De Villiers’s criticism of Meyer is unseemly

NIVERSITIES do not operate in isolation from the rest of society. Thus, a move to introduce more English as a means to make Stellenbosch University more inclusive is to be welcomed.

Afrikaans was a tool of oppression that was shoved down the throats of black youth and which sparked the student uprisings in 1976. But, in contemporary South Africa, it is the language of a section of our society that has as much a claim to our country as any other.

There is a place for Afrikaans and its right to exist needs to be protected. But that place is perhaps not at our universities, which need to be open, inclusive and accessible spaces. AS I WRITE, the jury is still out to determine whether Heyneke Meyer’s contract should be renewed and whether South Africa’s World Cup 2015 campaign was credible or not.

My own view is that it was indeed credible – that fluke result against Japan notwithstanding.

It is my contention that the transformation debate has, to a degree, been hijacked by reactionaries and all and sundry who lack the ability to engage in a constructive manner and, hence, does not elevate the discourse.

Peter de Villiers has, in recent weeks, during interlocutions with journalists, radio talkshow hosts and on television sport news bulletins, made caustic statements towards Meyer.

I wish to draw attention to two issues with which I disagree materially: first, his excoriation of Meyer and second, De Villiers’s record against the All Blacks.

From describing Meyer as having “taken South African rugby to the gutter” and comparing him to a “four-year-old child”, to liberally employing the word “stupid” in relation to the mandarins at the South African Rugby Union (Saru), one can safely assume De Villiers has unresolved and irreconcilable differences.

Added to these, his seemingly gloating demeanour at the Springboks’ relative success or lack of it (depending on your view) during the Rugby World Cup, and one can justifiably begin to question his bona fides in the broader debate.

De Villiers has shaped a coarse narrative, devoid of the requisite intellectual and philosophical underpinnings, and one which also lacks the decorum that we as onlookers expect from a former national coach.

My view is that the democratic right to posit views on matters of national interest carries with it the responsibility of positing these views rationally and without prejudice.

However, in this case, one is inclined to conclude that there is malice in his method.

Worse still, you can’t be the arsonist and the fireman, can you?

His criticism raises the issue of unethical conduct, since it is unprecedented for a former national coach to castigate the incumbent with such intensity.

Moreover, this conduct is anathema to the dignified spirit of engagement that has evolved under our democratic dispensation.

The issue of his “record” against the All Blacks is the central tenet of De Villiers’s verbiage. My view is that Springbok rugby is first, a national asset and, second, a team sport.

De Villiers has failed to make the distinction that his “record” is indeed a collective achievement by a collective, namely, the players, coaching and management staff.

Furthermore, history shows us that records in sport are ephemeral.

New Zealand rugby is a case in point. After they could not win the World Cup at the 1991, 1995, 1999, 2003 and 2007 tournaments, they have now won it back to back and are the only nation to have won it three times.

Having considered Saru’s silence on these matters of national interest, my advice to the mandarins at Saru would be to henceforth provide for a clause in its contracts which will preclude former coaches from lambasting incumbents.

I am conscious of the possibility that I will be labelled as confused, an apologist for whites, being on Saru’s payroll and all manner of nasty things by those who fail to engage dialectically and civilly.

I am, however, emboldened by the words of the British economist John Maynard Keynes, who replied to criticism during the Great Depression of having changed his position on monetary policy thus: “when the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?”