The British sociologist Stuart Hall has used the expression “moral panic” to describe a situation in which large numbers of people are persuaded that some vital good or right of theirs is under dire threat. Much of the “Bram Fischer debate”, concerning a posthumous honorary doctorate being awarded by the University of Stellenbosch, has the dimensions of exactly such a panic.
Even though the decision to make the award was taken by majority vote in the university’s senate and council and neither Fischer’s life nor his communist convictions seem a credible threat to the university in 2004, the debate has eddied far beyond academia into Afrikaner circles.
It is, of course, a battle about symbolism, indicating the direction in which the university is moving. Exactly how desperate — and, consequently, how ruthless — the older Afrikaner elite and their younger associates have become about retaining, regaining or intensifying their control of the institution as a white Afrikaner political home and platform was illustrated at the annual meeting of its convocation.
The event was preceded by floods of letters and articles (chiefly in the Cape daily Die Burger) in which Fischer was held personally responsible for the many millions of deaths caused by “communism/Stalinism”, or vilified for purportedly supporting “violence” that was then linked to present-day criminal violence in South Africa, especially (and most disturbingly) the spate of “farm murders”.
That this kind of claim was made, among others, by the historian Hermann Giliomee, “biographer” of The Afrikaners (published last year), gave it a credibility that has helped inflame resistance to the award and intensified a dangerous belief among more conservative Afrikaners that they are not only sidelined, but also an actively persecuted minority in the “new South Africa”.Â
It quickly began to seem that the “red peril” arguments used against Fischer were a thin disguise for resurgent swart gevaar fears and furies — especially among older Afrikaners.
Over and over the university was accused of having made the award merely to “curry favour” with the present government, either as an ignoble but understandable placatory gesture, or as a demeaning sign of surrender — especially of Afrikaans “language rights” at the university.
Although honorary doctorates are decided on in strict confidentiality, important details of this particular award were leaked: the commendation itself, meant to be heard only on the day of the award, landed in the hands of Johann Rossouw, a leading member of the Afrikaner pressure group “Groep van 63”. The identity of the proposer of the award, a student leader completing her doctoral studies, was made known and she became the target of a relentless series of attacks and ugly threats, mostly, but not only, verbal.
Yvonne Malan was accused of “tearing Afrikanerdom apart”. Yet no steps seem to have been taken to identify the source of the “leaks”, which included the strategically placed and entirely premature publication, two days before the convocation gathering and again on the front page of Die Burger, of a report stating inter alia that the university was going to have to revisit its language policy in view of government dissatisfaction about its effect on the diversification of student enrolment.
As the Indian scholar Aijaz Ahmed has said: “ethnolinguistic nationalisms arise as symptoms of other crises/disintegrations in society”. Contrasting with the claustrophobia experienced by those to whom overwhelming emphasis on Afrikaans and Afrikaner culture seems stifling and inappropriate to a university, is the agoraphobia of those Afrikaners who see themselves losing culture, language, identity and power in an English-favouring, black-dominated South Africa.
Many letters about the Fischer issue on the electronic magazine Litnet, particularly those by self-styled Afrikaner political analyst Dan Roodt, illustrate dangerously unbalanced assessments of the present South African scenario.
Notable also, however, are the contesting voices and presences that made themselves heard and felt at the convocation.
An amendment to the motion, to insert explicit praise of Fischer’s stand for racial inclusivity, even though defeated, was proposed by a young Afrikaner professional.
The most vigorous booing was drawn by the retired National Party MP Jacko Maree for his anti-Fischer tirade, and an unreflective reference to communist oppression in the Europe of 1948 brought a vigorous challenge to the largely white audience from a black former member of the students representative council, Elton Hart: “Which of you has known oppression?” he asked, almost dancing.Â
Other mostly younger, racially various alumni wore dark red “Bra Fischer” T-shirts to proclaim their stand. Powerful and moving appeals were made by senior black staff members, in particular, for the university (and the convocation) to give greater recognition to their presence there.
Damaging to the university’s reputation as this brouhaha has been, it has brought much into the open that, however ugly, is now exposed — and a vigorous, mostly younger strength that will hopefully carry the institution forward to contribute meaningfully to a changed and changing social sphere.
Annie Gagiano is professor of English at Stellenbosch University