This was published on 03 November 2024 in an edited version under the headline "The supply-side dynamics of national human development issues."
The unfolding 'tension' surrounding the BELA Act in South Africa is a complex and multifaceted issue. This tension, primarily between the determined and resourceful Ethnonationalist Afrikaner Leadership Complex and the state, is not a simple matter of a shift in language and cultural beliefs among South Africans. It manifests deeper issues rooted in the evolving elite politics.
Officially, the majority
party's revolutionary project to transfer power to "we the people",
where such power is political, economic, and social control is not complete.
The constitutional order has decisively transferred political power to "we
the people"; we now vote political power in or out of the state. The
capability of those we commissioned, through appointment or election, to use
the transferred political power to further transfer economic and social control
to "we the people" is the source of the general discontent in an
otherwise democratic South Africa.
Education, culture, and
(acutely) language have, in the unfolding BELA Act tensions and discourse,
foregrounded the education system and its infrastructure as a core template of
social and economic dominance that South Africa needs to have an honest
national dialogue about. RSA's competitiveness is choked by gross
underperformance in the education sector, and the contours of inequality are
set in the skills deficiencies the education system perpetuates.
It is inarguable that
basic education determines a nation's social outcomes. A failure in the primary
education of society is an investment in its perpetual exclusion from the
global club of innovative nations. It breeds national anarchy as the normative
context of nationhood was never inculcated at the primary education level. The
RSA education system, whilst non-racial and equal in law, is still etched in the
templates of social and economic domination set out in the grand
apartheidisation decade between 1950 and 1960. During this period,
education was not treated as a fundamental human right or an enabling right. It
was a public good to the extent that it served the public, as defined in terms
of the racial segregation policies of the day.
In that decade, South
Africa saw the promulgation and efficient implementation of acts
that would shape the country's future. These included the Group Areas Act,
the Resettlement of Natives Act, the Immorality Amendment Act, the Population
Registration Act, the Separation of Amenities Act, the Abolition of Passes and
Co-ordination of Documents Act, the Extension
of University Education Act, the Bantu Authorities Act, the Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act,
the Urban Councils Act, and decisively
on basic education the Bantu Education Act which dealt with skills
development ceilings for those not racially classified as white. These
historical decisions continue to cast a long shadow on our present,
underscoring the weight of past decisions on the present.
The policy architecture which
made apartheid work had as a costly collateral to social cohesion the
privileging of race-based education and, by extension, languages that were for
decades, and potentially still, not seen as being ethnic to those that use
them. Separate development was not about developing everyone equally but
separating all for an asymmetrical development of some at the gross expense of
others. Separate development morphed into a structural template, which,
unfortunately, is still the lens of discourse in most equality matters; this is
pronounced in the operations of and within the education system.
Those who led the
promulgation of the BELA Act argue and eventually facilitated into the law
that the Act aims to regulate further the merger or integration of the public
schooling system. Integration of schools is an amorphously complicated assignment
for a previously state-tormented society like South Africa. Integrating the
country’s foremost human custodial institutions and public basic education
schools, keeping 19 to 22 million learners per year for 12 years and assuming
a zero-dropout rate, requires extraordinary knowledge about institutional ambidexterity
in a historical context. Society's choices about what becomes the
integration drivers should not only be conceptualised in a hermetically sealed
historical context but should borrow wisdom to a future we might never be
part of.
Going through
declarations, position statements, legal arguments, and general discourse
against the BELA Act points to acute concerns about its implications on
language and culture, access to historically gerrymandered education
infrastructure, the need for and suspicions about racial integration, and
social cohesion issues. Given the ravaging impact of the legal and social
engineering of the 1950s and how its benefits continue to project in racial
terms growth and development standards spatially, any attempt to recalibrate
the education system as a template of social and economic domination or
definition would require more than trusting the bona fides of those
commissioned into the public service; elected and appointed.
Notwithstanding its gaps and
cultural rights insensitivities, the BELA Act directs South Africa to the
supply-side dynamics of national human competence development issues. Its
provisions interrogate more than legislate the skills, knowledge, and attributional
matters of primary education concerning both the nation's social cohesion
exigencies and the capability of the state and the economy to be globally
competitive. The opportunity to dialogue about its implications might be a
window to reframe the discourse from what it is settling as.
Beneficiaries of the
apartheid system do face genuine threats, including the potential erosion of
what apartheid curated as "their" important "social" norms
and institutions. As a curated social enclave, they may have long prized "own
well-being and own values" over the defence of what "we, the post-1994
people", have defined as our shared values. The tonality in the documents
arguing against the BELA Act is to be expected and not understood as a sign of
rebellion against the status quo. The own affairs mentality has morphed into a
privately fundable reality, and legislating against it might further polarise
an otherwise culturally and socially fragile South Africa.
With the identity vote
gaining traction among South Africans, and particularly Africans, acutely
displayed in the May 2024 election outcomes in KZN, the need for a national
dialogue becomes increasingly urgent. The question is: What is the state's
readiness to address the language and culture issues once African languages demand
or reach a science and commerce sophistication the privileged 'other' languages
have reached? The mooted national dialogue might be a chamber within which the genuine
issues behind the BELA Act could be ventilated, underscoring the situation's urgency. It is unimaginable that education will not occupy a more significant portion of the dialogue.
To the extent that South
Africa is ready to face the next wave of demons from its past that continue to
torment it, several questions about the BELA Act require answers.
1.
Is
the Act about privileging English over all other 11 of the 12 official
languages? Does this mean that if France or Portugal colonised South Africa,
would it be incorrect to assume that the BELA Act would privilege those
languages?
2.
If most
parents choose to enrol their children in a single-medium school and are
comfortable with the language, would this translate to exclusion based on
language, as most peripheral arguments go?
3.
To
the Afrikaans' single-medium defending leadership complex, to what extent is
the opposition to the BELA Act a matter of racial purity? What is the diversity
and non-racialism readiness of the teaching and management school community to
the prospect of massifying Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in the event
non-Afrikaners embrace Afrikaans?
4.
Will
the argument still stand if other ethnic groups elect to have their indigenous
languages as a medium of instruction? What affirmative programmes are put in
place to advance other Indigenous languages into languages of commerce and
science?
5.
With
the growth and penetration of China, and by default Mandarin, does it mean the
thrust of the BELA Act might privilege Mandarin, and potentially Swahili, on
the strength of majority and demographics-inspired access reasons rather than
cultural rights rationality?
6.
The
elephant question is, are the BELA Act access issues purportedly dealing with
language- or infrastructure-based?
The basis of RSA’s democratic order is healing past divisions and
establishing a society based on democratic values, social justice, and
fundamental human rights. Human dignity, equality, and advancement of human
rights within a non-racial and non-sexist context of coexistence are values
undergirding our society, free of prejudice. The state is thus obligated to respect,
promote, protect, and fulfil the rights in the Bill of Rights and
create an environment within which the founding values of the Constitution can
be lived.
A nation’s worst enemy is not always its contestations on
tangibles; the fear that lives within the walls of households about matters
such as culture spurs citizens to less expected behaviours. Expectation of
freedom, even by those who may have denied others before, is a powerful motive.
Once entitled to what you have, which qualifies as a human right in a
freedom-espousing constitutional and democratic order, it will always be
difficult to accept losing the entitlement.
All too often, society, mainly organised civil society, faces a
basic dilemma between what is best for its sectarian interests and what is best
for the nation. This constitutes the paradox of post-liberation or
post-conflict society’s leadership, where few to no one knows all the rules in
the playbook of a newfound context of freedom. If honesty guides it, the
National Dialogue will be the next friend of RSA’s democratic order.
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