We are sitting on the cusp of the 10th anniversary of democracy in South Africa. The celebration of anniversaries and the significance we attach to time, I suppose, affords us an opportunity to consider how far we have come, or not, and, critically, what still needs to be done and how it should be done.
The past 10 years of democracy have, I would argue, brought profound changes to this country. From unquantifiable notions such as dignity and political equality, to the access of millions of people to basic services like housing, water, electricity, primary health care, among others. Persistent problems have still to be dealt with, including the diminishing and eroding of the duality of our economy; dealing with the scourge of HIV/Aids; continued racism and racial discrimination; enduring sexism and gender discrimination; corruption and criminal violence. The coincidence and interrelationship of these issues make them all the more pernicious. These remain some of the fault- lines that challenge the edifice we are building.
What makes the book The real State of the Nation, edited by David Everatt and Vincent Maphai, unique is that it is a collection of essays that are located unashamedly within a particular ideological discourse that supports the efforts of transformation in a critical way. It does not locate itself in the paradigm that denounces the past 10 years as an elite sell-out. Emanating from this perspective, every act by the government signals a departure from the original mandate from the people; every idea from the ruling party is judged according to a set formula that proves perfidy. The state, in this view, is in permanent crisis.
Nor does this book consider our transformation in a religious way proclaiming miracles, led by messianic figures. In that perspective, the moment there is evidence of a deviation from the hallowed path signals crisis. Indeed, when we are deemed to be but human, we are betrayers of this miracle.
The intellectual tradition articulated via this collection sees itself not just as an interpreter of the socio-politics of our transition, but as an active participant in that change.
In many ways, this collection uniquely responds to the call of President Thabo Mbeki for a ”humanist native intellectual”. Mbeki made this call in the context of both the dearth of, in particular, black intellectuals, and the character of intellectualism where it does exist.
The intellectual Mbeki searches for is not the distant critic who sees the assumption of political power as allowing those who govern to pursue a trenchant and clear path to, for example, the dictatorship of the proletariat. The ”native intellectual” is someone who is rooted; someone who understands the nuances and contradictions of rule in a global political-economy. The native intellectual is someone who raises difficult questions in a way that further empowers the project of transformation.
While the president has made these calls, it is important to acknowledge the uncomfortable relationship that the African National Congress has historically had with rooted, native intellectuals who offer critiques outside of the organisation. The approach has been to debate issues internally.
But, offering critiques of change, power and transformation in public should not be the domain of those who are antagonistic to the direction of change. Relinquishing the public space for critique allows a perception to emerge that intellectuals either have enormous problems with change or that we are acquiescent and have little opinion.
There is absolutely no reason, for example, for a minister to justify the incompetence of his or her department. Indeed, it is incumbent upon us as ”embedded” intellectuals to lead in exposing the contradictions, revealing the ambiguities of power, creating the space for deepening the engagement on the direction of change.
Self-criticism outside of the fold always raises difficult questions about loyalty. What this collection recognises is that the most profound exhibition of loyalty to a project or cause, in this instance to continued transformation, comes when we offer an alternative critique of change than the ones imbued with ”crisis” rhetoric.
Albert Hirschman has spoken eloquently on the subject of public critiques of ”family” issues. In his work, Exit, Voice and Loyalty, he considers the potential damage to the group when those who voice criticisms are silenced, then exit the group and relinquish it to the ”contented”. Change and growth require constant engagement and debate, as conditions change we must be able to identify that change and respond adequately to it.
Hirschman thus emphasises the need for a loyalty of a special type that involves remaining in the group and asserting a critical presence. Hirschman’s loyal intellectuals face a great dilemma in that in order to be effective, interventions must be publicly articulated. This means that they will be heard by both friends and foes. This is especially difficult in the context of a fragmented polity where by no means does one want to be identified with that foe.
This quandary is captured by Michael Waltzer in his book, The Company of Critics where he says: ”Intimate criticism is a common feature in our private lives; it has its own rules. We don’t criticise our children, for example, in front of other people, but only when we are alone with them. The social critic [or intellectual] has the same impulse, especially when his [sic] own people are confronted by hostile forces… But the social critic can never be alone with his people; there is no social space that is like familial space, so the critic’s intimacy can’t take the form of private speech; it can only shape and control his [sic] public speech … He must speak … and speak out loud … The silence of the connected social critic is a grim sign — a sign of defeat, a sign of endings.”
In particular, the challenge that the president has issued is to black intellectuals. Always cognisant of the history of discrimination and degradation of colonialism and apartheid, the black intellectual needs to assert a presence, assert a voice in this transition. The voice of black intellectuals is not simply about content and the contribution to the intellectual vigour of debates, as central and important as that is. But equally important is that the deracialisation of public intellectual space signals a critical part of transformation itself. Both matters of quantity and quality are in this instance profound.
Democracy has lent us this space to make increased demands on ourselves and on society and we understand that democracy survives only by the extent to which we use this space. The importance of intellectual work generally and intellectual work of a special type is central to the process of democratic transition.
Saki Macozoma is the CEO of New Africa Investments Limited, deputy chairperson of Standard Bank and director of Safika. He has served as a member of Parliament and as a member of the national executive committee of the ANC