Centuries ago, great kingdoms adorned the hills and plains of the Vhembe valley, representing a unique civilisation of socio-political organisation, production and trade. Their prowess and ingenuity are only now starting to be afforded the recognition they deserve. But much of their essence remains a mystery that still needs to be explored. What we do know is that Mapungubwe, Thulamela and Dzata perished and with them a unique body of knowledge lay in ruins.
To the extent that we do not fully understand how they rose and fell, we are justified in doubting whether the civilising mission of national democracy will endure.
Today we are on a journey that has drawn from the best of human civilisation — liberty, non-racialism, non-sexism and the pursuit of shared economic growth — and yet we still wonder: What is it that the masters of the foundries and other artisans, the priests, the prophets and prophetesses, the generals, the poets and the musicians crafted that made their civilisations so great?
And we still have to ask the question: What were the complex riddles that the citizens of those kingdoms failed to unravel that led to their ruin?
I pose these questions to assert a simple truth: that any civilisation contains within itself the possibility of its own sustenance and advancement, as well as the seeds of its own destruction. At the crux of that destiny is the task of forging intellectual capital — with the correct tools of understanding social reality, the ingenuity that goes with seriousness of application, the irreverence that lays bare the truth in its splendid and repulsive self, and the intellectual focus that breeds a confident humility.
Where is the system of knowledge-management that joins the revolutionary intellectuals of modern-day South Africa to raise the trajectory of civilisation to new heights? In what ways are today’s artisans, priests, prophets and prophetesses, generals, poets, musicians and path-finders adding to this journey of creation?
This, then, is the challenge to the emergent middle and upper strata of a changing South Africa — to the intellectuals, the manufacturers and the traders — today multiplied by the attainment of freedom.
We may be justified in lamenting the pace of their propagation in the social structure of the nation. But we do know that while black ownership of “public companies” stood at a mere 3,9% in 1997, it had grown to 9,4% in 2002. While there were only 14 black directors of these companies in 1992, by 2002 the number had risen to 438.
The rate of this expansion may still be too slow for comfort and it should raise concern that the number of black professionals and middle managers only grew by a measly 3% between 1996 and 2001. But this is a debate for another day. The point at issue is one about quality rather than just quantity.
Are these artisans, manufacturers, traders, priests, prophets and prophetesses, generals, poets and musicians actively committed to changing social relations in line with the civilising mission of revolutionary democracy, or are they being transformed by the very system that they seek to change? Are they the intellectual trust of a new social order, or have they succumbed to the cerebral indolence that comes with glorification of material benefits?
I dare assert, in the conjecture pertaining to the riddles of Mapungubwe, Thulamela and Dzata, that an intelligentsia that hypnotises itself through navel gazing breeds inertia and stagnation in a civilisation and commits the crime of precipitating a slow, but certain, decline.
And so in modern South Africa — where we slowly acquire the instruments to reshape production and trade — we confine our intellectual horizons to maintaining the configuration of a capitalism inherited from the robber-baron culture of the erstwhile colonial masters.
We stand at the pinnacle of political power, but draw pride merely at managing macroeconomic realities in a manner that seeks to perpetuate, rather than improve, what we inherited. We evince the attitude of catwalk models — satisfied with ourselves only when the supposed connoisseurs applaud.
How else do we explain our inability to shape a manufacturing sector that takes advantage of the profound shifts in class structure, let alone cutting-edge technology that combines advanced manufacturing and objectives of sustainable development?
There is evidence of the growing buying power of black communities — a consequence of improving standards of living — yet we adopt an attitude that laments growth driven by consumer demand. We also fail to see the systemic shift in social structure that will endure for many years to come.
We fail, at best, to appropriately expand capacity to mass manufacture white goods for the lower middle strata — electronics and furniture in line with growing aggregate demand. At worst, we continue to run down such capacity.
At best, we raise unproductive shareholding to the rank of status symbol. At worst, we scoff at productive activity even when new mega-projects cry out for a variety of inputs, project management, engineering, artisanship and other skills.
I dare surmise that sustaining and advancing a civilisation depends on the propensity to assert the intellectual authority of that civilisation, while concurrently displaying the courage to question its internal logic. Pride and satisfaction are only of value if they include a sense of self-doubt that impels intellectuals to search for new and improved ways of doing things.
Indeed, the emergent middle and upper strata of a democratic South Africa are challenged to raise the bar way above the lifestyle and frame of reference they have inherited.
Having invaded the living spaces where black angels feared to tread under apartheid, we have developed a tendency to adopt a culture of conspicuous consumption, to the extent that keeping up with the Mukwevho’s takes precedence over steadily progressing up the social ladder. Our desire to live above our means has led us to fall prey to the temptation to accumulate prized possessions, by methods that are fair or foul.
This is not a plea to resurrect a mystical African vhuthu (ubuntu) that would otherwise represent the glorification of conduct that belongs to an outmoded social system. But we have to tackle the frames of reference in which social conduct is informed by the avarice and self-centredness of sections of European and North American societies.
Should we allow a situation to develop where the children of our children are left wondering what impelled prior generations to do what they did? Where is the African writer who has put down on paper the experiences of Robben Island or Barberton Prison or Soweto or Guguletu or Congoa in Tanzania or Katenge and Kashito in Angola? Where is the African producer who has put together a film that lays bare the rationale, the emotions and the contradictions of revolutionary struggle!
Instead, we still debate whether the nation’s flag should adorn public school-yards. We resort to sophistry, to explain a history curriculum that, we are told, is meant to encourage debate, but that, in practice, avoids value judgements on the civilising mission of revolutionary democracy. We encourage children to devalue artisanship and to fear entrepreneurship, believing that qualifications of status render us employable.
In other words, we have to ask ourselves whether we have gone far enough in avoiding the pitfalls that beset the civilisations of Mapungubwe, Thulamela and Dzata.
If our artisans, priests, prophets and prophetesses, generals, poets and musicians do not assert the values of the civilising mission of the new South Africa, they will be consumed by petty jealousies that lead individuals in positions of power to subvert a whole social edifice; the ethnic and sub-ethnic chauvinism that pits citizen against citizen; and the indolence of mind that befalls an intelligentsia possessed by the comforts of political and economic power. And, steadily but surely, the national democratic project will lose its way.
This, then, is the challenge to graduates of a changing South Africa: you must let those who sit in the chambers of political and economic power — as well as the media and other institutions of ideology — hear your difficult questions. Let your irreverence fill them with enough uncertainty to set their minds to creative work, save their brains from intellectual atrophy. Thus, future generations will not marvel at the ruins of a civilisation that failed to sustain itself; but enjoy the beauty of a revolution that continually redeems its tryst with destiny.
Joel Netshitenzhe is an African National Congress national executive committee member. This is an edited version of a speech delivered at the University of Venda’s graduation ceremony