Posted by: Tinyiko Sam Maluleke
Posted on: September 19, 2011
The theme for this year's Heritage Month leaves me somewhat cold —
even after carefully considering the major statements of the ministry
of arts and culture in this regard. "Liberation heritage in honour of
heroes and heroines of the liberation struggle", that is the theme.
Not that there is anything wrong with the idea of "liberation (as)
heritage". Nor do I totally begrudge those who continue to employ the
nice-sounding and increasingly glib notions of "liberation heroes",
"liberation heroines" and "liberation struggle icons". Am I the only
one who feels the word "liberation" is getting more and more mention
and less and less practice — as if repeated mention of the word will
substitute for the lack of experience of lived liberation by the vast
majority of people in this country?
"We will remember the(se) heroes and heroines of our people by
erecting monuments in their honour," said Minister of Arts and Culture
Paul Mashatile on September 14 2011 at a parliamentary debate on
Heritage Month. But liberation should be conceived of as more than a
"heritage" that is capture-able and display-able in monuments,
museums, statues, set-aside graveyards and gigantic tombstones —
however splendid the visual displays and however carefully thought out
the artefacts. Some of these sites run the risk of banalising some
rather complex events and persons. They attempt to capture what should
not and cannot be captured in monuments — reducing dynamic movements,
fully human persons and multifaceted events into monotonous fixed
entities. Intending to give ongoing life to people and events,
monuments often succeed in "killing" the memory of the very people and
events.
Citizens do not always "connect" with the monstrosities erected to
commemorate and memorialise. Daily, they walk past these monuments,
see them from the corner of their eyes, subliminally, but barely
recognise them as either epoch-making or life-changing. Disconnection
is neither the only nor the worst form of reaction towards some
politically conjured-up heritage or memorial sites. These
monstrosities can traumatise and terrorise. Every time I look at the
giant and ugly statue of Nelson Mandela installed at the heart of
Sandton's medley of shopping malls, I cringe and look away with pain.
Monuments can traumatise people by dealing trivially and superficially
with dear stories, special people and phenomenal events. Trauma can
also come when monuments attempt to "legislate" and "manage" how we
should remember, which is inevitably what monuments are ultimately
about. Terror can occur when we are forced — through monuments to
remember stuff we would rather choose to remember through ways of
forgetting. Are there events, stories and people who are not worth
remembering? Maybe not. But I do think there are people and events not
worth monumentalising.
Minister Paul Mashatile presents as part of the rationale for the
monumentalisation project the objective of combating the antics of
"those who seek to rewrite and distort our history", those seeking to
"wish away the existence of the liberation struggle". This is ironic
because his project runs precisely that risk. Almost by definition, a
monumentalisation project seeks to present neat, singular and dominant
interpretations of major events — including the power to decide which
events are major and worth memorialising. People are instinctively
offended by the very attempt to provide one dominating and timeless
interpretation of a person, tradition or movement — even if they do
not necessarily disagree with the dominant interpretation on display.
Surely the meaning and significance of persons and events changes with
more/new knowledge and with the passage of time.
The obsession with the role of individuals in the struggle for
liberation — a global phenomenon — is part of the problem. This has
led to the absurd situation where everybody simply lists as heroes
only persons linked to their political party. In this situation, the
most powerful party, the ruling party, will supply the greatest
numbers of liberation heroes to be mentioned in speeches of national
significance and those to be monumentalised in all the sacred sites of
the nation. The deeper and related problem lies in the attempt to
reduce liberation and struggle heroism to individuals — the cult of
individual struggle heroes. What if whole villages and whole townships
rather than individuals were the struggle heroes? What if political
philosophies and traditions were the real struggle heroes? What if
unknown, uncelebrated individuals — men and women — as well as loose
groups of individuals, affiliated to no famous political parties, were
also struggle heroes? What about those who used means other than the
song-drenched protest march, the gun, prison and exile to wage the
struggle for liberation? Why are we attempting to limit the notion of
struggle only to the known, the obvious and the conventional? Why are
we so tempted to reduce the history of struggle to a "beauty contest"
of individual heroes and heroines nicely slotted into the narrowest of
party political boxes?
One of the greatest liberation heritages of our country, for example,
is the Black Consciousness (BC) philosophy. In a context where our
grid of criteria for contribution to liberation is the political party
and the famous prison-decorated-individual-cum-military-commander, we
may miss just how phenomenal Black Consciousness has been for this
country. In a context where we are looking for blood-soaked mass
events of the "skop-skiet-en-donder" type, as the only milestones in
the road to liberation, the more enduring intellectual, psychological
and political role of BC can be missed. We all know that the man
deserves more recognition than has been given since the advent of
democracy, but by BC I mean more than Steve Biko. Nor am I speaking of
Azapo or the Black Consciousness Movement — mere political parties
which tried to capture (that horrible word again!) the spirit of Black
Consciousness.
I am talking about an intellectual tradition that made the pursuit of
knowledge a hallmark of the struggle for liberation. Here is a
movement that managed to mobilise the arts and sciences for
liberation. It helped us reconnect to the Pan-Africanism of Marcus
Garvey, Edward Blyden, WEB Du Bois, Kwame Nkrumah and Robert Sobukwe.
BC helped us rescale the heights of the intellectual traditions of the
Drum magazine generation of black writers and the works of Frantz
Fanon in the early 60s. BC taught us that liberation is something to
be attained on the inside as much as it must be taken on the outside.
In this regard, BC was perhaps the deepest, most creative, and most
revolutionary response to the Freedom Charter dictum "South Africa
belongs to all who live in it".
BC is and was not an airy-fairy intellectual philosophy. Nor was it
about military bravado. It was a total philosophy rooted in the belief
that the oppressed need to help themselves if they and the oppressor
are ever to be free. It is and has always been about economic freedom
— broadly and comprehensively defined. But this was not economic
freedom based on tenderpreneurship. It was economic freedom based on
the enlivening and tapping of local knowledge in dynamic dialogue with
knowledge from elsewhere. The idea was never about making "the
leaders" the richest and loudest men and women in their lifetime — a
warped and wicked inversion of the noble phrase "leading by example".
Look around you; you will see the (brain) children of BC in virtually
all the pockets of excellence you find today. Our best and most
progressive traditions in journalism owe something to BC and Pan-
Africanism. Some of our best literary traditions owe something to BC
and Pan-Africanist philosophy. Look at our current judiciary, remove
the BC influence and the Black Lawyer's Association and tell me how
many black judges remain. But I am falling into the trap of the cult
of the individual struggle hero and heroine — I will not continue with
this train of thought, tempting as it is. There are subjugated schools
of thought in history, African and English literature, leadership
theory, psychology, theology, sociology, public health and
anthropology, to name but a few, which were born from the womb of BC
philosophy. BC gave us the best chance of entering the global
knowledge economy as self-confident equals with something to give and
not merely take. It gives us our chance to integrate with science from
inside and not to view science as something wholly external needing to
invade our space, time and consciousness.
Many drank from the fountain of BC and Pan-Africanism freely and in
broad daylight. Others — from here at home and abroad, black and
white, male and female — borrowed, stole, adopted and adapted from it.
Here is an intellectual tradition — made in South Africa — that has
been exported to North America, South America, Europe and the rest of
the African continent.
We only ignore and reduce the place of Black Consciousness as a
national heritage at our own peril and at the peril of our black and
white children.
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