In South Africa, ‘we the people’ is only for a chosen few
AS AN INDIAN South African, I’ve become rather concerned about the hype we hear about our country – all this talk about South Africa being Africa’s leader. Some have added a gratuitous subtitle saying: “South Africa: A world power.”
And I just don’t think that’s what South Africa is all about or should be all about.
Indeed, what worries me is the entire notion of African nationalism seems to be terribly archaic. It’s redolent of James Bond movies or Kipling ballads – recall the authorpoet saying “the empire on which the sun never sets”. We have our own variation to that theme – “the ANC will rule until Jesus comes”.
If it’s crime (corruption, rape, murder, et al), mediocrity, rugby superiority, economic disparity, or disease management, we are on course to top the charts. Even the world recognises it, in agreement. But, somehow, none of that adds up to what I think South Africans really can aim to contribute to the world.
And so, I wondered, could what the future beckons for South Africa to be all about – a combination of things allied to economic well-being, or a combination of things allied to something else – the attraction of its multi-racial society existing harmoniously within a non-racial framework? After all, we pride ourselves in having crafted one of the best constitutions in the world, with its built-in human rights charter.
Next week, South Africa’s 27th anniversary as a democracy, will be celebrated with the usual rituals – but there will be less fanfare and bluster because of the Covid-19 restrictions. It is reassuring, especially at this time of the year, that the majority of South Africans are basking in self-esteem. They deserve it. It was a hard-fought victory.
But how do others perceive themselves in terms of overall respect, trust, esteem, admiration and good feelings, and how are we, in turn, viewed by other countries?
South Africa’s new nationalist history, with its built-in institutions of traditionalism or tribalism as some would have it, has stressed the starry-eyed idealism of a non-racial democracy that heard Nelson Mandela making a pledge for reconciliation and nation-building in his inaugural presidential address.
We were intoxicated by the sweet air of freedom – and its exuberance was universally shared – after centuries of servitude, through slavery, indenture, forced migrant labour, neglect, deprivation and, above all, racism.
Where does this perception stand today, as far as “We the people … ” (the preamble to the Constitution) – which, by the way, also includes Indian South Africans and other ethnic communities?
Until 1994, South Africa was home to Indians who lived in a permanent state of neglect and deprivation, and in search of an identity. They assumed permanent citizenship in 1961 (when South Africa became a Republic). Before 1961, they were stateless.
In 1910, when the British cobbled an agreement with the boers to establish the Union of South Africa, the perfidious Brits did not extend the new Union’s citizenship to blacks (Africans, Indians and coloureds), despite Indians being subjects of their Britannic majesties, Queen Victoria and King Edward VII, in their colonial jewel in the crown – India.
During the 18th century, slaves were brought mainly from India, with the majority coming from Calcutta, Bengal, Malabar and Coromandel.
They made up more than 36% of the slave population at the Cape. Following the abolition of slavery in 1834, a new system of semi-slavery, which was reclassified as indenture, was substituted. The first batch of indentured workers arrived in the Natal colony in 1860. Shamefully, that was another unsung heritage of the Indians.
Although the template changed in 1994, the outcomes remained the same. Life after 1994 was never as unbearable as in the colonial and apartheid eras.
But Indian South Africans lacked those privileges, advantages and affirmations (which Africans enjoyed). And despite the political, social, racially-condescending disdain and hospitality a few Indian South Africans scrounged for, they made it with hard work and enterprise. They made drudgery bearable.
For example, matriculants with outstanding and compulsory qualifications for study at university are overlooked for admission because of the racially loaded quota system. Alternatively, take that of a young doctor who completed her internship and community service obligations and she can’t specialise in surgery, despite her predilection for this medical procedure, because her African counterpart must be prioritised over her.
Yet Indian South Africans with diverse skills have distinguished themselves internationally. The so-called Indian-phobia, that gripped the new power elite to the fall of many, has been attributed to their incipient marginalisation in the new democracy.
The Indian South African’s further fall from grace after 1994 has been precipitate after the Mandela presidency. For some, the vacuous condescension, that marked earlier attitudes, has been replaced by their desperation to find greener pastures. Today, the new rootless emigres have little problems – they have seen their intellectual and social worth abroad.
But, back home, many Indian South Africans are ensnared in a web of indescribable, even conflicting emotions. They are caught in a maelstrom.
The smart-aleck wannabe among them, whose tie and suburban twang once enabled them to pull strings from the shadows or lord over their less fortunate township brethren, have also seen envy replaced with disinterest. And as a result, they are also royally ignored through marginalisation.
However, with a precarious descent into obscurity, there is a solace: interventions through the Constitution and Bill of Rights.
If there is anything worth celebrating in the years ahead, it is not demographic numbers; nationalism of ethnicity, language, or religion because we have every ethnicity, language (some are recognised in the Constitution), or religion. We can endure these differences and still rally around a consensus.
We still have enormous problems of governance and some of the ethical standards of public figures are deplorable.
The consensus is a simple principle: that in a plural democracy like South Africa, you don’t have to agree on everything all the time, so long as you agree on the ground rules of how you will disagree. The great success story of 27 years of democracy is that it managed to maintain consensus on how to survive without consensus.
Conquering these challenges will take place in our plural and diverse society, that is determined to fulfil the creative energies of all its people.