A saga of academic persecution and resistance has exposed petty tyranny at the University of Venda.
Chances are remote that the tale of Fanie Olivier will become the South African byword for resistance to bureaucratic tyranny – in the way that the story of William Tell came to represent Swiss defiance of an unjust order.
If so, it will not be for a lack of courage displayed by Olivier – although, admittedly, the professor of Afrikaans and literary theory makes an unlikely Tell figure.
It is also not for a lack of parallels with the Swiss story – one of the most ironic being that the middle name of Olivier’s nemesis, University of Venda vice-chancellor Muxe Nkondo, is Gessler.
Readers may recall that the villain of the Tell story was named Gessler, the man who was sent to impose on the Swiss the authority of the Austrian Hapsburg emperors. Gessler famously stuck his hat on a pole in the town square and issued orders for the Swiss to confirm their obedience by bowing to the hat when they passed. Tell got into trouble for refusing.
Olivier, too, has got into trouble for refusing to bow to Gessler’s hat. He has been without a job for two-and-a-half years, and has been subjected to a six-year campaign of disciplinary hearings and litigation, essentially for challenging Nkondo’s authority.
The saga began in 1995 when Olivier heard about a university credit card being issued to Nkondo – with a credit limit of R150 000 – purportedly on the authority of the university council.
Olivier, who was an elected representative of the academic senate on the council, knew no such generous facility had been authorised. He took it upon himself to write to the bank that had issued the card, requesting details of its issue and use.
Strangely, instead of investigating whether Nkondo had falsely claimed to the bank that he had council authority for the issuing of the card, the university council instituted a disciplinary inquiry against Olivier for writing to the bank. He was found guilty of purporting to act on behalf of the council and removed from the council and the senate.
Olivier went to court to challenge his conviction and expulsion from the university’s decision-making bodies. On the morning of October 23 1997, the day on which his review application was to be heard, he was handed a letter stating that the council had decided to withdraw its decision to expel him.
However, what the letter did not say was that council had withdrawn the case (which had serious legal flaws) in order to charge him afresh.
At this stage Barney Pityana, who was chairperson of the Human Rights Commission, had become chairperson of the university council.
The council reinstituted the inquiry, and again Olivier was found guilty and suspended from the council. He was also ordered to write a letter of apology to both the bank and the council.
Olivier once more took the matter on review to the high court; nonetheless, the university proceeded with another disciplinary charge against Olivier for having refused to write the letter of apology.
It’s not hard to figure out why Nkondo was so upset. Olivier had in the meantime referred the credit card spending to Willem Heath’s special investigative unit – a move that was to prove an expensive embarrassment to Nkondo, who was compelled to repay some R200 000 of expenditure on the card. Nkondo had also featured in a rather devastating exposÃ