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 | Jan 2, 2016 | Citizen Participation
The rain fell not in drops but in great sheets; sheets of water blown sideways by a wind that howled down the valley. It drenched the land and it drenched the people. It ran in riverbeds dry from months – years – of drought, and it made rivers where none had been before. It was like the heavens had opened in answer to the millions of prayers for relief. And it was good. 88mm in an hour good.
That same week the South African currency fell not in Cents but in Rands. It tumbled like the hailstones that accompanied the gushes of good falling from the open heavens. And it just kept falling as if it were on some kind of kid’s joyride. But no one was having any fun. We were bewildered and shell-shocked; struggling to make sense of what appeared to be a willful act of sabotage on our country.
But then – as if in answer to more prayers for relief – David van Rooyen fell. Like the rain the previous day this brought great whoops of joy; relief to the scorched earth. And immediately, the party was over for the free-falling currency. Some said the rise of Pravin Gordhan was a case of too-little-too-late. Most breathed a sigh of relief. Was it too early to say the drought was over?
Not for South African rugby. Most agreed that the fall of Heyneke Meyer preceded by the fans cries of #MeyerMustFall was long overdue especially after the Springbok’s humiliating downing by Japan at the Rugby World Cup in England. Many thought Meyer should have fallen much earlier – a case of too-little-too-late? Most breathed a sigh of relief. The dream of an end to the Springbok victory drought was born.
And they sat-in and they rose-up and they marched and waved banners and they bopped and weaved their way all the way to parliament and all the way to another successful student revolution. For those of us who remember it felt dangerous but necessary; like it could turn into another 1976 only this time with a hashtag and a more representative cohort of South African students. #feesmustfall was born. And our political leaders needed a collective change of underwear and the rain fell for the students and for democracy.
All races, religions and classes stood should-to-shoulder; in fact they sat for hours, days, weeks in protest against institutional racism at the University of Cape Town. They called for transformation and they made Rhodes the symbol of the movement. The #RhodesMustFall was born. This time the iconic statue of Cecil John Rhodes came down and in its place rose hope; hope for a future that would see racism fall and student leaders rise to challenge the system and the government of the day. Many asked where these youngsters had been for 21 years. Most applauded their campaign.
And #ZumaMustFall was born. The doubt had always been there but for many millions of South Africans the benefit had ended. Social media erupted and marches were organised. The stream that had begun to flow from UCT some 10 months earlier had grown into a river that was now rushing straight into the corridors of power. And of all the #campaigns in 2015 this is the one that is certain to succeed. It is simply a matter of time.
And in it all democracy rises and rises and rises yet again. That is what has made this a great year. It is not that we haven’t been battered, beaten and bruised. It is not that we haven’t been taken to breaking point. It has been a grinding year in which we have lost many battles. But as we approach its end we can say that every time the people have found their voice; every time citizens have rallied together, change has occurred; democracy has been victorious.
Once again we hear the voices of those who believe South Africa is doomed to ‘go the way of Zimbabwe’. This is utter bollocks! Democracy has never been healthier or more vibrant than it is currently. We only need to look at the few examples I have given above to realise that the people are more powerful than at any other time in the life of our young democracy.
We must remind ourselves that challenges to democracy do not constitute its failure. It is only when those challenges succeed that democracy is weakened. It is up to us citizens to ensure that this never happens. We must redouble our efforts and we must continue to use all means at our disposal to tackle every challenge that we are faced with; take to the streets, take to social media, write to the editor and whatever you do – vote in next year’s Local Government elections. It is up to us ensure that 2016 is another year in which the rain fell and democracy rose.
#DemocracyMustRise.
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 13, 2014 | Citizen Participation
With elections 2014 done-and-dusted, the question is where to from here? Is it a case of another 5 years of outsourcing the leadership of our nation to often distant, often corrupt, often inept politicians? Is there a role for us citizens to play in determining the next 20 years and beyond? If so what does that role entail?
Exercising our right to vote in elections is fundamental to democracy. But if democracy is to work well what needs to become equally as fundamental is what citizens do between elections. This has become something of a recurring theme of this column and the reason for that is that our relative immaturity as a democracy is being ensured by our between election behavior – not by our election behavior. Put another way, a barometer by which to measure democratic maturity would probably reveal that – voter apathy notwithstanding – we are mature beyond our years from a voting perspective but still fairly immature in terms of how we participate within our democracy between elections.
To blame for this is a lack of knowledge; a lack of education in the workings of democracy. Democracy – like any ideology or practice – needs to be studied, interrogated and internalized. Then it needs to become a lived reality. As South Africans we are lagging behind in terms of a holistic understanding of democracy and in terms of living a lifestyle of democracy.
Referring to a ‘lifestyle of democracy’ may sound like we are talking about a religion or at the very least a set of rules. This is not entirely accurate – although there are certainly elements of this within democracy. What the notion of a lifestyle of democracy should rather lead to – a far more transformative notion than rules and regulations – is that democracy is as much about the responsibilities of citizens as it is about our rights.
You see across the board; poor and rich, urban and rural, young and old we have studied, interrogated and internalized our rights; our right to vote; our right to strike; our right to freedom of speech amongst others. Talk to even the most basically educated man or woman on the street and they are generally able to give you some idea of issues such as fair and unfair dismissal, minimum wages, social grants and maternity leave. This is all good; I am not knocking it for one moment.
However, ask those same people – and indeed the educated – about their democratic responsibilities; reporting crime to the police; upholding the laws of the land; paying taxes and they suddenly become somewhat non-committal. Not only that but they are often unaware that these and other responsibilities are as important as their rights within the framework of democracy. In other words, we understand and defend our rights, but we cherry pick our responsibilities. This is the South African way and it must change.
This permeates into all facets of life in our country. Let me give you a personal for instance: A couple of years ago we sold our second car and I bought a scooter. I am ashamed to admit that for nearly two years I rode my scooter without a license. I justified this to myself on the basis that my license to drive a car would suffice (though I knew full well that this was not the case) and worse still that I would probably never be stopped and asked for my license. Now, bear in mind that I spend a great deal of time pondering, writing and speaking about issues such as democracy, crime and active citizenry. I know how damaging such actions are and yet I found myself guilty of saying what so many of us say: “I’ll never be caught.” We will have matured as a democracy when we begin to say: “Even though I may never be caught – I will still do the right thing.”
Another example was a recent exchange on the Facebook page of a bushveld holiday nature reserve that we visit. A person was enquiring about renting a house within the reserve on a permanent basis. The administrator of the page informed the person that they could do this but they must first apply to the municipality for permanent residency. From the response of the would-be resident you would have sworn she had been instructed to douse herself in benzene and set herself alight. She was spitting mad and ended her tirade with a sentence familiar to most of us South Africans: “Everyone else does it – so why can’t I?” This kind of childlike logic – also so prevalent here in our country – is another major hindrance to the maturing of our democracy.
I recently did my scooter license. It was a bore but it is done. I did it because I know full well that how we live our lives between elections contributes to the future of our democracy – good or bad – and because I – we – have no right to critique the maturity of our democracy if we are actively contributing to its immaturity.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysen: gang raped, mutilated and murdered.
