Cathy and I adopted Lolly when we were a bit older than some of you. I am of an age where I remember wooden desks with flip-up lids and a hole in the corner for an ink-well…although not even I’m that old that we still used fountain pens!
My teachers used green chalk boards, I had actual text books
and I played cricket and rode my bike without a helmet. My primary and
secondary school both had 30 kids per class. They had wooden floors and high
windows and certainly no aircon or screens or fancy halls or what are now
referred to as theatres. And I went to two of the poshest schools in Joburg –
Pridwin Prep and St Johns College Houghton.
Now of course I run the risk of sounding old and nostalgic.
I may be old but I’m not nostalgic. I mostly hated school – especially high
school. The reason for that is not that we lacked anything material, but
because of what schooling lacked on other levels; warmth; love; compassion, care,
balance. It was all about academic results, sporting achievement; cultural and
extra-curricular excellence; “developing the young person for the future”.
I have come to understand in my adult life that what the world
lacks is not necessarily smarter, sportier, more culturally gifted adults
(although these are all fine characteristics). What the world lacks is
emotionally intelligent, caring, balanced, conscious, present, unmaterialistic,
compassionate, non-racist, non-sexist, non-abusive, well-adjusted, well-read adults
who can live all-embracing lives in an increasingly fractured, violent and
individualistic world.
But the funny thing is that when we look at schools for our kids, we don’t look for these things that will keep them (and humanity at large) alive and functional in the year 2030 plus (just for the purposes of location in history this is the AI, biotech era in which the caring/human careers – or those that can look after machines – will be the ones most highly sought after).
We look for astro-turf fields, sparking pools or what we now refer to as “aquatic centres”, dance studios with sprung floors and mirrors, smart boards, iPads and airconditioned classrooms with ergonomically designed chairs. Only the best for our little munchkins. But is it?
Because we don’t ask about their approach to the education of resilience or emotional intelligence – key attributes in this 21st Century workplace – or how the child of colour is educated to deal with a world that is structurally racist. We don’t ask about their approach to the empowerment of the girlchild or their employment policy and whether it demonstrates the racial and gender demographic of our nation (and this is particularly worrying because so many of us are people of colour or have children of colour – or are women!). Or how they deal with the introverted or very extroverted child, or the anxious/depressed child or the child of a single parent or the adopted child.
But who cares about all this if there is a “deli” where they can order their over-priced tramezzini off a personalised credit card.
Like you, we were unnerved by the closing of our high
school. And when a couple of teachers left and only a few people pitched at the
recent open days, we too went and looked at other schools in the area. It was
disturbing to say the least. Why would I want my 8-year-old kid to go to a
school that looks like a corporate head office; that has all the trimmings but
lacks even a modicum of soul or history? Are we really to be enticed by
chandeliers and the smell of drying paint?
Yes, Trinity is a lot more traditional, simple and less “corporate” in feel. It also doesn’t have all the bells and whistles. But then why do we all feel a sense of it being a very special little school? Perhaps precisely because it is smaller, friendlier, more family-oriented, and caring. Trinity is by no means caught in the past and is also not slavishly obsessed with modernity at the expense of a more balanced, down-to-earth, less-materialistic, less overtly-privileged environment. It offers smaller classes, exceptional teachers and a solid base of spiritual and emotional care for our children.
Why would we choose to move our children from this incredible environment? Upheave them to fulfil our desire for “all that sparkles”?
Just as an aside, Trinity is also the very best value
private school in our area; the cheapest and the most exclusive in terms of
numbers and personalised care and attention of our kids: Lolly’s teacher from
last year came to her birthday party!
But the point of this letter is not to encourage you to stay if you don’t want to. It is your right to leave. But this I do ask; if you are going to leave, leave quietly, happily and peacefully. Don’t feel you have to spend the rest of the year justifying your decision by running Trinity down. Don’t feel you need to go on about the great facilities at other schools.
The rest of us really want this school to succeed and here’s the thing – there are plenty of us who will choose Trinity for all the reasons others are leaving; we want our kids to grow up in a less materialistic, simpler, “less shiny” environment with some older-school values. By the way, I spend a great deal of my working time in rural and peri-urban government schools. Before moving schools, go and visit some of those for a perspective on how privileged we are to have Trinity literally on our doorstep.
Our aim is for Lolly to be at Trinity until she
matriculates. Maybe we will maybe we won’t – but Cathy and I are determined to
do all we can to help this special little school not only survive but grow and thrive.
We hope you join us – but we fully understand if you don’t.
2018 has been a particularly challenging year for many of us. As wave after wave of stinking effluent has rained down on us from the various commissions of enquiry; as the impact of State Capture has begun to be felt and as the economy has faltered, the citizens have been left reeling and even depressed.
Over the same period, this column and indeed this website, has celebrated South Africans who are making a difference with what they have in their hands. It has done this to encourage an alternative narrative; one of hope and action. As people we need to keep telling our good stories so that we don’t become overwhelmed by the bad.
I would like to end off the year with a rare and startling story of hope and good. Several months ago, I got a call from a Johannesburg-based CEO by the name of Thomas Holtz. He runs a manufacturing company called Multotec. They have branches nationwide and across Africa, in South America, Australia and China and they employ around 1800 people.
Thomas’s brief to me – along with the way he communicated it – was unusual to put it mildly. He wanted me to work with him (not consultant to him you understand) to help break down patriarchy within his organisation. A male CEO wanting to break down patriarchy? I checked outside to see if it wasn’t snowing in Durbs.
As we spoke it became apparent that this was no ordinary CEO; he was thinking way beyond the usual aspects of bottom-line, leadership development, customer service, team building, diversity and inclusion and safety etc – although all of these would of course benefit from this work. But he was going someplace else; someplace we urgently need to go in South Africa. How fascinating that such a brief would emerge from a manufacturing company servicing the mining industry!
Thomas and I have spoken extensively over the months and what has struck me is that his implicit questions are different: How can we continue to run a very successful business and go beyond CSI and SED to build our nation? How can we contribute to the shifting of the needle on racism and sexism, not just in here but out there? How can we turn the tables on patriarchy? How can we bring love, compassion and purpose into the workplace? You see, Thomas has realised that unless he uses his position, his power and his privilege to bring about change and not just tick boxes, then all he will be at the end of it all, is a successful CEO. The world will not have shifted at all.
Now you will notice from his name that Thomas is male and white. So was 90% of his Exco when we started this journey. And the problems weren’t just the lack of diversity and the lack of innovation that results. The problem was that although he himself (and indeed many of his team) were not archetypal patriarchs, they were labouring in and under a highly patriarchal system. A) Manufacturing b) in the mining sector c) in South Africa. Breaking down patriarchy and its cousins racism and sexism would take a concerted, long-term effort from him and his executive team. This wouldn’t happen through tokenism.
We have held several very intense workshops, one-on-ones and group interviews with middle management. His exco team has done battle with the concepts of patriarchy, racism, power distance and culture. It has been tough – particularly as this is a highly successful organisation that on the surface of it might say: “If it isn’t broken don’t fix it”. But you see in their own way, they were broken, and sooner or later this would have caught up with the bottom line.
The business has begun to transform in profound ways as the individuals have done their own individual work. On one level, the exco is now more diverse. But more significantly, the tone, the mood and how they show up as people has shifted. There is a maturity, a weight if you like, a new way of seeing each other and others in the organisation. The smell of the place has changed.
As we look towards 2019, we can draw on the energy of Thomas and his team. Whether you run a business small or large, a classroom, a place of worship, a project, a government department, an NGO, a home, a family or just yourself – use that platform to have conversations that shift the needle in a positive direction. This team is not perfect, and the journey will certainly continue, but they are daring to speak about the issues that we would much rather pretend did not exist or impact on business. And the world is a much better place because they are doing this work. And by the way, Multotec is a better and more successful company for it and the people are loving the change in their leaders. Indeed, the business is on track to do its best year ever. Coincidence? Maybe, but probably not.
I salute Thomas Holtz and his team for bravely tackling their shadows and working to make not only their business but this country and this world, a better place. They are using what they have in their hands – no more, no less.
They inspire us all.
Justin Foxton is a Process Facilitator and Founder of The Peace Agency. His writing is dedicated to the memory of Anene Booysens, Emmanuel Josias Sithole and Suna Venter.
There is a poem called “The Cold Within” that was written in the 1960’s by then unknown American poet James Patrick Kinney.
I first heard this poem quoted by our former Public Protector Professor Thuli Madonsela, but apparently it is quite well known the world over. What struck me about it was the fact that it could so easily have been written about us here in South Africa in 2018. It is challenging, painful and beautiful and – as the various 2019 election campaigns begin to polarise and divide us – it deserves our full attention:
Six humans trapped by happenstance
In bleak and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story’s told.Their dying fire in need of logs
The first man held his back
For of the faces round the fire
He noticed one was black.The next man looking ‘cross the way
Saw one not of his church
And couldn’t bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.The third one sat in tattered clothes.
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy shiftless poor.The black man’s face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight.
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.The last man of this forlorn group
Did nought except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.Their logs held tight in death’s still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn’t die from the cold without
They died from the cold within.The poem is so powerful because it places us together around a fire – usually a space for friends. But the fire is dying and so are we. It begs for us to find our common humanity – that which will save our lives – and share what we have with one another; our kindness, our time, our resources – regardless of our differences.
An open letter to the executives of Ford South Africa regarding the handling of the Ford Kuga crisis:
Over the past months, several of your customers (allegedly around 50) have watched in horror as their vehicles exploded around or in front of them. Having spent hundreds of thousands of Rand on what for many would have been their dream motor vehicle, they have stood helplessly by as their car went up in smoke. One person – a 33-year-old man by the name of Reshall Jimmy – lost his life in a most horrendous and painful fashion; trapped in a burning Kuga. Despite all of this, it has taken you well over a year to recall the effected model. Month after month you chose to argue the ‘technical details’ of the fires. You simply failed to take responsibility. Like many, I am disgusted by your too-little-too-late response; even the tone you employed in announcing the recall was cold and unfeeling.
Your callous disregard for human beings; their lives, their families and their hard-earned money (apparently, Kuga owners cannot give them away), is utterly sickening. For a brand with your proud history you have let yourself down in the most spectacular fashion. Your response says only one thing: Ford cares more about the bottom-line than about the safety and well-being of their customers. I am no MBA, but even I can tell you that this is an appalling business strategy that will have disastrous consequences for sales of all models not just Kugas. By way of example, my wife and I have been toying with buying a Ford Eco Sport. Let me be clear: after your response to the Kuga crisis we will never buy a Ford of any description. Regardless of what “the facts” of the Kuga case turn out to be, you are – in our minds at least – a company that is untrustworthy and uncaring.
What should you have done in this case? Firstly, you should have taken a decision to operate with compassion above all else. How could you have done this? By putting yourselves in the skin of Reshall Jimmy’s family. You could have asked yourselves what it must feel like to be them or the 50 other effected parties or the approximately 6300 other Kuga owners. If you were battling with this, you could have employed a trained counsellor or facilitator to take you through a process whereby you would devise a business strategy based on a foundation of compassion. (Your business brains would love this bit: operate with compassion and you will save the floundering reputation of your business. This is because the “little people” love to see large corporations operating with compassion and humility.)Secondly, you should have said you were sorry; immediately and then repeated it often. Sorry is a very powerful word that many people long to hear when they are suffering. Even if you later turn out to be “right”, you should have said sorry. Then, you should have quickly recalled all the models in the affected category even if that meant that Ford suffered badly. Lives are more important than profits and jobs.The thing that is so deeply troubling about your response is how eerily South African it is. Your cars explode so you immediately go on the defensive and argue that the customer must be wrong. No one quickly takes full and total responsibility, says sorry, recalls, resigns. By the same token, our country’s good health and reputation burns and our president argues that it’s the media’s fault or the courts fault or the Public Protectors fault or the work of foreign agents. The people speak at the polls and again, it is not his fault. It is never his fault; never the fault of his executive. No one loses their job or takes a salary cut. Business just carries on as usual. Failed ministers continue to lead; failed rugby coaches continue to coach; failed teachers continue to teach; failed principals continue to lead schools. Exceptions to the rule – the Pallo Jordan’s and Brian Molefe’s of this world – are few and far between.Take heed Ford South Africa; take heed of what happened to the ruling party in last year’s local government elections. This was caused by arrogance, selfishness and a lack of compassion for their customers – the citizens of South Africa. Your response to the Kuga crisis mirrors this and the same large-scale erosion of support will happen to you. 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.
