The issue of an emergent South African identity is possibly one of the most vexing questions to have surfaced within our collective imaginary since 1994. That is to say, it might have been, if we had a collective imaginary to speak of, which, apparently, we don’t.
In his book Predicaments of Culture (2005), Ashraf Jamal suggests that the radically heterogeneous nature of our society means that any calls towards a unified identity are fraudulent. He implies that claims which purport to define a collective identity are inevitably based on the self-interests of the parties who suggest them. In a similar vein, Chipkin also describes appeals to nationalism as more often than not revealing particular agendas.
Chipkin illustrates his points with practical examples from South African public life, opening his book with an analysis of the advertisement which appeared in the Sunday Times in 2001, which alleged the existence of a media plot against President Thabo Mbeki. Carefully unravelling the logic behind the phrasing of the advertisement, Chipkin finds it to be premised on assumptions such as that criticism of Mbeki would be tantamount to wanting to preserve “the legacy of apartheid” and would, therefore, be unpatriotic. Looking further, he finds that being black is defined as “by definition, reversing the apartheid inheritance”, which, therefore, implies claims to authenticity, irrespective of perspectives or agendas.
Chipkin’s vigilant eye picks up other slippages. For example, in Mbeki’s “I am an African” speech, Chipkin questions why Mbeki necessarily conflates being “South African” with being “African” and wonders whether Mbeki is implying a hierarchy of South Africanness.
Other sections of interest include Chipkin’s examinations of the various programmes installed by the post-apartheid government to create democratic institutions which might have led towards a definition of a national identity. Two of the key movements have been the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). Chipkin finds that it has been the aim of the RDP to produce not only houses, electricity, plumbing and so on, but also “certain kinds of individuals”, and that the programme seeks to instil “a certain class consciousness” and “a certain struggle for socialism” within the population, both of which are linked to claims of a national identity.
The TRC, according to Chipkin, was an opportunity to define “the people” as those who were previously oppressed. And yet, during the proceedings, the ANC was also accused of human rights abuses, and whites were in some cases cast as victims.
When the ANC desperately tried to intervene on the eve of the publication of the findings to prevent itself from being described as inhumane, this showed the extent to which an investment had been made into the classification of “the people” as primarily black and oppressed. If the ANC was also an occasional oppressor, then the story of reconciliation was no longer between groups, but between individual perpetrators and victims that made it a story not specifically about South Africa, but about “humanity as a whole”. As Chipkin says, “the TRC did not generate the South African people per se: it produced a world people”.
Whereas ideals of nationhood have often been premised on shared cultural values, languages or religions, African nationalism has most often been formulated in terms of its resistance to colonialism, and Chipkin develops a theory of National Democratic Revolution (NDR) as a key marker for nationalist aspirations in African states. The problem is that if a national identity were to be premised on NDR, then those considered to be former oppressors would not belong to a new national identity. In most colonial countries in Africa, the colonisers went back to Europe after independence but in South Africa we have a curious situation. If non-white South Africa was a “colony of white South Africa itself”, then this also implies that the former colonisers now have no other home to return to, and that they also wish to be considered part of “the people”.
In general, Do South Africans Exist? is a lot more technical and a lot less daring than Predicaments of Culture. Chipkin’s book provides a dense hedge of quotations and his assertions remain highly speculative. His focus remains on unravelling ways in which others have tried to bolster a national identity. Chipkin diligently avoids stating any personal beliefs outright. His skill lies in dissecting the arguments of others, in cutting a swathe through a range of explanations, rather than in providing definitions of his own. Perhaps this is the role of the academic — to question everything.
This is a densely argued, somewhat dry account. The historical illustrations often provide fascinating vignettes and interesting detours, rather than always being directly illustrative of the formulations developed. Still, they’re captivating ventures into how specific people at certain junctures have defined themselves as being part of a South African nation.
At any event, this thoroughly prescribable book reminds us of what a remarkably strange and unique country this is. Perhaps we should be grateful that we’re having such trouble formulating a national identity. At least we don’t force our children to pledge allegiance to the flag every morning in the way that American schoolchildren have to, since a stalwart sense of national identity can also lead to the kind of naive arrogance so often associated with Americans today. So perhaps it’s not at all bad to have the kind of critical humility that Chipkin displays in his perpetual quest after an identity which can never be fully resolved.