by Justin Foxton | Apr 13, 2017 | Citizen Participation, Crime & Corruption, Democracy, Leadership
As I write this I am watching a TV screen that is flashing up the plummeting value of our post-junk-status Rand.
I pick up my phone and the anti-Zuma rants pour in on social media. An e-mail comes from a pastor friend inviting us to “pray up, speak up, stand up, march up, and shout from the rooftops, against the firing of Gordhan and his deputy, against Zuma’s shameless blatant ‘treasury capture’ to further pillage and rape the nation’s resources for his own ends of security and power.” My wife sends me news of a local march we can join.
We march, we pray and we speak out as many South Africans have. But is it just me or does this response seem so inadequate, so uncreative, given the scale of the evil against which we are protesting? Are these actions our only answer to a president who is committing willful acts of violence against our people? I ask this as a person who fully believes in the power of prayer and protest.
Violence? Yes, I use this word deliberately. I believe this is where we have gone horribly wrong in our assessment of Jacob Zuma and hence how we deal with him. Jacob Zuma is not just a corrupt man. Jacob Zuma is a violent man.
A Sanskrit definition that proves this point says that non-violence is: “A lack of desire to harm or kill; the personal practice of being harmless to self and others under every condition.” By this definition, our president is a violent man; out to harm people through stealing from them; systematically destroying our currency and hence the value of people’s savings, pensions and grants. He is killing our economy, squeezing every drop of life out of it for himself and his cronies. And the ultimate insult? This is all being doing in the name of ‘radical economic transformation’; that absolute necessity that has thus far eluded our post-apartheid democracy without which we simply cannot succeed.
And all the while our poor are getting poorer, hungrier and sicker; people will undoubtedly die because of Zuma’s acts of violence. They will starve because their grants will no longer afford them the necessities they need to survive as junk status rips our economy to shreds. They will be unable to afford transport to clinics to get life-saving medication.
Please let us stop reducing Jacob Zuma to such relative niceties as some buffoon with a shower rose on his head. Jacob Zuma is a calculating, violent despot who must be made to answer a litany of charges including why he willfully and knowingly brought yet more poverty and starvation to the poorest of the poor in our country, by knowingly taking us into a junk bin.
But the question in all this is within democratic and peaceful parameters, what do we ordinary citizens do to rid our country of such a violent man? Are praying and marching – both of which are powerful and necessary – our only options? Must we wait for the 2019 general election? Or are there other tools?
I do not know specifically what you should do in your unique world with your unique skills and passions. Only you will know that. All I do know is that we need to do more:
If you are a spiritual person, begin an inter-faith, national prayer chain that prays continually – not for 24 hours but until Jacob Zuma is removed from power. As a student, form a protest group like the anti-apartheid demonstration that occupied the steps of South Africa House in London for 1408 days in the late 1980’s. As a musician, organise a concert of all the biggest acts in our country in aid of the victims of Jacob Zuma’s regime. If you or your establishment has a South African flag, fly it at half-mast until Zuma is deposed. At the very least spread peace and tolerance in every interaction you have with your follow South Africans and do not allow racist rhetoric to win the day.
And as for the privileged amongst us, we must actively close the gap between rich and poor that is being widened by Zuma. We must pay decent living wages and empower people with skills. We must embody the radical economic transformation that our President uses to justify his pillaging of our nation.
We cannot just march as we did last Friday and this Wednesday, as a once off. It takes years – sometimes decades – of sustained and focused national and international effort and pressure to bring down corrupt regimes and despotic leaders.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
His writing is dedicated to the memory of Anene Booysens and Emmanuel Josias Sithole.
by Justin Foxton | Apr 3, 2017 | Citizen Participation, Democracy, Leadership
As I write this I am sat – for the second time in 10-hours – in seat 22C on Fastjet’s flight from Dar es Salaam to a smallish Tanzanian town called Mbeya. Now you may or may not have heard of Fastjet – depending on whether you travel much in sub-Saharan Africa, but the thing with Fastjet is that it isn’t terribly fast. It also isn’t very communicative.
Having sat on the runway for quite some time watching the sunrise, we were all off-loaded because of a technical problem that apparently had something to do with the communication system between the pilot in the cock-pit and the crew in the cabin. This really was the last time anyone at Fastjet concerned themselves with accuracy of communication – for the next 10-hours.
For the length of the day, we all sat in the small and unedifying Dar airport. We drank cups of tea, ate airport food and talked endlessly about nothing much; as you do when you are killing an indefinite period of time.
The only thing anyone told us over the course of the day was that the problem would take 5 – 10 minutes to fix (this is when we were still on the plane) but this was adjusted to an hour to two hours when we were being off-loaded. Oh, and around 3 hours in, a tinny Tannoy announcement told us that the flight had been cancelled altogether and we should all go back to our homes and hotels. This was followed immediately by an announcement in Kiswahili proudly telling us that the plane was fixed up and we would board shortly. Both announcements were wrong.
We eventually scrummed our way back onto the plane, elbowing one another out of the way in a desperate attempt to beat the irate passengers of a later flight that had also been delayed. We eventually took off in the late afternoon.
“For those claiming legacy of colonialism was ONLY negative, think of our independent judiciary, transport infrastructure, piped water,” recent Tweet from former DA leader, Helen Zille.
The previous day we had landed at Dar airport from OR Tambo. As a foreigner working in Tanzania you need a temporary Visa. This must be re-purchased every time you enter the country (regularly in my case) for 200USD. Acquiring this Visa can only be done on arrival at the Dar airport and it is damn nearly impossible to do so. In summary: it takes around 3 hours for 2 hapless immigration officials to handwrite – no computers, not even an ink stamp – over 100 Visas. 35 degrees Celsius. No chairs. No water. Again, no communication.
During both of these airport experiences it was clear that systems, procedures and an understanding of the critical importance of good communication, were non-existent. I would say it was organised chaos but there wasn’t any organisation at all. It was just chaos.
I travelled to Tanzania with Helen Zille’s now infamous Tweet about colonialism fresh in my mind. In fact, it occupied much of my thinking during all the many hours we spent in the Dar airport (and later, the extreme Dar traffic). I condemn what she said with contempt but more, with great sadness. I assume that Zille has travelled extensively to places like Dar es Salaam and other former- colony’s; that she has experienced life in countries that are years even decades behind non-former colony’s. So, the issue should not be whether she believes that colonialism had some good points. The issue is whether – over years of doing battle as the official opposition to the ANC – she has become so hardened, so cynical, so insensitive that she has lost all perspective and indeed – heart. One can only assume that she is so jaded that she has forgotten what it is that she has been fighting for; a free and equal society under-scored by a total loathing for all that is and was unjust, oppressive, violent and dehumanising. She has effectively made herself one of the utterly heartless and brain-dead: “Things were better under apartheid” brigade.
You do not even need to move out of Dar airport to get the picture; to know just how despicable, how crippling colonialism was. And the denial of this fact is alive and well far beyond Helen Zille; all-too-often I hear people opining about how Africa (they try to hide their bigotry by making it a continental indictment rather than a racist statement) lacks innovation or how uncreative Africa is or how backward.
And I don’t know why Singapore works well as Zille referenced; maybe because it’s so small you can cover its length on your morning jog. All I know after spending some time in Tanzania and indeed around other parts of Africa, is that colonialism’s negative impact on Africa and her people was beyond measure.
So, let us travel our continent, viewing its unequalled beauty and meeting its superb people. But let’s be forgiving of her faults and her failings because the big white boss gang-raped her and left her for dead.
It is a miracle that she has come as far as she has.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
His writing is dedicated to the memory of Anene Booysens and Emmanuel Josias Sithole
by Justin Foxton | Mar 3, 2017 | Citizen Participation, Democracy, Leadership
We have a national treasure in the National Treasury. There is little doubt that Pravin Gordhan now embodies this highest of unofficial titles; a title that we have applied to only a handful of men and women in the past few decades.
I realised just how fast this man was approaching national treasure status when I recently found myself with him on an SA Airlink flight to Nelspruit. Wearing a tweed cap to shield his shiny pate from the brutal Lowveld sun, he humbly agreed to having his photo taken with scores of fans whilst we waited on the runway to board our flight. Person after person – South Africans of all descriptions – took selfies with the Minister of Finance.
Bear in mind that this man has held the most loathed title in any society; that of “tax man”. Bear in mind that this man revolutionised tax collection in our country during his time at SARS. Bear in mind that for years he has lightened our pockets by increasing taxes; bear in mind that he has done this whilst the public purse has been simultaneously lightened by all those entrusted to hold its strings. Yet in-spite of all this financial lightening and burdening, there we were queuing to have our picture taken with him as if he were a rock star.
Those who know him well will tell you that he is a man of towering integrity. They will tell you that he is a South African of unbridled passion and commitment to the complete freedom of our people and the realisation of the full potential of our country. They will also tell you that he is fiendishly bright.
But these values – great as they are – do not make a national treasure. Ironically that title is bestowed only on the humble great. Pravin Gordhan is fast becoming one of our humble great and his last (we all hope it is not his last, but alas) budget presentation proved this. It was not the maths of the speech that solidified his place in our history. In fact, many people will be gnashing their teeth at the fact that we are paying vastly more for vastly less. It was these words:
“Fellow South Africans, if we make the right choices and do the right things we will achieve a just and fair society, founded on human dignity and equality. We will indeed transform our economy and country so that we all live in dignity, peace and well-being,”
If you did not know that I was quoting our newest national treasure (and you had never heard/heard of Jacob Zuma), you might say that I was quoting a/our President; these words have a presidential feel.
But he didn’t stop at general appeals for participation. He went on to issue a clarion call for us to participate with him in the task at hand: “This is the time for activists, workers, businesspersons, the clergy, professionals and citizens at large to actively engage in shaping the transformation agenda and ensuring that we do have a just and equitable society. Obstacles there will be many. Overcome them. Detractors abound. Disprove them. Negativity inspired by greed and selfishness will obstruct us. Defeat the bearers of this toxic ethic. South Africans, wherever you are own this process; defend your gains; demand accountability. Be an active agent for change. Umanyano Ngamandla (Unity is power.)”
These words coming from our very own “broken man presiding over a broken society” would be laughable. But coming from a national treasure they have the effect of creating hope; presenting a vision and outlining a strategy to get there.
If we allow them to, these words could galvanise us into action; to pay our taxes yes, but then to pay attention to what we as individual South Africans could do to take back our power. He is inviting us to join him in fighting for a future – one that he seems to be positive about; he is inviting us to stop pointing out what is wrong – we all know what is wrong; stop whining whilst Rome is burning. He has modelled the way for us (another enduring feature of people who wear the title of National Treasure). All we need do is act.
In the immediate term, this must include an uncompromising commitment to our non-negotiable values. Punch drunk from the ongoing battering of the forces of corruption and greed, we must stand firm and not give into the temptation of; “they are doing it so why can’t I?”. This statement – this attitude – is, I believe, the single biggest danger currently facing us as a society. It will take discipline to resist this temptation but if we don’t, our demise will be fast and frightening.
In the meantime, Pravin Gordhan will need all the support he can get as the vultures’ circle. So, if you bump into him on a flight or anywhere else, have a selfie with a national treasure and thank him.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
All my writing – regardless of topic – is dedicated to the memory of Anene Booysens and Emmanuel Josias Sithole. I do this to help keep their stories alive.
by Justin Foxton | Feb 17, 2017 | Citizen Participation, Democracy
We know now that #blacklivesmatter. We know this because – in the wake of waves of social media exposure of black people being indiscriminately targeted by white policemen in America – the world has proclaimed that #blacklivesmatter.
But do they matter – really; on a grand scale; in every respect? Does a catchy hashtag make black lives matter a hard truth? This question should challenge all of us both white and black. In a post-truth world, we must guard against the stock response of “so true!” when confronted with slogans like #blacklivesmatter. It is just too easy.
We must ask ourselves honestly and openly if all lives do in practise matter equally, or if we just like to say they do so we can feel okay about ourselves. And this question should apply equally across the colour spectrum, because I have seen as much disregard for black lives from black people as I have from white people.
I have struggled with some of the seemingly intrinsic practises and values that demonstrate that black lives don’t in fact matter. Or perhaps I feel more comfortable to say that I have struggled with those practises and values that seem to demonstrate that black lives matter less than white lives, or that the vast majority of black lives matter less than white lives. I guess it is up to each of us to decide which level of “not mattering” we feel most comfortable with.
These things are not always blatant acts of racism but often just an everyday part of life in South Africa. In addition to this they are – as I have mentioned – often perpetrated by black people. This should not exonerate us whites, but we must also not alienate ourselves or one another. It will only be through unity that all lives will one day matter equally. Until that time we must tread very lightly.
Until that time:
Until is a time between two places; a time between here and there. It is a liminal space in which anything can happen – and it will happen for the best – if we decide it to be so. Humanity seems to be in that in-between space right now. The question is, will we move forward to a better place?
Until we decide that quality education is not only for the rich, black lives don’t matter.
Until we are prepared to pay at least the minimum wage no matter the level of work being done, black lives don’t matter.
Until we can actively counter the attacks against movements like #feesmustfall with such words as; “education is not a privilege, it is a right for all no matter their economic level,” then black lives don’t matter.
Until we are unwilling to continue to watch black waiters being managed by white managers in the clear majority of restaurants across our nation, then black lives don’t matter.
Until quality health care is available to all – not just the wealthy – then black lives don’t matter.
Until we are willing to acknowledge that redress in the form of quotas is more important than winning the game, then black lives don’t matter.
Until we are willing to accept that land must be returned to its rightful owners, then black lives don’t matter.
Until we are unprepared to travel behind open bakkies containing anything between 6 and sometimes 20 human beings – always black – crammed onto the back like animals; unprotected; unharnessed; sandwiched together like prisoners of war on the way to concentration camps, then black lives do not matter. (Just yesterday my friend Akhona and I were driving behind such a bakkie and we said and did nothing. In fact, we smiled “kindly” and waved from the comfort of our air-conditioned car, believing that that would somehow bridge the divide and make their sodden and wind-swept journey all okay.)
Until neighbourhood watch groups give as much suspicious attention to two white men standing outside a house in the suburbs as they do to two BM’s (neighbourhood watch’s shorthand for “black males”) then black lives don’t matter.
Until black beggars elicit the same shock and horror as white beggars, then black lives don’t matter.
Until black rape survivors make front page news as white rape survivors do and until they are empowered and supported in equal measure to write books, earn money from talks and open foundations for rape survivors, then black lives don’t matter.
And we can kid ourselves all we like that the democratic project has worked. We can say people are free; they can vote; they can go wherever they choose and be relatively safe. What more do they want? We can perhaps exonerate ourselves of guilt at the poverty we see everywhere; the degradation; the lack of hope.
We can say that “they have done nothing with the opportunities that were given to them”, but then we would have to admit – in the quiet of our hearts, our rooms, our offices that black lives don’t matter.
But they do.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
All my writing – regardless of topic – is dedicated to the memory of Anene Booysens and Emmanuel Josias Sithole. I do this to help keep their stories alive.
by Justin Foxton | Dec 9, 2016 | Citizen Participation, Democracy
The now infamous coffin assault case which saw two white men torture a black man by forcing him into a casket, left me feeling ill.
I felt ill for several reasons amongst them the fact that I – like many others – have often had the dreaded nightmare associated with being buried alive. It is a fate too horrendous to contemplate. This man can only have feared the worst as this heinous act was being committed. That was obviously before they began taunting him with the possibility of placing a snake in the coffin with him to finish him off before his burial.
I also felt ill because in a way that I shudder to admit, I participated in this hateful assault fueled by racism. No, I was not there. And no, I have never personally enacted physical violence towards any person let alone a harmless man doing no wrong. Yet, in a deep sense – and certainly in terms of the repercussions of such actions – what is done to one is done to all and what is done by one is done by all. We are inextricably connected.
If you need evidence of this reality you have only to listen to the language people use in expressing their rightful disgust at such incidents. A close black friend of mine can often be heard saying: “what is wrong with your people?”. The “you and I” quickly becomes the “us and them” when people are giving expression to their pain.
On a very practical level, if I am to disassociate myself too far from these attackers, I am simply denying the reality that I advertently or inadvertently participate in the daily incarceration of other harmless black South Africans. Forget racist thoughts and words – I have become good at hiding those – my very existence as a white South African represents a coffin in which I unwittingly, daily place people.
The point that I am making is that this violent, act of racism can and should be viewed as a powerful metaphor for the subtler, often unsighted ways that black people are entombed in our nation. Of course, it is easier to direct my outrage at these men from Middleburg (and of course I do). But if that’s where I stop, then I have failed to learn the lessons of the parable that this man suffered so greatly to provide me; I have failed to interrogate my culpability in keeping scores of ordinary black people entombed by racism. And what are these tombs? Yes, they can be brazen and obvious; the Penny Sparrow tomb of indignity for example. But they are usually far subtler: my denial of my white privilege, my wish that we could “move on” from blaming apartheid; my subtle satisfaction at black people who say life was better before democracy, my intimation that whites ran the country better; my denial of white influence and supremacy especially in business.
In case you feel that I am being unnecessarily hard on myself, think again. As a white person living in South Africa, if I stubbornly insist on not doing the hard, humbling and often harrowing inside work that will radically unseat my “white in shining armour/white-is-right” attitude (I am steering clear of using the r-word here – though I am a racist in recovery – so I can avoid my all-too-easy “I am not a racist!” retort) from the very core of who I am, it will sooner-or-later be done for me. Will this be enacted violently by Julius Malema and his supporters? Could be. But it will more likely be in the form of a slow but deliberate erosion of the everyday supremacy and power of the white person; a certain squeezing into a coffin of our own if you like. If you are white, you are probably feeling this squeeze already. Is this a good reason to adjust my attitude and behaviours? Well, it is one good reason.
I am not trying to incite fear here – in fact, quite the contrary. I am suggesting that if I intentionally, actively address my own inherited racism and white superiority and, dare I say it, my white entitlement to that superiority through, firstly, admitting it, then I will cease to lock people in coffins. I am suggesting that as a white person living in South Africa, I have an opportunity to answer a case against me well. If I do this daily and diligently, loving wholeheartedly until love breaks my arrogant, stiff-necked self, then I can be as great a catalyst for healing and restoration as I have been for suffering and division. Only then will we find the harmony and peace we so need and long for.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17-year-old Anene Booysens: gang raped, mutilated and murdered, and our Mozambican brother Emmanuel Josias Sithole: beaten and stabbed to death.
by Justin Foxton | Nov 24, 2016 | Citizen Participation, Democracy
“When even the custodians of the story no longer believe the story, you know its days are numbered. It is a shell with no engine, running on habit and momentum.” Charles Eisenstein.
David Cameron’s Britain? Barack Obama/Hillary Clinton’s America? Jacob Zuma’s ANC? It could be about all 3 – and indeed the world at large – though it was penned specifically about America in the wake of Hillary Clinton’s defeat by Donald Trump.
When you read the above quote you may feel like you are stood atop a very high bridge about to jump with nothing more than a length of elasticated twine attached to your ankles. Only problem is we have been given no choice but to jump. The safe and comfortable view of our world held by many, has been shattered. We have been well and truly pushed; 2016 has given us one massive shove.
It has been a shove we desperately needed but did all we could to avoid. Is that not the truth of any good shove? It flung us into a downward trajectory; a certain belly-churning freefall that would see all of us “sensible” folk losing our breakfast, lunch and dinner in a swirl of elections, referendums and reports.
And what was that shove? It was a shove out of our blinded complacency. We could longer kid ourselves that America is the land of the free; that Britain is the old grand dame of civility and propriety; that the ANC is not tearing our country apart limb from limb and cannibalising its very flesh. How can this be good for anyone?
But therein lies the bitter irony. As the masks of civility and tolerance and interbeing get ripped from the face of the world, could we ultimately be better off? Yes, I ache for us to believe the old stories once again; to believe that what our folks taught us – and what so many people on every continent have given their lives for – is still alive and well: That the world – though messed up – is headed in the right direction. But that would be to continue the deception that we have been labouring under for years; that the democratic project is largely complete and a success; that racism – if not dead – has been dealt its killer blow; that current systems of government have a handle on poverty, that women are by-and-large equal to men and that inter-faith dialogue has given birth to a generous and loving God. These deceptions must die if we are to ultimately win the fight for a free and equal society for all. Without their death, we are just play-acting a fairy-tale.
Now, seen in this light Donald Trump, Brexit – even our very own president – become necessary catalysts for humanity’s next big strides in terms of change and progress. They will cause a radical shifting of the pendulum from the one extreme to the other; the necessary swing needed for equilibrium to be reached.
It seems outrageous to call Trump or Brexit or indeed Zuma “progress”. But the truth is that if we are to advance towards a better place; a place of resurrection from what now appears to be a slow and painful death; a place without pretence or complacency or masks, we must be prepared to bravely enter a period of great uncertainty – a liminal space if you like – in which just about anything could happen.
How do we enter this space between? Perhaps a better question might be, what tools will we need to play a part in the scripting of the next chapter in world history?
We will need to reassess our non-negotiable values and hold onto these for dear life. It happens so easily and quickly that good men and women who ordinarily consider themselves to be law abiding and peaceful begin engaging in violent words and deeds to defend their position. We are seeing this in America. We have always seen it in South Africa. This is driven by our fear.
We will need to put ourselves in the shoes of the other. As Eisenstein points out, 6 states that voted in America’s first black president twice, voted for Trump. Did they become racists overnight? Or are they just deeply disillusioned with the world? Are you deeply disillusioned with the world? If so, you may have voted for Trump even if you hate what he stands for.
We will need to understand that no one wins when leaders fail. We can and must oppose where necessary, but we must also work to build leaders that will succeed. This includes our president and Trump. If you pray, then pray for them.
And finally, we must not do nothing as we undergo this necessary falling process. We must peacefully but decisively oppose everything that acts against the universal principles of love and empathy and kindness. We must embrace the fall but not what caused it. We must use every opportunity to denounce racism, the abuse and oppression of women, the hatred for religions other than our own. We must now ensure that the next few years see the world bounce back to that better place.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17-year-old Anene Booysens: gang raped, mutilated and murdered, and our Mozambican brother Emmanuel Josias Sithole: beaten and stabbed to death.
