‘Between me and the other world there is an unasked question; unasked by some through feelings of delicacy; by others through the difficulty of rightly framing it. All, nevertheless, flutter round it. They approach me in a half-hesitant sort of way, eye me curiously or compassionately, and then, instead of saying directly, ‘how does it feel to be a problem?’, they say, I know an excellent coloured man in my town.” This is how WEB du Bois sketched in his book The Souls of Black Folk what it meant to be black in the world. Indeed, most policies and approaches to black concerns are premised on solving the black or native problem.
In a strange, historical irony the spiritual strife described above has become the lot of those of us whose roles include, among other things, performing a critical function of interrogating the policies and practices of the present ruling elite. This function pits us against a political correctness that demands of us to lionise and rally around everything black: black universities, black economic empowerment, black government, black culture, et cetera. Concerned friends have pointed out that our critique of the government serves to strengthen opponents of transformation. Accordingly, political and ideological considerations must take precedence over logic and rationality.
How do we explain that the democracy that has been achieved after a long and arduous struggle, which boasts the most liberal freedoms, and a Constitution that has become the envy of the world, has ushered in an environment that is hostile to intellectual engagement? More disturbing is the fact that freedom of expression appears to be under attack from the very group that had been denied the very right that was fundamental to achieving all other rights. A few explanations suggest themselves. These include a hangover from a history of racial discrimination, failure to appreciate the role of criticism in society and the need to find scapegoats for failures.
The appeal to racial solidarity is understandable. But it is misguided. Blacks have been exposed to the most severe and sustained form of systemic derision. They have had to endure non-stop subliminal messages that they don’t count. Understandably, any criticism of the black government or a black person is mediated through this experience. The survival instinct triggers a defence mechanism that blocks any form of rational approach to critique. Criticism of black people is preceded by a knee-jerk defence and racial judgement first, and then followed by rationalisation to justify the defence. In our case, whether the critique is true or false, valid or invalid, is overridden by considerations of whether it supports the ruling party or government. Pointing out corruption, incompetence and outright stupidity is seen as a manifestation of a view that says “blacks cannot be entrusted with the responsibility of governance”.
Black intellectuals who refuse to succumb to this form of racial reasoning invite intense personal vilification, ridicule and intimidation. Suggestions have been advanced that those of us critical of the presidency should consider ourselves lucky that we have not been charged with treason or stoned to death. This discourse of intimidation raises the spectre of conditions in post-independence Africa. Ngugi wa Thiongo, the Kenyan writer, describes these as follows: “The questioning mind has become suspect. The mind that wants to be judged against the highest possible professional standards is suspect. Originality is even more suspect. Many intellectuals have been bounded to prisons, detention camps, to exile and often into their graves.” We have seen glimpses of this language in the last two years with the vilification of those scientists and intellectuals who refused to submit to the nonsense “HIV does not cause Aids”. The discourse of intimidation flourishes even as we champion the renaissance of the continent.
Responses to my articles exemplify the slide into unreason and irrationality. In their frustration my detractors have preferred to distort, misrepresent and misread the thrust of my submission. Of course, one should not discount the inability to comprehend simple arguments. I have suggested, for instance, that the centralisation of power is not good for democracy; I challenged the notion that “Mbeki is an intellectual”, exposing not only his intellectual dishonesty but also cited examples of intellectual fraud; I refuted suggestions that Mbeki is the father of the “African renaissance”. At the time when it was not fashionable to do so, I challenged Mbeki’s views and the government’s handling of the HIV epidemic. My detractors have yet to disprove or invalidate any of these propositions and submissions. I have pointed out the simple fact that ideas do not flow freely in space, but this escapes them. Those who harbour and persistently parade misguided ideas will continue to invite intellectual ridicule. Tolerance of nonsense has led to the sacrifice of hundreds of thousands of lives that could have been saved.
Understandably, there have been attempts to address the frustration that comes with the realisation that, through no fault of their own, a majority in our ranks are found wanting in terms of education, expertise and intellectual authority. With time appearing not to be on our side, we have resorted to vilification of education, science and logic. We celebrate nonsense, unreason and irrationality. Intellectual engagement is replaced by a culture of labelling.
Perhaps nothing exemplifies the consequence of wilful stupidity more than responses to Jeremy Cronin’s timid suggestion that bureaucratisation of struggle and concentration of power are a threat to our democracy. In one fell stroke he has had his entire struggle credentials questioned. He is castigated as a frustrated white male who cannot come to terms with loss of white privilege. His revolutionary comrades have seen it fit to remind us that he served in the apartheid navy, thus making him indistinguishable from Magnus Malan. His subsequent commitments and ideological contributions are rendered irrelevant. In the ensuing storm the issues he raised are conveniently brushed aside. His whiteness is now on trial.
At another level, this is a case of the chickens coming home to roost. The African National Congress alliance has nurtured a culture in which labels are used to dismiss critics. It was simply a matter of time before this was used against its members. Not so long ago the leadership of the Congress of South African Trade Unions was accused of counter-revolutionary tendencies when the union challenged the government’s privatisation policy. When Nelson Mandela called on the government to reconsider its position regarding the provision of anti-retroviral drugs, he was accused of being an agent of pharmaceuticals and a national icon that has turned into a villain. Cronin should know better. This is a price you pay when you subscribe to the so-called internal debate. You are not allowed to entertain any private thoughts unless they have been sanctioned by internal structures of the alliance. The public role of alliance members is limited to defending and to singing praises to government leadership. Overstepping is a sign of lack of revolutionary discipline. Evidently, prison and exile do not make you immune to charges of racism or counter-revolution. Everyone is under suspicion. Except the party boss.
At a time when forces of unreason threaten our democracy, we need to restore rationality and reason. This requires intellectual courage and ruthless criticism of all that exists. Ruthless criticism enables us to imagine and creates new possibilities. It liberates us from seeing only part of the reality. It demands of us to struggle against the structural discourse that denies freedom of expression.