South Africa’s preoccupation with itself as a special case, unique and exceptional in the broader context of Africa, may prove to be self-destructive.
It could be that apartheid was never a case of “colonialism of a special type”. The social, economic and political dynamics of post-apartheid South Africa clearly locate this country firmly within the scope of problems experienced by many other post-colonial societies in Africa.
Among the features emerging here, in common with other parts of the continent, is the consciousness of ethnic identity. Recent expressions of public concern over the so-called “Xhosa Nostra” are indicative.
Whether or not amaXhosa are disproportionately represented in private and public positions of power, there is a substantive public perception that they are. Prominent articles in the press are not written by editors or columnists, but by readers who have clearly developed this view.
Many civil wars, in Africa and elsewhere, have been fought over ethnic differences. The public airing of such perceptions presents South Africa with an opportunity to deal with this issue before it gets out of hand.
One of the ironies of apartheid is that while its purpose was to divide, it inadvertently had a homogenising effect on black people. On the surface at least, it created two opposing blocs — black and white.
This was reflected in a common front forged by the oppressed black population against a white regime. In this fictitious homogeneity, the plurality of identities within the black population was temporarily suppressed. It mattered not that one was a Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho or Tswana; the quest for black liberation from a white minority superseded all kinds of ethnic identity. The existence of a common enemy served as a unifying force.
The end of statutory apartheid removed this type of bonding among black people. Whites ceased to be the common political enemy.
However, under apartheid, identities were umbilically linked to access to resources. Business opportunities and senior public posts were largely available to white people and denied to blacks. Ultimately, the black struggle against the apartheid construct was driven by the desire for social and economic opportunities. It shared with the architects of apartheid a common instrumentalism — power is about who gets what.
The recent public outbursts about the so-called “Xhosa Nostra” are not mere spontaneous developments, but are embedded in this historical association of groups with economic advantage. Musician Mbongeni Ngema’s controversial song about South African Indians grows from long-standing perceptions among Zulus in KwaZulu-Natal that Indians are an economically privileged minority. Similar anti-Indian sentiments were expressed four years ago by the editor of Ilanga Lase Natal.
Similar ethnic dynamics have been experienced in much of post-colonial Africa, based on perceptions of who is getting what under the new dispensation. The private sector in post-colonial Africa is poorly developed, meaning that the state is perceived as the major employment agency. To be part of the state machine means direct access to resources — as part of the state bureaucracy one is guaranteed a nice house, a car and general fulfilment of material needs.
These dynamics can also be seen in post-apartheid South Africa. The private sector, although more highly developed than elsewhere on the continent, has failed to generate jobs; and the state is widely perceived as a way of securing a livelihood.
Those who hold the highest positions in the state apparatus are seen as those with most direct access to resources of the state. Once a sizeable proportion of a particular ethnic group appears to dominate positions in the state and private sectors, the immediate perception is that the link between race and wealth has been replaced by the link between ethnic group and wealth.
The dominance of one ethnic group in many post-colonial African societies is partly explained by the arrival and prevalence of colonists and missionaries in one region, resulting in the early access of certain ethnic groups to formal education. In South Africa, the Eastern Cape, site of the first contact between colonists and Africans, is a case in point.
These communities inevitably tended to form and take the lead in liberation movements and, ultimately, in the post-liberation state.
South Africa has, however, one advantage. Most African National Congress leaders in exile witnessed conflict in Africa based on ethnic differentiation. They should be better equipped to take precautionary measures against such trends here.
One shortfall of Nelson Mandela’s brand of reconciliation is that it concentrated too much on the black-white divide, and ignored plurality of identities among black South Africans. It was inevitable that, once the common white enemy vanished from the scene, subordinate identities among blacks would begin to surface. The tendency has been exacerbated by the conceptualisation of anti-apartheid struggle as being around access to resources.
Unfortunately, not every black person has enjoyed a slice of the liberation cake. Many blacks are still mired in poverty, unemployment and homelessness.
The danger is that unless poverty is significantly reduced, the state will continue to be seen as a terrain of consumption, where senior officials will be seen as the lucky and favoured ones. Once the favoured ones are perceived in terms of a collective identity — as appears to be happening now — the seeds of conflict will have been sown.
Dumisani Hlophe is a senior policy and political analyst at the Centre for Policy Studies