We have a Constitution celebrated as the best in the world. Some would say it is the most progressive, while others would call it the most liberal. A brief analysis of the conditions and forces that gave birth to our Constitution seems to be in order. In case we do not remember, the collapse of the then Soviet Union provided the most immediate catalyst to the process of negotiations for a new and democratic South Africa. In apartheid South Africa in the late 1980s, the regime could only keep a modicum of law and order through a state of emergency. The masses were no longer willing to be ruled in the same old way.
An orderly retreat for the regime meant giving up elements of political power to the black majority, while immigrating substantial power away from the legislature and the executive and vesting it in the judiciary, Chapter 9 institutions and civil society movements.
Interestingly, and perhaps reflecting the balance of forces at the time, the movement was willing to make this fundamental and substantive concession. However, the concessions described cannot be explained only as a reflection orresult of a balance of forces at the time. In this regard, one ventures to suggest that the negative experience of the apartheid government by the oppressed might explain the ease with which the liberation movement embraced what one calls the emptying of the state.
Apartheid forces sought to and succeeded in retaining white domination under a black government. This they achieved by emptying the legislature and executive of real political power. On the other hand, the liberation movement was overwhelmed by a desire to create a society bereft of any form of discrimination and, as a result, made fatal concessions.
We thus have a Constitution that reflects the great compromise, a compromise tilted heavily in favour of forces against change. However, there is a strong body of thought arguing the view that our Constitution is transformative. In this regard, a point needs to be made that a constitution can either be progressive or reactionary, depending on the balance of forces in the society it governs.
In our case, the black majority enjoys empty political power while forces against change reign supreme in the economy, judiciary, public opinion and civil society. The old order has built a fortified front line in the mentioned forums. Given massive resources deriving from ownership of the economy, forces against change are able to finance their programmes and projects aimed at defending the status quo. As a result, formal political rights conferred on blacks can be exercised only within the parameters of the old apartheid economic relations. This imbalance is reflected across the length and breadth of the country in economic, social and even political terms to some extent.
The objective of protecting white economic interests, having been achieved with the adoption of the new Constitution, a grand and total strategy to entrench it for all times, was rolled out. In this regard, power was systematically taken out of the legislature and the executive to curtail efforts and initiatives aimed at inducing fundamental changes. In this way, elections would be regular rituals handing empty victories to the ruling party.
Regarding the judiciary, a two-pronged strategy is evident. The first and foremost is to frustrate the transformation agenda by downplaying requirements of gender and colour representation. Many obstacles, such as comments from white-dominated law societies, have to be taken into account when final decisions are made by the Judicial Service Commission. The subtext of this is to ensure that in the inevitable event of these appointments being made, the new appointees are expropriated by the system in place. This is done through the application of an unwritten plethora of rules during the initiation of new appointees.
The other tactic is to challenge as many policy positions as possible in the courts, where the forces against change still hold relative hegemony. The legislature itself has not escaped the encroaching tendency of the judiciary, with debatable decisions taken by majority views, in some instances. Decisions of the Judicial Services Commission have equally been systematically subjected to judicial reviews. The process of delegitimising the commission and its decisions has been initiated through the instrument of "public opinion".
At an ideological level, the public sector under the control of the black majority is posited as inefficient, corrupt and not worthy of any trust. This manifests itself in the form of vulgar and at times subtle racism. This means that, in our country, capital also has colour, as was the case under colonialism of a special type. It is, therefore, not surprising that any black person doing business with government exposes himself or herself to extraordinary scrutiny. This way the government is compelled to retain contracts with established white business. When the government employs black people in senior positions, it is seen as cadre deployment. When whites are employed in the private sector and public areas controlled by the opposition, it is lauded as wise skill deployment.
In the view of the dominant but seriously contested ideology, the private sector is promoted as the ultimate panacea for all societal ills. Public opinion, which in fact is the opinion of the private sector, is deployed to propagate this world view. In this context, any different opinion is immediately discredited as pro-government and therefore unreliable propaganda to be dismissed. In this regard, it is interesting to note that even the public broadcaster has been compelled to succumb to the power of hegemonic forces. To remain credible it has to be seen to be critical of the government of the day, except in areas controlled by the opposition. To criticise the private sector is to enter taboo land and to commit an unforgivable sin.
Seventeen years later, a moment has arrived for an honest collective reflection of the state of the nation and the common future we are duty-bound to build, as failure to do so would lead to colossal destruction of the country. One is initiating this reflection in the context of the foregoing analysis. In the 17 years, we have witnessed sustained and relentless efforts to immigrate the little power left with the executive and the legislature to civil society and the judiciary.
The main drivers in this process are the opposition and civil society, who feel relatively strong in those fronts, given the mainly still untransformed judiciary. The opposition to the judiciary itself and the bashing of the Judicial Service Commission should be understood in this context.
Source: Times Live
Showing posts with label Soviet Union. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Soviet Union. Show all posts
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Friday, March 5, 2010
The Honour to serve: Recollections of an Umkhonto Soldier
James Ngculu, an Umkhonto weSizwe (MK) soldier and former chair of the parliamentary portfolio committee on health, narrates this story about our past with simplicity.
He makes no attempt at a complicated analysis of serving in MK. Rather, he provides the reader with plain and nostalgic recollections of his journey from the Cape Flats to the destination called exile; of his experiences as a soldier; of being a member of the ANC and the South African Communist Party (SACP); of his travels in Southern Africa and socialist Europe; and of the circumstances under which many exiles returned to South Africa.
The book reads like a semi-autobiographical account of exile, but it is mostly about the June 16 Detachment of MK in Angola. This is a story shared by many young people who left the country in the aftermath of the Soweto uprising on June 16 1976. The forays into exile of the 1976 generation are painfully similar; it almost appears as though they had one exile recruitment agency.
Ngculu makes the point that the apartheid government's response to June 16 triggered the desire and determination to join the ANC in exile. The murder of innocent schoolchildren by the police left many of his generation with no option but to take up arms against the apartheid government.
Full of passion and innocence, Ngculu and his friends left South Africa with little money and no clothes. After a few days at a safe house in Soweto, they boarded a train for Zeerust, disembarked and then began a long walk. They literally jumped a "fence" into Botswana. This first part of their journey into exile "was uneventful, except for the singing of revolutionary songs, until we met a roadblock outside Johannesburg. The road was teeming with members of the South African Police and South African Defence Force."
The irony of that situation is lost in the simple narrative that seems to downplay the dangers that these young people had chosen to take on.
Ngculu then takes us into exile, first explaining the administrative and logistical processes for new arrivals, including the changing of their names and their registration as refugees with United Nations agencies. He talks about the excitement of going through military training and political education.
Then he takes the reader through his own political and ideological development as he travels to other countries and learns more about history and politics. He also rises within the ranks and gains leadership positions in MK, the ANC and the SACP.
That his experiences in Russia had a major impact on his political development is clear from his romanticised view of the role the Soviet Union played in political developments in Southern Africa. Cuba, for example, though viewed favourably, doesn't get as much attention for its decisive role in the resolution of the Southern African conflict.
But a great deal is dedicated to Angola in the book. Ngculu explains how that war-ravaged country dispelled any romanticism about armed struggle. Although being an MK soldier and understanding the discipline that goes with that is an honour, Ngculu does not shy away from the frustrations and utter despair that many recruits felt in the camps. These had many causes, but two come across quite strongly: idleness and abuse of power. Ngculu writes: "The most traumatic thing in the camps was waiting. This waiting became the source of all our frustrations and feelings of despondency."
As repression inside South Africa intensified and young people were in revolt against apartheid, the ANC declared 1981, the 29th anniversary of MK, as the "Year of the Youth". Ngculu says these developments generated a lot of discussions and many agitated for more armed action inside South Africa and complained to Oliver Tambo about staying too long in the camps. Although few and "specialised" units were sent inside South Africa, many trained MK soldiers remained in the camps in the forward areas and in Angola.
Tambo requested MK soldiers to document their complaints and these pointed at the command structures and the security department, as well as poor command and control in the forward areas. At this time, Ngculu says, they were aware that many of their comrades had been withdrawn from the forward areas and sent back into Angola. He says "some people were withdrawn to Angola because of misunderstanding ... Others because they challenged certain tendencies of their commanders, while others were withdrawn because of ill-discipline. It became clear that Angola was used as a dumping ground. People feared it as a sort of Siberia."
Although Ngculu does not condemn outright the abuses that took place in the camps, he does provide a political context for it. He offers a picture of the events that led to the mutiny. This is detailed in chapter 11, "From 'Shishita' to Mutiny", which is a gripping account of infiltration by apartheid agents, the prominence of the ANC's security arm and how fear and suspicion gripped ANC ranks, giving rise to the 1984 mutiny.
Ngculu writes: "In 1981 we discovered evidence of enemy infiltration and a network of spies and agents provocateurs which stretched from Angola to Zambia and the forward areas. It became clear that there was a grand plan by apartheid agents to step up their operations against the ANC."
In response the ANC arrested and sent a large number of people to Morris Seabelo Rehabilitation Centre, notoriously termed Quatro. Ngculu says "a near state of emergency developed in the camps and other forward areas as fear gripped the ranks of the organisation. No one was certain of his/her position because under torture a person could admit even the most unbelievable things. The tales of those who had gone through torture would send shivers down your spine."
The crackdown on enemy agents was followed by rooting out dagga smoking in the camps, which was equally brutal. Ngculu says these actions resulted in fear and uncertainty in all the camps in Angola. He writes: "A new atmosphere of fear was thus created. People suspected of being dagga users were severely beaten by the security department and other names would be revealed ... Another form of torture was introduced -- people were tied to a tree as part of punishment or they would be locked in a windowless container."
Ngculu lists examples that include beatings. In some cases people were forced "to put on a heavy overcoat and stand in the centre of the camp in the scorching sun for a whole day". At times these punishments were carried out by very young comrades who followed the orders of the security department.
In time "a feeling of isolation spread in the camps and the ruthlessness associated with the security department gave rise to the name Imbokodo -- 'the grinding stone'. This graphically captured the feeling of revulsion against the department." The role of the security department, Ngculu says, should help in understanding the events leading up to the 1984 mutiny.
Ngculu is direct in his prose, keeping his narrative and tone dry, and recollecting incidents with little emotion. But Ngculu does lose the dry tone in the chapter about the women of MK. Their story is yet to written in full, but Ngculu's is a welcome contribution to the gender narrative about exile.
The book is painstakingly detailed because it is not only Ngculu's story: it is about the pride of the 1976 generation, the appreciation of their personal sacrifice and the ability of the human spirit to adapt to hardship.
Thirty-four years after the Soweto uprising, The Honour to Serve helps others to appreciate the pain, suffering, scars, deep bonds, friendships and complex human relationships that come from the harrowing yet fulfilling experience of this generation.
Source: Mail & Guardian
He makes no attempt at a complicated analysis of serving in MK. Rather, he provides the reader with plain and nostalgic recollections of his journey from the Cape Flats to the destination called exile; of his experiences as a soldier; of being a member of the ANC and the South African Communist Party (SACP); of his travels in Southern Africa and socialist Europe; and of the circumstances under which many exiles returned to South Africa.
The book reads like a semi-autobiographical account of exile, but it is mostly about the June 16 Detachment of MK in Angola. This is a story shared by many young people who left the country in the aftermath of the Soweto uprising on June 16 1976. The forays into exile of the 1976 generation are painfully similar; it almost appears as though they had one exile recruitment agency.
Ngculu makes the point that the apartheid government's response to June 16 triggered the desire and determination to join the ANC in exile. The murder of innocent schoolchildren by the police left many of his generation with no option but to take up arms against the apartheid government.
Full of passion and innocence, Ngculu and his friends left South Africa with little money and no clothes. After a few days at a safe house in Soweto, they boarded a train for Zeerust, disembarked and then began a long walk. They literally jumped a "fence" into Botswana. This first part of their journey into exile "was uneventful, except for the singing of revolutionary songs, until we met a roadblock outside Johannesburg. The road was teeming with members of the South African Police and South African Defence Force."
The irony of that situation is lost in the simple narrative that seems to downplay the dangers that these young people had chosen to take on.
Ngculu then takes us into exile, first explaining the administrative and logistical processes for new arrivals, including the changing of their names and their registration as refugees with United Nations agencies. He talks about the excitement of going through military training and political education.
Then he takes the reader through his own political and ideological development as he travels to other countries and learns more about history and politics. He also rises within the ranks and gains leadership positions in MK, the ANC and the SACP.
That his experiences in Russia had a major impact on his political development is clear from his romanticised view of the role the Soviet Union played in political developments in Southern Africa. Cuba, for example, though viewed favourably, doesn't get as much attention for its decisive role in the resolution of the Southern African conflict.
But a great deal is dedicated to Angola in the book. Ngculu explains how that war-ravaged country dispelled any romanticism about armed struggle. Although being an MK soldier and understanding the discipline that goes with that is an honour, Ngculu does not shy away from the frustrations and utter despair that many recruits felt in the camps. These had many causes, but two come across quite strongly: idleness and abuse of power. Ngculu writes: "The most traumatic thing in the camps was waiting. This waiting became the source of all our frustrations and feelings of despondency."
As repression inside South Africa intensified and young people were in revolt against apartheid, the ANC declared 1981, the 29th anniversary of MK, as the "Year of the Youth". Ngculu says these developments generated a lot of discussions and many agitated for more armed action inside South Africa and complained to Oliver Tambo about staying too long in the camps. Although few and "specialised" units were sent inside South Africa, many trained MK soldiers remained in the camps in the forward areas and in Angola.
Tambo requested MK soldiers to document their complaints and these pointed at the command structures and the security department, as well as poor command and control in the forward areas. At this time, Ngculu says, they were aware that many of their comrades had been withdrawn from the forward areas and sent back into Angola. He says "some people were withdrawn to Angola because of misunderstanding ... Others because they challenged certain tendencies of their commanders, while others were withdrawn because of ill-discipline. It became clear that Angola was used as a dumping ground. People feared it as a sort of Siberia."
Although Ngculu does not condemn outright the abuses that took place in the camps, he does provide a political context for it. He offers a picture of the events that led to the mutiny. This is detailed in chapter 11, "From 'Shishita' to Mutiny", which is a gripping account of infiltration by apartheid agents, the prominence of the ANC's security arm and how fear and suspicion gripped ANC ranks, giving rise to the 1984 mutiny.
Ngculu writes: "In 1981 we discovered evidence of enemy infiltration and a network of spies and agents provocateurs which stretched from Angola to Zambia and the forward areas. It became clear that there was a grand plan by apartheid agents to step up their operations against the ANC."
In response the ANC arrested and sent a large number of people to Morris Seabelo Rehabilitation Centre, notoriously termed Quatro. Ngculu says "a near state of emergency developed in the camps and other forward areas as fear gripped the ranks of the organisation. No one was certain of his/her position because under torture a person could admit even the most unbelievable things. The tales of those who had gone through torture would send shivers down your spine."
The crackdown on enemy agents was followed by rooting out dagga smoking in the camps, which was equally brutal. Ngculu says these actions resulted in fear and uncertainty in all the camps in Angola. He writes: "A new atmosphere of fear was thus created. People suspected of being dagga users were severely beaten by the security department and other names would be revealed ... Another form of torture was introduced -- people were tied to a tree as part of punishment or they would be locked in a windowless container."
Ngculu lists examples that include beatings. In some cases people were forced "to put on a heavy overcoat and stand in the centre of the camp in the scorching sun for a whole day". At times these punishments were carried out by very young comrades who followed the orders of the security department.
In time "a feeling of isolation spread in the camps and the ruthlessness associated with the security department gave rise to the name Imbokodo -- 'the grinding stone'. This graphically captured the feeling of revulsion against the department." The role of the security department, Ngculu says, should help in understanding the events leading up to the 1984 mutiny.
Ngculu is direct in his prose, keeping his narrative and tone dry, and recollecting incidents with little emotion. But Ngculu does lose the dry tone in the chapter about the women of MK. Their story is yet to written in full, but Ngculu's is a welcome contribution to the gender narrative about exile.
The book is painstakingly detailed because it is not only Ngculu's story: it is about the pride of the 1976 generation, the appreciation of their personal sacrifice and the ability of the human spirit to adapt to hardship.
Thirty-four years after the Soweto uprising, The Honour to Serve helps others to appreciate the pain, suffering, scars, deep bonds, friendships and complex human relationships that come from the harrowing yet fulfilling experience of this generation.
Source: Mail & Guardian
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