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| You are here: 2002 / Workshops, Panels and Seminars / Seminar on South Africa / Presentation by Dr. Charles Villa-Vicencio | |||||||||
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Participants Countries and organizations Conference documentation Conference programme 
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Report from Seminar on South Africa Presentation by Reverend Frank Chikane Presentation by Ms. Hlengiwe Mkhize Presentation by Mr. Andy Ribeiro Presentation by Dr. Charles Villa-Vicencio Presentation by Mr. Graeme Simpson Presentation by Dr. Charles Villa-Vicencio Villa-Vicenio, Charles The Courage to Live Together, Material and Subjective Reconciliation It’s a very delicate thing to handle the relationship between these two elements [transformation and reconciliation]. It’s not a mathematical thing; it’s an art … If you handle the transformation in a way that doesn’t change a good part of the status quo, those who are disadvantaged will rebel, and then goodbye reconciliation. President Thabo Mbeki
I am not optimistic because I do not believe that everything will turn out well. And I am not pessimistic because I do not believe everything will turn out badly. I have hope. Hope is as important as life itself; without hope we will never reach our dreams. President Vaclav Havel There is simply no reasonable alternative to South Africans learning to live together – and we have made a good start. Given where this country was a decade ago we are, in fact, doing remarkably well, not least when we compare ourselves with many countries undergoing transition in other parts of Africa, the Balkans, Russia and elsewhere. And yet there is still a long road to travel in pursuit of national harmony. At times, we fear the progress we have made could suddenly be reversed. In the words of the 1950 Nobel Prize laureate, William Faulkner, there is a sense in which “the past isn’t even past.” It is seen in the informal settlements as you drive from Cape Town International Airport. It is there in unemployment figures. It is experienced in the poverty of the rural areas. It is encountered as blacks and whites move cheek by jowl on the streets of the nation’s cities. President Mbeki has spoken of two nations in one. The question is, what can be done? Dare we even talk of reconciliation in the face of such reality? Reconciliation, even in the modest sense of attaining sufficient social harmony to allow for democratic decision-making, is a concept which some suggest cannot survive in a grossly unequal society. The question is how to balance progress and demand? The huge expectations that surrounded the 1994 elections are over. There is a new level of impatience demanding the delivery of promised services and the realisation of the rudiments of the quality of life anticipated when Nelson Mandela was inaugurated as the nation’s first democratically elected president. There is the unfinished business of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC): Reparations have still not been paid – and the demand for these payments is not likely to easily whither away. The prosecutions debate, now that the amnesty process is complete, is likely to intensify, partly, as a result of the bizarre judgement of the Pretoria High Court in favour of Dr. Wouter Basson. There is a demand for crime to be tackled with new vigour. The devastating consequences of HIV/Aids need to be addressed. Jobs need to be created and the socio-economic gap that threatens to tear the nation apart needs to be seen to be narrowing. How? The problems involved are huge. There are no easy answers. Indeed, if they are to be resolved at all, a new social contract involving all South Africans is required – designed to at least change the nature of the conflict surrounding these problems, recognising that the problems themselves are not likely to be resolved in the near future. It is a classic case of the chicken and the egg. There cannot be reconciliation without development and reconstruction, and yet there cannot be the latter without reconciliation. Social harmony makes for economic growth and economic growth makes for social harmony. The two belong together. In this regard, there are two modest and yet demanding challenges facing South Africans today: ·The recognition that there simply is no viable alternative to learning to live together – despite the prevalence of such realities that suggest this is simply not possible. The question is ‘how?’ ·The need for a new South African self-understanding. This involves crossing the historic bridge of compromise – again and yet again. The question is whether we have the capacity to do so? Learning to Live Together
A conversation some years back, between Nelson Mandela and General Constand Viljoen, then head of the South African armed forces, defines the challenge slightly differently. “If you want to go to war,” Mandela told Viljoen, “I must be honest with you and admit that we cannot stand up to you on the battlefield. We don’t have the resources. It will be a long and bitter struggle, many people will die and the country may be reduced to ashes. But you must remember two things. You cannot win because of our numbers; you cannot kill us all. And you cannot win because of the international community. They will rally to our support and they will stand with us.” Some antagonists prefer ashes to survival. South Africa (‘miraculously!’ says Archbishop Tutu) committed itself to an historic political settlement. It is a settlement built on the need for two inter-related notions: those of coexistence and deep conversation as a basis for realistic and creative action in dealing with a range of problems that cannot easily be solved. Co-existence Reconciliation is not easy. Frequently uncomfortable, it takes time and hard work. It requires people of different races, political persuasions and economic standing to find one another in a common commitment to a future characterised by inclusivity, tolerance and co-operation. This is not easy, given the past memories, present realities and future fears that undermine the kind of trust building, risk-taking and creative partnership that is required for viable reconciliation to be possible. Finite resources and limited economic growth pose the question whether equitable redistribution of resources is simply not too daunting for the established wealthy classes as well as the nouveaux riches to make the necessary adjustments. Tough decisions need to be made regarding the national budget, which impacts on the purchase of arms, expenditure on health services (not least on HIV/AIDS), whether to pursue prosecutions and the need to pay reparations for the victims of apartheid. A tall order – and yet it is helpful to remember that South Africa’s negotiated settlement in 1994 was around equally, if not more divisive issues. The political settlement was an important first step in the healing process. It was a rupture in the past that enabled the nation to find a new way of responding to the stubborn realities of life that threatened to destroy the very existence of the nation. South Africa now needs the emotional, subjective and spiritual energy that drove that first step to take national reconciliation to a new level. Evidence suggests that this energy is perhaps latently present, if correctly tapped. In a national survey conducted last year, despite concerns expressed on a range of issues that continue to divide the nation, South Africans across the colour line indicated that they thought the country would be a poorer place if there were no other racial groups in the country. A significant result, considering the prominence of racial tension in South Africa. The survey further shows that South Africans are ready to find compromise solutions to such divisive issues as amnesty and reparations. Black and white South Africans indicated that amnesty for perpetrators of gross `violations of human rights in the apartheid context is morally unjust, and yet 65% of black South Africans conceded that amnesty was a price that needed to be paid in order to secure a peaceful transition to democratic rule in South Africa. Interestingly, only 18% of whites saw it as such! Black South Africans, in particular, were also ready to accept that the inherent injustice of amnesty can be compensated for in different ways. Even the payment of compensation was not seen as the only such palliative. A sincere apology and an opportunity for victims to relate the stories of their suffering in public were cited as important alternatives to normative forms of retribution and even reparation. Of course, survey results can be challenged. The above results do, however, suggest that the incredible amount of goodwill and willingness to find a formula for coexistence in the South African situation dare not be squandered. The tragedy is that not all South Africans are ready to respond to the challenge. The same survey also shows that while the majority of South Africans of all races support the payment of reparations to apartheid’s victims – yet only 10% of whites indicate that they are personally ready to contribute to such payments. It is, at the same time, clear that black empowerment rarely reaches the poorest of the poor. In brief, too many South Africans are insufficiently committed to redress the needs of the poor. Some claim a sense of numbness when faced with the reality of past atrocities. Others do not quite know how to respond to the magnitude of the challenge that faces the nation. Government, for its part, often feels trapped between the demands being made by victims and survivors for reparations; the post-transition expectations of the broader public for houses, education and jobs; and the need to show fiscal discipline as a way of bolstering economic growth. The outcome is a strange form of hesitancy by government in responding to the demands of apartheid’s victims. The question is not essentially what needs to be done. It is how to kindle within the South African soul the willingness to grasp the nettle and make the kind of compromise that characterised the 1994 political settlement – this time to face the economic challenge? If not addressed with rational and yet immediate urgency, coexistence – the hallmark of the South African settlement – is unlikely to unravel. Deep conversation President Mbeki, in a speech a few years back on national unity and reconciliation, encouraged antagonists to engage one another in open debate on the complexity of issues facing the nation. Aptly, he cited the Chinese slogan: “Let a hundred flowers bloom! Let a hundred schools of thought contend!” Unfortunately, this is not happening in an adequate way. South Africans who disagree on major policy issues tend to talk past one another. Opposing views generate an alienating response, often a morose silence. Civil and respectful debate, as a basis for seeking national consensus, albeit in an imperfect manner, on how to deal with the issues that divide the nation is scarcely a hallmark of South African politics. The tragedy is that in a deeply divided society, members need to learn to speak to one another after generations of castigation and confrontation. A certain quality of conversation is required, what Adam Kahane calls “deep conversation,” that goes beyond castigating one another as well as ignoring one another. It goes beyond talking past one another, beyond argumentative conversation and beyond repeating what has been heard a thousand times. Deep conversation requires ‘new’ words, creative thinking and what some would regard as an impossible dream. It involves imagination, engaged dialogue and listening at a new level of intensity. It involves empathy and a genuine desire to understand what someone else is saying. It involves thoughtful, imaginative and heartfelt talking – carefully chosen words, designed to enable the listener to understand. Only this kind of engaged debate and eternal vigilance, as a basis for building a national consensus on how to address the issues that threaten and have the capacity to destroy the gains of the past decade, can lead to the kind of united action that it will take to build a lasting democracy. The way in which we talk about deep problems is not incidental. It determines the way in which we are able to deal with our problems. Former President, Nelson Mandela, made this point recently when he spoke about HIV / Aids: “It is not my custom to use words lightly. If twenty-seven years in prison have done anything to us, it was to use the silence of solitude to make us understand how precious words are and how real speech is in its impact upon the way people live or die.” These words stand in rude contrast to the crass and belligerent words of politicians who are often more keen to score points than solve problems. In a memorable passage from his autobiography, Nelson Mandela, recalls observing the court of the Thembu regent, especially the role of the regent himself, to whom his father was a counsellor. Everyone who wanted to speak did so. It was democracy in its purest form. There may have been a hierarchy of importance among speakers, but everyone was heard: chief and subject, warrior and medicine man, shopkeeper and farmer, landowner and labourer. People spoke without interruption and meetings lasted many hours. The foundation of self-government was that all men were free to voice their opinions and were equal in their values as citizens… I was astonished by the vehemence – and candour – with which people criticised the regent. He was not above criticism – in fact, he was often the principle target of it. But no matter how serious the charge, the regent simply listened, showing no emotion at all. The meetings would continue until some kind of consensus was reached. They ended in unanimity or not at all. Unanimity, however, might be an agreement to disagree, to wait for a more propitious time to propose a solution … Only at the end of the meeting, as the sun was setting, would the regent speak. His purpose was to sum up what was said and form some consensus among the diverse opinions. But no conclusion was forced on those who disagreed. If no agreement could be reached, another meeting would be held. Modern democracies have neither the time nor the staying-power of the Thembu court. The very notion of democracy, whose source can be traced back to the ancient Greek agora, the place of assembly or marketplace of ideas is, however, undermined to the extent that different ideas are not heard and spoken through in pursuit of a way forward, which more often than not involves a proximate or imperfect solution to a problem. Reconciliation is a process aimed at this kind of democracy. Its goal is entrenched, participatory democracy. This notion of democracy, at its best, is the most modest and practical form of government. Not least in transitional societies, deeply divided by the past, it seeks for tentative solutions aimed at social reconstruction at the time, without suggesting that these are binding for all times. Such solutions need, however, to be the next logical and practical step that needs to be taken in order to overcome a point of impasse, if not political collapse. The solutions are rarely ultimate and usually less than ideal. It seeks modus operandi with which to both manage and find tentative solutions to such problems that are likely to be around for sometime to come. What is being argued for is a relationship-centric approach to address the taxing problems that face South Africa, recognising that the way in which a nation addresses its problems is as important as the solutions it may come up with. For this to happen, there needs to be a commitment to substantive democracy, which goes beyond any notion of democracy being some kind of ‘elected oligarchy.’ A key ingredient to this brand of democracy is participatory development, which recognises the essential right of those involved and most directly impacted on by a particular problem, to themselves decide on the nature of the compromise that may be required to ensure peace and co-existence. This involves the creation of ‘middle ground’ within which the material and subjective dimensions of estrangements can be addressed. It is here that the will and the courage to embrace the kind of change that facilitates reconciliation can happen. It involves a public space within which people can seek for common ground despite their historic and actual differences. This requires ‘deep conversation.’ It involves the creation of new mental maps, the projection of new possibilities and a willingness to risk failure as an alternative to waiting for the inevitable to crush any possibility of renewal. The enduring ‘talks about talks’ and what has, at times, been dismissed as a ‘settlement of the elite’ in the South African situation was a consequence of long debate and deep conversation. It was then up to political leaders to sell the settlement to their respective constituencies. The success of their ability to do this was, in turn, significantly related to their sustained conversation, indeed their deep conversation, with their respective constituencies. We ultimately think best in relation to others who think deeply. And yet thought alone is insufficient. If potent enough, it leads to action. Neither thinking, conversation, negotiation and joint decision-making without action, nor action without thoughtful engagement is sufficient to effect deep changes in society. Action, to be participatory and effective, must result from and be a consequence of the dialogue. And this inevitably involves compromise. Crossing the Historic Bridge Yet Again
Resorting yet again to the doyen of peacemakers and leader of leaders, Nelson Mandela, speaking this time on the eve of the Zimbabwe presidential elections, he insisted that if there is violence it must be dealt with “… by sitting down to talk. If you have got a strong case call your adversary and say: I want you to justify your position … and then try to sort the matter out and make compromises. That is how to become a nation-builder.” Again there are two related concepts that need addressing: compromise and vision. Compromise In the world of political transition, compromise is inevitable. South African democracy was born not in a Damascus Road experience. There was no zero hour in which the past was transcended in a glorious revolution. Participants in the negotiation process were obliged to take all possible future consequences into account in addressing the immediate demands for justice, recognising that only a blind or irresponsible negotiator could dare not to do so. There are undoubtedly some that, according to the norms of normative or full justice, should have been prosecuted in the South African situation. The consequences would have been an escalation of civil war. To quote Richard Goldstone: “You couldn’t expect de Klerk not only to give up power voluntarily but in addition to condemn himself and his friends to life in prison. That would have been asking too much.” Apartheid generals and politicians would not have ended the war if they knew they would have faced charges and possible long jail sentences six months later. Indeed, suggests Kent Greenwalt, “sometimes injustices are done to prevent others.” Never intended as an end in itself, in order to produce lasting peace, political compromise that is at the heart of a Truth and Reconciliation process, needs necessarily to be a first step in a dynamic process. At best, it is the beginning of a process that ultimately delivers more than what the initial step suggests. If there is anything to learn from the South African transition is that it is important not to start negotiating with too clear and unbending idea of the end in mind. This is vividly illustrated in what South Africans, in their constitutional talks (Codesa), called ‘sufficient consensus.’ It involved an element of agreement (however limited) around which to build. Political decisions about the future are made not in a vacuum but on the basis of historical reality. One can build a house only with the bricks available at the time, and the first step can rarely be a final step. The ‘historic bridge’ of compromise, referred to in the post-amble of the Interim Constitution, needs to be crossed ‘again, again and yet again’ in transitional politics. It is this that makes Truth Commissions so unpalatable to so many who prefer a clear and a judicial answer to the messy quandaries of political transition. Negotiation, compromise and a willingness to build the house step by step is grist for the mill in the nation-building process, where the issues are as stark and potentially explosive as they inevitably are in societies that opt for third way politics as an alternative to war. The danger is that once the initial pressure to compromise is over, the incentive to continue the process of seeking progressively to find solutions to the problems not yet addressed is frequently lost. The outcome is political stagnation, within which complacency of the powerful and increasing frustration for the weak becomes the norm. The outcome can be a new cycle of protest and repression between former allies. The potential for such conflict in South Africa is boldly present – seen in relation to the issues already identified in this paper: reparations, poverty, unemployment, HIV/AIDS and related concerns. ‘Deep conversation,’ I am suggesting, is the lifeblood of peaceful political change. Provisional compromise is crucial. To be effective and acceptable, however, it must emerge from national consensus. It cannot be seen as binding for all time. Political compromise, within a democratic system, is by definition provisional. It is the next logical step forward, recognising that each new context provides the possibility for further steps to be taken. The vision and the ideal that drives society (often out of desperation) to seek compromise in the first place must be kept alive. Max Horkheimer, existentialist philosopher and not a believer, speaks of this need as a “theological moment” – the space for critique, openness, renewal, growth, experiment, vision and the persistent demand for more within the domain of politics. Without this reality, he argues, “no matter how skilful, politics is in the last analysis mere business.” Differently stated, politics is process – so is reconciliation. It must be driven by vision in order to remain dynamic. Vision
The vision of the ‘new’ South Africa is, of course, enshrined in the South African Constitution – said by some to be the most progressive and morally substantial constitution in the world. Home-grown, in the sense of responding to the special needs and circumstances of the South African situation, it is written in accordance with international norms and standards, affirming South Africa’s re-entry into the international community. It combines the celebration of past successes and commemoration of past failures. In order to ensure that a constitution does not degenerate into a mere ‘piece of paper,’ it is necessary that legislators translate the constitutional vision into functional legislation and that ordinary South Africans turn vision into reality. The challenge encapsulated in the contradiction between constitutional vision and present reality is huge. It is also important. It is a lure that draws us beyond who we are to whom we should become. A nation committed to reconciliation is a nation bound by a common commitment to a vision of what it can become. It is a vision that must permeate and sustain every layer of a nation’s identity from arts, culture and religion, to education, business and entertainment. Leaders, citizens, young, old, women, men and youth need to both shape and promote the vision. National pride, self-confidence and expectation are essential in seeking to transcend past and present divisions. For this to occur, respect and understanding between citizens is necessary. This involves a commitment to inclusivity – to learn to live together. President Mbeki’s “I am an African” speech unleashed an important debate on identity, belonging and national inclusivity. Some jostled to be the self-appointed gatekeepers of ‘African’ and ‘South African’ identity. The debate was a heated one. An important contribution came from a South African author, Zakes Mda, speaking at a conference on Culture, Identity and Citizenship, organised by the Institute for Justice and Reconciliation. Noting the irony that it had recently become respectable for whites to be seen as African, he noted that: African identity is a very novel phenomenon. It is, in fact, an identity-in-the –making. Until a hundred year ago the inhabitants of the continent did not generally refer to themselves as Africans – either as a racial or a continental identity. They recognised and celebrated various identities that were based on ethnicity, clan, family, gender and class – and later on nation and religion. In South Africa the first people to collectively call themselves Africans were the descendants of the Dutch and French Huguenot settlers who were known as the Boers because of their agrarian culture. Although most Africans are black, not all black people are Africans. Most importantly, not all Africans are black. The notion that South Africa belongs to all those who chose to live within it is a vision of both invitation and challenge. The invitation is to transcend race, culture and past identity – as well as class, health status and immediate social needs. The challenge involves the full implications of living in a country that continues to be ravaged by the injustices of the past. ‘Invitation’ and ‘challenge’ are the flip sides of the same coin, which involves the affirmation of the inherent link between reconciliation and economic development. Reflecting on these challenges, Njabulo Ndebele, powerfully and yet simply suggests that reconciliation has not so much to do with present realities as with “who we can become.” It is appropriate to end this presentation with the words of Archbishop Tutu: “Reconciliation is not about being cosy; it is not about pretending that things were other than they were. Reconciliation based on falsehood, on not facing up to reality, is not true reconciliation and will not last.” A vision that unites must necessarily face the truth about the past. It must, at the same time, seek ways to deal realistically with the heritage of the past to the benefit of the victims of that past and the well-being of the nation as a whole. Most will agree on the ideal outcome of this quest, the pertinent question is how to get there. The debate over military tribunals, international trials, lustration, amnesty, apologies and truth commissions is likely to continue for sometime to come. In an address at a conference in Bogota, Colombia, focussing on peace-making in Latin American countries, Madeleine Alingue spoke with passion of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission as a “global footprint,” offering “a new, perhaps the only way” of dealing with the kind of problems that haunt certain parts of the world. Responding to the Commission in a manner that few South Africans would, she suggested that there is a certain “mystique” in a reconciling process that we “banalise” at our own peril.” “It is a process, “she argued, “ which rarely offers itself to a nation. As such, it much be cherished and protected.” Mary Robinson, speaking at the torn and fragmented World Conference on Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerances held in Durban last year, paraphrased Martin Luther King in urging the divided peoples of an array of assembled nations “not to loose sight of the goal.” “It is within our grasp, “ she suggested, “to attain a ringing respect for human dignity.” This is the basis of the courage that is needed to learn to live together. It encapsulates the material and subjective. >> Back to top |
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