The xenophobic violence speaks volumes about who we are

The xenophobic violence we witnessed recently across Gauteng tells us a great deal about ourselves.

Of course, in human rights terms the violence and looting targeting non-South African shop owners is fundamentally unacceptable. Beyond this, it is worth reflecting on the possible meanings of and the type of thinking that informs this outbreak of violence and aggression.

Firstly, our communities seem to be in two minds about ‘acceptance and rejection’ of the traders that hail from other countries. At one level, the community gives many indications of acceptance, ranging from opening accounts with traders, to renting shop space to opting to primarily use these immigrant-run shops. Then, out of the blue during January and February 2015, scores of community members go on the rampage against these shops, looting and vandalising.

Secondly, many among us seem confused about formality and informality. On the one hand, many of us rely on and support informality as a way of making a living. In our minds, not all informal activity is illegal. In line with the World Bank and United Nations, we acknowledge the livelihood opportunities that spring from the informal sector. But then, when it suits us, we lambast foreign-owned spaza shop-owners for not being registered – offering this as our justification for plundering these stores.

Thirdly, we seem to be undecided about whether we love or hate the prices and services we get from immigrant traders. We toyi toyi and demand that immigrants who run the small township shops “get out” - implying that life would be better with the old South African owned spaza shops back. Some of us argue that it is unfair that such shops sell goods at lower prices. But after the violence subsides, we line the streets and tell members of the media a different story. We want the “friends” to return. We yearn for their cheaper goods, their longer opening hours and the fact they seem to stock many of the small things we need at short notice.

Fourthly, we seem to be schizophrenic in our attitudes to townships. We rejected them as dormitory townships in which we were forced to stay. We took up Oliver Tambo’s call that we move out of these camps and start putting our stamp on other areas even as we continue community-building in the locations. But, with the attacks on foreign spaza owners, we appear to be asserting a jealous love of these townships. One clearly got the sense from many Gauteng community members that they draw the line with "coming to compete in our own backyard". 

This looting and violence targeting immigrant-owned shops raises questions about how we understand ourselves and who we are. It raises questions about our own identity and issues of belonging –  and points to confusion about how we want to respond to refugees that have found a safe haven in South Africa. Are we decent people (with values about society-building) or bullies who use thuggish behaviour to get our way… or a mixture of both? Do we prefer speech and articulation (of things we feel) or do we favour acting out in the form of aggressive and intimidating conduct? Are we ambiguous about human rights -- do we emphasize rights when we have to claim them for ourselves but forget about the responsibility we have to live out these rights in our relationships with other humans we come across in our daily lives.

We seem to be unsure about ourselves – as indicated by our inconsistent responses.

In addition, although South Africans view ourselves as proactive citizens able to engage to advance our own interests, we are not – it seems – empowered and organised enough to speak to the spaza shop owners or their association about issues that perturb us. Rather, we allow anger to simmer for long periods and then surprise them by breaking into their shops and helping ourselves to their stock. Do we not have confidence in our ability to raise issues, assert our needs and then craft lasting solutions with other stakeholders?

The violent attacks also tell us something about the patterns of power and disempowerment. Power is often analysed vertically – focusing on how power relations should be analysed between those who are dominant and those who are forced into the role of the oppressed or exploited. But the xenophobic attacks remind us that power should also be analysed in terms of how it plays out horizontally.

In this regard, the xenophobic violence is an expression of conflict between poor versus poor. In our communities, weighed down by frustration and intractable economic problems, (in this case) we lash out at the nearer target of people we consider the “other” but who can in no way be described as wealthy and powerful. These targets are easier to reach, It is much more difficult, and would take greater planning and organisation, to confront the captains of industry and those who continue to ensure the production and retail systems remain in the hands of  a racially defined few.

Ngugi Wa Thiong'o wrote the book Decolonising the Minds, a book that has wide application in post-colonial Africa. If indeed we ‘decolonised our minds’, would responses in our communities to developments around spaza shops be different? If indeed we were able, through organisation, to make more meaningful interventions to change the economic system, would we find other entry points for change?

Where are we headed, what are our objectives (what do we really want?) – these are the questions that come to haunt us in the wake of the unlawful and violent actions against non-South African shop owners trading in townships.

Frank Meintjies

Management lessons from the Eskom debacle

Eskom’s current woes provide good case study material for keen students of business management. What are the management lessons to take away? Whose advice went unheeded in preceding years? What cardinal sins were committed – not in relation to policy or politics or shareholder and parliamentary omission over the last 20 years – but in terms of management?
 
The first broad observation to make by way of background is to assert that the energy sector is distinctive. Perhaps more than any other sector, it relies in a fundamental way on long term planning. It is no wonder, then, that scenario planning came out of the energy sector – out of the work of transnational corporations such as Shell who realised that looking far into the distance was critical to setting today’s management priorities.
 
The second background point is that the buck (or a large part of the buck) always stops with management. It is true that a range of other role players may override management decisions. It is also true that shareholders, politicians and even powerful legal advisors may prevent top management from doing what they know is right.
 
But the high-powered decision-makers in top management must be able to answer and account for themselves. To maintain their own standing as management practitioners doing their jobs and fulfilling their fiduciary duties, they must be able to show they spotted major risks and gave advice at the critical moments. Those operating in the civil service ultimately have to comply with the directives issued by a political head - but they can place their views on record; they can discuss risks and give their professional advice through instruments such as memos and emails.

In the case of a powerful public body with a large budget and with a mandate rooted in legislation, there is a far greater obligation. If a politically-motivated decision that will have disastrous consequences has been imposed on such a body, it should clearly indicate misgiving and concerns in its accountability to parliamentary committees and through annual reports. These is how things should be in a democracy.

A range of key management points arise from the crisis at the electricity giant, including:

·       To what extent is Eskom an environment where underperformance or major management errors are met with consequences? Or is it a place that practices management without consequences? What internal action has been taken for major omissions that led to the current situation? If, as the CEO Tshediso Matona implied, some managers took bad decisions (or failed to act) on the issue maintenance, what action has been taken? With regard to the Kusile and Medupe projects, has any top manager faced consequences for failure to miss targets by such a wide margin?

·       How does Eskom use its reward system to sustain optimal performance? In change management terms, the reward system is a key lever for encouraging the desired conduct in line with key organisational priorities and ‘ways of working’. What evidence is available that, if one takes the issues of bonuses alone, the reward system has been used to try and address organisational shortcomings?

·       Have any individuals over the last 15 years or more raised the red flag about the sidelining of critical goals such as long-term planning or effective maintenance? Or does ‘group think’ reign at Eskom? Is Eskom afflicted by a perverse culture in that prescribes that once one or two top dogs have spoken, everyone else merely echoes the official line?

·       Do Eskom managers belong to any discipline, sector bodies or communities of practice? If so, to what extent – in their publications and journals – did sector practitioners debate what was taking place at Eskom and how this would impact on performance? One of the key advantages of belonging to a professional association is ‘shared learning’. Such shared learning in turn promotes innovation in the field and helps managers remain fully attuned to their roles and responsibilities as professionals.

·       What role did external advisors play? Consultants are paid to provide new perspective but the question can rightly be asked: do external advisors often play it safe and say only what the client wants to hear. Very often external advisors, once they have discerned that the client is resistant to change, focus on small incremental improvements in situations where a dose of fundamental change is needed. It would be interesting to see what issues were raised in external assessments by technical advisers and auditors over the years.

·       What is the current mood and climate in the organisation? What are staff members’ opinions of working in a huge public organisation that has failed to meet important objectives such as thinking ahead and effective maintenance? How does it affect managers’ identity to work in a company that is campaigning to encouraging people to use less of its product – or that has managed to plunge an entire country into darkness?

 
There are other important questions, such as how top management accounts to external stakeholders. On this, the CEO has stepped up to the plate and last week took the public into his confidence about the depth of problems at the parastatal. One hopes this signals a move to greater openness in management reports to parliamentary committees, to the shareholder and – by extension – to the public.
 
In the literature, there is talk about the concept of 'public value’ as a way of evaluating the performance of state bodies. In this regard, public value revolves around value-add and  what citizens value most. In the case of electricity (as with matric results) citizens have a very clear idea of the outcomes and impact they expect.

It is in this context that management comes under close scrutiny. Huge parastatals such as Eskom have a clutch of high-powered managers. Their top jobs come with power and status – rooted in big budgets, abundant perks and many people to order around – but also with immense responsibility.
 
There is great opportunity for those doing work in the field of management to extract lessons and insights from the Eskom debacle. There they will find rich seams of information as they probe Eskom’s culture and examine how the parastal  – the new CEO aside – came to externalise the reason for its failures.
 
Frank Meintjies
(This article first appeared in the press on 23 January 2015)

A turbulent year ahead, marked by ungovernability

All indications are that 2015 will be a tough year on many fronts.
 
The economic issues will fire up our current affairs, making engagements in the political sphere all the more charged. At the level of the of the broader economy there will be continued frustration as the economy continues to underperform, hobbled by a new constraints such as Eskom, continuing shocks from the global economy and old impediments such as the education system. The pressure will come as both the middle class and the working class feel the squeeze and demand that government and industry do more to implement of job-creation plans.
 
In the social sphere, 2015 will be the year where there will be even less social cohesion. At one level, this will manifest in a continuation of high levels of crime. Fuelled by unemployment and lack of hope, petty crime will be sustained while, syndicates will find new avenues to undermine society and gender violence will continue to cast its shadow over us. Any improvements in policing – and there are no indications that they will be sufficient – will be undermined by worsening conditions in our settlements and a rise in inequality.  

Lack of cohesion will also manifest in the form of an ongoing rupture between those governing and the governed.
 

One is likely to see an increase in ungovernability. We have already witnessed rowdy behaviour by political parties, an increase in conflict in the industrial relation arena and an average over 1000 community protests a month. Although there are many factors behind a breakdown in relations between government and citizens, anger about corruption will still be a major trigger for eruptions of ungovernability. In parliament and at community levels, we have seen how corruption mobilises divergent groups into strident and unified protest action.

 

Institutional factors will also contribute to making next year difficult – one that is filled with a sense of uncertainty and instability. On the one hand, we see that the ANC – a key institution that has acted as an engine for positive change during the transition – is weakened and, as President Jacob Zuma has noted, “in trouble”. In addition, South Africans are losing faith in public institutions. The Institute of Justice and Reconciliation reported this week that only 50 percent of South Africans who took part in a representative survey had faith in the country’s institutions. Because institutions help to channel differences and conflict, any significant loss of respect for them contributes to turbulence.  

 
Of course, this kind of assessment can be one-dimensional. It focuses necessarily on that which is deteriorating or tending towards atrophy. However, another part of reality will be that many elements will go on as before, including the dynamism that exists in our society. Although many small businesses will be under pressure, many entrepreneurs around the country will find gaps in the market and markets in the gaps. A few corporates will keep their commitment to create jobs and run supplier programmes with an affirmative action slant. Many educational institutions, including schools, will pursue and attain excellence. A few government departments will rally the troops and go the extra mile to reach delivery targets. There will continue to be leadership and resilience in communities. And numerous civil society organisations will soldier on, working close to communities, assisting them with immediate needs or to claim their rights.
 
It is also important to remember that, despite the many objective factors weighing down on us, we can influence many aspects of our reality. In this sense, the degree of turbulence is under our control. We can decide to find solutions, hold each other accountable, work harder to ensure implementation of election promises and be more focused on addressing the needs of the masses.
 
What if anything can be done? The following actions won’t prevent a bumpy ride in 2015, but could help us turn the corner and create conditions for better prospects (and greater common purpose) in the period thereafter.

 

The first task lies at the door of the ANC. In this regard, it is true, as President Zuma implied, that as the ANC goes, so goes the state. This is no place to fully analyse the problems of the ruling party. However, it urgently needs to address (a) its failure to get government to deliver according to its mandate, (b) the gap between itself and a wider base supportive of national democratic change and (c) its loss of the moral high ground. It must take steps to ensure we do not get to the explosion that Langston Hughes said comes after the “dream deferred”.

In addition, we as South Africans should consider the following actions as a response to the pressure that will face us in 2015:

·       There needs to be a firm commitment from the powers that be to open rather than close down the space for debate and discussion about national problems and solutions.

·       Citizens should become more active in getting closer to their specific representatives and supporting them where they perform and holding them accountable where they are just party hacks, sleep on the job or serve their own interests.

·       Citizens should step into spaces of engagement. Especially at local level – with regard to municipal issues and on issues such as community safety and school education. Although getting involved is difficult and often discouraged, we should know that we can only build a strong democracy if there is democracy at the base.

·       We must tirelessly build hope for the youth. Every company, non-profit organisation and quasi-state institution should commit to enrolling young people for internships and work experience.

·       Violence against women is such a fault line and a grim indicator of the state of things; we need to unite in action against it. We are involved as perpetrators, colluders and survivors. There is thus a great opportunity to bring South Africans from different classes and population groups ­together in sustained citizen campaigns on this issue.  

·       With the help of the CCMA, more companies and unions should work together to find models of management that allow workers and bosses to share in the ups and downs of company performance. Where such models already exist, we should promote them.

 

(This article first appeared in the press on 8 December 2014)

Frank Meintjies 

Marikana helps us see and understand South Africa, warts and all

While the media and the commission engage in an anatomy of the Marikana tragedy, Marikana itself has become a lens to help us understand key aspects of South African life.
 
There are many positive things about SA; however, there is also its shadow side. Marikana shows us the way in which our system – otherwise known for its stable and middle income standing with potential – is flawed and ailing.
 
First: Marikana brings to the fore the matter of popular violence. This violence close to the surface and very frequently bursts forth when the cracks of inequality widen. Far too many strikes turn violent. Many service delivery protests end with burning of facilities or with senseless attacks on hawkers. What are the roots of such violence? Does it lie in SA history of apartheid’s violence and brutality? Or is linked to the Frantz Fanon’s necessary violence of the oppressed who at some point lash out in a quest for freedom?
 
Second: Marikana shows us how clunky and unfit for purpose our labour relations system has become. It is not wise to be generally dismissive of our labour relations regime, however. That would give ammunition to conservative bosses who would like to reverse labour relations gains and close the space for trade union activity.

It is much better to clarify that the labour system weakened because it has been hollowed out by weak unions and the conduct of employers. Employers have skilfully utilised the labour relations system. They have complied; they have often outmanoeuvred unions. But what they have failed to see is that unless the labour dispensation delivers real and meaningful outcomes – as well as positive life changes – to unionised workers, workers will ultimately undermine and reject the system itself.
 
Third: Marikana raises the issue of policing and policing systems. The first aspect of recent police violence is accountability. In the Marikana case, after such a heavy human cost, the system was reluctant to hold anyone accountable. Why? And how did that impact on South Africans’ sense that they live in democracy with institutions that hold everyone accountable?

The other aspect is that the country has been found wanting as far as appropriate public policing is concerned. After 1994, government disbanded much of its capacity for public order policing. This was clearly a mistake. However, under our constitutional democracy, simply bringing back the old public policing capacities will not suffice.

Instead, what is needed are specially trained public order officers who are led by seniors skilled at communication (listening and negotiations), and who posses deep understandings of culture, history and social issues. Marikana, as well as the Andries Tatane killing forces us to grasp certain realities. But the processes of learning and change are slow.
 
Fourth: Marikana puts the spotlight on geographical marginalisation within South Africa. Of the miners that died, only two were from the Marikana area in the North West. Most hailed from the poverty-ridden Eastern Cape. But while the miners from the Eastern Cape have a foothold in the economy and can use union organisation to advance their cause, the people from Marikana appear to have slipped off the edge. Their youth are unemployed and find it hard to secure jobs on the mines. The people live in cracked houses and inhale polluted air, all side effects of the mining. These communities of North West live among the mines, but taste little of the benefit. 
 
Fifth: Marikana exposes a deeply problematic side to BEE. In sectors such as mining, BEE makes alliances with elites to contain, ‘manage’ and minimise societal commitments, to lull the regulators to sleep. Empowerment is good and necessary – what is perverse is when it is done in a way designed to dodge the demand to properly engage with local communities. As Bench Marks has shown in its report on the platinum industry, parts of big business, sheltered by BEE and political connections, renege on their commitments in terms of housing and the environment.

Marikana shows that while big business can pat itself on the back for astute manoeuvres to externalise social and environmental costs, in the end there will be conflict, instability and possibly violence. Some commentators have drawn parallels between the conduct of mine owners here and, for example, companies such as Shell in resource-rich countries to our north. There deals are made with chiefs and other elites, while communities are marginalised. In the case of the Ogoni people, it culminated in an uprising and finally the death of activist Ken Saro-Wiwe.

 
Sixth: Marikana raises questions about the role of the media. The latter does sterling work on public sector corruption. But to the extent that it misses the excesses of capitalism, it is a one-eyed campaigner for justice.
 
The media sometimes does allow voices to raise non-mainstream issues in its commentary pages, but its news pages and exposes seldom shine a light on the darker corners of capitalism. Mining bosses in the platinum industry have for years given themselves generous bonuses while apparently failing to lift workers living standards through, for example, consistent above-inflation wage increases. Where was the mainstream media?

In recent years, in an arc stretching from North West through Northern Province and Mpumalanga, the mining industry is making lucrative connections between land, elites and new mining in moves that have excluded community interests and fuelled community protest. There has been the odd story about individual community protest, but no fuller expose of this trend.
 
There is no hiding from the horror of Marikana. It raises fundamental questions about the transition. It poses uncomfortable questions to capitalists as well as beneficiaries of the transition who only embrace its blessings but forget about its shortcomings

This piece appeared in the print media on 22 August 2014.
Frank Meintjies

No to hate & 'othering' – Jewish voices in SA take a stand on Gaza atrocities

There have been interesting developments within the Jewish community in South Africa, sparked by the conflict in Gaza. There is a major cleavage in that community with a majority supporting the Israeli Defence Force and a smaller number voicing human rights concerns about Israel’s military actions in Gaza.

Initially it appeared that the Jewish community was one solid block behind the nature and ferocity of military action by Israel against Palestinians in Gaza. It seemed as if Jews in SA, with hardly any exceptions, supported the official Israeli strategy – in response to Hamas rockets – to rain bombs on Palestinians in Gaza, targeting homes, community centres and schools.  
 
But then, in the week leading up to 25 July, alternative voices appeared – those speaking out against the atrocities and asserting: “not in our name”. Newspapers carried the story of comedian Deep Fried Man who joined with others at a meeting in Johannesburg to take a stand. Recently Jewish Voices for a Just Peace was formed.
 
When the mainstream Jewish community called a demonstration in Huddle Park on 3 August, other Jews, despite threats and intimidation, mounted a counterdemonstration. Recently, more than 2000 people signed a petition in support of Josh Broomberg who expressed support for Palestinians and who – on human rights grounds – distanced himself from the actions of the IDF in Gaza.
 
There are interesting features of the response of mainstream South African Jews. What is astonishing is the level of support for a strategy that involves collateral damage as a central and desired outcome. It appears to be enthusiastic support rather than reluctant support for such annihilation. My sense of surprise is rooted in our own experience of armed struggle. The ANC, faced with a repressive regime, adopted a stance of reluctant use of violence in its struggle to end apartheid. In this regard, the ANC strategy of violence involved attacks on military installations, certain infrastructure such as power stations and military premises. They specifically did not sanction attacks on the broader population that, through voting and benefits, formed part of the dominant group.
 
How is it that people can be insensate to the killing and maiming – on such a scale – of children and other civilians? According to Leanne Stillerman, the roots of such attitudes lie in a process known as “othering”.  In a recent article in the South African media entitled Settlers, terrorists and the process of Othering, she wondered about the roots of empathy and asked: “Do some instances of human suffering evoke our sympathies while others are overlooked; do we engage in a kind of selective empathy on the basis of either our identification with or distance from the victims in question?”
 
Stillerman noted that “the Hebrew word for cruelty contains within it the word ‘strange’ ”

“It is the sense of estrangement from the other that allows our hearts to harden, and unspeakable cruelty becomes our reality,” she wrote.
 
It also worth reflecting on the demonstrations called in support of Israel such as the Huddle Park demonstration. Such a move, given the civilian deaths and destruction of basic community facilities, seems inappropriate. It seemed like encouraging the Israeli Defence Force to continue or exceed its past efforts that involved targeting homes, schools and community centres. Instead of calling for restraint, this segment of South African Jews appeared to be building a wall of blind solidarity behind the soldiers waging war on civilians.

The apartheid regime carried out horrific attacks, ones in which women and children were killed, in places such as Cassinga (1978), Maseru (1982) and Sharpeville. Even though many in the white community were fully behind these military actions of their leaders, I cannot recall groups from that community holding rallies in support of such violent action.

 
For the right wing, it is always different, but given our history, the question for South African Jews is this: What is an appropriate response if soldiers, even if acting in your interest, are operating on the borderline of self-defence and crimes against humanity, in the grey area between legality and illegality?
 
The other aspect I marvel at on the part of mainstream and conservative Jews in South Africa is the level of intolerance and suppression of alternative views within its own community. Deep Fried Man was called a self-hating Jew. Death threats and condemnation were heaped on Josh Broomburg, the school boy who expressed his human rights stand in social media. At the Huddle Park demonstrations, a man threatened to kill counter-demonstrators. Eventually, after police were called and spoke to the man, he drove off in a fit of pique. Such intolerance undermines the democratic culture we are trying to build in South Africa.
 
The conservative majority cannot reasonably insist that adherence to the Jewish faith is synonymous with support for any government in Israel, no matter how right wing or hawkish.

 

The fanatically pro-Israel group cannot be forced to give up its enthusiastic support for Israel and to ditch the view that a Zionist government should have the right to do whatever it wants as long as it frames its actions as self-defence. However, they should consider a number of issues. All religions seek to occupy the moral high ground, but members of such religions undermine their religions when they support terror. They should consider that whenever you dehumanise others, for whatever reasons, you dehumanise yourself.

They should also consider that one of the dangers for anyone fighting an opponent accused of evil deeds is that you become the mirror image of the phenomenon, person or conduct you oppose. Instead of representing an alternative or the opposite, you become the same.

 

It is in this context that the conflict and tension over Gaza within the South African Jewish community is a positive development. It demonstrates diversity. It shows multiple storylines within that community. It encourages debate and reflection rather than unthinking reaction. It shows that South African Jews have been enriched by the struggle against apartheid. It paves the way for even stronger views to emerge from the South African Jewish community in favour of long-term solutions based on equality, justice and human  rights in the Middle East.

Growth in low-fee private schools undermines our system of rights

Privatisation of schooling in South Africa is on the up - and it’s a worrying trend. Private or independent schools were always part of the landscape; around 1994 there were just over 500 registered schools, but this number has ballooned to more than 5 times that number in 2012.
 
We are currently in a new phase of growth with the emergence of low-fee private schools in recent times. The new push to provide ‘private education for the poor’ is deeply troubling from a number of angles.
 
With regard to the policy aspect, the move towards ‘private schools for the poor’ actually threatens rather than strengthens the right to an education. Looking at the trend in developing countries, Keith Lewin of Sussex University has noted that markets cannot deliver rights, paying school fees is inappropriate for households below the poverty line, and that modern social democracies have a social contract with their citizens to promote public goods.
 
Clearly, once we go the route of private education, we undermine the notion of education as a right; we decrease the force or mass of citizens monitoring for improvement, quality and proper fulfilment of mandates by governments. Those left in the system constitute a smaller number and, in the case of rural areas and poor settlements, the voices that are marginalised by a combination of race and class realities.
 
There are the psychosocial impacts in the community. If the trend continues (and if this kind of stratification continues to deepen), those parents who cannot send their kids to these schools are left with feelings of guilt. This is an unfair guilt, especially given that education is a right. Monash Univerity’s Joel Windle says that socially disadvantaged families pay a moral price in the form of guilt for not sending their children to private schools, which the processes of marketization elevate to normative status. 
 
Learners will also be affected. Those who have stayed in public schools, unable to pay the fee, may be left with feelings of inferiority and lower self-esteem which in turn will undermine their sense of future. The further danger is that many learners will wind up being left in schools lacking a good social mix, a problem that plagues so many South African schools on the upper end, but will now effect schools in poor communities too.
 
There are also concerns around gender. Thirteen organisations, including some from South Africa, have made submissions to the United Nations alleging that school privatisation will have an adverse affect on girls. When cash-strapped parents must choose which child to send to school, they will generally opt to send boys because they believe boys will earn more in the labour market. Among the 13 were Section 27 and Equal Education. For now there are more girls in private schools than boys in South Africa, but the concerned organisations know that in many developing countries more boys are enrolled in schools than girls and are worried about how privatisation will worsen this.
 
Privatisation in education is a wider issue, but concerned experts locally have their eye firmly on the mushrooming of the low-fee schools on the SA scene. These schools are quickly changing the game.
 
In these schools, parents pay just over half of what one would normally pay per pupil in a Model C school.
 
Many parents are drawn to these low-fee private schools because of problems in public education. One of the attractions is the smaller classes and another, perhaps, is the lower teacher absenteeism. Although the quality of education in these schools is uneven and many government officials see them as fly-by-night, parents believe these schools deliver better results.
 
According to educationist Jane Hofmeyr, there were 70 000 learners in schools which charged fees below R12 000 a year in 2013 in Gauteng.
 
The Centre for Development and Education (CDE) has generated useful information about the fast rise of these schools. Zooming in to 6 areas – two in Gauteng (Braamfontein and Daveyton), two in Limpopo and two in rural Eastern Cape – its 2010 study found 117 schools in abandoned factories, shacks and former office buildings. In supplementary research, CDE also found some low-fee private primary schools in Diepsloot and Soweto, with private high schools also planned for these areas.
 
CDE reports that almost a quarter of the private schools are unregistered and therefore technically illegal. The teachers in these schools are generally less qualified than public sector teachers. Some are run by lone entrepreneurs but others are part of chains like the one started by Johannesburg-based MBA graduates who are chuffed about their “sustainable financial model for low-fee private schools in South Africa”.
 
Although CDE is positive about these developments, in South Africa we (along with educational experts) should worry about the latest phase of ‘buying out’ of the public education system. The issue should not be directed to parents, most of whom are trying to do their best for their children in a difficult situation. But we have to address ourselves to policymakers and to the community as a whole; to exhort them to actively work against this new trend and to instead agitate for improvement in the quality and appeal of public school education.
 
We should collectively strive for less privatisaton in education, not more. Privatisation cuts across the constitutional commitment to education as a basic right. It runs counter to the Freedom Charter’s notion of education for all. It flies in the face of the South African Schools Act which regards “equity” as a supreme value.

We should take serious note of the uneven quality of privatised schools at grassroots level, as well as the impacts on poor households and poor communities, including the fuelling of intra-community inequality around what should be an equal right for all children. Most of all we should be wary of any undermining of basic rights – of parental actions that  are well meant but have perilous outcomes and that chip away at a key part of South Africa’s rights framework.

 Frank Meintjies

 

TRC: follow-up action needed to advance accountability and justice

The debate and charged discussion around reconciliation will not go away. As South Africans we are celebrated worldwide for our attempts at reconciliation using the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and other measures, but we have left so many key aspects hanging.

The process is incomplete from a number of angles. The first is that the government has failed to implement most of the recommendations of the TRC, as the organisation, Khulumani, continues to point out.

The government has paid reparations to victims, it has undertaken some memorialisation work, but many recommendations have been relegated to file 13. One of these was a proposal for a once-off wealth tax levied against business and industry. Sampie Terreblanche has argued that group relations in South Africa would have been more harmonious if the government had adopted such a wealth tax.

The second reason is that the government has so far failed to prosecute those perpetrators of gross violations who did not apply for amnesty or were refused amnesty. Such prosecutions will surface further details about what really happened in the darkest corners of the apartheid system.

The third reason is that the TRC process did not allow for examination of structural aspects of apartheid. At the time of its sitting, the late Neville Alexander called on the commission – without success – to hold hearings on issues such as land and education.

All the signs are that we will benefit, even today, from hearings into the migrant labour systems or if we had held hearings to forge a deeper understanding of the devastation caused by bantu education.

A fourth area of incompleteness relates to the problem of victims, including those who testified at the commission. Khulumani argues that the government has paid the reparations amount – R30000 – to less than a quarter of those who should receive them.

“The victims’ suffering remains unalleviated as they continue to lobby the government to open the list and to broaden community reparations. Tragically, many families are obliged to pay for their own investigations to uncover the truth of the fate and whereabouts of loved ones,” says Yasmin Sooka of the Foundation for Human Rights.

A woefully understaffed missing persons task force has only scratched the surface in following up on missing persons reported to the TRC. Through locating burial sites, forensic work and exhumations, less than one fifth out of 600 cases have been resolved.

With these concerns as a backdrop there have been calls to revisit the TRC.

At a panel discussion at the Durban Film Festival, the Institute of Justice and Reconciliation called for the TRC to be “reopened” and Abba Omar, writing in The New Age in July last year, called for a second phase of the TRC.

“The reality is that there is much of our past which still needs to be confronted, so much suspicion of people who may have been part of the apartheid system which remains unresolved, so many families and communities still carrying so many wounds,” Omar wrote.

“I believe that the core result of such a process would be a better healed nation, where we don’t walk around with the feeling that those who served apartheid have not only got away with it but continue to thrive in the new South Africa.”

While I am sympathetic to such calls – a reopening of TRC would certainly lead to better lever of healing and closure – I don’t have much hope that such calls will succeed. There is no political will. As Alex Boraine implied at the Durban panel discussion this Monday, the government has over the years shown little interest in the kinds of issues raised here – it does not want to proceed with a process of “accountability” for the past and surfacing the truth. In the nineties it took the view that it was dealing with all these issues in the main through the redress contained in the RDP programme.

However, we need to continue to create spaces to discuss “reconciliation” in South Africa, including gaps and what has been achieved.

Institutions that promote dialogue, universities and public bodies should create platforms for open and informed discussion of reconciliation.

The government, donors and other institutions should provide sufficient funding for programmes that promote analysis and dialogue on racism and how it continues to operate in South Africa today. This should be accompanied by incentives for major institutions such as universities, schools, professional bodies and media institutions to run awareness or change programmes to address racism.

Interest groups should continue to lobby the government to seriously review the TRC recommendations with a view to implementing more of the TRC’s recommendations.

The government should be encouraged to appoint a joint committee made up of senior officials of the Department of Justice and, for example, specialists like Yasmin Sooka and Dumisa Ntsebeza to advise on the way forward.

There have been several initiatives by individuals or small groups in the white community to set up special funds to assist with redress. Recently these initiatives have sought to mobilise contributions from beneficiaries of apartheid as well as what Sooka calls “beneficiaries of the transition”. The government has usually ignored such moves.

The government should engage with and formally support such initiatives, especially if they could address relevant priorities such as the need to combat gender violence or critical developmental needs such as, for example, support for communities benefitting from land restitution.

For now, lack of political will or wider institutional support means there is no critical mass at an institutional level in favour of a big bang such as the TRC Phase II. But there is wide enough agreement that there is unfinished business to explore a range ways to continue discussions and positive action about accountability, truth and reconciliation.

Frank Meintjies. This article was first published in the press on 25 July 2014.