by Justin Foxton | May 2, 2016 | Leadership, Women & Gender Issues
Whether one is religious or not, so much can be learned from the life and leadership of Pope Francis. In the blink of an eye he has transformed the Papal office in ways that will materially affect not only the Roman Catholic Church, but the spiritual and indeed physical lives of generations to come. He has done this by working hard, eschewing the trappings of the position and resisting the temptation to settle into the comfort of being a benign figure-head. In short he has decided to live simply and with love – surely the mandate of all leaders religious or otherwise. He places the foundational issues of justice, mercy and compassion at the top of the agenda and sets aside all pomp and ceremony to ensure that this mandate is met.
Some of course say that he is too real; too down-to-earth, maybe not ‘regal’ enough to be a pope. But this demonstrates a lack of understanding of his Spiritual father and namesake Saint Francis of Assisi and the simple mission of love and compassion that he embodied. The Pope would echo St. Francis’s famous petition: “Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.”
But what ensures that this man’s name will be etched in the annals of not only religious, but secular history is that he has crossed over to the dark side as it were; he has got out from behind the pulpit and he has entered the domain of real life, off-limits to many religious leaders. For far too long the church has remained largely passive on issues of politics, justice, human rights, race, equality, lawfulness, poverty – ironically all the things that Christ spoke of a great deal. It has preferred to play it safe and keep its rent payers happy by being vocal about what it deems to be the greater sins; abortion, contraception, homosexuality, worship of other Gods etc.
This Pope is working to turn all that on its head, and is for a great deal more than he is against. He is all too aware that a church that remains in church may just as well not exist. He is also radically inclusive and this is setting people free, something that the church has historically traded on preventing.
I have followed this man since his ordination and have been endlessly inspired by his feet-washing brand of leadership. But I was totally winded by what he did last week on Lesbos island in Greece. He went to this island – a primary gateway for refugees to Europe – to witness first-hand the devastation caused by Europe closing its borders to refugees. This was a radical move in itself.
But the billed main feature of the trip was quite foreign for a Pontiff. After a tour of the refugee detention facility, he sat down for lunch with some of the 3,000 plus men, women and children being held in overcrowded conditions awaiting their likely deportation. At the end of this emotional and deeply symbolic visit he did the unimaginable; he acted out his counsel that refugees be embraced, not shunned by taking 12 Syrians – Muslims to boot — including six children — back to the Vatican with him. In an act of kindness bordering on the irresponsible – even scandalous – he did the religious equivalent of giving Europe’s leaders the middle finger.
What do we make of this? Do we dismiss it as posturing, reject it for its clear political message – or do we perhaps accept it for what I believe it was first-and-foremost meant to provide; a new life for 12 people. And might we even ask: “If he can do this – why can’t I?” Or is that taking things too far because he is, after all, the Pope.
This kind of leadership can inspire us if we are prepared to be brave and let it. It can cause us to ask: “What can I do to play a role in a world – a country – that is seemingly so broken?”
And lest you imagine that this trip was all about the grand gesture, we can perhaps learn and be inspired even more by the less documented parts of his trip; parts that might speak to us even louder than the saving of the 12. As Francis made his way through the camp — surrounded by high fences and patrolled by police — he greeted observant Muslim women who had their scarves pulled over their hair, by placing his hand respectfully above his heart and bowing. In these small but powerful gestures, Francis invites us to shrug off our bigotry and become radically inclusive of all races, religions and orientations. And little children handed Francis gifts – drawings they had done for him. One little girl tried to fold up her artwork, presumably to make it easier for Francis to carry. I believe that in this moment years of contemplation and a life of love welled to the surface for Francis as he said to the little girl: “Don’t fold it. I want it on my desk.”
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 | Nov 23, 2015 | Citizen Participation, Leadership
Malcolm Muggeridge famously said: “Every happening, great and small, is a parable whereby God speaks to us, and the art of life is to get the message.” What are some of the messages from our current water crisis?
Certainly we must urgently work together to save water, but why do we only save water when there is a crisis? We have become so technologically advanced that we are blinded to what we actually need to stay alive on earth. Does this water crisis not demand of us that we begin to view the world differently? Does it not demand that we begin to cherish that which we discard with such ease? Does it not teach us to educate our children about the value of our natural resources – in times of both lack and plenty?
The other lesson this drought must teach us is that however advanced we may have become, we are inextricably linked to the earth. We do not exist apart from it. We are indeed, one. We seem only to truly internalise this fact when – having pillaged our planet – we are faced with the realities of hunger or thirst.
By now you will have read many ideas of how you can save water and I hope that we are actioning them all. However, I want to suggest that we do something a little different as citizens; something that allows us to truly identify with this drought. You may remember a very impactful campaign run by World Vision called The 40 Hour Famine. Members of the public were invited to fast for 40 hours in order to experience what it felt like to go hungry. People would sponsor the participants and money was raised for victims of famine across Africa. It was incredibly successful.
I want to suggest that we undertake a similar campaign called A Day without Water. For 24 hours we shall pretend that we have no access to water (in taps, pools etc). We will have to make preparations to store enough water for drinking and cooking; we will go without baths and showers; we won’t swim. We will live as if water has run out and all that is left is that which we have stored. This will give us some sense of the life that so many people across our country are currently living.
Then, I invite you to get people to sponsor you for each hour that you go without water. As an NGO we have identified an ingenious solution to the drought in rural areas: PlayPumps – water pumps that are connected to children’s merry-go-rounds. As the kids play, water is pumped out of the ground for the local community. Help us to raise funds to get as many of these installed in needy areas as possible.
A Day without Water will run from 18:00 on Friday 4th December to 18:00 on Saturday 5th. Please spread the word. Get your companies, schools and places of worship involved; get social and other media on board. You can e-mail me on justin@peaceagency.org.za for bank details and if you have ideas and suggestions that can enhance the campaign.
Let’s make this a national, annual event. Then we will truly have got the message from the parable of our water crisis.
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 | Oct 13, 2015 | Crime & Corruption, Leadership
It was moments after the Boks trounced Scotland at St. James Park. Spirits were running high and flowing liberally. The family – along with the nation – were elated.
My Uncle Reggie was in good form but I noted with some concern that he was getting quiet. This always suggests that one of his famous political proclamations is not far off.
And so it came. Somewhere between a Nick Mallett technical tirade and a Naas Botha – well, a Naas Botha, Reggie murmured: “They must just bring back Bheki Cele.” We all turned slowly, jaws slightly ajar.
It was not this bewildering non sequitur that elicited our collective bemusement but rather the fact that Reggie had learnt how to pronounce “Cele” properly – click and all. (Like most English speakers he would usually pronounce it Chelly as in “Jelly”). This new-found respect spoke volumes. Reggie clearly meant business and we could tell that it was time to turn off the tellie.
The most recent crime statistics have caused justifiable shock. The details are well documented, suffice to say that we are slowly but surely turning the tide on nearly two decades of solid progress in reducing most categories of crime. Our National Police Commissioner Riah Phiyega’s head is being called for and the general vibe is that people want Bheki back.
Of course on paper this makes some sense. The man served for only three years and managed to reduce crime in nine out of 10 categories. His predecessor the lake Jackie Selebi was also relatively successful in reducing crime. He wasn’t as successful as Captain Fantastic but he was certainly more successful than Phiyega. Now let’s be honest the only thing that she currently has going for her over the other two is that she hasn’t been found guilty of any crimes or serious misdemeanours. Selebi died in disgrace having been jailed for corruption. Cele was also found guilty of maladministration by a Commission of Enquiry and relieved of his duties by the president.
“Reg,” I ventured tentatively; “Bheki Cele was found to be unfit for public office”
I knew I was in trouble the moment I said it. Twenty minutes later we all excused ourselves and went our separate ways.
You see we South Africans do many things well; braaivleis, rugby, sunny skies and international TV personalities. But we are Olympic when it comes to double standards. Without any hint of irony, we can call for Jacob Zuma’s removal from the presidency for alleged corruption and in the same breath call for Bheki Cele’s reinstatement as Police Commissioner in spite of his guilt not being alleged. How does that work?
Well, it’s quite simple really. Our values hold no value. Simply put, we are willing to flip-flop our way through life going wherever we can get the best deal. What is the result? A nation bedevilled by some of the highest crime rates in the world. Get it? We are the problem.
Now you may ask what the connection is between our nebulous values and the soaring crime rate. Well if lawfulness is our value – which I am trusting that for most of us it is – then we have to hold to that value (not simply hold others to that value!) in spite of what benefits there may be to compromising it. This means that there are some things that we are not permitted to do. Here are some of those:
- We are not permitted to call for the return of Bheki Cele as Police Commissioner – however much we may believe his approach to policing worked – because to do so would be to endorse maladministration.
- We are not permitted to break the law however “small” we may feel the infraction to be.
- We are not permitted – however tempting – to act on the question; “everyone is doing it so why can’t I?”
- We cannot withhold revenue or information from SARS.
- We cannot pride ourselves on doing the right thing “most of the time”.
- We cannot work in an environment that is corrupt or unethical without either speaking up or resigning.
- We cannot give or receive bribes even if to do so would prevent us from being imprisoned.
- We cannot take revenge when a wrong is perpetrated against us.
This list is not exhaustive and hopefully you will already have noted one or two that I have missed. Now remember these points only apply if lawfulness is your value. If it isn’t then not to worry about any of it. The law may or may not catch up with you. But if – like me – you are passionately concerned about peace in our country then the above points need to be adhered to as a minimum requirement. It begins by putting an immovable stake in the ground when it comes to living our values. Then it takes us acknowledging the double standards we have got so used to living by, and ridding ourselves of them.
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 | Aug 31, 2015 | Employment, Leadership
There was an air of anticipation in the room as they filed in and took their seats. This was the second and final day of the workshop and by now the nerves of day 1 had subsided. New friends greeted one another and old friends laughed and chatted.
They took their seats and focused intently on one of my colleagues who would be facilitating the session. Silence descended and then she asked the question: “What makes you valuable?” 15 pairs of eyes looked shyly down and hands were folded nervously in laps. An aching silence fell over the room.
The question had been posed to the group at the end of day 1 and their homework was to go and ask wives, husbands, children, and neighbours what it was that made them valuable. My colleague – aware that a group of frontline mine workers may never have considered such a question – allowed the question to hang. Silence. She repeated the question: “What makes you valuable?”
After what felt like an eternity a man stood up slowly and tentatively. The room held its breath: “My wife told me that I am just a good father to our children.” Eyes looked up slowly and then the applause began. The man – an older African gentlemen – looked somewhat confused. His eyes seemed to say: “Perhaps they didn’t hear me correctly; perhaps my English wasn’t correct; I said that all that made me valuable is that I am a good father to our children.” But the applause continued. He smiled; the broadest, proudest smile I have seen in years. He had risen to tell his story as a man who saw himself as valueless. He took his seat once again filled with a sense of his own self-worth.
And one-by-one they stood and spoke. The group – predominantly men – recalled what wives, kids and community members had said about them. And they loved it! But fascinatingly, most of their stories included the word ‘just’:
‘”My family say that I am just a good provider.”
“My kids say I am valuable because I just buy them food and gifts.”
“My neighbour says I am just a good member of our community.”
“My wife says I am just a good husband”.
I do not believe for one moment that their friends and loved ones used the word ‘just’ to describe any of these incredible men; what was said about each of them was so far from ‘just’ anything.
But the hard truth is that for years, decades – we have spent our time exploring what it is about one another that we dislike; what it is that makes you less valuable to me. And no one knows a lack of value better than frontline mine workers in South Africa. If any group has fundamentally internalised and accepted a lack of personal value, it is this group. I believe that it is this fact – not the reason that so often presents itself; dispute over wages – that leads to the violence that we see on our mines. People learn to interpret their value by the size of their pay packet and violence erupts when their ‘value’ is not increased sufficiently. But what option have people been given to experience true value and worth in any other way?
I sat at the back of the room listening and watching as the confidence of the room grew; as men began to sit up a little straighter and smile as if they meant it. And I wondered if Marikana might have been avoided had Lonmin taken the time to ask their people the question; “what makes you valuable”- and really listened to the answers? And I wondered how much of the destruction that we see in our country wouldn’t be avoided if we all took the time to explore one another’s value – give value to another – beyond the tasks that we are employed to fulfill.
At a time when mines are trying desperately to hold onto their own value, Richards Bay Minerals is counter-intuitively working to instill value into its people. This is not just good in terms of healing and building individuals, communities and the nation at large; it makes solid business sense too. By being willing to speak to the intrinsic value of the human being, this company is giving each member of its staff-force a deep and abiding sense of self-worth. And they have learned that self-worth is the cornerstone of an inspired, safe and productive workforce.
This is the lesson that businesses – and most urgently mines – need to learn in South Africa.
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 14, 2015 | Citizen Participation, Democracy, Employment, Leadership
I have a friend called Clinton dos Santos. He is a young, middle-class, white South African male. Given what we know about employment in South Africa, Clinton would be better off emigrating than seeking work here. But the odd thing about Clinton is that he is never out of work.
I recently ran a workshop for a group of leaders from a large company. The conversation turned to employment equity and BBBEE and many of them had a great deal to say about the fact that as white, male South Africans they were being excluded from the job market. They failed to see the irony until I pointed it out to them. One of the older guys – a 57 year old white Afrikaans man – then revealed that he had recently put his CV out and within 3 days he had received 10 job offers.
A mythology of white victimhood has grown post 1994 and this manifests in our reactions to employment equity and BBBEE. There is a palpable sense that – as white folk – we have been hard done by.
But my friend Clinton – and so many others like him – prove this to be false. He refuses to fall victim to victimhood.
What differentiates Clinton from other white males is that unemployment is not an option for him. He will make coffee or wait tables. He will do odd jobs or clean streets.
Not for all, but for many white South Africans employment equity and BBBEE has become an excuse. Anyone can sit on a couch and moan. It is much harder to get up and serve food, tend gardens or sweep streets. There is always a job of work to be done – if we are prepared to do it.
But how much of all this is our belief that certain work is beneath us; that it is only for the ‘previously disadvantaged’? In many ways we white South Africans are the ones with the sense of entitlement. If we aren’t living the lifestyle to which our privilege ‘entitles’ us, then we simply turn our sights on employment equity and BBBEE and blame that for our plight.
Black folk are constantly being fingered for blaming apartheid for everything yet we do just the same only in reverse; we blame the demise of apartheid for everything. Let us begin by challenging what we know and by changing the conversations that perpetuate a false narrative.
Only then will we begin to understand that our country is still fundamentally unbalanced – in favour of whites.
This post is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysens: gang raped, mutilated and murdered.
