in debates and ensure that discussion of real issues is not undermined by poor hearing and distorted inferences.
* Categorisations are a problem if they paint us into a corner and limit the possibility of forward movement. Once we have completed the classification of who is a native and who is not, or who is an African and who is not, what then? Where do we go from there? As someone who works in social change and transformation, I am perturbed by rigid categories that suggest no change is possible. Even the original communist thinkers that emphasized the primacy of class categorisations conceded the possibility of "class suicide". Thus, whereas in the context of a nationbuilding, terms such as "native" and "settler" help us to openly discuss the legacies of oppression and exploitation; they also lead us to a dead end if the peddlers of such terms close off possibilities of moving forward, of working together on shared priorities, and forging new solidarities based on some shared grasp of past truths and future possibilities.
What is your view as a reader on this issue? Let's widen participation in the debate.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Better to dig up memories than keep them buried, says theatre production
How do we deal with memory and the past? Is it possible to simply bury unresolved issues and move on? And if we dig up the memories, do we get closer to the truth; and how certain can we be that we will then be able to get on with our lives?
These are questions that surface in the political realm, for sure; but they crop up just as easily in human relationships. These issues are probed in Dream of the Dog, playing at the Market Theatre, Johannesburg. The play, written by Craig Higginson, is directed by Malcolm Purkey, a leading voice in the SA theatre world, and features the acting talents of Vanessa Cooke and Mncidisi Shabangu.
Dream of the Dog is a story that is set somewhere at a farmhouse. An old couple and their domestic worker are pulling down the shutters, packing the boxes and preparing to leave the farm for good. A visitor, a former ‘garden boy’ but now “a success,” returns to the farm in search of some answers. He appears to be haunted by an appalling incident that happened many years before and in which someone had died. The visitor, provocatively named Looksmart, is here to confront the lady of the house about this. Although he does not seem entirely sure why he returned after all the years, and what he wants out of this engagement, one gets the sense that he wants to clear the air in some way.
Dream of the Dog is reminiscent of the work of Athol Fugard. It is layered in conversation that variously rises in anger, becomes tension-filled, turns reflective and subsides into a vivid stillness; and so the play leads the audience to a deeper understanding. For the characters, the layers are peeled away until all is bared; there is a movement toward the depths of pain and ultimately, from there, towards some form of awkward acceptance and a gritty calm.
The story unfolds with twists and turns. One person seeks the truth, while another knows what happened but conceals it (and his deceit) behind a curtain of amnesia. The third person, the lady of the house, has seen but neglected clues to the truth but has (until now) not wanted to countenance the possibility of what really took place. She must wrestle with herself; she engages in a dance of justification, regrets, recounting the good things she has done, and eventually faces up to the truth, as terrible as it is.
Dream of the Dog underlines how people have different perceptions of a common event. The hurt or pain a particular person experiences sharpens remembrance of certain aspects rather than others. In the same way, people’s deepest fears shape what they select to recall.
The play emphasizes the centrality of truth-telling which helps forgiveness, but which also forms part of restoration. Truth liberates. It is better to exhume and examine the truth than to keep it buried.
Dream of the Dog demonstrates how those who have been violated or hurt in the past want/need to talk about what they have been through. More than anything else, they want validation. They want to know that the truth of their experience has been acknowledged. The play notes the irony that, in many cases, the injured party wants acknowledgement from the very person that caused the hurt; and so the “survivor” has a rather odd bond with the perpetrator.
In such a context, the word sorry functions as that validation, even though, as one character asks, “Can sorry ever be enough?” The honest and open engagement around the past does not erase all the hurt, but it does allow the traumatised to move on. It allows them to "let go" so that those who imposed the evil do not go on destroying their lives. In turn, those implicated as perpetrators of the wrong have a chance to face up to reality, to feel the force and fire of anger from the other side, and to gain greater congruency and truthfulness in their lives.
According to Dream of the Dog, reconciliations after gross injustice are less than perfect, even fragile, but one gets the sense that the resolution depicted in the play will hold because, at a psychological, moral and deep human level, some form of breakthrough has been achieved.
Blog readers are encouraged to respond to this entry. What are your views on how we as South Africans need to deal with the past?
These are questions that surface in the political realm, for sure; but they crop up just as easily in human relationships. These issues are probed in Dream of the Dog, playing at the Market Theatre, Johannesburg. The play, written by Craig Higginson, is directed by Malcolm Purkey, a leading voice in the SA theatre world, and features the acting talents of Vanessa Cooke and Mncidisi Shabangu.
Dream of the Dog is a story that is set somewhere at a farmhouse. An old couple and their domestic worker are pulling down the shutters, packing the boxes and preparing to leave the farm for good. A visitor, a former ‘garden boy’ but now “a success,” returns to the farm in search of some answers. He appears to be haunted by an appalling incident that happened many years before and in which someone had died. The visitor, provocatively named Looksmart, is here to confront the lady of the house about this. Although he does not seem entirely sure why he returned after all the years, and what he wants out of this engagement, one gets the sense that he wants to clear the air in some way.
Dream of the Dog is reminiscent of the work of Athol Fugard. It is layered in conversation that variously rises in anger, becomes tension-filled, turns reflective and subsides into a vivid stillness; and so the play leads the audience to a deeper understanding. For the characters, the layers are peeled away until all is bared; there is a movement toward the depths of pain and ultimately, from there, towards some form of awkward acceptance and a gritty calm.
The story unfolds with twists and turns. One person seeks the truth, while another knows what happened but conceals it (and his deceit) behind a curtain of amnesia. The third person, the lady of the house, has seen but neglected clues to the truth but has (until now) not wanted to countenance the possibility of what really took place. She must wrestle with herself; she engages in a dance of justification, regrets, recounting the good things she has done, and eventually faces up to the truth, as terrible as it is.
Dream of the Dog underlines how people have different perceptions of a common event. The hurt or pain a particular person experiences sharpens remembrance of certain aspects rather than others. In the same way, people’s deepest fears shape what they select to recall.
The play emphasizes the centrality of truth-telling which helps forgiveness, but which also forms part of restoration. Truth liberates. It is better to exhume and examine the truth than to keep it buried.
Dream of the Dog demonstrates how those who have been violated or hurt in the past want/need to talk about what they have been through. More than anything else, they want validation. They want to know that the truth of their experience has been acknowledged. The play notes the irony that, in many cases, the injured party wants acknowledgement from the very person that caused the hurt; and so the “survivor” has a rather odd bond with the perpetrator.
In such a context, the word sorry functions as that validation, even though, as one character asks, “Can sorry ever be enough?” The honest and open engagement around the past does not erase all the hurt, but it does allow the traumatised to move on. It allows them to "let go" so that those who imposed the evil do not go on destroying their lives. In turn, those implicated as perpetrators of the wrong have a chance to face up to reality, to feel the force and fire of anger from the other side, and to gain greater congruency and truthfulness in their lives.
According to Dream of the Dog, reconciliations after gross injustice are less than perfect, even fragile, but one gets the sense that the resolution depicted in the play will hold because, at a psychological, moral and deep human level, some form of breakthrough has been achieved.
Blog readers are encouraged to respond to this entry. What are your views on how we as South Africans need to deal with the past?
Monday, 23 July 2007
Time for men to face up to the challenge of change
In examining gender-based problems such as violence against women and child abuse, is it time for men to cut the bullshit and face up to the reality of what they need to do to bring about positive change, I ask in this piece leading up to women's month.
August focuses on women; but it may be well to devote some of the attention to men. Of course many of the women’s group (perhaps correctly) point out that there is no place for men in their cause. After all, men are the source of many of their issues. They might also remind us that when men are included in key activities (on the matter of gender) they are (again) likely to dominate, and marginalise the voices of women.
Such women’s groups – strong, strident and angry – are needed (age-old problems sometimes require radical voices to foment fundamental change), although one might suggest they are more in the mould of women’s rights activists than gender campaigners.
However, we cannot get away from a focus on men. In struggling to realize the human rights of women, men are implicated in the solution. Even if changes in policy and law are won, we will need to see a change of mindset from men in particular, to bring about positive and democratic change.
For men, a good place to start is with ourselves. To look inwards; to review who we are and what we do; to change our attitudes, how we see things, and also how we react to the social challenge of getting involved.
I will suggest that we start by looking at ourselves in relation to three areas. Firstly, in the area of sexual relations, men need to be less selfish. They need to be focused less on the destination and take into account that women partners savor moments before and after sex, much more. In survey after survey, women complain that men are poor lovers (and are more inclined to get it all over within 60 seconds). They moan about our failure to understand that they see sex as part of the broader understanding of intimacy which, in their view, should often be linked to romance and to being valued and respected.
In a sense, our behaviour in relation to sex echoes a wider dysfunctionality with regard to relationships and to meeting the needs of our partners. The root of the problem here is many men are emotional misers/emotionally inarticulate /emotionally unastute. This affects the quality of sex with women who, I am told, respond better to blokes when the latter are more in tune with them and what they are going through.
Secondly, men need to look at issues around stress and inadequate communication in personal relationships. It starts when men fail to find the right balance between work, their own personal time and good social interaction. The long hours at work are seldom balanced with enough attention to the other dimensions within lifestyles. As a consequence, stressed out men bottle-in their problems. Those closest to us would like to talk to us about certain personal and family matters and about how we are coping, but they constantly hit a blank wall. In the end they withdraw or give up, and we are left in isolation. Such shutting down on the part of men exacerbates the pressures and often leads to excessive drinking, and to the insidious build-up of health risks.
Thirdly, men often don’t realize that they need friends and that they need to maintain good friendships. Men are almost always interacting with other men, but in most cases this is superficial. In most cases, “friends” are actually acquaintances and the links are maintained for opportunistic reasons: we work together, we are discussing a deal or, in desperation, we need someone to chill out with. As time moves on, we lose contact with close friends. When we meet in the street or the mall, we greet like old buddies and promise to link up, but never make the time. These are some of the questions: How do we select our friends, and do we value the really good guys in our life - or do we retreat? Do each of us have at least a single friend (a mate, as the Ozzies say) who will give us tough feedback and challenge us when we mess up? Who can tell us to cut the bullshit and face up to reality? Are we encircled by a close group of trusted male buddies that we can talk to about personal things, or are our associates just “die manne” that we enjoy drinking beer and discussing sport with.
Fifthly, men need to learn how to relate better to their kids. The same problems mentioned above (of withdrawing, of excess stress and of avoiding discussion of personal issues) damage our relationships with children. In building our families, communities and society, we need to be conscious of the wider impact and influence of how we relate to our kids. Relate badly, oppress them, close down their thinking, teach them bad habits with regard to personal relationships and we sow the seed for broader social dysfunction and pathology.
Although we must (and usually do) love all our kids equally, we are given particular responsibilities with regard to the boy child. We are expected to provide a role model and to provide guidance that would prepare the boy to go into the world and deal with its pressures, demands, opportunities and wonders. Let’s admit we don’t always know what to do and, especially during their teenage years, problems arise. We should be bold enough to talk to each other and seek out relevant information and advice. Our girl children of course also need preparation to go out into a world filled with entrenched attitudes and rules. We need to work with our partners to ensure we prepare our girl children to be confident and bold women, ones with the strength of character to pursue their goals in life with style and strength.
Another thing that puzzles me about men is what I sometimes see as “herd” instincts. Although men claim to be tough (and some of them openly admire intimidating and bullying behaviour as a style of managing and doing business), there is actually a great deal of cowardice in the ranks when push comes to shove or when the chips are down. The tendency of men to conform and to seek acceptance by who they view as having power is what contributes to conformity and the dearth of innovation.
In business, if the young men “copy” their forerunners (some call this mentoring) well enough, they are more likely promoted. If you don’t rock the boat, if you fit in, you stand a better chance of advancement and if you come from the same school and university as a key executive in the business, all things being equal, you are likely to be given the juiciest projects to run. Men also like to conform in other spheres. At a workshop with a group of young men in Alex some time ago, one young married man said he was loathe to help his wife by hanging out the washing in the yard. “My friends would mock me and claim I am under petticoat government”. Another said that friends told him that one needed to slap one’s girlfriend now and again so that she stayed in line and knew who wore the pants. He noted that it took courage to take a stand against such behaviours, but that for many guys, peer pressure takes the upper hand.
In organizational situations, this herd instinct (mainly from men) becomes a barrier to renewal and change. The effective change manager must devote a great deal of effort to breaking the “group think” by encouraging more open ended and creative responses to the possibilities and challenges in the environment.
These are the soft issues (although in change management we say the “soft stuff” is really the hardest); I now turn to the hard issues of sexual violence against women and what I view as the challenge to get involved in actions to combat the scourge. Many women’s groups prefer to go it alone on these issues. But such a line is a mistake. Not all men are perpetrators. And women need as many allies as they can muster to take up this issue. Men are well placed in corporations, in the legal system, in law enforcement and in the commanding heights of government. Winning them over (from a stance of bystanders/onlookers/condemners in the crowd to some form of concrete stance or action) can play a catalytic role in effectively combating sexual violence against women and girls.
We have to ask ourselves as men: in what ways does the general culture (how we view and treat women) contribute to an environment where violence against women can flourish? Are there areas or times (as in pub conversations) where we collude with views that see women as lesser beings, as ones who exist for the pleasure of men and as persons who are sometimes partly to blame for ill-treatment meted out to them.
Furthermore, in line with many public calls in recent years, the challenge is to join activities to highlight rape and sexual violence, and to call for social and legal reforms to eradicate these evils. Because you are I are not perpetrators, we cannot just fold our hands and claim that it is not our problem (especially when these evils and injustices spring from a society that we as human beings have created!). If we really find this violence repugnant, should we not be taking some form of stand or getting involved in practical action to eradicate such oppression of women?
August focuses on women; but it may be well to devote some of the attention to men. Of course many of the women’s group (perhaps correctly) point out that there is no place for men in their cause. After all, men are the source of many of their issues. They might also remind us that when men are included in key activities (on the matter of gender) they are (again) likely to dominate, and marginalise the voices of women.
Such women’s groups – strong, strident and angry – are needed (age-old problems sometimes require radical voices to foment fundamental change), although one might suggest they are more in the mould of women’s rights activists than gender campaigners.
However, we cannot get away from a focus on men. In struggling to realize the human rights of women, men are implicated in the solution. Even if changes in policy and law are won, we will need to see a change of mindset from men in particular, to bring about positive and democratic change.
For men, a good place to start is with ourselves. To look inwards; to review who we are and what we do; to change our attitudes, how we see things, and also how we react to the social challenge of getting involved.
I will suggest that we start by looking at ourselves in relation to three areas. Firstly, in the area of sexual relations, men need to be less selfish. They need to be focused less on the destination and take into account that women partners savor moments before and after sex, much more. In survey after survey, women complain that men are poor lovers (and are more inclined to get it all over within 60 seconds). They moan about our failure to understand that they see sex as part of the broader understanding of intimacy which, in their view, should often be linked to romance and to being valued and respected.
In a sense, our behaviour in relation to sex echoes a wider dysfunctionality with regard to relationships and to meeting the needs of our partners. The root of the problem here is many men are emotional misers/emotionally inarticulate /emotionally unastute. This affects the quality of sex with women who, I am told, respond better to blokes when the latter are more in tune with them and what they are going through.
Secondly, men need to look at issues around stress and inadequate communication in personal relationships. It starts when men fail to find the right balance between work, their own personal time and good social interaction. The long hours at work are seldom balanced with enough attention to the other dimensions within lifestyles. As a consequence, stressed out men bottle-in their problems. Those closest to us would like to talk to us about certain personal and family matters and about how we are coping, but they constantly hit a blank wall. In the end they withdraw or give up, and we are left in isolation. Such shutting down on the part of men exacerbates the pressures and often leads to excessive drinking, and to the insidious build-up of health risks.
Thirdly, men often don’t realize that they need friends and that they need to maintain good friendships. Men are almost always interacting with other men, but in most cases this is superficial. In most cases, “friends” are actually acquaintances and the links are maintained for opportunistic reasons: we work together, we are discussing a deal or, in desperation, we need someone to chill out with. As time moves on, we lose contact with close friends. When we meet in the street or the mall, we greet like old buddies and promise to link up, but never make the time. These are some of the questions: How do we select our friends, and do we value the really good guys in our life - or do we retreat? Do each of us have at least a single friend (a mate, as the Ozzies say) who will give us tough feedback and challenge us when we mess up? Who can tell us to cut the bullshit and face up to reality? Are we encircled by a close group of trusted male buddies that we can talk to about personal things, or are our associates just “die manne” that we enjoy drinking beer and discussing sport with.
Fifthly, men need to learn how to relate better to their kids. The same problems mentioned above (of withdrawing, of excess stress and of avoiding discussion of personal issues) damage our relationships with children. In building our families, communities and society, we need to be conscious of the wider impact and influence of how we relate to our kids. Relate badly, oppress them, close down their thinking, teach them bad habits with regard to personal relationships and we sow the seed for broader social dysfunction and pathology.
Although we must (and usually do) love all our kids equally, we are given particular responsibilities with regard to the boy child. We are expected to provide a role model and to provide guidance that would prepare the boy to go into the world and deal with its pressures, demands, opportunities and wonders. Let’s admit we don’t always know what to do and, especially during their teenage years, problems arise. We should be bold enough to talk to each other and seek out relevant information and advice. Our girl children of course also need preparation to go out into a world filled with entrenched attitudes and rules. We need to work with our partners to ensure we prepare our girl children to be confident and bold women, ones with the strength of character to pursue their goals in life with style and strength.
Another thing that puzzles me about men is what I sometimes see as “herd” instincts. Although men claim to be tough (and some of them openly admire intimidating and bullying behaviour as a style of managing and doing business), there is actually a great deal of cowardice in the ranks when push comes to shove or when the chips are down. The tendency of men to conform and to seek acceptance by who they view as having power is what contributes to conformity and the dearth of innovation.
In business, if the young men “copy” their forerunners (some call this mentoring) well enough, they are more likely promoted. If you don’t rock the boat, if you fit in, you stand a better chance of advancement and if you come from the same school and university as a key executive in the business, all things being equal, you are likely to be given the juiciest projects to run. Men also like to conform in other spheres. At a workshop with a group of young men in Alex some time ago, one young married man said he was loathe to help his wife by hanging out the washing in the yard. “My friends would mock me and claim I am under petticoat government”. Another said that friends told him that one needed to slap one’s girlfriend now and again so that she stayed in line and knew who wore the pants. He noted that it took courage to take a stand against such behaviours, but that for many guys, peer pressure takes the upper hand.
In organizational situations, this herd instinct (mainly from men) becomes a barrier to renewal and change. The effective change manager must devote a great deal of effort to breaking the “group think” by encouraging more open ended and creative responses to the possibilities and challenges in the environment.
These are the soft issues (although in change management we say the “soft stuff” is really the hardest); I now turn to the hard issues of sexual violence against women and what I view as the challenge to get involved in actions to combat the scourge. Many women’s groups prefer to go it alone on these issues. But such a line is a mistake. Not all men are perpetrators. And women need as many allies as they can muster to take up this issue. Men are well placed in corporations, in the legal system, in law enforcement and in the commanding heights of government. Winning them over (from a stance of bystanders/onlookers/condemners in the crowd to some form of concrete stance or action) can play a catalytic role in effectively combating sexual violence against women and girls.
We have to ask ourselves as men: in what ways does the general culture (how we view and treat women) contribute to an environment where violence against women can flourish? Are there areas or times (as in pub conversations) where we collude with views that see women as lesser beings, as ones who exist for the pleasure of men and as persons who are sometimes partly to blame for ill-treatment meted out to them.
Furthermore, in line with many public calls in recent years, the challenge is to join activities to highlight rape and sexual violence, and to call for social and legal reforms to eradicate these evils. Because you are I are not perpetrators, we cannot just fold our hands and claim that it is not our problem (especially when these evils and injustices spring from a society that we as human beings have created!). If we really find this violence repugnant, should we not be taking some form of stand or getting involved in practical action to eradicate such oppression of women?
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Mandela: leadership lessons from the great man
Today is a good day to honour Mandela’s leadership and to draw out some salient lessons from his life.
When we consider the Mandela saga, miracles as well as tough realities are key themes. Think about how people often refer to South Africa’s “miracle” – and how others (like me) counter that the transition from apartheid to democracy was actually the result of hard slog, commitment and careful processes. It also came as an aftermath to immense sacrifices by many. In the same way, when we speak of the “Madiba magic”, one can and must go beyond the surface to examine the concrete factors, traceable processes and actions that are in no way mystical. The cold stone floors of Robben Island also form a stark backdrop to the magic.
Interestingly, Mandela has never made a claim to being a god or infallible. He is a great leader, but equally human. He is a towering figure, but we can easily identify with many aspects that make up the man. He gets angry, he has soft spots (kids) and he has human failings. What is striking is the depth of his self-knowledge and self-acceptance as well as his strong but easygoing self-esteem. These qualities mean he is almost never over-defensive. Where he has erred (as in insufficiently tackling HIV/Aids when he was head of government), he forgives himself and moves on to the actions that will put things right. This trait also allowed him to quit formal political power early and (presently), as elder statesperson and “veteran,” to seek out reflective personal time.
The following are some key aspects of Mandela’s leadership:
1. He is empathetic. When he is interacting with people, he is “in the moment”. In the presence of ordinary folk, he seldom postures or plays a role and appears happy to simply focus on “taking in” their expressions, feelings and responses.
2. Mandela is strong on moral leadership. One gets the sense that, from his inner core, he is always seeking the light and always gravitating to do what is “right”. The ethical foundation to what he is doing or saying appears to be critically important to him: almost everything he says is subtly infused with this emphasis on the ethical. This may be the key to his aura.
3. The former President’s leadership style is characterised by consistency. Over his life, the context has changed many times and so have the issues; he has also deployed different strategies in response to such change. But at another level, he is stubbornly consistent. This consistency is linked to his strong moral and values-based approach. He has always espoused the same principles, including a people-based approach to leadership, constant communication, dialogue and a strong belief in basic human rights.
4. His life again proves that “taking a stand” is central to giving shape, form and strength to one’s leadership. The young Mandela worked out his position in relation to the fundamental issues and took stands on that. These stands form the bedrock of his leadership. In the sixties, Mandela consciously took part in illegal political activities. He also helped to launch an armed struggle to end the apartheid system. When he was arrested, he took a principled stand and spoke firmly and clearly about his convictions even though he knew such views had been criminalised by the regime. In the eighties, Mandela rebuffed government offers to release him on condition that he compromise his principles. Mandela always strongly advocated and upheld non-racialism and has always maintained that South Africa belongs to “all who live in it”. His convictions have many times moved him to anger and occasionally to lash out. On the other hand, his stands are generally articulated as inclusive and as an invitation to join him in working towards an ideal or objective. His stands are never inherently aggressive nor rallying points for the promotion of divisiveness and unnecessary conflict.
5. For Mandela, giving the lead (communicating his stand) and listening are two sides of the leadership coin. For him, listening to others is inherent in leadership. Given his experience, he reached a point where he could display astute leadership on his own (and there were certainly times that required that). However, from earliest times, his leadership was characterised by working in a team and listening to others. He thus always speaks of the “collective” and to this day swears by “consultation” with colleagues/comrades as a way of arriving at wise decisions.
6. Although in his younger years he broke up meetings of communists, the more seasoned Madiba demonstrates the power of openness in political leadership. It is not necessary to be factional, to close down debate, to label people as a way of avoiding a response to their arguments. Madiba is great because, even if someone is different (from another part of the democratic movement) or an opponent, he looks for ways to work together on a specific issue towards some positive social outcome. This makes him a smart negotiator, someone who is never too dogmatic and doctrinaire and one who honours others’ contribution to a cause.
The effective leader must complement his capabilities and expertise. Mandela brought this to the fore in the way he handled the management challenges of his job as the democratic nation’s first President. Seemingly, Mandela was aware that management or operational details did not sit well with him. During his presidency, he consequently gave the reigns of running government to then Deputy President Thabo Mbeki who combines leadership with strong management sense.
When the effective leader moves on, he or she does not leave behind a vacuum. One of the silliest titles for a book ever published was “When Mandela Goes”, with all the undertones it carried that South Africa would be leaderless and rudderless when Mandela left the Union Buildings hot seat. In reality, South Africa has no problem here: in the ANC and other parties, there are leaders aplenty. South Africa’s bigger challenge – by a long way – is at the level of management (referring inter alia to questions of follow through, holding people accountable and making things happen). There just appears to be insufficient management capability available to match the bold visions the country conjures up on every front. But that’s another story.
Mandela made his contribution to leadership development by illustrating that a true leader never creates a context in which other leaders wither and decline. Rather, other leaders flourish, grow in stature and excel in the presence and vicinity of the great leader.
When we consider the Mandela saga, miracles as well as tough realities are key themes. Think about how people often refer to South Africa’s “miracle” – and how others (like me) counter that the transition from apartheid to democracy was actually the result of hard slog, commitment and careful processes. It also came as an aftermath to immense sacrifices by many. In the same way, when we speak of the “Madiba magic”, one can and must go beyond the surface to examine the concrete factors, traceable processes and actions that are in no way mystical. The cold stone floors of Robben Island also form a stark backdrop to the magic.
Interestingly, Mandela has never made a claim to being a god or infallible. He is a great leader, but equally human. He is a towering figure, but we can easily identify with many aspects that make up the man. He gets angry, he has soft spots (kids) and he has human failings. What is striking is the depth of his self-knowledge and self-acceptance as well as his strong but easygoing self-esteem. These qualities mean he is almost never over-defensive. Where he has erred (as in insufficiently tackling HIV/Aids when he was head of government), he forgives himself and moves on to the actions that will put things right. This trait also allowed him to quit formal political power early and (presently), as elder statesperson and “veteran,” to seek out reflective personal time.
The following are some key aspects of Mandela’s leadership:
1. He is empathetic. When he is interacting with people, he is “in the moment”. In the presence of ordinary folk, he seldom postures or plays a role and appears happy to simply focus on “taking in” their expressions, feelings and responses.
2. Mandela is strong on moral leadership. One gets the sense that, from his inner core, he is always seeking the light and always gravitating to do what is “right”. The ethical foundation to what he is doing or saying appears to be critically important to him: almost everything he says is subtly infused with this emphasis on the ethical. This may be the key to his aura.
3. The former President’s leadership style is characterised by consistency. Over his life, the context has changed many times and so have the issues; he has also deployed different strategies in response to such change. But at another level, he is stubbornly consistent. This consistency is linked to his strong moral and values-based approach. He has always espoused the same principles, including a people-based approach to leadership, constant communication, dialogue and a strong belief in basic human rights.
4. His life again proves that “taking a stand” is central to giving shape, form and strength to one’s leadership. The young Mandela worked out his position in relation to the fundamental issues and took stands on that. These stands form the bedrock of his leadership. In the sixties, Mandela consciously took part in illegal political activities. He also helped to launch an armed struggle to end the apartheid system. When he was arrested, he took a principled stand and spoke firmly and clearly about his convictions even though he knew such views had been criminalised by the regime. In the eighties, Mandela rebuffed government offers to release him on condition that he compromise his principles. Mandela always strongly advocated and upheld non-racialism and has always maintained that South Africa belongs to “all who live in it”. His convictions have many times moved him to anger and occasionally to lash out. On the other hand, his stands are generally articulated as inclusive and as an invitation to join him in working towards an ideal or objective. His stands are never inherently aggressive nor rallying points for the promotion of divisiveness and unnecessary conflict.
5. For Mandela, giving the lead (communicating his stand) and listening are two sides of the leadership coin. For him, listening to others is inherent in leadership. Given his experience, he reached a point where he could display astute leadership on his own (and there were certainly times that required that). However, from earliest times, his leadership was characterised by working in a team and listening to others. He thus always speaks of the “collective” and to this day swears by “consultation” with colleagues/comrades as a way of arriving at wise decisions.
6. Although in his younger years he broke up meetings of communists, the more seasoned Madiba demonstrates the power of openness in political leadership. It is not necessary to be factional, to close down debate, to label people as a way of avoiding a response to their arguments. Madiba is great because, even if someone is different (from another part of the democratic movement) or an opponent, he looks for ways to work together on a specific issue towards some positive social outcome. This makes him a smart negotiator, someone who is never too dogmatic and doctrinaire and one who honours others’ contribution to a cause.
The effective leader must complement his capabilities and expertise. Mandela brought this to the fore in the way he handled the management challenges of his job as the democratic nation’s first President. Seemingly, Mandela was aware that management or operational details did not sit well with him. During his presidency, he consequently gave the reigns of running government to then Deputy President Thabo Mbeki who combines leadership with strong management sense.
When the effective leader moves on, he or she does not leave behind a vacuum. One of the silliest titles for a book ever published was “When Mandela Goes”, with all the undertones it carried that South Africa would be leaderless and rudderless when Mandela left the Union Buildings hot seat. In reality, South Africa has no problem here: in the ANC and other parties, there are leaders aplenty. South Africa’s bigger challenge – by a long way – is at the level of management (referring inter alia to questions of follow through, holding people accountable and making things happen). There just appears to be insufficient management capability available to match the bold visions the country conjures up on every front. But that’s another story.
Mandela made his contribution to leadership development by illustrating that a true leader never creates a context in which other leaders wither and decline. Rather, other leaders flourish, grow in stature and excel in the presence and vicinity of the great leader.
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
Fit to Govern:fireworks in the battle of ideas
I recommend that you read the book Fit To Govern: the native intelligence of Thabo Mbeki. In the many reviews and commentaries (most of them harshly negative), the writers fail to advise whether it would be worth your while to read this book. Some hint that reading the book would be a waste of time.
But I say: check it out for yourself. After all, the commentators had the occasion to read the book and found the contents stimulating enough to warrant writing about it. Furthermore, this book is about important issues and - significantly - about what the country’s president thinks about them.
You most likely don’t need advisory notes, but I will give you some pointers anyway:
(a) Roberts can overdo things a bit; for example he repeats his dig at the Sunday Times as the main culprit each time he refers to what he sees as the deficiencies of the media. One wants to say to the author: we do “get it” the first time.
(b) The writing can be dense. It is jam-packed with references. As Roberts explains political conduct and ideological positions in Mzansi, he takes you to various theorists as wells as other contexts and points in history.
(c) Roberts can pump up the venom, and spit it out in a spectacular way. He is able to combine an issue- and theme-based approach with strong person-based adversarialism. He appears to believe that he can say his say better if he foregrounds personalities; that blasting away at behaviour and statements of such personalities is a good way of debating contending positions on key socio-political questions. An alternative approach would place more emphasis on themes, trends and positions, and would devote less energy to dismantling the credibility of particular persons in the process of analysis.
d) The author can write well, make no mistake. Leave aside for a moment the current book that is the subject of so much debate. An example of Roberts’ writing skill is his recent newspaper feature on crime in South Africa. Another example is the greater part of his biography of Nadine Gordimer, No Cold Kitchen. (See Judge Dennis Davis’s views on the book at ccrweb.ccr.uct.ac.za/fileadmin/user_upload/WordFiles/ No_Cold_Kitchen.doc.)
I turn to my own reflections on Fit to Govern.
This book is not a biography; rather, it is a book about President Mbeki’s thinking and belief system. It tells us why he approaches issues and challenges in the way that he does.
I got the sense that Roberts puts himself into the picture a bit too much. We gain an insight into some of his longstanding battles, with the consequence that some bits of the book can be seen as gratuitous. For Roberts, it goes like this: Sunday Times calls me names (in comments referred to in a recent court case), I cite a reference where the Sunday Times’ editor is referred to as partially “brutalized” and I go into the kind of “psychologising” that I say I detest.
The book is engaging. It shows that ideas and contestation around ideas can be as gripping as an adventure novel or an action movie: the forces involved are similarly fighting all-out for ultimate survival or conquest. Fit To Govern is also invigorating in that it punts ideas that are heretical in terms of mainstream national discourse.
Roberts and the President suggest that we should all be reading, talking and engaging much more at this level (at the level where the clash between different worldviews is unmasked), and in this way become aware of underlying thinking frameworks that inform party positions and media editorials. Through such engagement we will better understand the mental frameworks that (a) inform the often heated political disputation in South Africa (b) underlie the implacable rivalry between influential voices in the media as well as between various other forces (a) would help us make sense of the massive communication gaps in South African political debates.
Fit to Govern touches on Mbeki’s view of the media and some of the practices of the media as seen through anti-imperialist spectacles. The question put here to commentators is worth reflecting on: are we sometimes too sloppy, shallow and superficial in our analysis of events?
The book also zeroes in on what Mbeki said or did not say on HIV and Aids. It does raise the question: is there scope to look again at what Mbeki’s real views are on HIV and Aids? Roberts researches obsessively and he brings to light views (from Edwin Cameron and Njabulo Ndebele) that they could find no record of an Mbeki statement to the effect that he does not believe HIV causes Aids. This issue reflects an important tussle between the two power centres – the media and political power.
At one level, it is about semantics; at another level, it is about truth, integrity and accuracy. Clarifying what words were spoken is relevant because the mass media believes that the expressed views of the President are central to understanding public policy on HIV/Aids, but also because it is the mass media that amplifies what it hears or thinks it hears. Yet we must bear in mind this is but one aspect of debates around HIV/Aids in South Africa. Clarifying what was actually said from the highest political platform does not deal with broader governance questions as it relates to the pandemic. Nor does it do away with the duty to examine the inaction and action(s) by government and various players over time on the issue of HIV/Aids.
In his book, Roberts is taking up arms against what he sees as a plethora of hostile and antagonistic attitudes to the President. For my part, I think Thabo Mbeki as leader is often underrated or mis-rated. Though tough challenges remain, he has led the country through a period of undoubtedly significant achievements. He becomes a more imposing figure as one considers the challenge of finding a suitable successor.
Can Tokyo Sexwale be as visionary on Africa, can Kgalema Motlanthe challenge the power structure of multilateral bodies as eloquently, can Jacob Zuma manage and co-ordinate policies as well? Maybe they can, but would-be presidents and successors would have to show their mettle.
In responding to what he perceives as multi-sided attacks on Mbeki, and in fervently supporting Mbeki’s resistance to imperialism, Roberts allows the pendulum to swing too far. He does not discuss nor debate any areas of weakness, forgetting that no leader has 100 percent capability, wisdom and vision on every front. Roberts also forgets that every leader has their own internal struggles to contend with (and manage). Thus he does not probe, for example, developments in the party – with the advent of Zuma mobilisation – and what President Mbeki and the ANC NEC could have done differently to have forestalled the groundswell of support for a Zuma faction. Nor does he discuss whether Thabo Mbeki could have communicated better on HIV and Aids – so that he could have achieved a positive outcome and united action between government and NGOs during his two terms.
Roberts is consumed with rebutting the slings and arrows from various quarters (trade unions, black journalists, the conservative and ultra-conservative liberals and certain voices internationally). That task (of acting as defence counsel) is so central that for him, the book is no place to discuss Mbeki as anything but a saint. In practice of course, Mbeki does not appear to view himself as angelic and his frequently-expressed commitment to dialogue, debate and vibrant intellectual activity would suggest that he is not averse to some critical reflection.
Fit to Govern makes strident comments about a set of people that can be described as the who’s who of the media world. Roberts prefers to lash out, and his choice of phrasing seems to be designed to provoke a reaction. It will be interesting to see if - and how - the victims of his tongue lashing will respond.
Fit To Govern – notwithstanding flaws and imperfections – contains many nuggets and food for the mind; in certain key areas , it challenges us to think differently about the contest between power groups in South African society.
But I say: check it out for yourself. After all, the commentators had the occasion to read the book and found the contents stimulating enough to warrant writing about it. Furthermore, this book is about important issues and - significantly - about what the country’s president thinks about them.
You most likely don’t need advisory notes, but I will give you some pointers anyway:
(a) Roberts can overdo things a bit; for example he repeats his dig at the Sunday Times as the main culprit each time he refers to what he sees as the deficiencies of the media. One wants to say to the author: we do “get it” the first time.
(b) The writing can be dense. It is jam-packed with references. As Roberts explains political conduct and ideological positions in Mzansi, he takes you to various theorists as wells as other contexts and points in history.
(c) Roberts can pump up the venom, and spit it out in a spectacular way. He is able to combine an issue- and theme-based approach with strong person-based adversarialism. He appears to believe that he can say his say better if he foregrounds personalities; that blasting away at behaviour and statements of such personalities is a good way of debating contending positions on key socio-political questions. An alternative approach would place more emphasis on themes, trends and positions, and would devote less energy to dismantling the credibility of particular persons in the process of analysis.
d) The author can write well, make no mistake. Leave aside for a moment the current book that is the subject of so much debate. An example of Roberts’ writing skill is his recent newspaper feature on crime in South Africa. Another example is the greater part of his biography of Nadine Gordimer, No Cold Kitchen. (See Judge Dennis Davis’s views on the book at ccrweb.ccr.uct.ac.za/fileadmin/user_upload/WordFiles/ No_Cold_Kitchen.doc.)
I turn to my own reflections on Fit to Govern.
This book is not a biography; rather, it is a book about President Mbeki’s thinking and belief system. It tells us why he approaches issues and challenges in the way that he does.
I got the sense that Roberts puts himself into the picture a bit too much. We gain an insight into some of his longstanding battles, with the consequence that some bits of the book can be seen as gratuitous. For Roberts, it goes like this: Sunday Times calls me names (in comments referred to in a recent court case), I cite a reference where the Sunday Times’ editor is referred to as partially “brutalized” and I go into the kind of “psychologising” that I say I detest.
The book is engaging. It shows that ideas and contestation around ideas can be as gripping as an adventure novel or an action movie: the forces involved are similarly fighting all-out for ultimate survival or conquest. Fit To Govern is also invigorating in that it punts ideas that are heretical in terms of mainstream national discourse.
Roberts and the President suggest that we should all be reading, talking and engaging much more at this level (at the level where the clash between different worldviews is unmasked), and in this way become aware of underlying thinking frameworks that inform party positions and media editorials. Through such engagement we will better understand the mental frameworks that (a) inform the often heated political disputation in South Africa (b) underlie the implacable rivalry between influential voices in the media as well as between various other forces (a) would help us make sense of the massive communication gaps in South African political debates.
Fit to Govern touches on Mbeki’s view of the media and some of the practices of the media as seen through anti-imperialist spectacles. The question put here to commentators is worth reflecting on: are we sometimes too sloppy, shallow and superficial in our analysis of events?
The book also zeroes in on what Mbeki said or did not say on HIV and Aids. It does raise the question: is there scope to look again at what Mbeki’s real views are on HIV and Aids? Roberts researches obsessively and he brings to light views (from Edwin Cameron and Njabulo Ndebele) that they could find no record of an Mbeki statement to the effect that he does not believe HIV causes Aids. This issue reflects an important tussle between the two power centres – the media and political power.
At one level, it is about semantics; at another level, it is about truth, integrity and accuracy. Clarifying what words were spoken is relevant because the mass media believes that the expressed views of the President are central to understanding public policy on HIV/Aids, but also because it is the mass media that amplifies what it hears or thinks it hears. Yet we must bear in mind this is but one aspect of debates around HIV/Aids in South Africa. Clarifying what was actually said from the highest political platform does not deal with broader governance questions as it relates to the pandemic. Nor does it do away with the duty to examine the inaction and action(s) by government and various players over time on the issue of HIV/Aids.
In his book, Roberts is taking up arms against what he sees as a plethora of hostile and antagonistic attitudes to the President. For my part, I think Thabo Mbeki as leader is often underrated or mis-rated. Though tough challenges remain, he has led the country through a period of undoubtedly significant achievements. He becomes a more imposing figure as one considers the challenge of finding a suitable successor.
Can Tokyo Sexwale be as visionary on Africa, can Kgalema Motlanthe challenge the power structure of multilateral bodies as eloquently, can Jacob Zuma manage and co-ordinate policies as well? Maybe they can, but would-be presidents and successors would have to show their mettle.
In responding to what he perceives as multi-sided attacks on Mbeki, and in fervently supporting Mbeki’s resistance to imperialism, Roberts allows the pendulum to swing too far. He does not discuss nor debate any areas of weakness, forgetting that no leader has 100 percent capability, wisdom and vision on every front. Roberts also forgets that every leader has their own internal struggles to contend with (and manage). Thus he does not probe, for example, developments in the party – with the advent of Zuma mobilisation – and what President Mbeki and the ANC NEC could have done differently to have forestalled the groundswell of support for a Zuma faction. Nor does he discuss whether Thabo Mbeki could have communicated better on HIV and Aids – so that he could have achieved a positive outcome and united action between government and NGOs during his two terms.
Roberts is consumed with rebutting the slings and arrows from various quarters (trade unions, black journalists, the conservative and ultra-conservative liberals and certain voices internationally). That task (of acting as defence counsel) is so central that for him, the book is no place to discuss Mbeki as anything but a saint. In practice of course, Mbeki does not appear to view himself as angelic and his frequently-expressed commitment to dialogue, debate and vibrant intellectual activity would suggest that he is not averse to some critical reflection.
Fit to Govern makes strident comments about a set of people that can be described as the who’s who of the media world. Roberts prefers to lash out, and his choice of phrasing seems to be designed to provoke a reaction. It will be interesting to see if - and how - the victims of his tongue lashing will respond.
Fit To Govern – notwithstanding flaws and imperfections – contains many nuggets and food for the mind; in certain key areas , it challenges us to think differently about the contest between power groups in South African society.
Fit to Govern: there's certainly fireworks in the battle of ideas
I recommend that you read the book Fit To Govern: the native intelligence of Thabo Mbeki. In the many reviews and commentaries (most of them harshly negative), the writers fail to advise whether it would be worth your while to read this book. Some hint that reading the book would be a waste of time.
But I say: check it out for yourself. After all, the commentators had the occasion to read the book and found the contents stimulating enough to warrant writing about it. Furthermore, this book is about important issues and - significantly - about that the country’s president thinks about them.
You most likely don’t need advisory notes, but I will give you some pointers anyway:
(a) Roberts can overdo things a bit; for example he repeats his dig at the Sunday Times as the main culprit each time he refers to what he sees as the deficiencies of the media. One wants to say to the author: we do “get it” the first time.
(b) The writing can be dense. It is jam-packed with references. As Roberts explains political conduct and ideological positions in Mzansi, he takes you to various theorists as wells as other contexts and points in history.
(c) Roberts can pump up the venom, and spit it out in a spectacular way. He is able to combine an issue- and theme-based approach with a strong person-based adversarialism. He appears to believe that he can say his say better if he foregrounds personalities; that blasting away at behaviour and statements of such personalities is a good way of debating contending positions on key socio-political questions. An alternative approach would place more emphasis on themes, trends and positions, and would devote less energy to dismantling the credibility of particular persons in the process of analysis.d) The author can write well, make no mistake. Leave aside for a moment the current book that is the subject of so much debate. One examples of Roberts’ writing skill is his recent newspaper feature on crime in South Africa. Another example is the greater part of his biography of Nadine Gordimer, No Cold Kitchen. (See Judge Dennis Davis’s views on the book at ccrweb.ccr.uct.ac.za/fileadmin/user_upload/WordFiles/No_Cold_Kitchen.doc.)
I turn to my own reflections on Fit to Govern.
This book is not a biography; rather, it is a book about President Mbeki’s thinking and belief system. It tells us why he approaches issues and challenges in the way that he does.
I got the sense that Roberts puts himself into the picture a bit too much. We gain an insight into some of his longstanding battles, with the consequence that some bits of the book can be seen as gratuitous. For Roberts, it goes like this: Sunday Times calls me names (in comments referred to in a recent court case), I cite a reference where the Sunday Times’ editor is referred to as partially “brutalized” and go into the kind of “psychologising” that I say I detest.
The book is engaging. It shows that ideas and contestation around ideas can be as gripping as an adventure novel or an action movie: the forces involved are similarly fighting all-out for ultimate survival or conquest. Fit To Govern is also invigorating in that it punts ideas that are heretical in terms of mainstream national discourse.
Roberts and the President suggest that we should all be reading, talking and engaging much more at this level (at the level where the clash between different worldviews is unmasked), and in this way become aware of underlying thinking frameworks that inform party positions and media editorials. Through such engagement we will better understand the mental frameworks that (a) inform the often heated political disputation in South Africa (b) underlie the implacable rivalry between influential voices in the media as well as between various other forces (a) would help us make sense of the massive communication gaps in South African political debates.
Fit to Govern touches on Mbeki’s view of the media and some of the practices of the media as seen through anti-imperialist spectacles. The question put here to commentators is worth reflecting on: are we sometimes too sloppy, shallow and superficial in our analysis of events?
The book also zeroes in on what Mbeki said or did not say on HIV and Aids. It does raise the question: is there scope to look again at what Mbeki’s real views are on HIV and Aids? Roberts researches obsessively and he brings to light views (from Edwin Cameron and Njabulo Ndebele) that they could find no record of an Mbeki statement to the effect that he does not believe HIV causes Aids. This issue reflects an important tussle between the two power centres – the media and political power.
At one level, it is about semantics; at another level, it is about truth, integrity and accuracy. Clarifying what words were spoken is relevant because the mass media believes that the expressed views of the president are central to understanding public policy on HIV/Aids, but also because it is the mass media that amplifies what it thinks it hears.
Yet we must bear in mind this is but one aspect of debates around HIV/Aids in South Africa. Clarifying what was actually said from the highest political platform does not deal with broader governance questions. Nor does it do away with the duty to examine the inaction and action(s) by government and various players over time on the issue of HIV/Aids and broader governance questions as it relates to the pandemic.
In his book, Roberts is taking up arms against what he sees as a plethora of hostile and antagonistic attitudes to the President. For my part, I think Thabo Mbeki as leader is often underrated or mis-rated. Though tough challenges remain, he has also led the country through a period of undoubtedly significant achievements. He becomes a more imposing figure as one considers the challenge of finding a suitable successor.
Can Tokyo Sexwale be as visionary on Africa, can Kgalema Motlanthe challenge the power structure of multilateral bodies as eloquently, can Jacob Zuma manage and co-ordinate policies as well? Maybe they can, but would-be presidents and successors would have to show their mettle.
In responding to what he perceives as multi-sided attacks on Mbeki, and in fervently supporting Mbeki’s resistance to imperialism, Roberts allows the pendulum to swing too far. He does not discuss nor debate any areas of weakness, forgetting that no leader has 100 percent capability, wisdom and vision on every front. Roberts also forgets that every leader has their own internal struggles to contend with (and manage).
Thus he does not probe, for example, developments in the party – with the advent of Zuma mobilisation – and what President Mbeki and the ANC NEC could have done differently to have forestalled the groundswell of support for a Zuma faction. Nor does he discuss whether Thabo Mbeki could have communicated better on HIV and Aids – so that he could have achieved a positive outcome and united action between government and NGOs during his two terms.
Roberts is consumed with rebutting the slings and arrows from various quarters (trade unions, black journalists, the conservative and ultra-conservative liberals and certain voices internationally). That task (of acting as defence counsel) is so central that for him, the book is no place to discuss Mbeki as anything but a saint. In practice of course, Mbeki does not appear to view himself as angelic and his frequently-expressed commitment to dialogue, debate and vibrant intellectual activity would suggest that he is not averse to some critical reflection.
Fit to Govern makes strident comments about a set of people that can be described as the who’s who of the media world. Roberts prefers to lash out, and his choice of phrasing seems to be designed to provoke a reaction. It will be interesting to see if - and how - the victims of his tongue lashing will respond.
Fit To Govern – notwithstanding flaws and imperfections – contains many nuggets and food for the mind; in certain key areas , it challenges us to think differently about the contest between power groups in South African society.
But I say: check it out for yourself. After all, the commentators had the occasion to read the book and found the contents stimulating enough to warrant writing about it. Furthermore, this book is about important issues and - significantly - about that the country’s president thinks about them.
You most likely don’t need advisory notes, but I will give you some pointers anyway:
(a) Roberts can overdo things a bit; for example he repeats his dig at the Sunday Times as the main culprit each time he refers to what he sees as the deficiencies of the media. One wants to say to the author: we do “get it” the first time.
(b) The writing can be dense. It is jam-packed with references. As Roberts explains political conduct and ideological positions in Mzansi, he takes you to various theorists as wells as other contexts and points in history.
(c) Roberts can pump up the venom, and spit it out in a spectacular way. He is able to combine an issue- and theme-based approach with a strong person-based adversarialism. He appears to believe that he can say his say better if he foregrounds personalities; that blasting away at behaviour and statements of such personalities is a good way of debating contending positions on key socio-political questions. An alternative approach would place more emphasis on themes, trends and positions, and would devote less energy to dismantling the credibility of particular persons in the process of analysis.d) The author can write well, make no mistake. Leave aside for a moment the current book that is the subject of so much debate. One examples of Roberts’ writing skill is his recent newspaper feature on crime in South Africa. Another example is the greater part of his biography of Nadine Gordimer, No Cold Kitchen. (See Judge Dennis Davis’s views on the book at ccrweb.ccr.uct.ac.za/fileadmin/user_upload/WordFiles/No_Cold_Kitchen.doc.)
I turn to my own reflections on Fit to Govern.
This book is not a biography; rather, it is a book about President Mbeki’s thinking and belief system. It tells us why he approaches issues and challenges in the way that he does.
I got the sense that Roberts puts himself into the picture a bit too much. We gain an insight into some of his longstanding battles, with the consequence that some bits of the book can be seen as gratuitous. For Roberts, it goes like this: Sunday Times calls me names (in comments referred to in a recent court case), I cite a reference where the Sunday Times’ editor is referred to as partially “brutalized” and go into the kind of “psychologising” that I say I detest.
The book is engaging. It shows that ideas and contestation around ideas can be as gripping as an adventure novel or an action movie: the forces involved are similarly fighting all-out for ultimate survival or conquest. Fit To Govern is also invigorating in that it punts ideas that are heretical in terms of mainstream national discourse.
Roberts and the President suggest that we should all be reading, talking and engaging much more at this level (at the level where the clash between different worldviews is unmasked), and in this way become aware of underlying thinking frameworks that inform party positions and media editorials. Through such engagement we will better understand the mental frameworks that (a) inform the often heated political disputation in South Africa (b) underlie the implacable rivalry between influential voices in the media as well as between various other forces (a) would help us make sense of the massive communication gaps in South African political debates.
Fit to Govern touches on Mbeki’s view of the media and some of the practices of the media as seen through anti-imperialist spectacles. The question put here to commentators is worth reflecting on: are we sometimes too sloppy, shallow and superficial in our analysis of events?
The book also zeroes in on what Mbeki said or did not say on HIV and Aids. It does raise the question: is there scope to look again at what Mbeki’s real views are on HIV and Aids? Roberts researches obsessively and he brings to light views (from Edwin Cameron and Njabulo Ndebele) that they could find no record of an Mbeki statement to the effect that he does not believe HIV causes Aids. This issue reflects an important tussle between the two power centres – the media and political power.
At one level, it is about semantics; at another level, it is about truth, integrity and accuracy. Clarifying what words were spoken is relevant because the mass media believes that the expressed views of the president are central to understanding public policy on HIV/Aids, but also because it is the mass media that amplifies what it thinks it hears.
Yet we must bear in mind this is but one aspect of debates around HIV/Aids in South Africa. Clarifying what was actually said from the highest political platform does not deal with broader governance questions. Nor does it do away with the duty to examine the inaction and action(s) by government and various players over time on the issue of HIV/Aids and broader governance questions as it relates to the pandemic.
In his book, Roberts is taking up arms against what he sees as a plethora of hostile and antagonistic attitudes to the President. For my part, I think Thabo Mbeki as leader is often underrated or mis-rated. Though tough challenges remain, he has also led the country through a period of undoubtedly significant achievements. He becomes a more imposing figure as one considers the challenge of finding a suitable successor.
Can Tokyo Sexwale be as visionary on Africa, can Kgalema Motlanthe challenge the power structure of multilateral bodies as eloquently, can Jacob Zuma manage and co-ordinate policies as well? Maybe they can, but would-be presidents and successors would have to show their mettle.
In responding to what he perceives as multi-sided attacks on Mbeki, and in fervently supporting Mbeki’s resistance to imperialism, Roberts allows the pendulum to swing too far. He does not discuss nor debate any areas of weakness, forgetting that no leader has 100 percent capability, wisdom and vision on every front. Roberts also forgets that every leader has their own internal struggles to contend with (and manage).
Thus he does not probe, for example, developments in the party – with the advent of Zuma mobilisation – and what President Mbeki and the ANC NEC could have done differently to have forestalled the groundswell of support for a Zuma faction. Nor does he discuss whether Thabo Mbeki could have communicated better on HIV and Aids – so that he could have achieved a positive outcome and united action between government and NGOs during his two terms.
Roberts is consumed with rebutting the slings and arrows from various quarters (trade unions, black journalists, the conservative and ultra-conservative liberals and certain voices internationally). That task (of acting as defence counsel) is so central that for him, the book is no place to discuss Mbeki as anything but a saint. In practice of course, Mbeki does not appear to view himself as angelic and his frequently-expressed commitment to dialogue, debate and vibrant intellectual activity would suggest that he is not averse to some critical reflection.
Fit to Govern makes strident comments about a set of people that can be described as the who’s who of the media world. Roberts prefers to lash out, and his choice of phrasing seems to be designed to provoke a reaction. It will be interesting to see if - and how - the victims of his tongue lashing will respond.
Fit To Govern – notwithstanding flaws and imperfections – contains many nuggets and food for the mind; in certain key areas , it challenges us to think differently about the contest between power groups in South African society.
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