South Africa and the pseudo-intellectuals

Most of the recent public debates and discussions on the role of or the marginalisation of African intellectuals and ‘intellectualism’ have not only missed the point, but are also too narrow in content.[1] They are narrow because most of the debates place too much emphasis on whether the interlocutor is African and black. The current debate focuses rather narrowly on race. This misses the point because such an interpretation does not in any way structurally examine the dynamics around the dilemma of being an intellectual in South Africa today. Intellectual knowledge, it is assumed in this approach, is a body of facts from the laboratory or from some towering institution. Furthermore, such an outlook assumes, wrongly, that intellectualism is about the construction of literary texts only.

Rather, the debate requires us to pose a number of questions. What constitutes an intellectual in the South African context (and perhaps elsewhere)? Who is an intellectual and who isn’t? Indeed, who are the real intellectuals? My point is that in South Africa and elsewhere, intellectuals vary and are diverse in nature, rather than race- or ethnic-specific. At the same time, Bourdieu alerts us to the fact that ‘we all operate within a field within which there are struggles over ideas and scientific thought. This field has limits and delimits, there are inclusions and exclusions within this field and there are furthermore excommunications within the field.’[2]

One can argue that in the South African public space in recent years, four dominant types of intellectuals have emerged. They are, for lack of better descriptive words, the celebrity intellectual, the commercial intellectual, the policy analyst and the new gender activist. These groups in general constitute what I dub pseudo-intellectuals.

THE CELEBRITY INTELLECTUAL

Celebrity intellectuals are those who seek to gain face and not to lose face. Simply put, they make a point of always being at the right place at a particular moment, to offer the media soundbite that the issue demands. They include some media columnists who really have nothing constructive or useful to contribute, but for whom profit and celebrity are the main objectives. Others are on television screens. They invariably have the right style of dress and have mastered the language of television producers. They are the true ‘guardians of morality’ in contemporary South African society. Scandals are their pet projects. They are obsessed with analysing and treating social problems as scandals. They rarely decline television interviews on any topic (whether they know or don’t know anything about it). A brief examination of the historical and political events of the 1970s to 1990s is the best way of illustrating this point.

Among many other things, the 1970s and 1980s are often described in general as the most repressive and politically charged period in the history of South Africa. Much has also been said and written about the different ‘political’ and ‘ideological’ conflicts that existed during this period. It is this point that I seek to explore further here. I will do so from a perspective of understanding how the ideologies of that period have influenced and shaped the social behaviour of different individuals and groups and, through this process, have constructed the ‘celebrity intellectual’.

During this period, the most dominant progressive and anti-establishment ideological thought was Marxism. Almost all the main political formations and groups opposed to apartheid subscribed to Marxism. In the main, the apartheid regime as well as some sections of the international community identified all critical thought with Marxism. Equally, among the left at the time, anyone who remotely critiqued Marxism or posed the slightest questions about Marxism would be denounced as reactionary or individualist by the left. To take a pertinent example, in some circles it was almost taboo to talk about the relevance of religion to society and even the way religion could socially shape and sustain the lives of people. Following Marx, religion was regarded as an opiate of the people and therefore religious groups involved in the process of social change had to be merely tolerated (it was a strategic venture to involve them in this process of social transformation). Furthermore, it was considered almost scandalous to identify oneself with any religious group.

On the other hand, classic Marxism was fashionable and the subject of serious discussion. It was how you justified any theoretical argument, it was how you would start your first phrase at a mass meeting or community meeting. You read Karl Marx (available thanks to Progress Publishers) as your Bible, and when conditions allowed, your home would be covered with pictures of Marx or Lenin. You had to accept the concept of class as the only theoretical and methodological solution to social problems. Finally, if you did not understand Marxism or did not catch a popular Marxist phrase, you were excluded from the group. If you persisted and posed the right questions, in other words thinking with Marx, problematising Marx, you would be treated with suspicion and labelled a sceptic. One informant described this intellectual period in this way:

‘Mzala, you see my friend, during the eighties comrades used to read, discuss and debate issues [sasi rhabulisana]. Marxism was the order of the day and that was our line. We used to discuss Capital the whole night and solve problems spot on. We had a class consciousness that was biased towards the working class. Christians, as you know, were reactionary and we did not have much time for them. They had to follow ... the line. Abo Frank [Chikane] were the only ones we knew and understood. Those were the days ... Nowadays, comrades have changed, they do not even want to hear about Marxism and Leninism. Everyone is working for companies and drives BMWs. These days it’s everyone for himself. I have also changed. What can I do ...?’ [My own translation]

The release of Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners as well as the return of some of the exiles changed everything. The very same intellectual activists on the left became religiously more tolerant: Religion and the participation of the religious-minded in the process of social change were no longer a cause for scandal but they were now perceived as legitimate participants in the process. At the same time, the Cold War was coming to an end and the Soviet empire was collapsing. Marxism became less fashionable; it was an ideology of the past. The thinking of Francis Fukuyama, who employed an Hegelian end-of-history argument to signal that American-style liberal democracy had become the fulfilment of human achievement, was now cool and chic, and Marxism was suddenly unfashionable and outdated (if not a crime).

We have come a long way with the celebrity intellectuals: They have been with us for over a decade and are still pontificating in public forums. In this sense, we can see how ersatz the celebrity intellectuals are, how they always contrive to be in the right place at the right time and how they often change their views out of self-interest and not because of a compelling intellectual or scientific reason. Equally, we can see that it is ideology or theory that shapes their consciousness, not practice informed by social reality.

THE COMMERCIAL INTELLECTUAL

Commercial intellectuals are those who assume they have a monopoly of ideas and can control different forms of thought in much the same way as prices are manipulated in the market. For this group there are profits to be made in the intellectual field or marketplace. These profits are accrued in various ways and can be boosted by conforming to acceptable standards of conduct on television and radio talk shows and at public meetings, and by the servile way in which they defer to literary writers and prominent politicians (‘I met Ngugi wa Thiong’o/Nelson Mandela’). It is through these various ‘fuzzy’ means that they establish their authority to speak at any time. A brief examination of the 1980s is a good way of illustrating this point.

Key to the protest against apartheid and colonialism in South Africa during the 1980s in the mass democratic movement was a general boycott of artistic, cultural and intellectual products. The music and film industries were some of the internal sites of struggles where artists and intellectuals used to engage the regime. Many South African artists, writers and even journalists during this period refused to use their intellectual capital for the apartheid regime. They did so often at great personal risk. They gave up opportunities for personal financial gain, for fame and even at times for advancing their own personal careers (for example, by studying abroad). Some even languished in jail and were persecuted by the regime.

Albert Nolan, the South African-born Catholic priest, activist and prominent author, was elected master general of the worldwide Dominican Order in 1983 but he declined in order to continue his work against apartheid in South Africa. When interviewed about his reasons for declining, he had the following to say: ‘I did not accept the offer, because I wanted to continue my work of activism and doing theology in South Africa. I did this because the Apartheid regime used Christian Theology to justify their policies. It therefore seemed more important to fight this bad theology than to take up a prestigious international position in the church ... However, I have now [in the democratic South Africa] been awarded an Albert Luthuli presidential award for doing theology in South Africa ... [Laughs]’ (Fieldwork notes 2006)

Like Albert Nolan, many of the intellectuals and artists are still with us; some who had left the country and gone into exile have come back. Between the socially aware intellectuals of the 1980s and the commercial intellectuals of today there is a great contrast. Unlike the former, the commercial intellectuals do not have the same social consciousness. What we see today is a bleak picture of artistic and intellectual discourse – in fact a decline of intellectualism.

THE POLICY ANALYST

The pragmatic policy analysts, the ‘boardroom players’ and ‘masters of projects’ can be found in the universities, in government bodies and in private sector and research institutions that are mushrooming in South Africa. Here we have the typical guru and project specialist who is adept at writing quick-fix project proposals. For this group, anything conceptual and theoretical that requires thinking will be treated with scepticism and as a waste of time.

They often argue the need to focus on policies to reconstruct and build the country and claim that we do not have the luxury of time and money afforded intellectuals in the West and elsewhere to think about theory. They are quick to defend their ‘policy turf’. They are not likely to publish any critical policy research in the media, in case it upsets one or other authority or potential employer.[3] They also sit on many different boards that require a lot of meetings with various obligations attached to them. One wonders when they get time to read and think.

Related to the policy analyst is what I call the pragmatic intellectual, who does not belong to a separate and distinct social group of his or her own. Some of them genuinely seek to contribute towards the process of transformation in South Africa. However, their limitation is that they place policy analysis and construction above anything else. Thus, they tend to separate theory and praxis, something which is unthinkable and impossible. Their failure to grasp the need to think beyond current policy formulations and construct new policy frameworks and theoretical concepts is a serious shortcoming.

These intellectuals – whether professionals, business executives, civil servants, or staffers of NGOs – perform different functions within South African society. Socially, they are differentiated by class, status and position. But despite these differences, their current political and social grounding ensures a commonality, in that, whether they are for or against the dominant state discourses, they confine intellectual activity to an elitist and pragmatic paradigm.

Furthermore, among these actors there is also a tendency towards intellectual exhibitionism and the fashionable use of intellectual theory. One example of this exhibitionist culture is the constant commentary provided by them on television and radio talk shows and sometimes in newspapers and journals. Their comments are often based on current political events of the day and have very little to do with the historical background of these events. The language used is often borrowed from CNN and other Western media: In short, the language of the dominant class that does not seek to offend that class but to conform to it.

In addition, they have a chronic inability to grasp that as an intellectual one possesses intellectual capital (a specific form of power) and invariably influences society. As an intellectual, one is ethically accountable to a set of values which favour the disadvantaged, the poor and the marginalised. Instead, in their understanding of capital, the power invested in intellectual activity, they manipulate the terrain for their own gain instead of being non-elitist, selfless, inclusive, ethical and accountable to the marginalised in society.

The South African political and discursive transitions indicate that we all belong to a ‘post-colonial state’, a state proclaimed to be democratic, politically, socially and economically. However, for many pragmatic intellectuals the state is still politically colonised – hence their relentless negative critiques of the state and its various organisational practices, often similar to the old colonial critiques. Adopting a simplistic approach in describing relations between the state and civil society, they see the state as bad and the citizen as good.[4] This they do at opportune moments and when it is safe.

On the other hand, some pragmatic intellectuals operate within state institutions and act in a directly opposite manner. For them, anything or anybody remotely critical of the state (of state policy or state organisational practices) not only must be opposed, but must be rejected to the point of invisibility. No debate can take place. Both groups are intellectually opportunistic, hypocritical and without substance. Their conceptual approaches are not grounded in theory or substance.

A careful observation of how they act will quickly unmask how shallow, theoretically ungrounded and opportunistic they are. Typically, they might work for the state, say for five years, then leave, and soon oppose everything (mostly without merit or substance) from the safety of the private sector, research institutions or NGOs to which they now belong. Another example would be in the area of equity. Some embrace and defend affirmative action when it benefits them at a particular moment. But when the concept no longer serves their own personal interests, they reject it. This they do without concern for the plight of the broader South African society and the very same black and disadvantaged groups they belong to. Equally, there is no attempt to pose questions, historical and methodological, about the construction of concepts like Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) and affirmative action. Instead they use these concepts to benefit personally from them and carry on with daily life.

THE GENDER ACTIVIST

There is a specific intellectual whom I call the ‘new, late-arriving gender activist’ who can be distinguished from the female activists that have for years engaged in an organised way against the power of racial colonialism and patriarchal oppression in South Africa and fought alongside others[5] for social and political power. These new, late-arriving gender activists now have power and are quite capable of opportunistically manipulating the current legal system – which favours equity – for their personal interest and profit. They have constructed their own culture, their own language, exclusive of the other sex. Thus, they talk about women’s clubs, women’s caucuses, the creation of ‘women’s spaces’ and so on. Many of them are CEOs of companies or hold top positions in government departments or management positions in research institutions and NGOs.[6]

These black women are often the loudest voices at political rallies, in NGO forum meetings and in official and private festivities celebrating ‘traditional’ activities, now so much in fashion among the black elite. They often contradict themselves – they enjoy all the splendour and plumage of Western luxury but insistently argue for the acceptance of all traditional practices as a historical social norm that must be maintained by all. Those who don’t follow their slavish but opportunistic argument are suspect. The irony is that they pass over the uncomfortable elements of tradition, like traditional forms of polygamy.

Many seem to have memorised the plethora of ‘empowerment’ charters and declarations that have been put out by the state. They use these to advocate only one form of empowerment – giving deals to them and their friends – on the basis of their skin colour (and gender). For this group there is only ‘one form of right’ and that is a narrow definition of women’s rights. The struggle for the transformation of social attitudes and different patterns of social behaviour is low on their agenda. Equally, the existence of the other sex and their liberation are also taboo. And this is the point that requires interrogation.

During the 1980s, the United Democratic Front was formed as a broad-based organisation whose major objective was uniting different anti-apartheid formations and groups and mobilising them against racism and colonialism. These included religious groups, student bodies, women’s groups, and civic organisations. Amongst them was a small but very committed group of activists organised under the banner of GLOW, a loose coalition of both gay and lesbian people. Unlike the ‘new gender activists’, GLOW did not concern itself with only one right – the right to free gays and lesbians only. Instead, its members understood quickly that the social struggle for liberation also meant transformation of the whole oppressive system; that there was no escape from other forms of oppression; that even if they secured their own liberation, they would still be affected in their everyday life by other forms of racial or gender or patriarchal or economic oppression. They understood the limitations of fighting for one right, self-interest, and exclusive rights.

Today, GLOW’s social, political and theoretical approach has secured its cause, in that our new democratic political dispensation allows political and social space for different sexual orientations to exist. As one activist has said: ‘The gender struggles of the eighties helped a great deal. Though it was difficult at times working with other members of the mass democratic movement, because of often entrenched and hardened attitudes towards the gay community, even among the most progressive. We managed to place their issues on the agenda, not as gay issues as others may want to think, but as a people affected by all other problems affecting the larger community. It was not only about sex, but the whole system that affected all sexes [sic] in their different ways. The illegality of homosexuality, the Immorality Act, the harsh labour laws, the education system, the whole lot! However, today sexual discrimination does not come from the state, nor so much from the male partner, but more directly from our powerful sisters at work, in the church, at home and even sometimes from the unions, colleagues are telling me ... You think I will disclose my sexual status to these vultures ... [Laughs]’ (Fieldwork notes, 2004)[7].

What this conversation clearly shows is the difference in the conceptualisation of power between the activists of the 1980s and the ‘new, late-arriving gender activists’ of today. Whereas the progressives of the gender struggles in the 1980s conceptualised power for the broader interest of society, the new activists do so for personal gain and self-interest. Furthermore, the struggle for sexual liberation did not end in gaining state approval for sexual liberation, it was not a struggle determined by legal texts, and it was certainly not a struggle for an exclusive group as the new-comers want us to believe. Like all other struggles against repressive powers, it was an episode with no final stage, where attitudes and patterns of social behaviour supersede legal formulations and sometimes the rule of law.

UNPACKING ‘INTELLECTUAL’ AS A CONCEPT

Who then are the real intellectuals in South Africa? How do we define an intellectual within the South African public space? What role should such an actor play within our society? This certainly is an exercise fraught with problems and complexities. Furthermore, it does not have only one answer. However, solutions and means and ways of dealing with this intellectual problem have to be found. Failure to do so will lead to a further erosion of our democratic political discourse. The most urgent thing to do is to get rid of all the misleading arguments posed by the pragmatic intellectuals which suggest that we only need to focus on policy discourse, based on reconstructing and building the country, or that ‘we do not have the luxury that those intellectuals in France and elsewhere in the developed world have’. These arguments, these ‘theoretical bubbles’, are restrictive and redundant, as Edward Said cautioned in his Reith lectures on the representation of the intellectual. ‘One task of the intellectual is the effort to break down the stereotypical and reductive categories that are so limiting to human thought and communication.’

Equally, we need to guard against celebrity intellectuals who seek to ‘gain face and not lose face’, those who are at the right place at a particular moment – in a nutshell, our intellectual fashion-paraders and true exhibitionists. They are not true intellectuals, for they are incapable of filling what Said proposes as the public role of the intellectual, that of being an ‘outsider, a mature disturber of the status quo’.

The commercial intellectual, the monopolist of thought who only sees profits that have to be made within the ‘intellectual field’, is equally dangerous. The expert who uses ‘fuzzy’ social contacts to establish his authority and speaks relentlessly on radio and television talk shows, and so moulds public opinion, is certainly not the kind of intellectual who would strengthen our democracy. As Said puts it, ‘the world is more overcrowded than it ever has been with professionals, experts, consultants – with intellectuals whose role it is to provide authority with their labour whilst gaining great profit ...’

No doubt, there are obstacles for the true intellectual wanting to make a substantial difference. In producing their work or art, intellectuals and artists need to mobilise resources. At the same time, we need to avoid placing ourselves in a situation where we use our intellectual labour for personal gain and self-interest. We must refuse any attempt by those who control resources to force us to produce theoretical and conceptual works that seek to serve their interests and not the interests of society. Clearly, our new democracy with its various economic constraints deserves more than this and requires rather a socially aware intellectual – people who will continually think with and for society without concern for the self.

The misunderstood intellectual and artist It was the late South African painter and poet Fikile Magadlela who once, during a conversation, confided to me: ‘I am troubled.’ When asked what troubled him, he responded by saying, ‘My appetite for booze and those who judge me because of that. What they all do not understand is why one drinks and why alcohol is such good company.’[8] At the time when this conversation took place, I myself had entered a period of abstinence – otherwise I might have been, subconsciously or openly, one of those very same judges he was referring to. Coincidentally, when this talk took place there was an explosion of social activism and protest throughout the country, following years of apathy. The conversation dealt with the current public debates on the future of the country. Key to our own debate was the social consciousness of different artists, intellectuals and activists.

Fikile would often, during the conversation, express his anger about the way artists were treated by society. His concerns included the lack of understanding of his work (and those of fellow artists), lack of appreciation or downright misreading of his work. Running like a thread through the conversation was the financial constraints endured by most South African artists.

It took me a very long time to understand, appreciate and internalise the feelings of social alienation he bore. I felt (rightly or wrongly) at the time that to raise the issue of his pain caused by the social stigma of his drinking would be insensitive. A few years have passed since he died, anonymously. In the writings of today nothing is said about him. My social encounters with and reading of the biographies of other intellectuals and artists point to similar frustration, anger and despair. Karl Marx was equally misjudged and misunderstood by those in society who bestowed on themselves the title of the guardians of ‘intellectual capital’. Michel Foucault is another example of an intellectual who refused to lose or gain face, who passionately engaged with different levels of society, and at the same time ‘over-indulged’. Among socially aware painters we find the same social history: Pablo Picasso, Vincent van Gogh and Gerard Sekoto[9] lived through the same pain, social alienation, and had to endure the same rabid social judgements. In South Africa, there are many other artists who had similar experiences, including Dennis Mpale and Dudu Pukwana.

Lulu Gontsana, a prominent South African drummer from Port Elizabeth, has lived and worked with many of these local artists. My encounter with him goes back to 1986 and carried on until he died in 2005. Exceptionally, he never drank alcohol but understood why his other artist peers were ‘indulging’. He expressed himself in the following way on this problem:

‘To be what we are, you have to be strong, disciplined and committed to your cause. Some people use different ways of coping and alcohol is one of them ... As for myself, my drums are my methods of coping ... When no one understands your passion and love for sound, when they judge you for the choices you make in life to sustain that choice, you have no option ... ‘(Fieldwork notes 2002)[10].

James Matthews, the prominent South African poet and novelist, has undergone similar experiences. In his novel ‘The Party is Over’ he gives us an intimate and revealing insight into his life (and that of others) as an artist in circumstances of social drudgery and personal despair. Discussion with Matthews about his published books and about his role as a poet and novelist brought out the following:

‘When I started writing my poetry and novels none of these white people wanted to publish my work. They did not understand what I wanted to convey to the public, they did not understand the things I wrote about – the sufferings of black families in Dimbaza, Alexandra and elsewhere in the black townships of South Africa.

‘Hence, in one of my books I had to invite the likes of Wally Serote to join in. I had to convince them that as blacks we are capable and knowledgeable, we can do it and we must insist we can do it! ... That was when I was still drinking excessively. It really took me a long time to get them to understand ... I finally decided to establish my own publishing company ... ‘(Fieldwork notes 2005).[11]

There are both objective and subjective reasons for considering questions like these: Subjective, because critical evaluation of the self leads to observations or conclusions about the self; and objective, because numerous observations, conversations and events concerning a variety of artists and intellectuals have shaped my thinking, not only to look at their artistic and intellectual products but also to connect both product and output to their personas.

There is a danger in our society of glibly turning what are obvious social problems into psychological problems. We must also refuse to become social snobs who use their power to judge others and marginalise them. Various social groups and individuals in society make different aesthetic choices on the basis of taste and, through this process, ‘construct’ and sometimes ‘deconstruct’ particular reputations and therefore shape their own social lives.

Equally, the ability to understand how various social actors in society make different cultural and aesthetic choices to shape their lives is fraught with difficulties and problems.[12] Claims of being an intellectual in ‘good moral standing‘ (if that is possible) cannot be based on the social reputation of an intellectual and artist but rather on the achievements of each individual within the domains of intellectual and artistic space.

Furthermore, it is undeniable that the formation of an intellectual’s identity is a historical process and that past events contribute to the present image of a particular group of intellectuals. The misunderstood artists and intellectuals with whom I have dealt have positioned themselves within the general intellectual arena as intellectuals who seek to serve society as opposed to serving their own interests. Through this process, they have suffered labelling, misunderstanding and judgement. Yet their works have managed to gain ground and invariably have influenced others in society and through this process have contributed to changing society.

Labelling or judgement by others, whether based on authentic or inaccurate criteria, always carries some significance. Despite their different styles of work, different intellectual orientations, different historical trajectories, different habits and tastes, their personal differences and interests, this group of misunderstood intellectuals do have some distinctive characteristics moulded by the conjuncture of local and international influences.

Finally, whatever identity or standing these misunderstood intellectuals and artists may have will be determined by their wider audiences, and not by some journalist, celebrity intellectual, commercial intellectual or policy analyst. Such an identity can only be constructed by others on the basis of their profiles, thinking capacities and achievements in influencing society over the years. Claims to local, regional, national and international reputations are built on achievements, and not on journalistic and pseudo-intellectual judgements.

THE SOUTH AFRICAN INTELLECTUAL TRADITION

Thankfully, there have been many progressive South African intellectuals whose social characters are different from those of the pseudo-intellectuals who are so prominent today. They have varied in their social composition, because of their different political and ideological persuasions, their different class backgrounds and their various historical and political trajectories. Among the most noteworthy one can mention J.B. Marks, a veteran member of the South African Communist Party; Govan Mbeki, leading member of both the Communist Party and the ANC; Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe, Wits University lecturer and one of the founding members of the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC); Nelson Mandela, first president of democratic South Africa; and Albertina and Walter Sisulu, giants of the liberation struggle. These are examples of intellectuals who used their intellectual power (both skill and capital) to serve society without the desire to gain face or to benefit personally. They did all of this at great risk to their lives, at great cost and at great personal sacrifice, for the collective good of society. Mention of their names provides perhaps the best practical and symbolic approach to defining what constitutes an intellectual within the public space and to demonstrating what role an intellectual should play.

Time changes constantly and thus historical discourse changes, too: We lose paradigms, yet we also often regain them. Perhaps it is time that we regain the old South African intellectual paradigm exemplified by the likes of these men and women.

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* This is an extract from [email protected] or comment online at Pambazuka News.

NOTES

[1] The author would like to thank Albert Nolan, a thinking partner, mentor and friend, for helping with the organisation of this chapter.
[2] Throughout this section, the concept of the field as defined by Bourdieu is used to analyse the various different social actors described as pseudo-intellectuals operating within the South African public space. Such a concept helps us better understand the various conflicts (e.g. domination, subordination, homology and so on) that take place between the various actors involved. For further reading on the notion of the field and how it is applied, see P. Bourdieu and L.J. Wacquant, An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1992).
[3] A serious intellectual error often committed by this group is sometimes using and defending concepts without understanding the historical and methodological basis of the concepts; for example, the way in which some of these policy pragmatists use a very popular but pragmatic concept affirmative action in South Africa.
[4] Contrary to the theoretical views held by these actors on the relations between state and civil society, I do not hold to a realist conception of the state as an entity embodying some unified rationality or world view. Such a conception of the state, in my view, has the drawback of counterposing dichotomous social constructs. In holding to a nominalist conception of the state I concentrate on the conceptions, organisational practices and idioms of authority exercised by certain actors in particular institutional settings and arenas. The state then is viewed as the shorthand for referring to a diversity of institutional projects, practices of governability and modes of legitimisation which have in common a particular language or discourse of power. When talking of state and civil society relations, I therefore refer to the idioms and practices of intervention used in struggles and negotiations between bureaucrats, specific actors of civil society and representatives of the private sector.
[5] Gender is used here in a cultural way, as a social set of relations between males and females and includes theories and practices of sexual orientation.
[6] They are the ones wearing African dresses underneath Levi jeans and those lecturing with overhead projectors on indigenous cultural local practices, not to omit those drinking Coke while expecting us to eat staple diet meals.
[7] This discussion took place in 2004 with an informant in Johannesburg while I was doing preliminary research for the Department of Social Development of South Africa.
[8] The author is grateful to the late Fikile Magadlela, a prominent South African painter and poet who died a year before the writing of this text (especially for confiding in me in such an open way). I had known Fikile since 1986 when he was still actively involved in the arts and culture field and was simply known as ‘Fikza’ the poet. The debates I had with him about the South African arts and culture discourse have partially inspired the writing of this chapter.
[9] For an interesting observation, and also an exceptional life history of the great African painter, Gerard Sekoto, see, for example, N. Manganyi, A Black Man Called Sekoto (Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press, 1996), who gave a social description of the painter’s artistic life, in particular examining the way in which the artist tried to remain truthful to his works under severe material conditions. Of importance is the impact on his life caused by different public misjudgements and misunderstandings of his art, which resulted in his undergoing psychological therapy.
[10] The discussions with Lulu took place in Melville, Johannesburg, while I was doing ethnographic studies for the Department of Arts Culture Science and Technology, on the role of arts and culture within the New Partnership for Africa’s Development (Nepad).
[11] This discussion with James Matthews took place in Cuba in November 2005. It was resumed in December 2005 in Athlone, Cape Town, at his house.
[12] On this subject, Bourdieu, La Distinction : Critique sociale du jugement (Paris : Les Editions de Minuit, 1979) provides a fascinating and enlightening argument on the social interpretation of taste and its judgments. He argues that the ‘social world functions simultaneously as a system of power relations and as a symbolic system in which minute distinctions of taste become the basis of social judgment’. His analysis is that social snobbery is everywhere within the bourgeois world. The different aesthetic choices people make are all distinctions; that is, choices made in opposition to those made by other classes.