Songezo Zibi’s manifesto, Raising
The Bar (Picador Africa) may not come across as revolutionary to most
people. After all, literature of this sort – the kind that tackles social ills
such as racism, sexism and other social phobias stemming from a combination of
the aforementioned with nationalism of some form or other – does tend to
attract the type of audience that is generally predisposed to agreeing with
most if not all the arguments presented within its covers. A lot like how
feminist literature is most likely to be read by feminists, and religious
literature is most likely to be read by those who subscribe to religion. In
short, it’s a little like preaching to the choir.
Using a combination of some of the more recent scholarly works by
thinkers like Cornel West, Xiabobo Lü and Slavoj Žižek amongst others; news
items from the first two decades of South Africa’s democratic era; as well as
anecdotes from his personal life (the most endearing of which relate to the
period during which he was in his grandparents’ care, in rural Transkei); Zibi
weaves together a compelling argument that objectively assesses the current
ills that afflict contemporary South African society, and in particular its politics.
He does all this while providing some rather elementary solutions. That is not
to say that Zibi’s analysis is not sophisticated or incisive. In fact, his
exposition offers an Occam’s Razor that leaves you wondering why you hadn’t
thought of his propositions before, let alone execute them in our own way as
per his suggestion.
For an example, in the third chapter of the book, entitled A Bright Future Is Possible, the Business Day editor suggests
that in the process of tackling the race question leaders should view redress
as a matter of ethics and justice, as a opposed to one of revenge. This is a
call that does not necessarily apply to “leaders” alone, but to all South
Africans, as evidenced by the tendency for public discourse to degenerate into
a tit-for-tat debate that centres on retributive justice almost to the
exclusion of all other forms of justice.
Another example is the chapter on Politics which provides three scenarios that may bring about the
change required – the first is a catastrophic event such as a civil war, the second
is the emergence of “an intellectual breath of fresh air, which follows a
period of deep introspection”, and the third a combination of the two. It is
the second that speaks directly to individual South Africans and asks of each
of us to become the change that we would like to see in the world, as the hackneyed
modern proverb goes.
Raising The Bar is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a flawless work. Each
reader will take away from it what they can and quietly (or not, in the case of
the ever militant and seldom satisfied #peoplestwitter) observe those passages
in the book that deserve further interrogation and scrutiny. One of the
troublesome elements of Zibi’s otherwise lucid and cogent analysis, is his
insistence on singling out the role of The Church (or churches) in this grand
project of “hope and renewal in South Africa”. You cannot help but wonder if his narrow definition of what may
also be understood to refer to human spirituality in general would not be lost
on some readers if for no other reason besides the fact that not everyone
subscribes to Christianity.
We South Africans are notorious for what National Union of Metalworkers
of South Africa (NUMSA) secretary general, Irvin Jim, once cleverly phrased as
to “listen with your mouth”. That is to say, listening not with the intent to process
and understand that which we have heard (or read), but instead listening with
the intent to respond. Responding regardless of whether or not we have
understood the position or argument to which we are responding – responding
merely for the sake of responding.
For this reason it is fair to be concerned that an important work
such as this may get lost in
the milieu of 50 million-plus voices expressing their opinion – valid or no.
Voices weighing in on an argument which Zibi has, no doubt, developed over a
long period of time, applying the requisite measure of careful thought as one
might expect from the editor of one of the biggest business dailies in South
Africa Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the singling out of churches,
and churches alone, as a bastion for morality raises further issues which may
or may not be related to each other.
Almost every chapter of Raising
the Bar constitutes a clarion call for a return to a single, commonly held
set of morals as a panacea to almost all - if not, in fact, all - that ails us
as a nation. This is not the first time such a call has been made. During the
period in which the current South African president, Jacob Zuma, deputised for
then state president, Thabo Mbeki, he was tasked with the noble responsibility
of overseeing the nation’s moral regeneration. An assignment which, in
hindsight, made for comical irony.
Morality is a very tricky animal to capture because it is almost
always the outcome of whatever reasoning and rationalisation predominates
within each culturally distinct place and time. It is only the most fundamental
of moral tenets that bear a universal quality. In his 2008 essay for the New
York Times Magazine’s online edition, titled The Moral Instinct, Harvard psychology professor Steven Pinker
borrows from the moral foundations
hypothesis – an idea developed by a trio of academics led by New York
University Professor of Ethical Leadership, Jonathan Haidt – to describe these
psychological foundations as “harm, fairness,
community (or group loyalty), authority and purity”. The
hypothesis suggests that the reason for morality to take on a seemingly fluid
and variable character as one moves from one culture to another is due to how
much emphasis different communities place on each of these moral foundations.
In the same essay, Pinker also fleetingly mentions the concept of a “universal
moral grammar”, analogous to the “universal grammar” first theorised by
linguistics professor Noam Chomsky who describes it as “genetic endowment,
which sets limits on the attainable languages, thereby making language
acquisition possible”. To apply the analogy,
universal moral grammar, therefore, would be the genetic endowment that allows
for the acquisition of moral sense, while limiting which moral senses will be
acquired and sharpened.
South African society has suffered a protracted and repeated
defilement of its moral fabric throughout its history; from the introduction of
slavery in the Cape during the time of the Dutch East India Company’s tenure,
onwards to the establishment of concentration camps by the British during the
South African War and well into the 20th century with its hallmarks
of massacres and states of emergency during apartheid’s zenith. The timeframe
within which this unrelenting assault on South African morality has sustained
itself may perhaps even be thought of as evolutionary in its impact on the
hearts and minds of present-day South Africans. In fact, if we apply the language
analogy to this specific situation, it would behoove any observer to note the
stark changes in the linguistic landscape from the lands that were the hunting
grounds of the Khoisan and the farmlands of the Xhosa and the Zulu and others,
before they were British colonies and Afrikaner volkstaats; to the beleaguered republic we see today.
An expectation of moral regeneration driven from the top down, as
Zuma was tasked, or as proposed by Zibi in his suggestion that churches be
called to lead the cause, is one that is laudable in its ambition but weak in
opportunity for success. For one thing, being that churches are already the
self-appointed custodians of morality (this being their chief raison d’etre in the race to prepare
good Christian souls for an eternity in heaven), had there been a single iota
of hope for their success in this bold new incarnation proposed in Raising the Bar, one would expect the
fruits of this success to have already had an impact on South African society
or at least be at such an advanced stage of pre-deployment that the
anticipation would be palpable to most, if not all, citizens. Judging from the
unabated degeneration of the societal moral fibre, as evidenced by daily
reports of astounding violations visited by citizens on fellow citizens, it
would be safe to assume, sub specie
aeternitatis, that churches have not been, and possibly may not be,
successful in this regard.
That being said, the book actually reads like a user’s guide to good
citizenship and should probably – no, definitely be issued to all living South
Africans with immediate haste. One of the many shining moments that struck me
was the suggestion that civics should be included in the school curriculum.
This book would make an excellent setwork book for such a class. It is of no
use for citizens to moralise ad nauseum
about the present situation when many of us shirk even the most basic of civic
duties, which is to vote.
To be taught the qualities and duties of good citizenship from an
early age, would augur well for the establishment of an active and involved
citizenry. In place of a campaign for common morality, which is near impossible
given the much lauded cultural diversity held within the borders of South
Africa, it would seem more logical that a path towards a state of universal
mindfulness be sought, governed by such philosophical principles as to inspire
a culture of introspection and self-correction, instead of the lazy method
currently consuming our society of seeking retributive justice for behaviour that
is deemed morally reprehensible.
(edited beautifully by Mary Corrigall. a version of this review appeared in the Sunday Independent of the 7th of December 2014)
