Change the names to rid SA of

The announcement in June that the minister of arts and culture, Nathi Mthethwa, had approved the belated name change of Grahamstown to Makhanda was greeted with the usual social media storm of outrage. Equally predictable, the reaction reflected the polarisation of South African society along racial and privilege lines.

At the beginning of August, the minister reported that more than 300 letters of objection had been submitted and were receiving attention. Given the nature of the objections and the relatively small number out of a population of some 60 000 in the Makana municipality, it can be assumed the name change will stay.

Now it is time to deal with other geographical names that should have been changed in the transition to democracy. The slow pace of transformation of place names and the routine objections from minority groups is a constant reminder that ours was a negotiated settlement in 1994 and not a revolutionary takeover.

There were no scenes on television of triumphant tanks rolling through the streets of Pretoria. Nor were there dramatic scenes of apartheidera statues being yanked from their pedestals by cranes. This absence appears to have encouraged those seeking to preserve the status quo.

After nearly a quarter of a century, the continued existence of colonial and apartheid place names is a daily reminder of the slow pace of transformation. It speaks to the persistence of unequal power relations in society. It is evidence of a misunderstanding of the concept of reconciliation upon which arts and Where the original intention is suppressed for a white man’s ego and profit, and for the ego and psychological profit of all of white South Africa.

All the analyses have been spot on but I want to add another lens. There’s is a missing piece in the subverted fiction that is “Braai Day”; a psychosocial understanding of why whiteness not only accepted and runs with it but how it allows white society to centre whiteness in successful pursuit of a thing to comfort culture policy during the Mandela presidency was based — essentially a one-sided view of reconciliation in which black people were expected to forgive white people for apartheid while allowing them to hang on to the privileges they accumulated. Nation building was (mis)interpreted as not tampering with the history and culture of the minority.

The initial attempts at transformation of place names were based on three main policy pillars: changing offensive place names, restoring the correct spelling of African place names that had become Anglicised or Afrikaans-ised and changing place names that represented the history and values of colonialism and apartheid to reflect the democratic dispensation.

The pace of change in the provinces was uneven. The former Northern Province succeeded in short order in changing its name and that of a large number of towns and cities. The Eastern Cape, in contrast, failed to change its name, despite the best efforts of the then premier, Makhenkesi Stofile. Changing the corrupted spellings of indigenous place names was more successful — as in Bhisho, Mthatha, Dutywa, Qumra and Centane. The Western Cape appears to have not even made a serious attempt. the collective ego. Achieving, at once, the suppression of black heritage while forcing us to speak up to reclaim it, putting people of colour once again in a burdened position.

In any celebration of culture and heritage in a world constructed by white supremacy, white people feel left out when people of colour celebrate history and heritage. Whiteness is the norm, the default. When a Black History Month or Heritage Day appears, a psychologi-

The implementation of the third policy pillar, despite some lengthy consultations, petered out because of a combination of resistance, vested interest and official indifference. Part of the problem is that provincial structures intended to guide renaming processes, undertake consultations and make recommendations to the minister of arts and culture did not have the necessary capacity.

The nature of the various consultations also led to dead ends because they became subsumed in a welter of service delivery and other complaints, allowing those opposing name changes to successfully stall proceedings. The absence of clear criteria and principles upon which name changes could be based further hampered consensus.

Changing place names is guided by the South African Geographical Names Act of 1998. But the legal framework, important as it is, is only one aspect. It requires political will to intervene to redress imbalances in society and a willingness of citizens to embrace a different future.

Now that the prickly issue of Grahamstown has been firmly grasped, let us renew efforts to change other names too. Let the national department of arts and culture work with its provincial counterparts to develop a set of principles and criteria to guide a renewed consultative process and get on with it.

Those objecting to name changes appear to have failed to grasp that changing geographical names was an integral part of establishing colonial hegemony. Transforming place names should, therefore, form part of decolonising society. There is nothing sacrosanct about colonial and apartheid place names. Indeed, some colonial commentators were themselves critical of the process

Critics also display amnesia in remembering that the apartheid government itself was active in renaming places to suit its own ends