Mbali Matandela
As the paintings burnt to ashes, there were many burning questions about the state of South African universities that were clouded by the judgements that Rhodes Must Fall received from the events of February 16.
From the sudden rehashing of a black artist UCT had forgotten to the “inconvenience” that the Shackville demonstration caused to privileged traffic-goers, the Rhodes Must Fall movement suddenly had to explain its actions and tactics to observing eyes again.
Almost a year ago, the formation of Rhodes Must Fall was catalysed by the throwing of faeces on the Cecil John Rhodes statue. The act was criticised as being barbaric, violent and unruly, and it resurfaced the beast that South Africa had failed to deal with 21 years into its democracy – institutional racism. This was not only a singular issue, but it also linked to the exclusion that students face due to structural violence caused by patriarchy, capitalism, heteronormativity and ableism.
The justifications for the students’ actions were lost, and public debate became only about whether the Cecil John Rhodes statue should fall or not. The frustration of the students and utter pain of experiencing exclusion on a daily basis was either erased completely or it was considered a new issue at the University of Cape Town after years of discomfort.
Decolonisation was a forgotten agenda and the Rhodes Must Fall movement’s mission statement was only relevant to those who felt the disruption that had taken place personally. Finally, truth had challenged power at the ivory tower and there was no turning back.
Last week, I watched the paintings burn and I observed the reactions. I had to ask myself difficult questions about the priorities of the public; has anything really changed?
The sheer anger, frustration and the brutality that students experience – and now with the added obstacle of private security – is reduced to the value of paintings. Where do the concerns of the South African public lie when at universities black students are being brutalised by private security and the police? The “violence” that caused the public outrage was selective, when clearly the issue is not as simple as it seems.
The nature of a movement allows for action to be spontaneous, accountability to be fluid and co-option to be easy in times of protest. I do not condemn those who chose those actions because the violence that sparks such a form of resistance is far more brutal and dehumanising.
Inequality is the sickness in our society. So, in times of discomfort, the actions of black students, may it be Rhodes Must Fall students or black students who know the pain of exclusion, can be explained by reverting back to what history has prepared us for. In 2015, Rhodes Must Fall asked the university to:
l Replace artworks that exoticise the black experience (by white, predominantly male artists) – which are presented without context – with artworks produced by young black artists.
l Recognise that the history of those who built our university – enslaved and working-class black people – has been erased through institutional culture.
l Pay more attention to historical sites of violence, such as the slave graves beneath the buildings in which we learn.
Sisonke Msimang cautions the students by saying: “A movement must see beyond the here and now; beyond the catharsis of immediate disturbance. Catharsis has its own power, but it must not be mistaken for power. What is done in the name of a movement either builds it or haunts it.”
The “immediate” disturbance that she speaks of was foreseen in the initial statement, and so the tendency to look at the burning of the paintings as an isolated incident does not consider how in times of frustration those students who burnt the paintings had something in mind – something sickening itself that could only be expressed when pushed to the limit. The pain of being excluded and the mission statement that haunts those who believe in it. Waiting no longer becomes an option when everything that forms UCT’s institutional culture is working against you.
It also seems that decolonisation is clearly on the agenda and it has shaped ways of resistance. “Decolonisation, which sets out to change the order of the world, is clearly an agenda for total disorder. But it cannot be accomplished by a wave of a magic wand, a natural cataclysm, or a gentleman’s agreement.”
In discussions about the statue last year, the collective power of black students showed that the “gentleman’s agreement”, which is what transformation is, had not changed the experiences of black students, but rather masked the truth.
Black students are still suffering and the people spearheading transformation have no vested interest in the survival of black students at a university that only caters for the privileged.
The year 2015 was one in which the lie of transformation was revealed, the “rainbow nation” was challenged, and this year continues to show the failures of many systems at UCT – especially the housing crisis.
In the same way that free education is a basic right, housing, as a basic right in South Africa, is being undermined by the university’s residence system. UCT has stated that it can only house 66 800 students, but there is still an excess of 27 000 students.
This seems like an issue that has gone unnoticed under the lie of transformation because the residence system seems like it was never made to cater for all. How can a university deny people of their basic human rights, then criminalise and brutalise them, but still remain unscathed?
Beyond that, in a year where there is a serial rapist on the loose, it is troubling that UCT takes the issue of housing so lightly.
Using the tools that the movement made accessible to the public, intersectionality shows us whose bodies are under threat. The housing crisis is not only an issue of class and race, but also an issue of security for black, queer, trans women and non-binary people whose bodies are the target of UCT’s rape culture – and who have been for years.
The private security and the police should be protecting those who are most vulnerable, but I find that their attention is, instead, against justice for those who are most marginalised at UCT. How can universities be war zones for such bodies?
I find most articles I read trigger a sense of defeat because the message has been lost again, but it also triggers a burning desire to do more and see better. This generation won’t wait for transformation to catch up to our burning desire for change. Have we forgotten? Decolonisation waits for no one.
l Matandela is a member of Rhodes Must Fall