by Justin Foxton | Aug 2, 2016 | Democracy
I learnt a great deal during my half dozen or so years living and working in the UK: I learnt to enjoy warm beer; I learnt that the Cornish Pasty is not only something you eat when you are either drink or hungover; I learnt that a Kebab is not always a stick with meat that you put on a braai, but what we would call a Shawarma. I learnt that the human being’s capacity for carrying things extends way beyond what we would ever imagine. (I once carried a laptop, 3 large bags of groceries and a new TV from the centre of town to my North London apartment using a combination of buses, trains and my feet) and I learnt the great British art of queuing.
Now we do not queue well in South Africa. We are just not wired for it. This is because queuing well involves patience (not one of the great South African virtues) and an unfailing faith in the fact that the system – whatever that may mean in terms of the type of queue you are standing in – will work when you finally get to the front. Now, our history does not provide us with sufficient evidence of the system working for us to have such faith. So, even when systems do work – and they work more often than we are willing to admit – we still protest vehemently. We also have a curious belief that we are above queuing. So if there is a “priority” queue or an “express” queue or any way – legitimate or otherwise – to cut a queue, it would not be out of order to sell an aging member of our family to avail ourselves of such.
Now based on time spent in bank queues, I have calculated that 2.5 minutes is about our average breaking point in terms of length of time spent queueing. At this point someone will invariably pipe up and say words to the effect of: “Ridiculous! Why are there only two tellers? Two tellers and eight empty cubicles. What are we paying for? No wonder this country is going to the dogs!” Then all the rest of us nod and tut tut in agreement. Some of us – on arrival at the front of the queue – even berate the poor teller, as if they have any say over how many tellers are employed at their branch.
On a particularly glorious summers day in London, I learnt that queuing is not so much a necessity in Britain as an actual pastime; even a hobby to some. I was standing in the queue outside Wimbledon chancing my luck for one of those rare day passes that they issue to a few eager fans. The atmosphere is festive and the time spent together with other fans is always great fun.
However, one lady had taken this experience to a whole new level. She was not a tennis fan per se, but went to Wimbledon each year simply so that she could stand in this queue. She so loved the atmosphere, camaraderie and laughter that she would go year after year and just, you know, queue. She didn’t ever actually go in to watch the tennis.
Now of course this does rather epitomise stereotypical British eccentricity and whilst Brits do love a good queue, this lady may be a bit extreme or to use a good British expression “potty”. But that said, there are many benefits to learning the art of queuing well, amongst them maintaining healthy blood pressure.
Casting our minds forward to Wednesday and our Local Government Elections, we will have a great opportunity to practise our queuing skills. Here are a couple of tips to help you make the most of the election queue. You can of course apply the thinking behind these tips after election day too:
- The day is a public holiday given to us to vote. Take your time; soak up the atmosphere. Remember what it took for us all to be here together. The process of voting (not just casting your ballot) should be a rich experience for all citizens of a vibrant democracy;
- A voting queue places us in a position to meet and interact with other citizens who may not look and sound like we do. Don’t miss this opportunity to expand your boundaries. Greet people; shake hands; strike up conversation. A queue can always be a bridge.
- You think the queue is long? Try manning a polling station for a day to see what long feels like. Express gratitude to those assisting us to exercise our right to vote.
We have a long way to go until we can call our democracy mature; it will take us citizens doing democracy with respect and dignity. Let us embrace this is as we go to the polls on Wednesday.
Enjoy the queue!
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 | May 30, 2016 | Democracy
A recent Washington Post article tells the story of the 2575 km2 Chernobyl Evacuation Zone. Three decades ago the explosion at the now infamous Ukrainian nuclear power plant displaced nearly 100 000 people and left a ghostly, uninhabited desert-scape in its wake. Trees stripped bare protruded out of infertile soil; all animal, bird and insect life had been obliterated. No movement; no sound. Empty shells of buildings; crumbling homesteads; literally dozens of empty villages; a lifeless, apocalyptic wasteland. For 30 years, Chernobyl has represented humankind’s insatiable lust for more.
But now Chernobyl would appear to be trying to teach us a new and most remarkable lesson. According to biologist Jim Beasly, where once there was dust and nothing more, today the enormous evacuation zone is: “An incredibly large sanctuary for animals large and small”. Research reports reveal that out of the ashes of Chernobyl has emerged an enchanted forest complete with thriving animal populations; grey wolves, red foxes, wild boar, moose, deer, hares and racoon dogs. Many of these are meat eating animals that have sufficient food to survive and thrive. They have developed a resistance, not only to environmental radiation, but to radiation in their prey. Researchers heavily suited in masks and respirators say it is like a huge national park just with no people.
This story is miraculous yet unsurprising. You see nature – creation if you like – has regenerative power or resurrection wired into its very nature. The great paradox is that death brings life; the seed must die in order to germinate; the land must burn in order for new life to flourish; the rivers must flood for the floodplains to yield their abundant crops. Without Chernobyl there could be no enchanted forest.
And without apartheid there would have been no Mandela as we knew him; without pain there could be no Buddha; without separation from God there could be no Christ. Perhaps more accurately put, without darkness there would be no need for light.
This fills me with hope and enormous joy. I pray it does the same for you. Because in the midst of our own personal catastrophes – our own Chernobyls big or small – we can hold fast to the truth that light will always extinguish darkness; that not even a catastrophe of nuclear proportions could thwart the regeneration power inherent in the created world. Life will continue and even thrive where once there was disaster, pain and suffering.
Outside of our own personal lives, the same applies to our beloved country. We may be tempted to despair; to see the pain and suffering and wonder if we will ever be the enchanted forest we all dreamt of. Schools, trucks, bulldozers, tyres, homes; logs – burning, burning – everywhere we turn. Can anything good come of all this burning? Destruction of property; vitriol and hatred flying through the air. Lies, deceit, corruption, fraud, state capture. Can anything rise from these ashes?
Nature tells us that it not only can, but indeed will. It is all a matter of time and if we are able to rise above the ashes and see what will undoubtedly be. As the good book says: “For now we see only in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully.” 1 Corinthians 13:12.
South Africa will not only survive but thrive – not in spite of but because of what is currently taking place. It will thrive because of what Jacob Zuma and all who resemble him, have done to us. How can we say this? You need only look at the giant leaps in progress we have made as a nation in the treatment and prevention of HIV to see that this is true. The truth is that it took Thabo Mbeki’s denialism – and the tragic loss of life that resulted – to mobilise us into a world leader in this field. Must we thank the man for this? Of course not. But we have risen from the ashes he left behind.
And out of our very own Chernobyl will emerge a new and better South Africa. It may take decades but it will happen. You see that is the way of the created world. As a collective we will be able to look back at this dark and depressing time; look back from our enchanted forest and say; “without that time, without those leaders, this could not have happened.” Will things get better soon? Probably not soon, but there is no doubt that they will get better.
Should this make us resigned and fatalistic? No, it should cause us to redouble our efforts to learn the lessons that will take us to that enchanted forest as quickly as possible. And once we are there – for heaven’s sake – let’s not make the same mistakes again.
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 | Apr 16, 2016 | Democracy, Leadership
In August 2014 highly respected ANC veteran Pallo Jordan found himself in hot water over lies regarding his academic qualifications. He had claimed to have a PhD going by the title of Doctor for years.
Via an article in the Mail & Guardian, ANC secretary general Gwede Mantashe explained that Jordan had written to the party’s leadership taking full responsibility for what Jordan termed as “deceit over a long time”. Jordan apologised to the ANC, its members and all South Africans and resigned.
There are moments in all of our lives that come to define us as men and women. For leaders with position and power, these moments may go down in the annals of history. For leaders like you and I they may simply become part of the history of our own small lives, or be forever etched in the minds of our children: “My Dad was always someone who did the right thing”; “My Mum played fast and loose with the law.”
The story of Pallo Jordan’s deceit did not end with an apology to South Africans. That is because Pallo Jordan is a man of integrity. How can we possibly say that about a man who lied and cheated his way through decades of his life, receiving benefits that he should never have been entitled to? Well, we can say that because when confronted with that dreadful moment of truth about his lie (a variation of a lie that many of us have spoken in our lives to make ourselves or our companies sound more impressive), he chose to admit his mistakes and resign. With only the evidence provided by his conscience and a Sunday Times expose; without any pronouncements of a court of law – he did the hardest thing possible; he took responsibility and action. His apology would have meant nothing had he not resigned; his apology would simply have been a request for us to let him off the hook: “You have been a naughty boy Pallo, but we forgive you. Just don’t do it again.”
My primary memory of Pallo Jordan is not that he lied about his qualifications. I remember him for the fact that he resigned as a result of being exposed. I remember how quickly, how decisively and how humbly he did it. I remember how he saw fit to respect South Africans and our democracy by doing what only the strongest of men and women and the best of leaders can ever do – kick themselves when they are down. Regardless of the fact that he would lose money, face and power he did what I have come to understand any true veteran of the struggle would do; he stood up bravely against anyone who dared to compromise the integrity of that struggle and the democracy that resulted – even when that person was him.
I do not need to spell things out and in any case, much has been written about the man who still insists on calling himself our President. Suffice to say that whether you love him or hate him, this man will now be relegated to the trash-heap of history occupied by corrupt leaders; those who lied, cheated, deceived, manipulated and put themselves before the people. But he will not simply idle away his final years in ignominy for Nkandla or the fact that he violated his oath of office or any of the other atrocities committed by him. Ultimately, this will happen because he apologised without resigning. Had he resigned on Saturday night he may in years to come have even been honoured for some of his not insignificant achievements as President of the Republic. But now, history will only ever remember him for being a man who – when presented with that moment – chose to apologise but not resign. He will be remembered for the fact that he not only placed his needs before the party or his people, but before the constitution of the Republic.
And this is what stalwarts, elders and civil society leaders are now protesting over. They have nothing to lose from standing against the systematic destruction of this mighty organisation. They know that a weak ANC is bad for everyone and they will not look on as Rome burns. What the man who insists on calling himself our President – and the entire ANC – has missed is that this has gone beyond politics and a scrutinising of the letter of the law. This now sets in motion the ANC’s slide downwards to the trash-heap occupied by corrupt liberation movements; those who lied, cheated, deceived, manipulated and put themselves before the people. What a tragic trajectory.
Is it too late for redemption for either him or the ANC? I do not believe so. Provided this once proud organisation is able to liberate itself from its own propaganda and make itself accountable to you and I by speaking truth to power, then anything is possible.
Pallo Jordan proved that people are very forgiving when the right thing is done.
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 | Mar 2, 2016 | Democracy
Open letter to a friend and colleague:
Dear Akhona,
It has become fashionable to write open letters to public figures. These letters are usually vitriolic and self-serving. Come to think of it I have seldom read an open letter that is kind, affirming and hopeful. One of my objectives in writing an open letter to you, is to change that.
You may not be a public figure (yet) however you are very famous to your beautiful son, your brothers and Mama who are the very breath you breathe and your large network of friends and associates – me included.
Regrettably such fame doesn’t generally garner much interest. So why am I writing this? I am writing this to make public a simple truth that we exchanged via Whatsapp during the time of the Penny Sparrow scandal; black and white works.
This may seem like a somewhat fatuous statement at a time of such racial upheaval. But my association with you has demonstrated time-and-time again that this fact is true. Not only that, but black and white is necessary as we seek to find balance in this country of ours. Let me explain.
In the time that I have worked with you, we – that is Cathy and I and our respective kids – have become close friends. By virtue of spending long hours in planes and cars together, we have learnt a great deal about one another. We have challenged one another’s stereotypes – including our racial stereotypes, we have grown in our understanding of our respective cultures and we have made those new understandings work powerfully in some extremely challenging and even hostile work situations. I can confidently say that neither of us working independently in our field of conflict resolution and peace creation would have the success that you and I have had, working together. The one without the other would simply be less effective. Black and white works.
Through this process of time spent and conversations held (the only way that different people ever found one another), I have learnt a tremendous amount about your incredible culture. This has allowed me to bring a more rounded, balanced, integrated me to the uniquely African work we have been doing. My whiteness with all its strengths and weaknesses has been balanced by your blackness with such different strengths and weaknesses. And I have learnt that black and white is not the same – thankfully! Of course, we are human and equal – but we are also extraordinarily, beautifully different. This combination of our differences; different skills, customs, ways of doing things; different ways of speaking, relating, forgiving, inviting, negotiating and yes, even fighting – is powerful to heal and restore dignity when used in combination. It is an elixir not a poison. And then of course, we have many similarities. What fun that has been!
And you have deepened my understanding of what it means to be African. Through your kindness and jokeful acceptance of my often awkward attempts at being culturally sensitive, I think I have been allowed to call myself that; an African. Not that sterile classification that so polarises; white South African. No, through you and our dear friend Mr Walter Malepe, I have been affirmed and accepted as an African. I thank you for this.
And as I have listened to hours and hours of languages being spoken that I don’t understand, feeling every inch of my inadequacy, you have demonstrated the power of patient engagement. Before, this impatient white boy might have disengaged from such meetings or conversations with an air of arrogant irritation: “Why don’t they just speak English?” But because we have worked in non-Zulu speaking areas you too have been lost. We have been lost together! But you have shown me that it doesn’t matter whether we understand or not. What matters is that we respect the speaker by being present and engaged with every word he or she speaks. It matters not whether we understand the words. We work to hear the heart. It is all about dignity. Respect. Honour. This is the African way. I have developed – slowly but surely – these subtle but necessary skills, and as a result I have the ear – and perhaps even the heart – of many people who by rights should have little or no time for this mlungu. I could not have developed in these areas on my own. The thin strands of trust; the hands shaken and held for long enough to say; “you are my brother”, the ever-so-subtle but terribly warm smile from a tribal elder as I speak. That would not have happened if black and white did not work.
We have done battle together in corporate boardrooms and under trees. Many are the fights we have fought and many are the battles we have lost and won. They have been hard fought and taxing but I believe we can say that in some small way our country – room by room – person-by-person – is a better place because we have worked side-by-side. That is for no other reason than the fact that black and white works.
So thank you Akhona. Thank you for being willing to challenge me and for allowing me to challenge you; thank you for allowing your mind to be changed and for seeing the brother in me. As fires burn and as battles rage let you and I and our families affirm in word and deed what I have known to be true for all my life.
That black and white works.
Take care sisi.
Justin
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 | Feb 10, 2016 | Democracy
Writer, justice and reconciliation ambassador and Pastor Alexander Venter speaks of four kinds of racists in post-apartheid South Africa. Following on from my last column – and adding to the continuing national dialogue on racism – I believe that these are very useful definitions in terms of helping us to name our prejudice and hence bring it under control. They are not specific to any one race; they apply to all South Africans regardless of colour or ethnicity. Which one are you?
Confirmed racists are prejudiced and open about it. They resent or even hate people of other races. This includes the phenomenon of xenophobia, where people fear, reject and even victimise those of other races. Some believe more than ever that blacks and whites – and indeed all differing races – should be kept apart. In the case of black and white, white confirmed racists believe black people are inferior. They will say things like: “Things were better under apartheid.” They will express open glee when a black person articulates such a misguided view as for them this is a slam-dunk in terms of confirming their own prejudicial belief systems. For black confirmed racists, white people are still imperialistic settlers and their retort might be along the lines of: “They must go back to Europe.” Confirmed racists are upfront and ‘honest’ about their racism. The attitudes of this group are hardening and they can often be heard dumping their hateful and offensive opinions and actions on those around them.
Suppressed racists are those who have buried their prejudices in the name of political correctness, keeping-the-peace, or fear of being judged. This will come with a decent measure of self-deception and denial. “I am not racist!” they protest (or perhaps even “I am not a racist but….”) and they may even resort to the old: “I have friends/colleagues who are black!” It doesn’t often take much – a particular event, issue, person or glass of wine – to bring out the racist comments and attitudes. The reality is that we can only supress things for so long before they pop out. This type of racism is no less destructive than Confirmed Racism because it pays lip service to principles of equality while opposing its implementation. This is particularly applicable when it comes to any form of redress particularly policies like BBBEE. It would appear that many South Africans are currently stuck at this level of racism. We haven’t engaged deeply and meaningfully with the hard and often painful process of facing our race demons and we certainly haven’t acknowledged just how vital it is that we do. This will take courage and hard, uncomfortable work – and many of us simply haven’t begun that journey. However, until we do South Africa will be caught in the twilight zone between two eras. This will impact on social cohesion, crime levels, economic growth and the strength of our democracy. Moving beyond this stage of racism is fundamental now to our progress as a nation.
Recovering racists are those who have acknowledged and faced their racial conditioning and the fact that if you were raised in South Africa then racism is intertwined in your very being. They are taking responsibility for this and they are consciously working on their thought processes, beliefs, attitudes and actions. They have dealt with their guilt and are free of this, but freedom is relative. Like people recovering from any addiction, they will always be in recovery and this is a daily journey. They are unlearning old ways of thinking and relating and are adopting new attitudes, behaviours and even speech patterns. They are working at inner and outer transformation of their lives and hence society at large. This is the stage we all need to get to. It takes us beyond denial by harnessing the power of vulnerability to admit our weaknesses and our struggles. Only when we do this can we heal – individually and hence collectively.
Pre-racists or Innocents are those who are in the pre-prejudice stage; they are our children. They are racially innocent provided of course their parents, extended family or other influential adults haven’t already polluted them with their prejudice. The post-apartheid generation has a wonderful opportunity to be racism-free in a way all other South Africans could never be. It will depend on our guidance and modelling – or lack thereof – as to whether this generation is lost to racism.
I would suggest that these definitions are very useful starting points but perhaps not as clear cut as 4 neat categories. For example I am a Recovering Racist but I sometimes catch myself suppressing racist thoughts because “that’s not what a recovering racist should think”. But again I ask – and I would urge personal honesty – which type/types of racist are you? Perhaps even more importantly, are you prepared to go on a journey to the next level of recovery?
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
My sincere thanks to Alexander Venter for giving me permission to quote extensively from his book “Doing Reconciliation – Racism, Reconciliation and Transformation in Church and World.”
by Justin Foxton | Jan 18, 2016 | Citizen Participation, Democracy
I have been writing about issues of racism for years now, but I have seldom felt so winded; so physically nauseated – as I did when I read those hateful words written by now infamous people.
The irony is that at the time the story broke I was enjoying our annual family holiday in the Kruger National Park. All the way around that beautiful place my wife and I were marvelling at how diverse it has become. Not so long ago – I’m talking 4 or 5 years back – it was practically all white and very conservative, to its great shame. Not anymore. All races, ages, adoptive families like ours, gay, straight you name it, we all swam together; our children made friends; we shared drinks on New Year’s Eve; we stopped and pointed out animal sightings. It was the first year in many that we felt that things had really turned and that the place was now moving towards being truly inclusive and representative.
When you are in Kruger you don’t usually stop for a Sparrow. But we did this time. She stopped us in our tracks. What we were reading on social media and in the news was just so utterly contradictory to the South Africa that we were relishing. Over the days that followed we spoke a great deal about the issues at stake. I read all the angry articles, Tweets and Facebook posts. I joined the majority of right-thinking people from South Africa and the world in my condemnation of what had been said. But a piece of the puzzle was missing; a big piece.
The discourse surrounding the whole affair began to change slightly and this is when it dawned on me; the issue is not simply the racist ravings of people like Penny Sparrow, Velaphi Khumalo or Justin van Vuuren.
Now please let me reiterate; I – like millions of other South Africans – deplore and reject all words and actions that hurt or demean others in any way. However isn’t this response a little too easy; perhaps a touch convenient given the enormity of what has been said? As sane, rational people of all races, we get to talk about the Penny Sparrows of this world. We get to write columns and blogs and Facebook posts voicing our disgust and in some cases our deep shame. This is all well, good and necessary. But does our indignation not become a spotlight that we turn on ‘those racists’ and away from ourselves?
And here is the big issue for me personally: I fight every day for equality. I write and I talk and I argue against racism constantly. I have a black child. I have beautiful, amazing black and Indian friends and colleagues whom I adore. I often publically share my frustrations with my own white self; my stuck-up, self-important, over-hasty, too direct self.
However, the question I must honestly and vulnerably ask myself, is if on a racism scale of 1 to 10 Penny Sparrow is a 12 – then where am I? I have written in this column before that ending racism begins with you and me; the painful, ongoing journey that each of us must embark on to face our prejudices head-on and get healed, and that if we are to be brutally honest with ourselves then we are all recovering racists who exist somewhere on that scale.
If these issues end with us simply venting our collective spleen against the blatant racists amongst us then surely we have missed an opportunity to turn the spotlight of those vile ramblings back onto ourselves in order that we might face up to our own prejudices and progress further down that racism scale towards zero. Imagine if we all did this? Now that would deal racism a proper blow.
Again let’s be clear; we must deal decisively with all hate speech and the people who speak it. They will undoubtedly face the full and legitimate anger of the citizenry and they must face the full might of the law. But then what? Where does that leave you and me; the racists in recovery? No further down the road of recovery than we were before Penny Sparrow.
For her the beach became the big issue. What is the issue – big or small – for you? I am not asking this question of whites only. I am asking this question of all South Africans. And if your answer is, “I am not a racist”, then I would humbly suggest that you have the furthest to go.
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.
