1. Introduction: Pragma-Dialectics and the Aims of this Paper
During the last 25 years Frans van Eemeren and Rob Grootendorst have very impressively developed Pragma-Dialectics, i.e. a consensualistic theory of argumentative discourse, which sees the elimination of a difference of opinion as the aim of such discourses and of argumentation. Currently this is the most famous and most discussed approach in argumentation theory in the world.

In what follows I will discuss Pragma-Dialcetics mainly from an epistemological standpoint, i.e. what this theory has to tell us with respect to acquiring true or justified beliefs and knowledge.

Technical note: The discussion rules are the constructional core of Pragma-Dialectics; in addition to a few material changes and to stylistic improvements, these rules have undergone a change in numbering. In this text I will refer to their first English version (E&G 1984, p. 151-175) as “Ro1” etc. (“original (or old) rule no. 1”) and to their most recent statement (E&G 2004, pp. 135-157) as “Rs1” etc. (“Rule in ‘Systematic Theory of Argumentation’ no. 1”). The material changes regard, first, the possibilities of defending (or attacking) a premise (Ro9/Rs7 (E&G 1984, p. 168; 2004, p. 147 f.)); the originally included possibility of common observation has been deleted – which is surprising – and the originally lacking possibility of argumentatively defending a premise included, which is a clear improvement. The second and most important change concerns the argument schemes that may be used for defending a claim: originally only deductive arguments were permitted now non-deductive argument schemes have been added (Ro10/Rs8 (E&G 1984, p. 169; 2004, p. 150)) – a substantial improvement. The following discussion usually refers only to the best version.

2. The Aim of Argumentation and Argumentative Discourse: Elimination of a Difference of Opinion
The whole approach of Pragma-Dialectics is constructed starting from one central theorem about the function of argumentative discourse and argumentation in general. The aim of argumentative discourse and of argumentation, as these are seen and constructed by Pragma-Dialectics, is to eliminate a difference of (expressed) opinion (e.g. E&G 1984, p. 1; 1992, xiii; p. 10; 2004, pp. 52; 57; Eemeren et al. 1996, p. 277) or to resolve a dispute – where “dispute” is understood as: expressed difference of opinion (e.g. E&G 1984, pp. 2; 3; 151). This resolution has taken place if the participants both explicitly agree about the opinion in question. The central task of the theory is to develop rules for rational discussions or discourses; and the value of the rules to be developed is regarded as being identical to the extent to which these rules help to attain the goal of resolving disputes (E&G 1984, pp. 151; 152; cf. 2004, pp. 132-134).

This, obviously, is a consensualistic conception of argumentative discourse and of argumentation, which aims at an unqualified consensus, i.e. a consensus that is not subjected to further conditions.[i] Consensualism defines a clear aim for argumentation and argumentative discourse, which can be the basis for developing a complete argumentation theory, including criteria for good argumentation, good discourse, theory of fallacies, theory of argumentation interpretation, etc. Thus, consensus theory in general, and Pragma-Dialectics in particular, is a full-fledged approach to argumentation theory. Similar and competing full-fledged approaches are, first, the rhetorical approach, which sees convincing an addressee, i.e. creating or raising an addressee’s belief in a thesis, as the aim of argumentation (e.g. Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca 1958; Hamblin 1970; Tindale 2004), and, second, the epistemological approach, which sees generating the addressee’s justified belief in the argumentation’s thesis as the standard function of argumentation (e.g. Biro & Siegel 1992,; Feldman 1994; Goldman 1999, ch. 5; Johnson 2000; Lumer 1990; 1991; 2005/2006; Siegel & Biro 1997). As opposed to epistemological theories, both consensus theory and rhetoric aim at an unqualified belief (though in Pragma-Dialectics this is more an expression of a belief than the belief itself); but consensus theory then, unlike rhetoric, requires that both participants share this opinion.

It is quite astonishing that even though Van Eemeren and Grootendorst repeat their aim for argumentative discourse, i.e. dispute resolution, countless times, they practically do not justify this most central assumption of their approach. They incidentally justify the need for dispute resolution with the remark that “otherwise we become intellectually isolated and can ultimately even end up in a state of spiritual and mental inertia” (E&G 1984, p. 1). However, “not being intellectually isolated” could be an euphemism for “conformism”. Of course, not being intellectually isolated is good; but it is of secondary importance. It is much more important that one’s beliefs are true (and justifiedly true) and thus can help one orient herself or himself in the world. Intellectual isolation could simply be the price of truth, or more precisely, of justified true beliefs that others are not able or not willing to understand or accept – think of Galileo or Frege.

So what is the problem with conflicting beliefs and why is it important to resolve differences of opinion? The most simple and straightforward answer is: At least one of these opinions must be false. And having false opinions means having a false and disorienting picture of the world, which e.g. makes us miss our goals. What is completely missing in Pragma-Dialectics is any systematic relation to truth or its epistemological counterparts, knowledge and justified belief. Pragma-Dialectics has this in common with rhetorical approaches. Aiming at unqualified beliefs or shared beliefs that are not systematically related to truth in the sense that they are true or (because of the epistemologically founded cognizing procedures used) at least acceptable in the sense of being true, probably true or truthlike, of course, leads to much less true or truthlike beliefs than aiming at justified beliefs. The consequence is much less orientation and more disorientation about the world’s real state, which, finally, leads to more grossly suboptimum or even disastrous decisions. This was already Socrates’ and Plato’s critique of rhetorical argumentation theory (e.g. Plato, Phaidros 259e-262c; Gorgias 452e-455d; 458e-460a; Philebos 58a-59b). To aim at unqualified consensus instead of unqualified belief of a single person does not make the situation any better because truth does not depend on anyone sharing it but on objective fulfilment of truth conditions. Of course, an unqualified consensus can be true; but it would be true by chance and thus not reliable.

Let me extend the discussion by considering consensus theory in a more general form. The problem with normative consensus theories of argumentative discourse is not that they aim at consensus but that they take an unqualified consensus to be the aim of such discourse. Theories of argumentative discourse have also been proposed in epistemological argumentation theories, which see such discourses as enterprises for collectively seeking truth (Goldman 1999, pp. 139-149; Lumer 1988). Even in these theories the internal end of the game is to reach consensus. But it is a qualified, justified consensus, where both parties not only share the final opinion but – ideally – also their subjective justification for it. To take justified consensus as the aim of argumentative discourse avoids all the problems listed so far because justification – correctly conceived – is related to truth. It is based on cognizing procedures that guarantee the truth or at least the acceptability, i.e. truth, high probability or verisimilitude, of the results. What I would suggest to Pragma-Dialecticians then is to adopt justified consensus as the aim of argumentative discourse.

3. Elements of Epistemic Rationality in Pragma-Dialectical Discourse
Actually, Pragma-Dialectics is much nearer to the suggestion just intimated than it may at first, and in particular as a consequence of its determination of the goal of argumentation and argumentative discourse, appear. This is so due to a continuous incoherence in Pragma-Dialectics, namely the inclusion of important elements of epistemic rationality in its consensualistic programme. This incoherence is most evident in the Pragma-Dialectical rules for argumentative discourse.

Completely in line with the just criticized unqualified consensualistic determination of discourse’s aim as dispute resolution, as their criterion for good discourse rules Van Eemeren and Grootendorst establish that such rules have to promote that aim. Strangely enough, Van Eemeren and Grootendorst never go on to prove that the rules they propose are the best in these terms. And actually these rules are not developed consequently along these lines but according to a vague idea of a rational discourse that includes many elements of epistemic rationality. As a consequence, Pragma-Dialectics is a hybrid theory, mixed of incompatible elements of unqualified consensualism and epistemic rationality.

Let us take a closer look at this inconsistency. As Goldman nicely caricatures, the most effective way to reach unqualified consensus may be to engage a professional mediator, whose secret strategy would consist in finding out which party is more prone to make concessions and then to canvass this party for pulling it in the opponent’s direction (Goldman 1999, pp. 159 f.). Other means for reaching unqualified consensus include rhetorical and psychological tricks, eristic devices, a strategy of friendly offers and giving up one’s own opinion (this is particularly efficacious if only verbal consensus is what counts). None of these means will be the one that is best in all situations, however the best strategy for reaching unqualified consensus probably will include them all, each for particular situations.

Actually, Van Eemeren and Grootendorst do not include any of these means in their list and even explicitly oppose rhetoric (E&G 1992, p. 5). This is due to their strong claims of rationality. However again it is typical of Pragma-Dialectics that these claims are ambiguous. On the one hand there are purely verbal claims of rationality, which at a closer look turn out to be merely consensualistic or rhetorical. On the other hand there are many elements of real epistemic rationality in the Pragma-Dialectical theory in general and in its discourse rules in particular.

One example of a merely verbal declaration for epistemic rationalism is this. Van Eemeren and Grootendorst declare: “Argumentation is […] designed to justify […] an expressed opinion and calculated […] to convince a rational judge […]” (E&G 1984, p. 18; the emphasis is mine, C.L.; similar: ibid. p. 9; 2004, pp. 1; 10; 12 f.) But then they define this ‘rational judge’ simply in consensualistic terms as someone who follows such acceptable rules “which can lead to a resolution of the dispute” (E&G 1984, p. 18; cf. p. 5; 2004, pp. 16; 17 f.; 132).

On the other hand Pragma-Dialectics contains clear and strong epistemologically rational elements. A first such element is the prescription of a certain argumentative structure as the obligatory way to consensus, namely the use of argumentation, premises and inferences (Ro9-11/Rs7-9 (E&G 1984, p. 168; 2004, p. 148); more generally: E&G 1992, pp. 34; 158 f.; 169; 184-194). A second element is the strong use of logic and deductive arguments in the argumentation stage of discourse. A third rational element is the use of joint observation as part of the intersubjective testing procedure (E&G 1984, p. 167) and of statistical arguments (E&G 1992, p. 96; 2004, p. 150, note 20) again in the argumentation stage. But, unfortunately, again Van Eemeren and Grootendorst relativize even these clear elements of epistemic rationality in a consensualistic fashion. They see these elements as their personal proposals, which in order to be valid would then have to be jointly adopted by the respective discussants (E&G 1984, p. 163; 2004, p. 142). Thus, Pragma-Dialectics’ final determination of the aim of argumentative discoures amounts to unqualified consensus in a broader sense: the consensus about the claim in the end is subjected to rules, but now these rules depend only on an unqualified consensus (cf. note 1).

4. Some Philosophical Sources of Pragma-Dialectical Ideas of Epistemic Rationality
On the whole the writings of Van Eemeren and Grootendorst show a strong inclination towards standards of epistemological rationality, which then are corrupted by their adherence to unqualified consensualism. One reason why these two elements have not been brought together in a more satisfying way, specifically by taking justified consensus as the aim of rational discourse, may be the particular theories of epistemic rationality used by Van Eemeren and Grootendorst, namely Critical Rationalism and the Erlangen Constructivism, especially Lorenzen’s Dialogic Logic. Both these theories contain quite confused parts, which have been adopted by Van Eemeren and Grootendorst.

From Critical Rationalism they have taken in particular Albert’s critique of justificationism by his “Münchhausen-Trilemma”, which says that the attempt to justify every belief must lead to one of three bad alternatives,
(1) an infinite regress,
(2) a logical circle or
(3) arbitrarily and dogmatically breaking off the justification (Albert 1980, pp. 10-15; referred to by Van Eemeren and Grootendorst: E&G 1984, pp. 16; 194, note 9; 2004, p. 131).

The Münchhausen-Trilemma for Van Eemeren and Grootendorst is the reason, first, to give up the idea of positive justification and, second, to bet on negative criticism instead and thereby on dialectics, i.e. the inclusion of other persons, critics, as necessary elements in the process of epistemic rationality (E&G 1984, p. 16; 2004, pp. 131 f.). This decision seems to have been their main reason for not seeking further positive forms of arguments beyond deductive ones and to stress the unforeseeable critical potential of an antagonist instead. And this, as will soon be shown, is one of the main weaknesses of Pragma-Dialectics. Now the Münchhausen-Trilemma is simply false.[ii] It rests on a hidden and false premise, namely that deduction from true premises is the only form of acceptable justification. Together with the well-known properties of deductive justification, namely, first, to presuppose already justified premises and, second, to maximally preserve, mostly to reduce but never to increase the informational content of the justified conclusion compared with the premises, that premise leads to the exposed trilemma. But of course, there are forms of justification that do not rely on already justified premises, in particular observation; and there are ampliative forms of justification (i.e. forms of justification that increase the thesis’ informational content), in particular inductive reasoning. Thus there is no need to give up justificationism, on the contrary, and non-deductive forms of monological argumentation have to be studied and reconstructed in argumentation theory.

From Lorenzen’s and the Erlangen School’s theories in general Van Eemeren and Grootendorst have adopted the Dialogic Logic as their own conception of logic. They approve this logic for its dialogical, communicative and interactive character (E&G, pp. 12; 14; 193, n6; 2004, p. 50) as well as its enlargement by Barth & Krabbe (E&G 1984, p. 193, n6; 2004, pp. 50 f.), they use this logic themselves (e.g. E&G 1984, pp. 12-15) and they suggest it as the central tool in deductive argumentation (E&G 1984, p. 169; 2004, p. 148; Eemeren et al. 1996, p. 274). There are four elements of the Erlangen School’s programme and Dialogic Logic that are relevant in our context:
(1) logical intuitionism,
(2) anti-platonism,
(3) constructivism and
(4) the dialogical conception of logic.
Van Eemeren and Grootendorst are interested in these elements in ascending order. All four elements are highly problematic. However, limitation of space allows me to show this for only two of them, constructivism and the dialogical conception of logic.

(3) “Constructivism” means that all reasoning schemes and terms have to be explicitly introduced and that all reasoning steps like the introduction of premises and pieces of inferences have to be explicitly executed. The correct ideas behind constructivism are clarity and – in particular in mathematical contexts – avoidance of illusory “short-cuts” in reasoning. But constructivism is an exaggeration of these ideas, which, first, ignores that in discourses we can and must rely on a shared language and common knowledge. It would be absurd each time to try to “introduce” our complete vocabulary and common knowledge. The much more feasible and efficient way is knowledge exploitation, i.e. to rely on these common bases as far as one thinks they reach in the specific case, to make language usage explicit when one thinks that there could be ambiguities, to make premises explicit when they are used etc. Second, in its mania for explicit introducing and agreements, constructivism has a strong tendency towards a false form of conventionalism, namely to regard inference, reasoning and argumentation rules as something that is valid by convention and not as objective truths. If the meaning of logical operators and of terms is conventionally fixed, given the actual world, propositions’ truth thereby is fixed as well. Whether certain inference schemes lead from true premises to true conclusions then is no longer a question of convention but of analytical truth; analoguous considerations hold for uncertain ways of reasoning. And whether a given addressee already accepts particular premises and reasoning schemes is an empirical question.

(4) Dialogic Logic is a kind of logic that conceives logical proofs as dialogue games, where a proponent “defends” his thesis in an exactly regimented way against an opponent’s “attacks” by logically decomposing it into elementary formulas already accepted by the opponent (cf. e.g. Kamlah & Lorenzen 1973, pp. 209-231; Lorenzen & Schwemmer 1975, pp. 56-147). Dialogic Logic probably is the most confusing element of the Erlangen programme. Its origins are Beth’s semantic tableaux, i.e. a semantic way of proving an inference’s logical validity. You take a sheet of paper and divide it into a left and a right half by drawing a vertical line down the middle. The left half is reserved for the true propositions and the right half for the false propositions. The aim of the procedure is to systematically search for a consistent interpretation of the inference in question that shows it, the inference, to be invalid. This is an interpretation where the premises are true and the conclusion is false. If you do not find such an interpretation, the inference is valid. So at the top of the left column, i.e. the truths side, you write the premises, and at the top of the right, i.e. the falsities side, you write the conclusion. Premises and conclusions then have to be decomposed into elementary formulas, according to logical rules. If in the end the same elementary formula appears on the left as well as on the right side, this means that this formula has to be true and false at the same time. So it was impossible to construct a consistent falsifying interpretation of the inference (i.e. an interpretation where the premises are true but the conclusion is not). Therefore, the inference is valid. (In figure 1.1. this is illustrated with a simple example: the inference ‘p => q->p‘ is scrutinized for its logical validity. For disproving its validity one has to find an interpretation where the premise p is true – therefore p appears in row 1 on the truths side – and the conclusion q -> p is false – so q -> p appears on the falsities side. For q -> p to be false q must be true and p false; therefore the false q -> p of row 1 in row 2 is decomposed into a true q and a false p. But now p appears on the falsities side (in row 2) as well as on the truths side (in row 1), which means that to make the inference invalid p must be true and false at the same time, which is impossible. Therefore, the inference is valid.) This is a pencil-and-paper test that can be executed by one person; all the steps are exactly prescribed. Now some sequences of steps in semantic tableaux resemble sequences of turns in an argumentative dialogue. This has led Lorenzen and Lorenz (in the late 1950s and the 1960s) (reprints: Lorenzen & Lorenz 1978) to interpret the semantic tableaux as a dialogue game and to assign the right, falsities side, which contains the conclusion, to a “proponent”, and the left, truths side, which contains the premises, to the “opponent”, where the premises now are mutated to the opponent’s concessions (cf. figure 1.2).[iii] This is a nice gewgaw as long as one is aware of the theoretic background. But it is heavily confusing when the dialogic nature is taken seriously, and the “Dialogic Logic” is taken as proof that logic is something dialogical. And it is confusing because many sequences in logical dialogue games do not make sense in a real argumentative discourse – because they have a quite different function. Why for example may ¬p only be attacked by claiming p and not by asking for a justification?[iv] Actually, Dialogic Logic contains nothing really dialogical, one and the same person can play both roles because all the steps to be executed are meticulously prescribed.[v] And of course, logical reasoning can be executed internally by one person by proceeding from a belief in some premises, recognizing a logical implication, to believing in the conclusion.

Now Van Eemeren and Grootendorst have adopted Dialogic Logic as their favourite logic (E&G 1984, pp. 169; 201, note 68; 2004, p. 148; Eemeren et al. 1996, p. 274). This is harmless to a certain degree. But it is terribly misleading if Dialogic Logic is taken seriously and regarded as a proof of the necessary dialogic character of argumentation (E&G 1984, pp. 12-14; 193, note 6). Actually, argumentation (in the sense of “presenting an argument”) is mostly a monologic activity, where someone argues for a certain thesis.[vi] And argument schemes have to be developed on this basis. A systematically second step then is to develop a theory of argumentations’ integration into argumentative discourse. Fortunately, Pragma-Dialectics has not taken its theoretical profession of the necessary dialogical character of argumentation too seriously; in the official definition (E&G 1984, pp. 7; 18; 2004, p. 1), in the discussion rules (e.g. Ro8/Rs6, E&G 1984, p. 165; 2004, p. 144) and in analytic practice argumentation is always conceptualized monologically (in the sense explained in note 6) as the protagonist’s advancing his thesis plus his defensive moves. Nonetheless the theoretical assumption of the necessary dialogic character of argumentation may have been one of the reasons for Pragma-Dialectics’ neglecting argumentation theory in the narrow sense, specifially for neglecting the study of non-deductive argument schemes.

One of the lessons that could be learned from these scathing criticisms of Pragma-Dialectics’ epistemological foundations is that much could probably be improved by changing the epistemological basis of Pragma-Dialectics. Pragma-Dialectics is mainly a theory of argumentative discussion and not of (monological) argumentation. Combining it with the epistemological theory of argumentation and its epistemological foundations could already be the beginning of important progress.

5. The Procedural Rules for a Critical Discussion
The constructive core of Pragma-Dialectics are the rules of conduct it proposes for critical discussions. In this section, the real discourse rules, i.e. the rules for integrating argumentation in discourses, will be discussed; the next section is dedicated to the rules for the argumentative core.

The Pragma-Dialectical discourse rules are designed for simple, i.e. single and nonmixed, discussion (originally called: “simple single discussion”), in which exactly one thesis (not even its negation) is discussed (E&G 1984, p. 152; 2004, p. 135; terminology: E&G 1992, pp. 16-22). This implies that the antagonist can accept the protagonist’s thesis, or express non-acceptance or can ask for a justification, but he cannot advance an incompatible counter-thesis, specifically he cannot say that the protagonist’s thesis is false. The same limitation holds for the antagonist’s “attacks” on the single reasons and the argumentative relation between reasons and thesis. This means real, offensive attacks are missing.[vii] And therefore the antagonist cannot point to the protagonist’s errors; no real critique is taking place. As a consequence the discussants cannot obtain certification of their respective theses by having them exposed to intersubjective critique. In addition, the antagonist cannot contribute his own knowledge to a cooperative search for truth. So the most important aims of a real discourse cannot be reached by Pragma-Dialectical “discourses”. Pragma-Dialectical discourses are not really dialogical discussions. They are monological argumentations enlarged by possibilities to adapt this argumentation to the addressee’s epistemic situation. Ironically enough, Van Eemeren and Grootendorst here have completely set aside the criticism of Critical Rationalism, which, of course, requires refutations by positive counter-evidence, and returned to justificationism. And again ironically enough, epistemological argumentation theories, often decried for their monological conception of argumentation, compared to Pragma-Dialectics are much more and only really dialogical when it comes to integrating argumentation in argumentative discourse (cf. Goldman 1999, pp. 139-149; Lumer 1988).

Under procedural aspects Ro7/Rs5 (E&G 1984, pp. 163 f.; 2004, p. 143) is the most irritating rule. It quite innocently requires that, in the preparation stage the discussants agree about the rules that shall govern and be binding for the entire discussion that follows. Only subsequent rules, in particular Ro9/Rs7 and Ro10/Rs8, reveal how many agreements are meant to be included: agreement about the intersubjective identification procedure (for identifying shared premises), the intersubjective testing procedure (which regiments observation (E&G 1984, p. 167) and the use of non-deductive argument schemes (E&G 2004, pp. 149 f.), respectively), the intersubjective explicitization procedure (for making implicit premises explicit), the intersubjective reasoning procedure (i.e. the deductive logic) and the premises themselves as well (E&G 1984, pp. 165 f.; 2004, p. 145). In order to be fully consistent with this logic of agreements, rules Ro8/Rs6 to Ro17/Rs14 should have been included in that list. Of course, this list should have been made explicit in Ro7/Rs5.

These agreement requirements are a heritage of constructivism, which in general has already been criticized (section 4). Some more specific problems are the following. First, the agreement requests are illusory, people cannot make all these things explicit and do not have the time to try to do so. Second, the agreement requirement is a simple fiat; nothing is said about how it could be reached. Considering that it includes encyclopedias, logics, epistemologies etc. it is not to be expected that discussants find an agreement. Third, an initial agreement is too rigid. The discussants may change their opinion about one or the other point. – Van Eemeren and Grootendorst seem to have seen some of these problems and therefore provide that the discussants commonly “assume tacitly that they accept more or less the same rules for the discussion” (E&G 1984, p. 163; similar: 2004, p. 142) and a common knowledge (E&G 1984, p. 166; 2004, p. 146). But if this is so and if constructivism is illusory, they should give up the constructivist rule Ro7/Rs5 altogether and adopt the concept of knowledge exploitation. And because knowledge exploitation is not trivial this requires the introduction of new substantive rules about how to make assumptions about the other discussant’s knowledge, what to do if such assumptions are false etc.

6. The Argumentation Rules for a Critical Discussion
The second part of my discussion of the Pragma-Dialectical discourse rules regards the rules for the argumentative core, its argumentation theory proper.

In a perfect consensualistic fashion, Pragma-Dialectics conceives argumentation rules as something that must be agreed upon by the discussants, i.e. as conventions (E&G 1984, p. 163; 2004, p. 142). And consequently, the Pragma-Dialectical argumentation rules are advanced only as proposals for such conventions, without which they would not have any validity (ibid.). But what is the aim of such conventions? According to Pragma-Dialectics, it is to resolve differences of opinion. However the question can be repeated, why should people try to do so? In particular if one speaks of expressed opinions only, one could introduce such conventions like rules of an entertaining game like chess, where one finally arrives at an explicit but meaningless “consensus”, which has nothing to do with one’s opinions. Of course, Van Eemeren and Grootendorst do not want this. Why should we want a real consensus? Convincing someone of a particular thesis in a rhetorical vein may have strategic advantages, but why should the arguer want to share this opinion? Pragma-Dialectics is silent about these questions; it simply does not contain a theory about the function of argumentation and about the way in which this function can be fulfilled by argumentation. And without such a function analysis argumentation rules will be arbitrary or only accidentally useful.

The straightforward answers to these questions are epistemological; and the usually recognized argumentation rules can best be explained epistemologically. The function of argumentation is to provide justified belief, which is systematically (though not strictly) connected to truth (Lumer 2005a, sect. 4; 2005b, sect. 1); and shared justified belief is a greater guarantee that this belief is really true. Argumentations help to achieve justified belief by guiding an addressee’s cognizing the thesis etc. (Lumer 2005a, sect. 5; 1990, pp. 45-48; 280-281; 1991, pp. 102-104). If one adopts this epistemological function analysis of argumentation, argumentation rules cannot simply be conventions. As Siegel, Biro and Goldman have already criticized, agreeing on fallacious argumentation rules like the gambler’s fallacy or plainly absurd or arbitrary argumentation rules like admitting only arguments with an even number of premises, simply does not lead to true or at least acceptable belief (Biro & Siegel 1992, p. 91; Goldman 1999, p. 159). Argumentation rules have to fulfil two essential functions, first, following them should guarantee the thesis’ truth or acceptability, i.e. truth, high probability or verisimilitude, and second, following them should provide epistemic accessibility of the truth (or acceptability) to the addressee, e.g. by requiring that the premises be known to the addressee. If a particular set of argumentation rules fulfils these functions does not depend on convention but is an objective fact – like the functioning of a machine; it depends e.g. on how these rules refer to theses’ truth conditions. Someone can find out these rules, follow them for the first time in trying to convince a particular addressee who does not know anything about these rules, and they could still fulfil their function. Think for example of rules for logical deduction. Whether such rules always lead from true premises to true conclusions depends on the definitions of truth functional operators, which determine the truth-value of complex propositions dependent on the truth-value of elementary propositions; given such definitions it is not a question of agreement. Independence of agreement makes monological argumentation possible and, of course, facilitates discourses; the bulk of the Pragma-Dialectical opening stage becomes superfluous.

What just has been said about argumentation rules analogously holds for premises or, more generally, for reasons too. Pragma-Dialectics is completely consensualistic here in prescribing only shared acceptance of premises (Ro9/Rs7 (E&G 1984, p. 168; 2004, p. 147) and E&G 1984, pp. 165 f.; 2004, p. 145). But, of course, such consensus does not imply the premises’ truth or acceptability.

Originally, Van Eemeren and Grootendorst proposed only one type of argumentation, namely deductive argumentation (cf. Ro10/Rs8 (E&G 1984, p. 169; 2004, p. 150)) – which has been criticized e.g. by Pinto (Pinto 2001, p. 133). More recently Van Eemeren and Grootendorst also included some further argument schemes (E&G 1992, pp. 94-102; 2004, pp. 149 f.; 150, Rs8), namely:
(1) symptomatic argumentation of the form ‘a is F; F‘s are typically G; therefore a is G‘;
(2) comparison argumentation or argumentation by analogy of the form ‘a and b are similar or analogous; a is F; therefore b is F’; and
(3) instrumental argumentation with the form ‘p is F; events of type F cause events of type G; therefore there will be an event of type G‘ (E&G 1992, pp. 96 f.).

However, this is not much of an extension of the theory of argument schemes. Symptomatic arguments are a particular type of probabilistic arguments (with a sure singular and a statistical premise); analogies are good heuristic devices but, because of the unclear extension of the analogy, bad arguments; instrumental arguments, finally, are only particular forms of deductive arguments. So these additional argument types are too special, and the resulting list of argument types is very unsystematic. But the major problem is that still most argument types are missing: probabilistic and statistical arguments in general, theoretical arguments for empirical theories and theoretical theses, practical arguments for value judgments etc. (cf. Lumer 2005b, sect. 3). These problems at least in part are due to the lack of a function analysis of argumentation in Pragma-Dialectics.

Let me sum up some major results of this discussion of Pragma-Dialectics.
(1) Its two main aims make Pragma-Dialectics a heterogeneous theory composed of unqualified and therefore unsatisfactory consensualism and an ill-conceived form of epistemic rationalism. A better synthesis of the useful parts of these ideas would be to take justified consensus as the aim of argumentative discourse.
(2) Pragma-Dialectics relies on very problematic epistemologies, namely Critical Rationalism and Dialogic Logic. Pragma-Dialecticians should look for a better partner in this field.
(3) The procedural rules for a critical discussion are a strong point of Pragma-Dialectics. But they should be expanded to rules for a complete discourse and be corrected in several details with an eye on the function of argumentative discourse, i.e. to cooperatively search for truth and to certify justified beliefs by exposing them to intersubjective criticism.
(4) The rules for argumentation proper are a weak point of Pragma-Dialectics. This is due to the unqualified consensualism and to the lack of a function analysis of argumentation. Epistemological argumentation theories have much more to offer in this respect. Thus they could provide the necessary complement to the procedural rules, which are a strong point of Pragma-Dialectics.

Acknowledgements: I would like to thank several people for discussion and helpful hints: Michael A. Gilbert, Ralph Johnson, Erik Krabbe, Martin Reisigl, Harvey Siegel, Harald Wohlrapp and Frank Zenker.

NOTES
i. As we will see in the following section, in a systematically later stage Pragma-Dialectics goes beyond this initially fixed aim and requires that the dispute resolution be reached by a regimented discussion. But even the consensus resulting from these discussions is still unqualified in a broader sense, namely in the sense that now the discussion and argumentation rules governing the discussion as well as the premises to be used are established by an unqualified consensus which is not subject to further conditions – e.g. epistemic principles (cf. E&G 1984, pp. 163-168, in particular Ro7; 2004, p. 143, Rs5).
ii. For a detailed criticism of Albert’s Münchhausen-Trilemma see: Lumer 1990, pp. 197-209.
iii. Lorenzen himself originally admitted that his own dialogical notation, apart from the question marks, is exactly identical to Beth’s semantic tableaux (Lorenzen 1959/1961 in: Lorenzen & Lorenz 1978, p. 11). Subsequently Lorenzen and his followers have hidden this connection.
iv. Some further examples of Dialogic Logic’s rules that make no sense in argumentative discourse are given in: Lumer 1988, p. 446.
v. A more extensive criticism of Dialogic Logic on these lines is given in: Lumer 1990, pp. 317 f. In particular, some members of the Erlangen School are quoted who later dissociated themselves from the dialogic conception of logic.
vi. Please note that “monologic” is meant here only in the weak sense, i.e. that one and the same person presents the whole (perhaps complex) argument. It is not meant in the strong sense that only one person is speaking during the conversation. The intended weak sense of “monologic” does not exclude that the arguer’s presentation of his argument be distributed over several turns in a dialogue and interrupted by the questions or objections of another speaker. However, usually such questions and objections mainly have the function of fitting the argument to the addressee; but it remains the arguer’s argument.
vii. In my own model of argumentative dialogues groups of possible moves are distinguished: A-moves, which allow argumentation, B-moves, which include agreements and requests of justification by the opponent, C-moves, which allow the opponent’s attacks, etc. (Lumer 1988, pp. 450-457). Pragma-Dialectical discourses correspond to what I have called “simple argumentative dialogue”, which consists of A- and B-moves only (Lumer 1988, p. 454); in particular equivalents to the C-moves are missing.

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This essay is published in:

Jan van der Stoep and Sytse Strijbos – Editors

From Technology Transfer to Intercultural Development – Understanding technology and development in a globalising world.

European edition published by Rozenberg Publishers – ISBN 978 90 361 029 0

Rest of the world: SUN PRESS, an imprint of AFRICAN SUN MEDIA – ISBN 978 1 9202383 28 2

 

Violence is everywhere (Lindiwe, Hector Peterson Residence).

In order to understand the concept ‘awareness’, Hastrup’s (1995) explanation of consciousness is invaluable, especially to identify with people’s behaviour in violent situations. She explains that our patterns of thinking are not subject to paths of practical reason, but that we rather constantly reformulate our whole existence through our actions; a reconsideration of our ideas of consciousness is thus necessitated (ibid.: 99). Hastrup reminds us that we are inarticulate and that expression is not limited to the verbal. Expression, rather, takes place in various forms (ibid.).

Given Hastrup’s suggestion to understand consciousness from multiple angles, we approach a field within which questions of ontology and methodology join: how do people think and how do we know? (ibid.; Ross 2004: 35). What tools should anthropologists use to access these forms of consciousness that are so intertwined in social space, affecting it, being affected by it and being its defining capacity? In an environment of violence, students are affected, they can potentially have an influence on this through the tactics they use to stay safe and, at the same time, can become the defining capacity of such an environment. These are among the dynamics involved in conceptualising ‘awareness’ of potential danger in potentially dangerous areas. This awareness is positioned on various levels.

We cannot fully comprehend other people, except through structured imagining or ‘intuition’, perhaps deducing part of their implicit reasoning from its (‘intuition’s’) various expressions. Knowledge is not directly and exclusively expressed in words. Situating knowledge in experience rather than in words and, consequently, in the recentred self rather than in the floating mind, changes the location of knowledge. It is largely unexpressed and reserved in the habit-memory, and not exclusively in the brain. Even when they are conscious of the environment of which they are part, this involves a degree of inarticulacy on the part of human agents (Hastrup 1995: 99-100). I argue that knowledge of a violent environment (informed by experience, stories or witnessing) becomes inscribed in students’ bodies through habituation; the tactics used to stay safe are thus relocated in expressed, and (very importantly), unexpressed consciousness. Therefore, bodily experiences (in addition to the exchanging of stories, investing in a technology of safety, and exchanging gossip in social networks) of being in the world inform our knowledge of violence and the way we distinguish between the safe and unsafe (Lindegaard and Henriksen 2004: 46). It is in this light that the concept ‘awareness’ is employed throughout this chapter.

Space, violence and resistance
Former notions of space regarded it as merely an area which is permeable, neutral and accessible to all. But more recently ideas of space suggest that it is never neutral, and even, as the history of South Africa’s spatial planning proves, that spatiality is overwhelmingly ideological (Ross 2004: 35). According to Michel De Certeau (1988, cited in Ross 2004: 35), to understand a place is intimately related to one’s own position in it. This suggests that the views of onlookers or passers-by will differ from those of people who more permanently occupy the space ‘looked onto’. Ross thus argues that employing spatiality entails an engagement with the emotion and the sensual in everyday life, which would otherwise be ‘alien’ (see also Clifford 1998: 35). Moreover, these spaces are also very fluid and experiences of them differ from person to person. What can be a space of opportunity for a robber is a space of threat and potential loss for another person. While some use the space for calculating escape in situations of robbery, others use it to confront and retaliate. Furthermore, gender and age do not necessarily occupy space in the same ways – movements are moulded by (unwritten) social rules dictated by violence and fear. Space also mutates with time. The scene of laughter can be a scene of murder the next moment, and the same spaces are experienced differently by different people who occupy them. ‘The encoded body and killing zone bec[o]me sites of a transaction where residual historical and political codes and terror and alterity [a]re fused, thus transforming these sites into repositories of a social imaginary’ (Feldman 1991: 64). Spaces of violence may also expand, given the involvement of witnesses or people who come to the assistance of somebody who is being violated.

This brings me to how the concept ‘tactics’ will be employed in this section. There is a number of ways in which the ‘powerless’ employ tactics in negotiating ideologies (notions of who should stay away from certain spaces and when) of proper living. With respect to the definition of ‘tactics’, De Certeau explains:

A tactic is a calculated action, determined by the absence of a proper locus. No delimitation of an exteriority, then provides it with the condition necessary for autonomy. The space of a tactic is the space of the other. Thus it must play on and with a terrain imposed on it and organized by the law of a foreign power … (1984: 36-7).

Later on, he elaborates that:

Tactics are procedures that gain validity in relation to the pertinence they lend to time -to the circumstances which the precise instant of an intervention transforms into a favorable situation, to the rapidity of the movements that change the organization of a space, to the relations among successive moments in an action, to the possible intersections of durations and heterogeneous rhythms, etc. (1984: 38).

Ideology, he argues, is a product of power, a strategic practice, which is used by the weak. The weak or the marginalised resist ideology through tactics and reproduce it to new ends, although for moments at a time. Although they resist, they do not change the broader structural order. As a result of restrictions imposed by for example race, class and gender, they must manage within an ideological space and within broader structures of power. This is achieved through everyday practices of appropriation and consumption, with which people create room to move. These practices take place in a realm divided into two fractions: one where strategy and production occur (powerful/apartheid/segregation) and one where consumption and tactics (weak/segregated/victims/survivors) occur, as a result of which the differentiations within the group of the weak – or the strong, for that matter – become indistinguishable. For instance, in the vicinity of the University of the Western Cape elements of violence (e.g. robbers or murderers) use tactics in relation to the broader structural order – state institutions – and engage in strategic practices toward other people (student victims of violence). The ideology is the existing segregated townships known as the Cape Flats inherited from the apartheid regime which forms part of the broader structural order. Hunted and troubled by intense state interventions, the elements survive through the strategic domination of territory (the vicinity of campus) (Jensen 2001: 32).

Strategies, on the other hand, are the ‘forces’ (structural violence, e.g. racial segregation that caused poverty and crime) that place the people on the Cape Flats in positions where they need to protect themselves (Jensen 2001: 31). Tactics are thus used to resist the strategies (structural order), which is expressed in the forms of violence students are exposed to in the vicinity of UWC.

Lindegaard and Henriksen (2005: 44), on the other hand, use the word ‘strategy’ instead of ‘tactic’, and use it similar to the way Bourdieu (1990) does. According to them, strategies are acts of awareness which are rarely deliberate and reflected upon. Although the term is potentially confusing given its strong connotations to rational choice theory, it refers to social agents’ continuous construction in and through practice (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992: 129). On the one hand strategies of safety are rational since they make perfect sense to the agent, yet on the other hand, these acts are not necessarily expressed or well-planned. I use the word tactic instead, especially to emphasise structures surrounding the university that students resist. In addition, although these tactics are used daily, they do not necessarily change the general social order (poverty, unemployment, crime and so forth). It is here where the significant distinction lies that I make.

Experiences of violence
The violence experienced by students who stay in Hector Peterson Residence and Belhar mostly takes place en route to campus. Students from Hector Peterson Residence are more prone to experiencing violence than those who stay on campus because they move around in places that are considered dangerous, especially the route to campus. At Symphony Way and between the hostel and campus, students have been robbed and stories of rape and attempted rape are told about this area. Furthermore, taxis in the vicinity of Belhar pose additional safety hazards by being the sites of robberies and by being linked to drivers known to be reckless. Students tell stories about their experiences and this serves as a warning to others.

When I took a taxi from the hostel to Delft one Sunday afternoon, I got a great shock when a man sitting in front of me pulled out a gun and demanded money from the taxi guard at gunpoint. Other people in the taxi looked at the man and he asked them what they were looking at, probably to avoid them looking at his face. The money the man received from t he guard was probably enough because he did not harass the other passengers. The driver sped off after the incident and then stopped to tell another taxi driver along the way what happened, in Afrikaans. I cannot really understand Afrikaans, but gathered from their conversation that they wanted to get hold of the man (Peter, Hector Peterson Residence).

Whether they stay in Hector Peterson Residence or in on-campus residences students generally may experience violence in taxis since all residents need to travel to Bellville or other surrounding areas for shopping, religious reasons, research or extra-mural activities. Lindiwe also found herself in a situation which could have led to gun violence:

Violence is everywhere and just the other day when I took a taxi from Bellville, the guard instructed somebody to sit in a specific seat in the taxi. An argument ensued and the guy next to me pulled out a huge gun. I demanded to get out of the taxi, but the guard asked what happened. I told him to open the door first and then ask questions. I got out as fast as possible. The guy with the knife ran away but his friend sat in the front of that taxi. Because the guard got hold of the friend, he was beaten up (Lindiwe, Hector Peterson Residence).

Viewing violence as omnipresent is a way of staying safe because it reminds students to be on guard all the time as it might happen at any time and in any place. If they are not constantly aware of their environment they can become unsafe. Thus students continuously draw on tactics of safety to keep out of harm’s way.

The question of safety when in a crowd
The safety perceived to ensue from being in a crowd, for instance in a confined public space like a taxi, was shaken in the examples of Peter and Lindiwe. When a number of people are together in a small confined space, they tend to feel safe. The presence of others sets aside danger and sociability works to ease fear (Ross 2004: 39) – until a gun is pulled out. Yet the supposed safety found in a group can be largely imagined. The safety felt when in a crowd of people is based on the assumption that others will come to one’s assistance when needed. Accordingly, when people are alone they feel more powerless against potential violence (Lindegaard and Henriksen 2004: 55). Yet in this study it was evident that students often do not come to the assistance of others who they perceive to be under threat. This is mostly because they are afraid that by intervening they might become violated themselves. This is especially the case with female students who see it as risky to get involved since intervening may be to their own detriment.

I heard a desperate cry coming from my neighbour’s room in HPR early one evening. I was unsure from which room the cry came so I stepped out into the corridor to see if I could spot the room. Standing in the corridor I was uncertain whether I should intervene out of fear for the perpetrator turning on me. Instead I decided to retreat to my room and fortunately the security staff came and I later heard that it was a guy beating his girlfriend in her room. What led to my uncertainty to intervene is the xenophobia I often experience in taxis. When people are treated badly by the drivers or taxi guards, I noticed that other passengers simply ignore it. This gives me the feeling that if I should intervene to help a victim and the perpetrator turns on me, other people will not support me (Synthia, Hector Peterson Residence).

Awareness of the possible consequences of intervention therefore holds Synthia back and keeps her safe. She does, however, feel torn between not helping and intervening and in a different setting (Malawi) she would be more willing to intervene. Testing the level of safety in situations is therefore necessary, although students may be more willing to take risks when a significant other is in danger. Mary also fears that when she is in trouble people around will not help her.

I fear that when someone rapes me nobody will intervene while it happens. In Nigeria this will not happen, because other men will run after the offender and beat him up (Mary, Eduardo Dos Santos Residence).

A sense of camaraderie in Nigeria therefore contributes to a feeling of safety for Mary, as well as the fact that she knows justice will be served because offenders will pay for the consequences of their actions. Men act as protectors and the bearers of justice. Because she fears that bystanders in Cape Town will not help her should something bad happen to her, she always walks with fellow students when she goes to her department on campus at night, again confirming that the mere presence of people, especially people who are not complete strangers, is a tactic of safety.

Phumzile experienced an incident where her bag was snatched from her in a public space. Bystanders did not intervene. The bag-snatching took place in Symphony Way where taxis drop off passengers or pick them up.

I saw two guys sitting on the opposite side of the road and it looked to me as if they were waiting for a taxi. When I stepped out of the taxi I saw the two guys move toward me, but I thought they were crossing the road because they were walking to Extension. But then they came toward me, one guy with his hand under his top as if hiding a knife or a gun (I did not see him with anything while he sat waiting) and walked to me as I walked backwards but he then got hold of my bag. I shouted and one guy ran away, but I held onto my bag the other guy held and there was a struggle. At one point the bag was on his side and I held onto the straps. He managed to get hold of the bag and ran off. I followed the guy and ran closely behind him. The guy couldn’t even run. My adrenalin was pumping and I was determined to get my bag, but the guy managed to escape. I told a traffic officer who came by that I had been robbed, but he just went off on his own after I thought that he would help me see if I could get hold of some of my belongings. People passed by asking what happened, but nobody would come up with a solution. My cellphone, cards, ID were in the handbag and it meant that I had to start afresh (Phumzile, Hector Peterson Residence).

Belhar is a predominantly coloured area and racism is often rife in such communities especially towards blacks (see Adams 2005: 9; Du Preez 2005: 14). It is possible that the traffic officer and bystanders did not help Phumzile because she was a black woman. Studies show that whites in America are more likely to help whites in emergencies than blacks (Bryan and Test 1967; Gaertner 1971; 1973; Piljavin, Rodin and Piljavin 1969; Levine et al. 2002). This is not conclusive in the decision not to intervene, however, since other factors may play a role as well. Bystanders may also decide against helping victims depending on the costs involved (Gaertner 1975: 95). On the other hand, Levine (1999: 12) explains that bystanders also interpret incidents a certain way and that the incident needs to be contextualised. People’s accounts of their interpretations of incidents shed light on their decision not to intervene. Not helping a victim, especially when a weapon or threat to be physically harmed oneself is involved, can also be a way to stay safe.

While making a telephone call in Parow one Saturday morning, a guy held a friend of mine at gunpoint. She called me to draw my attention, and thinking she was teasing and not turning back immediately, I turned around eventually to see what was happening. The guy holding the gun was very nervous because his fingers were trembling on the trigger. I thought that I could easily fight the guy, only if the lady were not there. I simply handed my cellphone over. Other people walked by without offering any support and Saturday mornings are very busy around shopping malls. If I were alone I would have held the guy’s hand up to empty his cartridge, and then would have beaten the guy up (Collin, Hector Peterson Residence).

At the same time the response by a group of people against someone who offers violence can equally help everyone to keep safe, as is mentioned by Bulelwa. She said that in Johannesburg, where she comes from, people stand together against violence.

Everybody has this idea that Jo’burg is rough but people can talk on their phones when walking in the streets. Even in the townships. Hillbrow and Yeoville are rough where the Nigerians are though. At the taxi rank near home the taxi drivers will beat someone up if they steal a cellphone. Here people can get away with it and the others will do nothing. So back home there is more unity (Bulelwa, Coline Williams Residence).

In Nigeria, according to Collin and Mary, and in Johannesburg, according to Bulelwa, bystanders would fight the perpetrator. According to Chekroun and Brauer (2002), people are more likely to exercise ‘social control’ in high-personal-implication situations. They define social control as ‘any verbal or nonverbal communication by which individuals show to another person that they disapprove of his or her deviant (counternormative) behaviour’ (Chekroun and Brauer 2002: 854). Put differently: if people feel a personal threat in situations where they see someone else being held at gunpoint, they are more likely to intervene, and thus contribute to restoring order in a sense.

Latané and Darley (1970) cite instances where victims of murder and other offences were left unattended even after the assailant had already left. In one instance a switchboard operator who was raped and beaten in her office in the Bronx ran outside the building naked. Forty people surrounded her and watched how the assailant tried to drag her back into the office and none of them interfered. Two policemen happened to pass by the incident and arrested the assailant (Latané and Darley 1970: 2). The authors conclude that if bystanders fail to notice, interpret and decide that they have personal responsibility toward the victim, they are less likely to intervene. In addition, the presence of other people is more likely to keep a bystander from rescuing a victim. These explanations help understand the possible thinking processes involved in people’s decisions to intervene when seeing something bad happen to somebody.

When drastic situations call for extreme tactics
Using the train to commute around Cape Town is known to be risky and many commuters have experienced violence of one or other form (Marud 2002), leading to protests against the absence of security on trains. A number of participants in this study also told of frightening experiences they had on trains. Other stories tell about people who were robbed in trains, especially trains that run along Cape Flats lines. Such stories are part of the symbolic order students create to stay safe. Because of such stories students avoid commuting by train. Here follow stories told by two students who survived after they had no choice but to jump from the train.

At every station stop I raised my head from the book I was reading to check who get on and off and at one stop 4 guys boarded the train. Although I found it strange that they were standing since there were vacant seats, I resumed reading. A commotion and people scurrying drew my attention to those 4 guys. I had heard about gangsters who rob people, but it was clear that these guys were not interested in people’s belongings, so they must have been out to kill. It was very surreal, and even seeing one of the guys stabbing an old man repeatedly with a knife, seemed like a dream to me. Women ran around in the carriage and it dawned on me that I needed to do something fast. The window behind me was fortunately broken and I told myself that I needed to jump because the guys were coming my way. I told myself this continuously to convince myself and looked out the window to scan the railway track in search for poles. I previously heard that when people jump from trains, the poles along the tracks are what kill them. Fortunately there were no poles. I knew that the same knife that killed the old man was what would kill me. The train fast gained momentum and as it did so, I moved out of the train through the window frame, held on the outside and jumped. Fortunately there was no oncoming train otherwise I would have been killed. I moved as I fell so as not to do too much damage to one part of my body especially, my head, but could not avoid bashing my forehead. I lost consciousness from the fall. Security guards patrolling the tracks found me and they took me to the next station. Later I learned that people in that train were thrown off by those guys (Peter, Hector Peterson Residence).

Because Peter had to use the train to commute, he had his own safety tactic while he was doing so – he looked at the doors at every stop, making a ‘mental’ note of potentially threatening people who boarded. This tactic was informed by stories he heard about what happened to other commuters who were robbed in trains and he used it to stay safe. His tactic was also based on a tacit embodied response to what made him feel uncomfortable or raised a feeling of potential threat in him. His first clue was that the four men remained standing although there were seats available. When he saw the men stab someone his response was almost wholly embodied, initially making it seem like a bad dream. When he realised that jumping out of the train might be all that could save him, he drew on other peoples’ stories, informing him that, 1) he could jump and might survive, and, 2) that hitting a pole might kill him. Before jumping he scanned the railway tracks for poles. Grabbing onto the window frame and hanging outside for a moment was apparently almost instinctual, as was the realisation that he should try to fall in a way that would not damage his head. As Lindegaard and Henriksen (2005) argue, the body is socially informed – one perceives and experiences the world in an embodied way, while at the same time also ‘learning’ how to behave and respond in bodily ways, albeit often without thinking about it consciously (cf. Csordas 1994; Bourdieu 1990).

Phillip also had a horrible experience on the train. He traveled first class on the train – another tactic of safety since the tickets are more expensive, and therefore a ‘better class’ of people will supposedly travel first class. According to Philip:

The train was full of passengers and I was in a first class carriage. Then at Belhar Station most of the people got off and there were only three remaining, me and two other passengers. At that point I was busy reading a letter my brother sent from home and was not paying much attention to my surroundings, but four guys stepped onto the train when it stopped. The next thing I saw was those guys pulling out knives and they started stabbing people. People rushed to each other so that they could be together and my hand was stabbed because I tried to stop one guy. Then the guys started throwing us off the train through the windows. One man died instantly as his head hit the ground, but I and two others survived. This happened below the bridge at Spa and men were playing cricket close by. I could not get up after the fall and told the guys about what happened without realizing that I was bleeding. Metro Rail Security then came and called the ambulance who took me to Delft clinic, while the others went to Groote Schuur Hospital. Staff at the clinic was not very helpful and did not even x-ray me. They just stitched me up. I did not even bother taking it up with them because it would not help, so I just returned there to have the stitches removed (Phillip, Hector Peterson Residence).

In extreme situations such as the one in which Peter found himself, people in the area of Belhar and students at UWC particularly, are forced to think fast to save their lives. After Peter’s traumatic experience, he never used the train again. Since Collin (see his story further in this chapter) and other students learned of Peter’s experience, they never take the train anymore. I also hardly use the train unless someone accompanies me. The few occasions on which I actually used the train, I felt very uncomfortable. As I sat in a deserted carriage in front of broken windows it conjured up stories I had heard about robberies and of outsiders throwing bricks at passengers through broken windows. Yet, for some students the train is the only reliable form of transport and they are comfortable using it. Bulelwa, who comes from Gauteng said:

Commuting by train feels very normal. Even wearing my chain and bracelet is fine. I even use my cellphone in the train. At the moment the train is my only means of transport. The train is also cheaper although it is not very reliable because one can be late for an appointment (Bulelwa, Coline Williams Residence).

My own gendered expectation was that Bulelwa, rather than Collin, would be particularly careful of the train. Besides being aware of the possibility that something might happen to her on the train, Bulelwa also behaves with confidence. For her Gauteng is more violent than Cape Town and she feels and behaves as if she is ‘tough’. This is very similar to how I generally behave when walking in the vicinity of the university. Lindegaard and Henriksen give similar examples, but of men who adopt ‘feminine’ strategies of safety, that is, they move together in groups or run fast to cover potentially threatening spaces. Bulelwa and I use more ‘masculine’ tactics and at the same time we also obtain a sense of safety through the idea that bad things only happen to ‘other’ people. By behaving in this way, consciously or unconsciously, we both create a space in which we feel safe, but it may also make us more vulnerable.

The following section looks at the influence gender roles have on the way people create safety for themselves. Information gathered at a workshop at the university helped explore how students relate to each other in terms of gender.

Gender roles
Attending a workshop run by the HIV/AIDS Unit of the University of the Western Cape, it was very interesting to learn what perspectives peer facilitators of workshops hold about what it means to be a man and a woman respectively, especially concerning HIV/AIDS. More interestingly, the men attending the workshop were part of MAP (Men As Partners), and were being trained to facilitate HIV/AIDS workshops on campus. At one point during the workshop men and women formed separate groups and listed things about their gender they were proud of. The women struggled for a long time to think of things they could be proud of, as opposed to the men, and only after a long time managed to list some. Taking a look at the discourses around gender is important when studying violence, since they impact on how women and men view themselves, and each other, in relation to violence. Although their lists might not have been the same had the context been different, or perhaps did not reflect what they would have stated individually, this was what each group listed:

What it means to be a woman
They are able to express emotions without being ashamed of it; give birth; are more sensitive and caring; do not have to pretend that they are strong; can take advantage of men; are happy about affirmative action; make better parents than men; can do anything without being stigmatised, e.g. have a man’s name and not be called a moffie.

What it means to be a man
They were born to lead; can physically dominate; when they speak people listen; have better opportunities and salaries; do not live in fear; can protect; women depend on them.

During this group exercise, women and men took pride in stereotypes pertaining to their respective genders without even realising it. The outcome of this exercise not only mirrors gender roles in broader society, but also the way most of the participants deal with and think about violence. Unlike the men, the women failed to see themselves as initiators, leaders, protectors, speakers, and as being able to physically dominate or protect.

When women and men were asked to say what they could do if they switched gender roles, it was interesting that women failed to see their value as women as opposed to their value if they were men. Men valued themselves both as men and as women. Each group listed what they could do if they were members of the opposite gender:

What women could do if they were men
They would not worry about sagging breasts; could wear the same shirt the whole week; do anything they want to and go anywhere; respect women; break the silence around women abuse; have the physical and financial power to start a war; leave responsibility of children to woman (and just pay the money); have sex with anybody; teach sons not to cry but to ‘be a man’.

What men could do if they were women
They could express their emotions; get their pension at the age of 60; share affection; look after their partner; be open about sex issues to other women; spend more time with the family; be open and honest; get away with lots of things; be loving and caring; break the silence; be conscious about nutrition.

Apart from the fact that women felt they would be freed from sagging breasts if they were men, women also imagined having freedom of movement, sex and action; they identified with being men who respected women, taking the initiative, starting war and fighting against abuse. Fighting against abuse comes across more as a wish in this context and this would likely not have been among the responses in a different situation where MAP was not the focus of the workshop. The men’s responses also formed part of gender-stereotypes about women and the idea of breaking the silence seemed more of a wish, especially given the fact that women themselves did not mention that in the first round of the exercise. Such ‘… discourses inform tactics of safety’ (Lindegaard and Henriksen 2004: 58) and are generally the ideas women have of men in danger and vice versa. If women for instance feel restricted in their movements and actions and feel that they need to stay indoors to stay safe as opposed to what they described men’s experiences are, their perceptions of women and safety inform the way they keep themselves safe.

Although the students in the workshop were aware of changes that have taken place in South Africa with regard to social mobility for women (for example, the significant presence of women in parliament), their responses suggested that dominant gender stereotypes still affect their thinking. Culturally defined beliefs about what it means to be female or male thus still persist (Golombok and Fivush 1994: 18). ‘Males are stereotypically considered to be aggressive or instrumental; they act on the world and they make things happen. Females are stereotypically relational; they are concerned with social interaction and emotions’ (Bakan 1996; Block 1973, cited in Golombok and Fivush 1994: 18).

Education influences how strongly people adhere to dominant discourses (Golombok and Fivush 1994: 19). During the workshop women with university degrees nevertheless agreed on gender stereotypes and regarded male traits more highly than their own. If women value themselves less than men, this will affect the relationship between them (Bammeke 2002: 76) and their attitude towards violence.

Gender and violence

Women and violence
Men and women in this study had different experiences of violence based on gender. Because women are viewed as ‘soft targets’, they are violated through robbery, rape and other forms of violence. For women, living in a potentially violent situation can be difficult, not only because they fear victimization, but also because it is difficult to speak out against it.

Women also should learn to speak about violence, because when they talk, others will hear their stories and will also want to talk. In this way women can then build networks and fight against violence (Liz, Hector Peterson Residence).

Men have power over women partly because of the dominant discourse and expectation that women are weak and vulnerable (Boonzaier and de la Ray 2004). This reinforces the subordination of women who fear being violated.

Being a woman makes one feel vulnerable because one does not have the strength to fight and one does not have a voice to talk. The threat of something happening to me is always real. Not a day passes when I do not feel conscious of security. [Practicals in] Nyanga [Nyanga, meaning ‘the moon’, is one of the oldest black townships in Cape Town. It was established in 1955 as a result of labour migration from the Eastern Cape and was a site of protests against the ‘pass laws’ in apartheid in the 1960s and 1970s. Black-in-black fighting allegedly perpetrated by corrupt police in the early 1980s made Nyanga well-known] is the closest place I could choose [to conduct my research] but it poses quite a danger because of hijackings that take place there. I am conscious walking around there every time and not speaking the language puts me at greater risk. I am told at different times to go home and not take up South Africans’ jobs. The speed at which taxi drivers drive is very careless and as if there is no tomorrow. I just feel unsafe (Synthia, Hector Peterson Residence).

A number of things make Synthia feel insecure as a woman in the midst of possible violence. She is not strong and fears she will not be able to ward off an attacker. Hijackings that take place in the vicinity of her research site are threatening and she fears exposure to this. The language barrier between her and the people in Nyanga, the xenophobia directed at her and the speed at which taxis drive alsomake her feel unsafe. This is even more harrowing since Synthia needs to pass through this space every day. Yet Synthia refuses to stay silent about violence and after the recent attack on her, close to Hector Peterson Residence, she pursued the fact that the residence staff acted very imperturbably in that regard.

Expectations about how women should behave in dangerous places affect their responses in potentially violent situations. Female passivity is viewed as second nature, ‘but it illustrates that emotions as other forms of practice are informed by discourse’ (Lindegaard and Henriksen 2004: 55).

… men usually weigh up the situation and see what they should do, if they should confront the perpetrators. Women can’t weigh up the situation, they should avoid it at all costs and that is what I do (Melanie, Hector Peterson Residence).

Women express a double vulnerability – they fear being mugged but also being raped.

Men have advantage because they think that women are the weaker sex. So women feel scared that they are women because men would not only take away women’s purse, but could also rape them. But things are a bit level now because guys should also be scared that they could get raped. Things are a bit safe now because there are security staff at the hostels and they are trying their best. We also have to think about not walking around late because that makes a person an easy target. This Kenyan guy who was killed during the vac[ation] must have gone to a shebeen. The Barn was closed and they should really think about keeping The Barn open (Lindiwe, Hector Peterson Residence).

The murder of a Kenyan student from Hector Peterson Residence near the hostel triggered awareness of the danger students face outside the hostel. Unlike in the past, the rape of males is increasingly feared.

Women nevertheless feel vulnerable and in need of protection by men; female students who cross the field (see figure 1.1 A-C) to campus get a sense of safety from the presence of security staff who stand watch at an unfinished structure on the field. Since men are viewed as protectors, they stand guard, irrespective of whether they are equipped or even trained to deal with violence. If anything should happen to a student, security is supposed to release the dog to chase the perpetrator off. Yet in one instance where a student was attacked the security staff member held onto the dog – probably as a means of self-protection.

Often security staff do not stand watch on the field between campus and HPR. Students who cross the field at midnight run the risk of attack because the field is deserted. The unfinished structure seems to be a good place for muggers to hide and catch their ‘prey’ unguarded, which is exactly why security staff are placed there. It is also one of the places both males and females have identified as a dangerous space. It makes them feel very vulnerable and they only feel at ease once they passed it.

Thando feels safe once she gets to campus, and those years when she stayed in the hostel, she felt safe once she passed that unfinished structure. ‘People just hide away behind that structure and appear very unexpectedly. It is that unexpectance that catches people off-guard’ (Thando – used to stay in Hector Peterson Residence).

Staying safe through confrontation or escape
Women who do not respond to situations of violence in the way Phumzile did in the example given earlier, rather run away or simply do nothing. This is often caused by the fact that they have been socialized and are expected to be passive. Women who are socialised into fulfilling traditional roles of ‘submissiveness’ tend to sustain such behaviour because that is how things are supposed to be (Bourdieu 1977). There are usually other significant similarities among women who are abused, such as low income, low level of education and residence in a village (Faramarzi, Esmailzadeh and Mosavi 2005: 5). Studies conducted among wealthier, highly educated women from affluent areas might show different results. Once women are exposed to stories that contest such passive notions, for example, of an abused woman who took her children and left the house, they behave differently. Examining women’s exposure and responses to domestic violence is very helpful in understanding their responses in relation to community violence.

What factors contribute to women either fighting or taking flight in situations of violence? This can be illuminated by comparing two participants in this study.

It was after four in the afternoon and I walked to my previous home which is close to the University’s train station. It was very windy that day. As I walked I saw two guys walking in my direction but they passed me. I continued walking but then something told me to turn around. It was really windy and when I turned one of the guys grabbed at my bag. The guy was caught off guard as he was not expecting me to turn around before he had taken my bag. Immediately, he said that he was only looking for a R5. I replied that I did not have a R5 even though I had money as well as my cell-phone in my bag. The second guy then approached. The first guy insisted that he was only looking for a R5 as if a R5 was of little value to a university student. When I again replied that I did not have any money, the first guy then rudely demanded that I give him my earrings. As I attempted to pull the earrings from my ears, I insisted that I remove them myself. At this time, the second guy seemed extremely irritable as I was still trying to assert myself under the circumstances. He threatened to kick me. The earrings were not such a concern because they were old. After giving them the earrings, the guys noticed my tekkies. I noticed this and subsequently realised that they were not done with me yet. The two guys then walked with me to a nearby park where I could sit down to remove my tekkies. I decided that I would not allow them to take my shoes, and starting to think about possible ways to prevent this. At the park, the two guys sat down on poles situated towards the end of the park. I stood between the two poles (that they were sitting on) at this time, and while they looked down the road in one direction to watch for any oncoming people, I ran in the opposite direction. I ran towards a road where I saw another guy and other people who were building on one of the houses in that road. I knew that if the two guys chose to follow me, they would have to deal with those builders. I managed to get away safely (Jo-Anne, lives slantly opposite Hector Peterson Residence).

Jo-Anne did many things – she looked out for men (who are viewed by women as a potential threat), and, when she passed them, she turned around. Although she lied about the contents of her bag, she gave them her earrings, but tried to maintain control by taking them off herself. As soon as she saw an opportunity she ran away – towards other people. Although in a distressing situation, she planned her escape and waited for an opportunity to do so. Afterwards she became even more careful and hardly ever walked home alone again. She rather waited for her mother to come from work in the evening to pick her up from campus than leave campus earlier. She now also avoids spaces that she thinks will place her in a compromising position. These fears are spread throughout other areas in her life:

I recently obtained my driver’s licence, but even so am very afraid to drive on routes unfamiliar to me. My fear is inadvertently encouraged by my mother’s bad experience with driving. When my mother took my father to work one evening she took the wrong turn on her way back home. She ended up in a very dangerous place and could not even get out of the car to ask for directions in fear that something might happen to the car or to her. Since then my mother sticks to routes she is familiar with and where she can maintain a sense of safety. Due to the fact that my mother displays this behaviour, I fear that something bad might happen to me should I dare to drive on unfamiliar routes (Jo-Anne, slantly opposite Hector Peterson Residence).

This example is one of many that reflects how Jo-Anne’s socialisation in her family impedes the way she faces threatening situations. Because I encouraged her to drive to a mall she had never driven to before, she said she would think about it, but later that night called me to ask if I would accompany her. This was the first time she drove outside of the area where she stays. Although she decided to drive to the Mall, she asked to be accompanied.

Jo Anne had heard stories about potential danger and had been exposed to it. She is aware of tactics to stay safe and actually behaved in a very calculated way when she was confronted by thieves, but she generally responds in a more ‘feminine’ way in terms of safety tactics – she tries to avoid danger by staying in safe spaces or by looking for the company of people she knows and trusts. It must be noted that stories involving danger may also induce fear, but still informs people about what might otherwise not be experienced. In other words, hearing stories of what other people do in situations of danger informs people of what to do in such situations. ‘Naiveté’ could also put people at risk and they may even be blamed for their ‘ignorance’ especially in instances where people believe our actions are ‘unintelligible’ (Richardson and May 1999: 313). Still in other situations where people are inundated with stories involving danger, they may shut off to the stories.

Everyday I walk down that road I am very anxious because of the robbery before and I would rather have my mother pick me up from campus after work and wait an extra hour than walk home. Otherwise my brother would wait in front of the house and watch that I walk safely. But that road to campus is very dangerous because it is isolated and surrounded by bushes. Subsequently, you cannot see when someone is hiding behind these bushes. Even though there are security guards, one hardly sees them as they tend to focus more on the students walking towards the Belhar residence. I feel safer on campus because there are other people around. Walking down that road with anxiety may be a bad thing because the robbers will sense the fear and will prey on that, is what my brother told me. If one walks boldly they will wonder why the person is so bold and assume that the person is carrying a weapon. And when my mother informs me that she will not be able to pick me up from campus I worry about getting home that whole day and have butterflies in my stomach. If I were a man I would have felt confident in my ability to protect myself. Men usually have some or other experience with violence either on school or elsewhere which enables them to protect themselves. Women on the other hand, usually do not get into fights and I am one who stays in the house most of the time and therefore do not feel confident in protecting myself (Jo-Anne, lives slantly opposite Hector Peterson Residence).

Women like Jo-Anne mostly follow passive tactics, especially when dominant figures in their lives like mothers or brothers reinforce their understanding of themselves as potentially ‘acted-upon’ females. According to Lindegaard and Henriksen (2005) staying inside the home is a female tactic of safety, and is often explained as being a result of women’s weaker physique and lack of ability to defend themselves. Greater culpability is attributed to women, partly because of the assumption that they run a higher risk of being confronted with violence. Women are expected to stay inside the home because being in the ‘wrong’ place at the ‘wrong’ time makes women vulnerable to violence (Richardson and May 1999: 313). This tactic reinforces gendered behaviour – Jo-Anne does not move around by herself because she feels vulnerable, while this tactic also confirms that she is a female. What is also evident in Jo-Anne’s story is that she would value being a man because she would have more confidence then – similar to the women’s responses in the workshop discussed previously. Such notions aid passivity and perpetuate the idea of women being the weaker sex. Lindiwe, however, because of her exposure to stories that counter notions of women as passive and complacent, responds differently to the threat of violence.

Someone in Bellville asked me if I had a cellphone and someone else wanted it, what I would do. I said that I would tell him to buy his own. He then asked me what I would do if the guy had a gun and wanted my cellphone. I said that I would let it fall to the ground so that neither of us could have one. The guy told me I’m crazy. It is not as if I am not afraid of violence, but I feared it for a long time. When people tell me that they have been robbed, I tell them to be glad their life was not taken away from them. Some people would count their possessions more valuable than their lives (Lindiwe, Hector Peterson Residence).

Lindiwe had been exposed to potential violence in her home for many years. She eventually decided that she had lived in fear for too long and needed to have a sense of control in her environment. Lindiwe had a friend who defended herself in a near-rape situation. Being surrounded by people who confront threats, I suggest can empower women to do the same. Daring the attacker was used by Lindiwe’s friend to reduce the power the attacker had over her as a potential victim, thus confronting potential danger, and can be a tactic to stay safe.

If someone should try to rape me I would tell him to go ahead and rape me. My friend did this and they [the assailants] wondered why she said so, and walked off thinking that maybe she had HIV and would pass it on to them (Lindiwe, Hector Peterson Residence).

In Lindegaard and Henriksen’s (2005) scheme of possible tactics to stay safe, this would be a more masculine strategy (seen in the example of Colin at the train station, discussed further below), although used by a woman.

Men and violence
As noted earlier, men feel responsible for women in unsafe areas, take on roles of protectors and will more often than not fight in situations of danger. Yet women are supposed to be protected from men. The following incident illustrates how men respond in ways similar to the tactic used by Lindiwe’s friend, thereby reducing the power they feel potential attackers might exert over them.

Women on the other hand will not necessarily fight but will try a different tactic to avoid dangerous situations by either waiting for another person to walk with, or by turning back. In addition, women might also say something to their potential attacker to keep him from attacking, like screaming or speaking aggressively to hold on to their possessions, as in Phumzile’s case.

As I neared Unibell Station I saw a guy rushing across the bridge to say something to another guy on the other side of the station, while looking in my direction. I then walked to one guy of really big build and stood in front of him chest-to-chest looking him four-square in the eyes. The guy then greeted me. I told the guy: ‘You’re crazy’, and walked away (Collin, Hector Peterson Residence).

What happened in Collin’s instance was that he could see the two men on both sides of the station planning something against him. It was December vacation and the area around the station was deserted. The two men obviously communicated with each other and the big man smiled at the other as he crossed the bridge towards Collin. This was Collin’s clue. He faced the bigger man and because of his boldness the two men were caught off-guard. One of the stories that circulated among students and people who have experienced violence, is that robbers detect their potential victim’s fear and capitalise on that – this was also what Jo-Anne’s brother told her. Behaving boldly is accordingly seen as a good defence mechanism.

Collin comes from Nigeria and from a university where violent student uprisings are rife, and the cause of many fatalities (Bammeke 2000). He had been in the army and was trained to sense and act on any suspicious behaviour of people who pose threats. Being socialised and trained to be aware of his environment thus help him to keep safe, while it also masculinises him (Lindegaard and Henriksen 2005: 49).

According to one of my participants, women become distraught in situations of danger and therefore are easy targets. ‘… women tend to be overtaken by their emotions more than men. Therefore, men would be able to separate themselves from the situation and will act swiftly’ (Graham, Hector Peterson Residence). Without neglecting to mention that masculinities are fluid over time and in different places (Barker and Ricardo 2005), men tend to grow up in environments where they need to be able to defend themselves. Boys tend to play roughly in school grounds and are expected to pick fights with other boys as part of learning to be a man. Exactly because of these discourses about what it means to be a man, police tend to laugh at men when they report sexual assault. The views men have of women have implications for gender-based violence (Barker and Ricardo 2005: 19).

Like men, some women also behave in a confrontational manner or will resist when threatened. When two men tried to grab Phumzile’s bag from her, she screamed and held to it tightly. One of the men ran off while she continued to fight to keep her bag from the other. He managed to thrust the bag under his armpit while she held onto the sling, but eventually he tore it out of her grip.

Man or moffie?: Hierarchical masculinities
As discussed earlier, men are often seen as protectors against, or initiators of violence. Moffie is a derogatory term referring to gay men, but is also a term used to refer to males who display ‘feminine’ traits by talking in a feminine voice, or moving in ‘feminine’ ways, or who, in relation to danger, would run away instead of fight. A moffie would not be able to defend himself when in a confrontational situation with another man. When a man is referred to as a moffie this is very insulting because it constructs him as a lesser man. This might happen, for example, when mothers pamper boys too much – they are told that the boy will grow up to be a moffie. Such boys are teased at school. Khaya would be referred to as a moffie among coloured men, or isyoyo among Xhosa-speakers. His safety tactic is not necessarily to stay inside or to avoid unsafe spaces, but to run away when he senses or sees a threat.

At one big fight in front of Chris Hani Residence I was told that I am a betrayer, but I went to call for help while they fought. Fighting is something I avoid at all costs. I am short-tempered and would just throw something at a person (Khaya, Eduardo Dos Santos Residence).

Tactics to stay safe (in this case running away from danger and calling for help) communicates what kind of man Khaya is. Challenging the ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ tactics for safety therefore makes a person less of a woman or man in the eyes of others (Lindegaard and Henriksen 2004: vi). Gender discourses inform tactics of safety. Men are socialised to respond to threats of violence with anger; no signs of vulnerability must be seen when men are on their own, walk to campus, to Symphony Way and so forth. Men are protectors and potentially violent; when they speak people listen. Men deal with violence either in protective or aggressive ways (ibid.: 58). In the words of Simpiwe, ‘violence makes me feel very responsible to people who are vulnerable in such (violent) situations’, the ‘people’ being women and children. However, as we have seen in this chapter, these engendered tactics for safety are sometimes contested, as when a woman resists robbers, outwits them and calculates a safe escape.

In contexts of South African prisons and labour compounds where masculinity is renegotiated, the ‘weaker’ male inmates are claimed as ‘wives’ of the stronger male prisoners. The dominance of the stronger man is sustained through fear evoked by violence (Niehaus 2000: 81; Lindegaard and Henriksen 2004: 61). These roles as ‘husbands’ exaggerate men’s masculinity enabling them to be ‘real’ men (Niehaus 2000: 85). Masculinity is not the only factor to consider in understanding how men deal with perceived threats.

Issues of connectedness and race further compound spatiality. The space around the university campus is different from the spaces occupied by the adolescents in Lindegaard and Henriksen’s research. Since students staying in residences may not originally be from Cape Town or South Africa even, there is no sense of belonging to the area, particularly among men. There is no attachment to a place as there would be when one lives there. These students like Simpiwe come from other parts of the world, and when they walk into ‘danger zones’ Belhar or Bellville, they ‘know’ they ‘should not be there’ in the first place.

Bellville is kind of scary, especially the coloureds. I have nothing against coloureds but there are strange characters around there. There is just a feeling that tells me that I have to be alert. If I need directions, I would rather find the place on my own. The taxi rank area is especially unsafe (Simpiwe, Cassinga Residence).

At the same time Simpiwe’s statement seems to hint at a homogenisation of coloureds. Jensen (2001: 4) explains that the homogenisation of coloured men is so forceful that each and every coloured man on the Cape Flats is under persistent suspicion of being a gangster. Even men coming from townships (both coloured and black) in Cape Town are ‘aware’ of the racial boundaries between coloured and black townships. This means that blame is not only directed at gender when treading in ‘wrong’ places, but at people of ‘other’ races, too. In addition blacks cross these racialised boundaries more often than the other races to go shopping, or to university – basically due to economic inequities.

Storytelling

Knowing the power of a story heard is that the story occurs within the listener (Simms 2001).
As indicated earlier, people’s experiences of violence are informed by the exchange of stories about violence. Storytelling informs tactics of safety and makes people aware instead of conscious of violence. Tactics are in other words people’s means to avoid, escape or confront danger, which they do not necessarily consciously reflect on (Lindegaard and Henriksen 2004: 46). Storytelling also creates a feeling of solidarity among group members and may not necessarily be based on actual events that occurred in a specific place. It might have the purpose of reinforcing feelings of mutuality – a group feeling. Stories of danger may also be based on what might possibly happen to a person. Such feelings are then associated with preconceived ideas of a violent situation someone else was in, and, based on these feelings, we employ tactics to keep safe. We do not know if walking in a ‘dangerous place’ at a specific moment will result in our belongings being snatched from us or in being held at gunpoint. But it is stories that inform us not to walk in certain places at certain times of the day – when such places are deserted, when we have valuable things with us, or when we are alone. This does not, however, make danger less real or less likely to happen.

When foreigners come to South Africa they are unable to distinguish between the safe and unsafe because they are not informed through stories or by witnessing people being held at gunpoint, for example, apart from the stories they may have read in the news media. They are not a part of the formation of a symbolic order. This might make foreigners easier targets. In addition, foreigners are perceived as having money on them and are therefore targeted for robbery.

Recognising ‘shady characters’ – Tactics for staying safe

One should also always listen to one’s instincts as Oprah Winfrey says, because in those situations they are women’s best bet! (Melanie, Hector Peterson Residence).

As argued previously, storytelling, in person or via the mass media, about violence informs our tactics of safety. These stories could also inform foreign and/or first-year campus residents to distinguish between the safe and unsafe, and also help them to recognise ‘signs’ of people and places that are potentially unsafe. Although I discussed this awareness briefly through Collin’s experience at the train station, this section tries to unravel how participants ‘recognised’ ‘shady’ characters and used tactics to escape dangerous situations. The characteristics described by the participants cannot perfectly determine who is dangerous or not, but nevertheless aid them in creating feelings of safety.

I waited at the bus stop not far from the residence. I saw two guys approaching the bus stop and they looked very suspicious. What makes them look suspicious is the way they walk, their behaviour and especially the way they look at a person – intimidatingly! A woman walking in front of them crossed the road to walk to the garage. A year ago the garage did not exist. Then I planned that if they came too close to me I would run across the street to the garage as well and I moved toward the pedestrian crossing. The guys then saw my plan and stopped in their tracks. They started telling me things like ‘Do you think we want to rob you?’ They tried talking to me saying all sorts of things and then the one guy tried to get closer to me. I said ‘Don’t you dare get closer!’ The guy saw I outwitted them and then started walking away from the bus stop in the direction they were walking and I returned to the bus stop. The other woman who crossed the road then walked to the bus stop when the guys had left and the woman told me ‘They would have robbed you now!’ I said I knew what their intentions were but was prepared for them. But they also saw that I did not have valuable things on me otherwise they would have made the effort to rob me. I only had my bus fare and bank card on me, but they could have taken my cellphone which is what they often target. Another woman approached the bus stop with an expensive gold watch, which is foolish in that area (Melanie, Hector Peterson Residence).

The bus stop where Melanie was nearly robbed falls directly on the threshold between Hector Peterson Residence and the Belhar community. Robbers regularly dwell there. They sometimes disguise themselves as school pupils since a school is nearby, but can also wear balaclavas.

According to Melanie, who grew up in Belhar, suspicious characters look at their victims intimidatingly, as if to make them docile. Robbers also stare at their potential victims thoroughly – looking for possessions on their bodies before they strike. The woman who walked in front of them apparently perceived the same danger and crossed over to the other side of the road. Melanie instead moved to a place where she could more easily escape if the men came too close to her. The men noticed what was happening and remarked that she was wrong – but because they were outwitted, they walked away.

Awareness of a suspicious person is evidently important in staying safe. Due to students’ awareness through stories and exposure, many are able to outwit their ‘predators’ and escape.

Two Fridays after my first arrival in Cape Town in 2003, I walked from campus around 5pm. When I left the station’s side, 6 students walked in front of me but I overtook them because I walked fast. The field was very bushy and as I approached the intersection to the main path that leads to the hostel, I considered which route I should take. As I contemplated this, two guys appeared from behind a bush where they were hiding. I then weighed up the situation and thought it would be best if I walked back in the direction of campus and fortunately there were guys coming from campus walking my way and the two guys ran off into the bushes. They ran off because I told the group of students what I suspected the two guys were up to and pointed at them (Graham, Hector Peterson Residence).

Two men who hid behind bushes on the field were immediately viewed with suspicion. After many complaints from students about the height of the bushes, they are now regularly mowed. Graham’s case emphasises the point that awareness of suspicious behaviour is a tactic of safety. Following ‘instinct’, as Melanie stated, is viewed as a reliable way to stay safe. This was what Graham relied on although he was new to the area. When he told others about the men they disappeared.

In situations where students are uncertain of whether or not a suspicious-looking person may pose a threat, they tend to look for a sign from the oncomer to either confirm their suspicion or refute it. Graham ‘tested’ a suspicious oncomer by greeting him to see what the response would be.

One Saturday evening walking from campus, I was about to swipe myself out of the gate and saw someone sitting close to the entrance with a cellphone. The person looked suspicious and I felt uncomfortable. Weighing up the situation I wanted to stay inside campus, but then just swiped myself out and greeted the guy. The guy returned my greeting and I just walked by. Other times in situations like that I would just start up a conversation with a security guard at the gate until things are settled for me to pass (Graham, Hector Peterson Residence).

Because the oncomer responded by greeting, Graham felt assured that it was fine to proceed, and thus continued walking. Graham generally greets passers-by because it gives him a feeling of control in environments which make him feel unsafe – such as crossing the field or using taxis. His sunglasses also help him to scrutinise oncomers without them realising it.

To Phumzile, oncomers who do or do not greet her also serve to confirm or refute her suspicions – this is in addition to the type of clothes the person wears. However, other types of behaviour also serve this purpose.

As we walked, a guy walked behind us. He wore tekkies, ¾ shorts, a t-shirt and a jacket. We slowed down allowing him to pass. As he passed, I greeted him because people usually greet in return, but this guy did not. So when he was in front of us, he continuously turned back to look at us, and this made him very suspicious. We then walked in such a way as to see if we could get rid of him and walked to Sasol garage. When we came out of the garage, we saw him standing where we had to pass to walk to the hostel. Then some other students who walked with suitcases came and he followed them closely. It was as if he was trying to see what they had on them. I then went to tell someone inside the shop about this guy and they called the police. After that I accepted a lift to the hostel (Phumzile, Hector Peterson Residence).

The clothes someone wears are not a determining factor of present danger. In this case, what was more prominent as an indicator of danger was the man’s strange behaviour: not greeting Phumzile and her friend in return and turning back to look at them continuously. His behaviour was thus out of place for someone not interested in harming them. When he followed them he confirmed their suspicions.

Distinguishing between safe and unsafe spaces
People generally identify violence as occurring in specific places and spaces. Potentially violent spaces tend to be associated with ‘public spaces’. Outside of the ‘public’ domain, that is in ‘private’ spaces, it seems to be more difficult to make sense of violence (Richardson and May 1999: 312). In relation to this, some of the participants felt safer when in the confines of the campus. Phillip experienced being on campus with some ambivalence.

Being on campus does not even feel safe because a friend of mine was stabbed on campus one night. There was even a joke that I heard once, that anybody who walks around late at night is a foreigner and will be killed. This implies then that the locals do not work until late. Even at the gates on campus, people who are not students are let in so easily, while students who occasionally forget their student cards are harassed, even if security staff know the student passed by for years. This makes campus a very unsafe place (Phillip, Hector Peterson Residence).

Being on campus does not necessarily make Phillip feel safe, despite the security staff that patrol regularly. The stabbing of a friend heightened Phillip’s feelings of unsafety. His status as a foreigner and experience of xenophobia strengthened this sense of being unsafe. Furthermore, easy access allowed to outsiders onto the campus increases the risk of the presence of violent people who come to The Barn and to Condom Square, which often results in fights.

Walking past Condom Square on a Friday night is particularly dangerous because people smoke dagga, get drunk there and loud music is always heard playing there. If anything should happen to me there and I scream, nobody would be able to hear because the music will muffle the sound. One day I even saw condoms and a pair of panties lying there (Catherine, Eduardo Dos Santos Residence).

To the stranger’s eye, The Barn and Condom Square may look like places of relaxation which offer extra-mural activities to students. On weekends one might get a different picture due to the rowdiness, the loud music, the smell of alcohol and marijuana and the poor lighting at night, all coming from the direction of those two places. As a result of this, students feel unsafe, especially when fights break out. Catherine’s fear that if something happens to her nobody will hear, makes her feel unsafe whenever she passes by en route to campus. The sight of a pair of panties and condoms gave her the feeling that forced sex had happened and that she might be in danger. A reported instance of attempted rape also took place on Condom Square when a number of men jumped from the trees and tried to rape a woman student. She managed to free herself. Stories about Condom Square, although not corresponding with what Campus Protection Services report, may also make students feel unsafe. Avoiding such a space is a safety tactic.

The place on campus which seems unsafe to me is the area in front of The Barn, that whole area is unsafe. Last year a lady was raped there by guys who jumped out of the tree (Catherine, Eduardo Dos Santos Residence).

A staff member from Campus Protection Services stated that it was an attempted rape, not a ‘real’ one. The student’s mother wrote a letter to the university in which she made clear that it was an attempted rape case. But students feel unsafe in the area of Condom Square because people get drunk there and become aggressive. Because ‘outsiders’ come into The Barn, students feel unsafe. Women also get drunk and once they leave The Barn, men follow them to their rooms and may ‘take advantage of them’.

I mean you can see people, even if we go there (The Barn) now. … people who, there are those people who do not have cards to go to the tavern, so you don’t know. You can just feel that these people they might do something to me (Khaya, Eduardo Dos Santos Residence).

Coming from Gauteng Province, being in the Western Cape makes Bulelwa feel uncomfortable, especially in the townships. Additionally, Bulelwa feels that being asked on a date may pose danger to her as well, as Xhosa-speakers in the Western Cape ask women out on dates, with sex as their motive. Aware of what happened to her friend when she consented to a date with a man, Bulelwa declines going on dates outside of her sphere of safety.

It is very rough here in Western Cape and there are skollies.When one goes to the townships one cannot talk on the [cell]phone during the day outside in the streets. People cannot wear Levi’s or expensive clothes. This life was never dreamed of. People rob with a knife. People put steel pipes on their faces probably because something happened to them. I usually go to Guguletu to braai there with her friends (Bulelwa, Coline Williams Residence).

Bulelwa’s tactic for safety is to be extra careful when asked out on dates. What happened to her friend refined her ability to distinguish between safety and unsafety.

Men around here (Western Cape), when they take a woman out, especially the Xhosas, they expect sex. They wanted to do this with her but she refused. If men take women out they want to chow them. One friend went to Century City with a man and she did not want to go home with him so he left her there. He then came to fetch her the next day, slapped her and broke her phone. The guys back home will take women out and take them home without chowing them. But a lot of women want to be chowed. If a man wants to get a woman for the night he must take her to the pub and then chow her. This is how men see girls now (Bulelwa, Coline Williams Residence).

Conclusion
This essay addressed various issues around living in a violent environment. Its main argument was that being aware of dangerous spaces and people who may pose threats aid in maintaining safety. At the same time, being aware of potentially dangerous spaces and ‘shady’ characters, may also cause fear among students. In light of this, students use tactics to restore a symbolic order, so that despite the fact that they may be fearful whenever treading in those potentially dangerous spaces, they can use tactics to keep themselves safe. I investigated the idea that there is safety in numbers especially since evidence suggests that group dynamics often influence whether or not bystanders of violence will intervene to help the victim. I found that it is the imaginary safety when in a crowd that creates feelings of safety among students and not being in a group per se. Awareness of dangerous places such as trains that pose danger to commuters often forces students to survive through drastic measures, but prior information helps to  reduce chances of fatality. Students would, for example, stay away from broken windows in trains and spread stories which help other students identify potential danger. Of course gender roles and stereotypes influence how people respond to violence since they cause people to behave in certain ways in relation to them. I argue that the environments women grow up in and the absence of messages that counter the perceived ‘weakness’ of women, perpetuate and may exacerbate violence toward them since they challenge and curb potential perpetrators of violence. Women tend to favour the value of male characteristics above their own, which certainly has implications when dealing with violence especially when women are raised to believe they are vulnerable and weak in relation to violence and should rather stay indoors because they are at risk as women. Men on the other hand are taught to believe that they are more powerful in relation to violence and that they will be able to defend themselves. This proves that the social construction of violence is a highly gendered process. Furthermore, stories people hear about violence also increase the awareness of danger and inform the tactics people use to stay safe. Finally, recognising ‘shady’ characters alerts students to oncoming danger and allows them to use tactics for escape or retreat to a safe space. The markers of potentially dangerous characters include strange behaviours, when for example someone continuously turns back and looks at you, or does not greet in return. Recognising such clues helps students escape from potential dangers, but these clues are not static since students may also misrecognise such clues. While this chapter focused primarily on the tactics students use to stay safe in the vicinity of the university, the following chapter addresses the university’s contribution to a safe environment for its students.

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Published in: Bridgett Sass – Creating Systems of Symbolic Order – UWC student’s  tactics to stay safe from potential violence

Rozenberg Publishers 2006 – ISBN 978 90 5170 626 0 – SAVUSA-NiZA Student Publication Series

Having unique indigenous cultures, nature-based attractions, beautiful landscapes, and pleasant weather conditions, local communities in Africa, and other Third World countries, are increasingly being promoted and marketed in major tourist generating countries, particularly in Europe and North America, as offering immense touristic and recreational opportunities. Particularly, indigenous communities in the Third World are perceived as providing abundant opportunities for rich tourists from the North who have got the financial resources to spend in adventure and exotic recreational activities. As a consequence, an increasing number of international tourists are travelling to different tourist destinations in Africa and other less developed regions of the world. In 2001 for instance, over 28 million international tourists, mainly from Europe and North America, travelled to different destinations in Africa. It is further estimated that with the current international growth rate of the tourism industry, over 77 million international tourists will visit Africa by the year 2020 (WTO 2004).

Neo-classical economists and development experts contend that unlike factor driven technology based development, local communities in Africa and other parts of the Third World have a comparative advantage in the development of tourism and other non-technology based economic sectors. The development of tourism amongst local communities is, therefore, perceived as fitting quite well with the ‘natural process of development based on comparative advantage’ (Brohman 1996). This argument is based on the premise that local communities, particularly in Africa, should mainly specialise in primary exports, including tourism, where they have comparative advantage rather than depending on technology based economic sectors that do not conform with the principles of comparative advantage in the global market demand.

Particularly, local communities in sub-Saharan Africa are usually perceived as having a comparative advantage in the development of tourism. This is due to the fact that they possess unique indigenous cultural and nature-based attractions that the Western tourists lack in their transformed and urbanised environments (Butler and Hinch 1996; Cohen 1996). Many Western tourists are haggling for these forms of touristic attractions in order to escape from the perceived monotony of everyday life in the often over-crowded and congested urban conglomerates. In this regard, tourists want to travel to other places, albeit temporarily, in order to escape from the monotony of routine life and are, therefore, looking for alternative environments that are perceived as having fascinating indigenous cultures and pristine nature attractions (Smith 1995; Sharpley 1999).

Further, it is also argued that the development of tourism, particularly the development of community-based tourism in Africa and other Third World countries will, in the long run, assist in the promotion of cross-cultural understanding and social harmony amongst local host communities and tourists (Richter 1994; Nash 1996; Harrison 2000). Tourism will, therefore, assist in minimising existing stereotypes and misrepresentations of indigenous cultures. It is therefore assumed that as tourists visit and experience indigenous cultures, their overall understanding of those cultures will be enhanced and, thus, existing stereotypes and misrepresentations will be minimised (De Kadt 1979; Butler and Hinch 1996). In this regard, tourism can contribute to the promotion of international harmony and cross-cultural understanding.

Indigenous communities
However, tourism researchers (Bachmann 1988; Debbage 1990; Agarwal 1997) contend that in most instances, local communities in Third World countries, particularly in Africa, are not appropriately represented in the planning, design, development and management of their respective indigenous cultural and nature based resources for tourism. As a consequence, members of respective indigenous communities are usually not appropriately represented in the commodification process in which local cultural or nature based resources are transformed into tourism products to be presented and sold to tourists. Thus, there are a number of critical issues as concerns the development of tourism in most developing countries, particularly in Africa, which call into question the efficacy of tourism as a tool for socio-economic development. These issues include foreign domination and dependency, inequitable distribution and development, cultural and environmental degradation, and loss of control and cultural identity, as well as the over-arching role of the state in the control and management of tourism resources (Bachmann 1988; Sinclair 1990; Sindiga 2000; Akama 2004).

The lack of representation of indigenous local communities in the commodification process raises fundamental questions, particularly, as pertains to the control of cultural tourism products and the ownership of natural resources. This inevitably leads to the question of equitable distribution of the revenues that accrue from the presentation of indigenous cultural attractions to (non-consumptive use) or the exploitation of natural resources (both consumptive and non-consumptive use) by tourists.

These forms of tourism development may lead to an increased reinforcement of the colonial images of Africa as a ‘dark continent’ inhabited by belligerent and savage tribes which form additional anecdotes for international tourists haggling for exoticism and adventure in the African wilderness (Akama 1999; Wels 2000; Sharpley 1999; Sindiga 2000). Thus, in line with the above observations, it can be argued that if the development of tourism has to contribute to sustainable local community development and cross-cultural understanding, there is urgent need to rethink the manner in which tourism is being developed in Africa in order to come up with alternative development strategies which put local African communities at the centre of tourism development initiatives.

Moreover, the development of unplanned mass tourism that mainly responds to short-term exogenous socio-economic and political factors that are not connected with the needs of local people usually leads to a high leakage of tourism revenues. This results in lower linkage and a minimal multiplier effect that may not lead to long-term sustainable socio-economic development and an overall stimulation of economic growth within local African communities (Britton 1982: Oglethorpe 1984; Sinclair 1990). In this regard, it should therefore be stated that the initiation of alternative tourism strategies that put the interests of local communities at the centre of the tourism development process is highly likely to enhance an equitable distribution of tourism revenues. Also, these forms of alternative tourism development may lead to the reduction of high leakage rates and increase the multiplier effects of tourism. This in particular will also stimulate the overall development and economic growth and will also lead to a reduction in levels of poverty amongst local people.

Grassroot level
Furthermore, it should also be stated that, in most instances, the debate on the efficacy of tourists as a tool for sustainable local community development is mainly conducted in the international and/or national arena, whereas there is minimal analysis that is conducted on tourism development at local community grassroots level. Particularly, there is a paucity of information on socio-cultural and economic impacts of tourism development on local communities in Africa and on the existing forms of interaction between tourists and host communities. This scenario should be of major concern when realising that tourism has become a major socio-economic and cultural phenomenon affecting local communities in Africa and other parts of the Third World.

For instance, it has been observed in different parts of the world, particularly in many Third World countries, that the rapid development of mass tourism can overwhelm local communities and the environment having far-reaching negative socio-ecological and economic impacts. Moreover, tourism can contribute to the exacerbation of the already existing socio-economic division and inequity by widening the gap between the beneficiaries of tourism and those who are already marginalised by the current forms of development.

Consequently, to be of any meaning to marginalised local communities and individuals, especially in developing countries such as Kenya, tourism development should be viewed as being part of a broader alternative policy framework that is designed to achieve a sustainable society. Tourism development should, therefore not be seen as an end in itself, but should be viewed as one of several alternative development strategies that can assist local communities in overcoming their socio-economic and developmental weaknesses, preserving their strengths and enhancing their developmental opportunities. Furthermore, in order to put in proper perspective the role of tourism as a tool for sustainable local community development, it is important to analyse the forms of tourism employment undertaken by the local people.

The Mombassa case study

This research uses the case study of Mombassa and adjacent townships in Kenya’s coastal region to analyse the role played by tourism as one of the options for sustainable local community development. Mombassa is a leading tourist destination in Eastern Africa with the highest concentration of tourism and hospitality facilities and infrastructure. Moreover, Kenya provides a good example of an African country that has embraced tourism as a tool for socio-economic development. In recent years, Kenya has increasingly become a popular tourist destination for visitors from Europe, North America and other emerging tourist generating regions, particularly Southeast Asia. Currently, the country receives over 6% of the total international tourist arrivals to Africa, and the relative importance of tourism to Kenya’s economy has risen steadily over the last 40 years (Kenya Government 2002: 140).

The Kenyan government continues to spearhead the development of tourism as a reliable source of socio-economic growth and local community development. As a consequence, due to direct government involvement and foreign capital investment, Kenya’s coastal region, particularly Mombassa Resort Town, has experienced a rapid development of tourism facilities and infrastructure in recent years. Thus, for instance, of the over 1000 registered high-class tourist hotels in the country, over half are located on the coast. Along the Kenyan coast itself, the location of the tourism facilities and infrastructure is mainly concentrated within a few central locations such as Mombassa, Malindi and Diani. It has been estimated that Mombassa and the adjacent townships receive over one third (about 500 000 per annum) of the total international tourist arrivals to Kenya. It has been noted that most of these international tourists book all-inclusive tour packages. In this form of travel arrangement tourists prepay for most components of travel including accommodation, catering services and transport to overseas tour operators and travel agents. Thus, there is minimal expenditure in the destination, estimated at less than US$100 per day (Kenya Government 2002: 50).

The collection of data and information used in this research was conducted in two distinct stages. The first stage involved a search and compilation of relevant information and data regarding critical issues on tourism development and the industry’s role as a tool for local community development. The information was mainly acquired from primary and secondary sources including university libraries, government and tourism related NGOs. The second stage of data collection involved conducting field interviews and surveys in different locations in Mombassa (i.e., Old Town, and city centre) and adjacent townships (i.e. Kisauni, Likoni and Changamwe). This was undertaken over a two-month-period (June to July 2002). In total, 227 local residents were interviewed, and in addition to this, scheduled dialogue and discussion was conducted with selected private and public sector representatives, local community leaders and politicians. Finally, the data and information were organised, tabulated and analysed using computer statistical packages.

Data analysis and presentation of research findings

Economic benefits of tourism to the local residents
Interestingly, an overwhelming 91 per cent of the local residents stated that tourism has, over the years, benefited the people of Mombassa and the adjacent townships. When asked, specifically, to state the forms of benefits that accrue to local people from tourism, a significant 58 per cent of the respondents listed employment opportunities, followed by 34 per cent who listed the availability of business opportunities (see table 5.2, end of chapter). In this regard, it is generally accepted that the development of tourism creates employment and business opportunities for both the local community and other tourism investors. Moreover, proponents of tourism contend that since the industry is labour intensive, it has great potential in creating employment opportunities, particularly in economically depressed regions. As a consequence, many developing countries such as Kenya that have serious problems of unemployment and increasing levels of poverty, the tourism industry is usually perceived as a major source of much-wanted employment and income generation.

However, in order to put in proper perspective the role of tourism as a tool for sustainable local community development, it is important to analyse the forms of tourism employment that are usually undertaken by local people. As will be shown later, in most instances, the majority of local residents who are working in the tourism industry in Mombassa and other tourism centres in Kenya tend to occupy unskilled, servile and low-paying job positions like waiters, gardeners, porters, janitors and security guides, whereas, in most instances, the well paying job positions, at supervisory and managerial level, are taken by expatriates. Furthermore, it has been estimated that over 60 per cent of the tourism and hospitality establishments in the coastal region are under foreign control and management, with the remaining 40 per cent mainly owned by the government and upcountry people.

When asked to state whom they thought benefited most from the tourism industry, a significant 56 per cent of the local residents listed the private firms (i.e. hoteliers, tour operators and travel agents); this was followed by 36 per cent of the people listing the central government. Only 6 per cent of the respondents listed local residents as benefiting most from tourism. Also, when asked specifically to state what they thought was the most serious problem confronting the local people, an overwhelming 70 per cent of the interviewees listed poverty and poor living conditions, followed by unemployment and increasing levels of school dropout samong the youth respectively.

Forms of interaction between international tourists and local residents
About 30 per cent of the respondents stated that it is the pristine tropical beaches that mainly attracts tourists to Mombassa, while 26 per cent of the respondents listed the pleasant weather conditions. Only 5 per cent of the local residents listed culture as a main attribute that attracts the tourists to the town (Table 2). Consequently, it can be suggested that, probably, the local residents are not even aware that the unique cultural attractions are a main attribute that attracts tourists to the town. A significant 50 per cent of the local people stated that they interact with the international tourists on a regular and/or daily basis, whereas 44 per cent stated that they, occasionally, interact with the tourists. When asked to list the main locations in the town where they usually interact with the tourists, 64 per cent of the respondents listed their workplace. This was followed by 33 per cent of the interviewees who stated that they mainly interact with the tourists in recreational and entertainment centres. However, only 2 per cent of the local people stated that they mainly interact with the tourists in the residential areas. This confirms the fact that, in most instances, tour guides rarely take tourists for scheduled excursions to residential areas of the town.

Interestingly, an overwhelming 75 per cent of the sample of local residents stated that they relate well with the international tourists. The people said that, quite often, the international tourists are appreciative of the local people’s lifestyles (i.e., local music and dance, indigenous cuisines and the friendly demeanour of the local waswahili inhabitants). Although this observation may need further investigation, this is an important perspective as far as the development oftourism in Mombassa in particular and Kenya in general is concerned. It appears that a majority of the residents are receptive and friendly to international tourists.

In this regard, it can be argued that it could be to the advantage of the tourism industry to take the tourists closer to the local residents (i.e. by organising scheduled excursions to residential and indigenous cultural sites. A number of cultural activities and sites can be developed and managed by the local people where tourists can visit at a stipulated amount of fees; thus generating much-sought-after income for the local people. Asked to state some of the vices that are brought about by the tourism industry, 16 per cent of the respondents listed prostitution, and 10 per cent listed drug taking and drug trafficking. Also, 10 per cent of the respondents stated the high price of commodities due to an increased demand for goods and services, whereas 7 per cent mentioned pimping and hustling, and increased crime rates, and 5 per cent listed harassment of vendors by the local police.

Discussion

The total population of Mombassa and the adjacent townships of Likoni, Kisauni and Changamwe is about 1 million people. Mombassa town in particular, and the Kenyan coastal region in general, is classified by the government as one of the regions in the country with high poverty rates and poor living conditions (Kenya Government 1999). It has been estimated that over 50 per cent of the residents of Mombassa live below the poverty line – earning less than Kshs.100 (ca. 1 euro) per day. The indicators of poverty among the local people include the inability to afford daily basic needs to support life including clothing, shelter and food. In addition, the local residents are more and more unable to access and control basic resources and services such as education, health, water and sanitation. It has also been estimated that over 60 per cent of the residents of Mombassa and the adjacent townships live in slum environments that lack basic infrastructure, amenities and sanitation services. Paradoxically, some of these slum settlements have in recent years sprung up in areas adjacent to the luxurious tourist hotels and condominiums.

However, as shown above, most of the local residents who were interviewed perceive the development of tourism as being beneficial to the local people. They stated that the tourism industry has created employment and business opportunities. These local perceptions as to tourism’s role in local community development should be put into proper perspective. It can be argued that in a socio-economic environment where most of the people live in extreme poverty and resource deprivation, the development of tourism may be perceived as a source of much-wanted employment. This is much in the same way as the national government perceives tourism as the source of much desired foreign exchange revenues.

However, it should be stated that the job positions in the tourism and hospitality industry that are taken by the local people are mainly menial and low-level unskilled job positions. These menial job positions include labourers, gardeners, genitors, guides, porters, drivers and waiters. Whereas, in most instances, the skilled high-paying managerial job positions are mainly occupied by expatriates. It has been argued that most of the foreign and multinational investors in the tourism and hospitality industry tend to hire expatriate staff for high-level supervisory and managerial positions because of the preconceived belief that a large number of expatriates assures higher quality service (Dieke 1991). As Sindiga (2000) states, this view is fallacious; nonetheless, it is a misperception that denies well-paying managerial jobs to indigenous people.

In this regard, it should be asked if tourism is a main economic sector in Mombassa and other tourism centres in Kenya, what role is the industry playing in the improvement of the living conditions of the local people? How come there are increasing levels of poverty and poor living conditions among most local residents of Mombassa after over 40 years of tourism development? Who benefit most from the tourism industry and why? Is tourism an appropriate tool for sustainable local community development? What strategies can be but in place so that the development of tourism benefits the local people directly? These are the core questions that are addressed in this study.

The nature of Kenya’s tourism industry
Over the years, the Kenyan government has mainly promoted the development of large-scale tourism and hospitality projects such as beach resorts, high-raise hotels, lodges and restaurants in Mombassa and other tourism centres in the country. Most of the large tourism projects have been initiated with the assistance of foreign and multinational capital investments (Dieke 1991; Sindiga 2000; Akama 2004). These forms of capital-intensive programmes have tended to preclude local participation in tourism project design and management. As a consequence, the local people do not directly participate in the provision of the core tourism and hospitality services (which generate most profit) such as transportation, accommodation, catering services and management of the tourism attractions. Most of the local residents mainly engage in peripheral and informal business activities (which generate minimal or no profit) such as hawking and vending of souvenirs and other goods along the streets. Thus, the provision of core tourism and hospitality service is mainly under the control and management of foreign and multinational tourism investors.

Furthermore, the promotion and marketing of Kenya’s tourism products in tourist-generating countries is mainly controlled by overseas tour operators and travel companies (Sindiga 2000; Akama 2004). In order to maximise their profit margin, overseas tour companies mainly market inclusive tour packages to Kenya. In these forms of travel arrangements, prospective visitors pay overseas tour companies for a complete travel package. The payment arrangements include almost all travel components, such as air tickets, food, accommodation and recreational activities.

It has been estimated that in these forms of tour packages leakages of tourism revenues to overseas companies may range from 40 to 70 per cent (Sinclair 1990; Kenya Government 2004). Consequently, there is external control in almost all aspects of the Kenyan tourism industry, including the design and packaging of the tourism product, the provision of hospitality services, transport and accommodation arrangements, and product promotion and marketing. These forms of tourism development, with substantial ownership and management of tourism establishments by foreign and multinational investors, have resulted in high leakages of the tourism revenues to external sources (Sindiga 2000; Akama 2004).

Moreover, recent global economic trends indicate that the economies of developing countries, particularly African countries such as Kenya, are highly vulnerable and are increasingly being affected by processes of economic globalisation and increasing dominance and control by multinational corporations of global markets. As Debbage (1990: 515) postulates, ‘the increasing oligopolistic structure of the international tourism industry indicates the intrinsic value of the profit cycle in explaining how oligopoly can shape product-cycle of a resort’. In consequence, the development of tourism in most African and other Third World countries is increasingly being influenced by unpredictable processes of global oligopoly (i.e. the increasing control of the international tourism market by a small number of multinational companies). The multinational tourism and travel companies can, for instance, shift the international tourism demand among various undifferentiated destinations in developing countries, depending on emerging profit considerations. This may cause unforeseeable disruption to tourism development in developing countries, particularly in Africa (Debbage 1990; Sinclair 1990; Akama 1999, 2004).

As a consequence, the marketing and promotion of Mombassa’s tourist attractions are mostly under the control of overseas tour companies and their local subsidiaries with minimal or little say from the local residents on how the attractions should be marketed in tourist-generating countries. These tour operators have over the years specialised in the design and development of promotional and marketing images of various destinations in developing countries such as Kenya (Dieke 1991; Rodricks 2001). The tourism promotional and marketing information is usually aimed at communicating particular messages and information on various tourist destinations and/or tour packages that are marketed to prospect tourists. For instance, magnificent pictures of grandeur beach hotels, lodges and condominiums, and splendid sand beaches without a trace of local people may be presented in advertising brochures and other marketing channels with the aim of creating an aura of idyllic pristine and unspoilt glittering tropical sand beach destinations that are ideal for relaxation.

Moreover, in most instances, overseas tour operators and travel agents have preconceived ideas on the forms of marketing and promotional images of developing countries that they would like to present to prospective tourists in tourist-generating countries in order to promote market sales and increase their profit margins (Sinclair 1990; Morgan and Pritchard 1998). Thus, for instance, although Mombassa and its surrounding environs have diverse cultural and nature-based attractions, only a limited image of Mombassa is presented to prospective tourists. This includes the grandeur tourist hotels and condominiums that are owned by foreign investors, the pristine beach attractions, Fort Jesus (a seventeenth century military fort that was built by the Portuguese explorers), and Haller Park (a nature trail that is owned by a multinational company). In fact, sometimes scenes of the pristine tropical sand beaches, the imposing structure of Fort Jesus and Haller Park are presented in promotional and marketing brochures without any mentioning of the local people and the existing diverse indigenous cultures.

It can therefore be argued that the local people have been disenfranchised in the commodification process and marketing of local tourism resources. The local people are, usually, not involved nor are they represented in the commodification process of transforming and packaging existing nature based and cultural attractions into tourism products that are presented and sold to prospective tourists. This lack of involvement and representation of local communities in the commodification process and tourism product development raises serious and fundamental questions, particularly pertaining to the authenticity of cultural tourism products, and equitable distribution of the revenues that accrue from the tourism industry.

Indeed, when the international tourists arrive in Mombassa and other places in the country, they already have preconceived ideas and expectations of what they are going to see based on how they have been informed by overseas tour operators and travel agents. Thus, a trip to Mombassa for most international tourists is usually a routine and predictable affair. It mainly involves spending most of their time on the beaches adjacent to the tourist hotel and may include organised brief excursions to Fort Jesus, Old Mombassa Town and Haller Park (lasting for a few hours), before leaving Mombassa for more extensive wildlife safari excursions in the inland wildlife parks and reserves.

Moreover, quite often, international tourists are given inaccurate and exaggerated information concerning the local security situation. For instance, the tourists may be informed by tour guides that areas with high concentrations of local residents, particularly the residential areas, have high rates of crime and mugging; this is intended to scare and discourage tourists from venturing into any other areas of town apart from prescribed sites. However, this may be contrary to the real situation on the ground. The over-cautiousness of tour guides has a bearing to the nature of their training in which they have been oriented to take security issues and the safety concerns of visitor quite seriously in order to pre-empty any likelihood of putting tourists in arms’ way. Also, most tour itineraries are structured in such as manner that they, mainly, earmark major touristic landmarks such as Fort Jesus, Haller Park and wildlife attractions for visitation, thus excluding other unique cultural features involving local people, such as the rich Swahili culture.

Policy implications and conclusion
Over the last 40 years, the state has mainly promoted the development of large-scale tourism projects such as beach resorts, high-raise hotels, lodges and restaurants in Mombassa and the country’s other tourism centres. Most of the large tourism projects have been initiated with the assistance of foreign private and multinational capital investment. As discussed in this study, large-scale, capital intensive programmes have tended to preclude local participation in tourism project design, management and ownership of the tourism resources and facilities. Most of the tourism establishments in Mombassa in particular and Kenya in general are externally oriented, and mainly respond to exogenous socioeconomic factors. Consequently there is a high leakage of tourism revenues (ranging from 40 to 70 per cent of the gross tourism revenues) resulting in lower linkage and multiplier effects with other domestic economic sectors to stimulate local, regional and national economic growth.

Consequently, for the tourism industry to contribute to the long-term sustainable development of the local people in Mombassa and other tourism centres, an alternative tourism development strategy is required which addresses issues of external control and management of the tourism industry, and the inequitable distribution of the tourism revenues. In this regard, the principal objectives of the alternative tourism strategy should include: enhancement of equitable distribution of the tourism revenues; increasing local participation in tourism decision-making processes; reduction of the high leakage rates and increase of the multiplier effects of tourism; and minimization of the social and environmental impacts of tourism.

Policies and institutional mechanisms need to be put in place that encourage local participation in the design, implementation and management of tourism projects and local use of the tourism resources. For local participation in the tourism decision-making processes to succeed, local people need sanctioned authority to enable them to implement local tourism projects responsibly. This has to include authority for tourism and cultural resource proprietorship to determine and sanction user rights including the right to determine the types of tourism projects to be initiated and the right to benefit fully from the local tourism resources. The authority should also include the right to sanction access to the local cultural and nature-based tourism resources and protection from any external encroachment of powerful interest groups including local elites.

At least, local communities should be empowered to determine what forms of tourism projects they want to be developed in their respective communities, and how the tourism costs and benefits are to be shared among different stakeholders. To achieve this, socio-political changes will require the decentralization of tourism authority and decision-making processes from the national level to democratically elected local and grassroots institutions and organizations, such as municipal councils, welfare societies and local cultural groups.

In Mombassa and the adjacent townships, for instance, the design and development of alternative tourism projects can be done in concert with existing resort tourism activities. Here, intergrated tourism projects can be developed which will assist in moving tourists away from the concentrated beach resorts and a few tourism sites to other underutilized tourist attractions, particularly the rich and diverse local cultures. Integrated tourism projects can be developed, for instance, that incorporate the hospitable local culture, historical monuments, and contemporary African handicraft and art. In addition, aspects of ecotourism and visits to the mangrove forests, bird-watching and sport-fishing in the coastal creeks and lagoons can be incorporated in the integrated tourism projects. Community-based local tourism projects that are designed and implemented through community consensus, other than centrally planned (top-down) tourism programmes may also enhance the opportunity for spontaneous, rather than contrived, encounters between the local people and tourists, such as stage-managed troupe dances and the provision of servile services to tourists. Also, local community based tourism projects will possibly lead to increased linkages and multiplier effect with other local economic sub-sectors.

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John S. Akama holds a PhD degree in Geography from Southern Illinois University (USA). Since 1994, he has been teaching in the Department of Tourism and Tour Operations Management at Moi University (Kenya), where he holds the position of Professor in tourism. Professor Akama is, currently the coordinator of ATLAS-Africa and Chief Editor of the Africa Journal of Business and Economics. He has published widely in the fields of tourism, culture and natural resource management. Professor Akama is also co-editor of the following books: Cultural Tourism in Africa: Strategies for the New Millennium (2002), edited by J.S. Akama and P. Sterry, Arnhem: Association for Tourism and Leisure Education; Ethnography of the Gusii of Western Kenya. A Vanishing Cultural Heritage, New York: Edwin Mellen Press.

Published in:  Bob Wishitemi, Anna Spenceley and Harry Wels (Eds) –  Culture and Community: Tourism Studies in Eastern and Southern Africa – ISBN 978 90 5170 851 6

 

Music is a ‘woman’, and intuitive creative management of life is more of a feminine attribute. Music is a communion, a social communion that nourishes spirituality, and manages socialisation during public events. These are some of the philosophical and concrete rationalizations that guided the indigenous categorization of an extraordinary performance-composer irrespective of gender or age as a mother musician as per indigenous terminological evidence in Africa. A composer gestates and gives birth to sonic phenomena.

Musical meaning has been discussed from the indigenous perspective as being based on the factors of musical sense, psychical tolerance and musical intention. The practice of performance-composition has also been identified as processing the realisation and approval of musical meaning as per context. Central to the philosophy of musical meaning as a society’s conceptualization of creative genius are the creative personalities who interpret and extend the musical factors as well as the musical facts of a culture. Such specialists are sensitive to the socio-musical factors contingent on a musical context at the same time as they are the repositories of the theory of composition in a musical arts tradition. Socio-musical factors here categorize those non-musical circumstances of a music-making situation that inform the architecture of a performance-composition; while musical facts are the essential elements of creative configurations that furnish musical arts theory.

The concept of mother musicianship, where found, no doubt varies from one indigenous musical arts culture area to another, and will be defined according to how a society values, utilizes and regulates the musical arts as a cultural institution. Although reference will be made to concepts of musicianship in a few related culture areas, the main purpose here is to examine the concept in the Igbo context.

Qualities of mother musicianship

The Igbo mother musician must be cognizant of, and acknowledged in the organization and execution of the art of contextual composition. This definition hinges on four key terms: Cognizance, Acknowledgement, Organization and Execution in the musical management of life and events.

Cognizance
Cognizance defines the ability to formulate and communicate musical sense in a culture’s medium of musical expression subject to the society’s cultural sonic references and psychical tolerance. Such a performer is then a specialized musical artiste. The Igbo theory of practical musicianship recognizes the following levels of expertise that qualify categories of practitioners:

– Onye egwu for any artist who is competently engaged in any of the indigenous creative and performance arts Onye isi egwu, for a leader of a performing group.

When exceptional capability is being assessed, specifically descriptive metaphors are used to denote:

– Onye nwe egwu – a star, the ‘owner’, the embodiment of expertise in a particular musical arts type under consideration;

– Di egwu – the ‘husband’, maestro of a music or dance type;

– Onye ji nkpu egwu – the ‘mystifying wizard’, the ultimate reference in expertise and knowledge.

Much of the literature on African music and musicality tend to imply that everybody in African, south of the Sahara is a dancer and a musician; and that Africans, generally, are exceptionally rhythmic. Without intending to hold brief for all Africa, it is pertinent to observe that everybody with African genetic instincts has a latent capability to dance or play music, and has a secure sense of rhythm. These are cultural rather than automatic African biological phenomena. Experiences deriving from many years of teaching music in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Nigeria, reveal that an Igbo person could be as baffled by the configurations of Igbo music and dance rhythms as anybody from any other culture marooned in the Igbo music complexity. But such student-cases are usually Igbo students who are born and brought up in the contemporary urban Igbo environment. Such an environment of upbringing does not expose them to the peculiar rhythms of the Igbo cultural activities. Their introduction to structured rhythmic activities starts with Western church hymn tunes, modern popular music and simple Western classical music that lack indigenous rhythmic sensitization of mind and body. As a result, they arrive at the University to start grappling with the realities of Igbo indigenous music and rhythm for the first time as performers. I discovered that apart from boasting Igbo nationality and language, I was dealing with foreigners to Igbo sense of rhythm. Some eventually achieve progress because of awakened genetic consciousness after a period of adult enculturation in the university. This is equally true of Yoruba, Efik and other music students from other Nigerian societies with similar backgrounds, as one cannot really talk of Igbo-specific rhythmic configurations. The patterns of deploying the body in ordinary activities of normal living inculcate the basic rhythmic instincts that become systematically structured into music and dance activities.

The phenomenon of African innate sense of rhythm as a specific cultural factor could be discussed as accruing from the distinctive patterns of movement naturally adopted for performing the habitual cultural activities of the indigenous life style that marks an African culture group.

Cultural rhythm
It is necessary to examine some cultural foundations for Igbo musical arts expressions. A child of, maybe, five years carries on her, or his, back a toddler of about one year. With her load she executes rhythmically organized steps and turns. At the same time she is gently jogging her/his body with its load, up and down in a different time-space motion. The exercise is expected to soothe a crying child to keep quite or maybe rocking a child to sleep. At other times the toddler clings to the back of the carrier without additional support while the carrier may be engaged in a dancing quiz-game that requires her to use her legs and hands in other intricate movements while the toddler is balanced and bobbed about on her [the carrier’s] torso. Thus there are three rhythmically poly-linear, but coordinated applications of the body parts of the carrier: the legs, the torso, and the hands.

Igbo boys and girls carry pots, baskets, firewood etc. on the head in indigenous societies. From the age of four or five when a child starts being useful around the house, she begins to carry loads appropriate to her size. The technique of carrying loads emphasizes balance and body symmetry. At the same time the style is intentionally an artistic-aesthetic exercise for children, although on rare occasions accidents may occur. The load is balanced on a soft pad on the head; and it is an artistic game to walk without holding the precious pot of water, for instance. To do this requires subtle adjustments of the parts of the body while ‘walk-dancing’ at a regular pace that could be faster than normal. The body is divided into four dimensions of coordinated but independent rhythmic planes: the legs, torso, hands and head. Even though the load should ordinarily be carried on the head supported with one or two hands, children prefer the game of keeping the hands off it, and balancing it with no other support than the rhythmic counterpoint of various parts of the body, the sight of which is quite supple and graceful.

When there are a number of children moving with loads on their heads it becomes a comparative game. If the load falls off by any fortuitous chance and breaks, you could cry to show that you are sorry, although that may not mitigate the scolding due to you when you arrive home with wet cheeks and a head-pad without load.

When cutting firewood, pounding, sweeping the compound, stamping mud for building a house etc., it is the same contrapuntal application and manipulation of multiple body rhythm. You do not have to sing unless you are in the mood. If you sing, it does not have to be a ‘pounding’ song or a ‘sweeping’ song. It could be a song from your dance group repertory, or a folk tale song, or any song selected from your entire culture’s repertory, or a spontaneous original composition to express your mood. If you sing, it is not necessarily because it promotes the activity of pounding, or that you are culturally required to supply a melody to the rhythm of pounding. It would be a contemplative celebration at a psychical level while executing the mechanical motions of pounding, for instance, at a physically coordinated level.

During the Second World War when Igbo men, women and children were command­eered to provide either the manpower or the economy that would help Britain, the colonial masters, win their ‘private’ war, Igbo women were most enthusiastic about the win-the-war economic exploitation of their time and energy. There was a drive for palm nut-cracking activity involving the women. For this exercise, they were organized as work gangs, although each person had to work independently and contribute the fruits of her labour to the common pool.

A propaganda song (Ex. 1a) was composed to promote, not necessarily the physical activity of cracking palm nut, rather, the psychological propaganda that they should deprive themselves in order that Britain should win the war. Although I was small at the time, we got involved, age notwithstanding, in the palm nut-cracking assignment. The so-called palm nut-cracking song, despite the appropriateness of the text, inhibited rather than promoted the physical activity. What is worse, it was in the character of a hymn tune, and could not be said to be an Igbo song, apart from the text. The text and melody of the song make the point:

Kpam! Kpam! Kpam! Kányi néti aku

(Kpam! Kpam! Kpam! We are cracking palm nuts)

Anyi néti nke anyi ga ele

(We are shelling so that we can sell)

Anyi etinugoli aku

(Even if we have shelled previously)

Anyi ga etiwanye ozo

(We will continue to contribute)

Ka’nyi welu dinu n’otu melie agha

(So that we will be united in order to win the war).

This is obviously a typical case of ‘work song’ that was introduced in the 1940’s probably in the belief that the African cannot work without song. It was not structured to the pulse and rhythm of the palm nut cracking routine, so it did not enhance the execution of the physical activity. It was, therefore, more useful for campaigns and for moving about in the house, or making clothes on a sewing machine.

Another ‘typical’ work song is that by the prisoners while cutting grass (Ex. 1b). In this instance the physical activity was structured to the song and its pulse and rhythm flow. But because it is not necessarily conceived to promote labour, it ensured that the prisoners spent more time dancing to the music, a healthy exercise, than in producing any impressive outcome from the manual labour. The grass-cutting motion occurs on the first beat of an eight-beat song cycle:

Onye suba achala onye suba

(Everybody cuts grass like every other person)

Onye akpona ibe ya onye ikoli

(Let nobody call his fellow a prisoner)

This ‘typical’ work song that has many versions, was probably intended to prompt the prisoners to cut grass to rhythm. The song is as old as the modern prisons in Igbo society, and is exclusive to prisoners although the Nigerian police band waxed a highlife dance music derivation of it.

The incidence of music in labour activities has so far been categorized as work music/song in ethnomusicological literature. Cultural terminologies as well as explanations by the music owners and users, at least in the culture area used as the model for this study, do not support such assumptions and classification. Hence there is the need to re-examine the concept of work music/song as well as the nature and utilitarian intentions of the corpus of indigenous music hitherto categorized as work music. There are music types associated with organized trade or labour groups. Such associational music may or may not be featured during the process and mechanics of production distinguishing a trade or labour specialisation. Rather, the music identifies the trade group or labour team as a social and common interest group (otu) without necessarily being of productive or structural significance if featured in labour situations. In other words the music is not necessarily ‘action or labour-facilitating music’ suited to the physical motions of production. It could be a mood music background affective at the psychological level of inspiration or anguish. It becomes inspirational music or song of suffering in its social or musical classification. The music corpus so far classified as work music/songs are distinctive of occupational groups/teams, and are, therefore associational, otu, music categories that give the groups/teams social identity. They are used and enjoyed primarily in celebrative or recreational contexts or otherwise as inspirational music incidental to other in-group interactions that could include the activities of production. The rhythm and texture of the music are not necessarily appropriate to the characteristic motions of labour that are, therefore, of little relevance in the conception, creation and making of the music. Work music, implying music conceived to enable the execution of the physical process of an activity, would thus seem to be a misperception of the social intentions as well as the utilitarian and creative dynamics of such music types. In fact some music items incidental to work situations, and which are thus classified as work music/songs, are music types conceived, created and performed for other social-cultural contexts. It is more appropriate to categorize trade/associational music, egwu otu, and inspirational music, which as such could be incidental to the labour activities of the owners and users of the music. Further sub-classifications would specify hunters’ music, farmers’ music, fishermen’s music, etc.

It is possible that other cultures may have what could be analyzed as music intended to aid manual labour. The Igbo, traditionally, have music while they work and not necessarily work music. A woman could sing the same song while she is cutting vegetables, pounding food, fetching water, washing dresses or dishes, breast-feeding a baby etc. The tune could be original or could be a popular ballad. The rhythms of pounding, sweeping, mud-stamping, grinding, etc., are work rhythms, often intrinsically irregular and not specifically structured to musical rhythms. An inspired person could superimpose a tune on work-rhythms to suit the mood or feelings in the same way as a person could sing while taking a bath without categorizing the music as bath music.

The few examples discussed distinguish cultural rhythm from ‘work’ music, and illustrate what I mean by the fundamental patterns of rhythmic cognition needed to accomplish the cultural normal activities of the Igbo life style. In other words the character of Igbo work-rhythms inform the Igbo rhythm sensibility, which is not exclusively musical, and may exhibit cultural peculiarity. In a music-making and dancing situation every Igbo person has the cultural sensitization to coordinate multi-dimensional body rhythms, which Kauffman (1980:402) has alluded to, when interpreting a given action-rhythm intention of a style/type of music. Given a chance, he could also perform, with sustained regularity, basic rhythmic patterns on a music instrument. These are extensions of innate sense of motion, and additionally, an acquired cultural sense of rhythm or cultural motor behaviour, which are notionally musical without necessarily being a phenomenon exclusive to music making. This capability cannot, and should not, be interpreted to mean that everybody is a competent dancer or a musician. In other words, every Igbo, by virtue of acquiring Igbo cultural rhythm, can demonstrate the fundamental rhythm-sense ordinarily expected of what is peculiarly Igbo in music and dance. But to become what could be categorized as a competent Igbo dancer or musician requires a level of expertise much beyond the common advantages of cultural rhythm.

Cross-cultural references
Every human person is naturally, even if not culturally, musical. Some writers contend, albeit vaguely, that every African is a musician, while others are a bit more cautious. Thus Alakija (1993) proposes that every African is gifted to be a composer. A logical extension of the proposal would make everybody in the world a possibly, gifted composer by virtue of being a notionally musical human. Messenger (1958:22) credits the Anang culture group of Cross River State in Nigeria, who are ethnic neighbours of the Igbo, with claiming that ‘every one can dance and sing well’. In another publication Messenger also reports that the Anang

… assume that under ordinary circumstances any person can learn to sing, dance act, weave, carve, play musical instruments, and recite folklore in a manner considered exceptional by unbiased Western aestheticians, and Anang culture rewards in numerous ways the acquisition of these abilities (Messenger 1973: 125)

Messenger’s report can be accepted only on the basis of discussing standard capabilities although there are problems with his view that the assessment of ‘a manner considered exceptional’ has to be from the perspective of ‘unbiased Western aestheticians’. He poses the paradoxical situation in which ‘culture rewards in numerous ways the acquisition of these [artistic] abilities’ in a culture where everybody is able and free to achieve ‘exceptional’ artistic excellence.

I conducted fieldwork in Anang in 1967, and I learned from observations and interviews in Abak that everyone can no longer dance and sing well probably for reasons of disabled cultural upbringing. I was specifically directed to meet three musicians the villagers recommended highly. One of them, Umo, satisfied the concept of a mother musician as already discussed in this study. He was an expert performer on the xylophone. He was an exceptional performer on Ekong music. And he performed on the row of open-ended tuned membrane drums, four in a row, used in Ekpo music. He was accompanied by a group of young percussionists whom he conducted with body signs as well as musical cues. The percussionists played open-ended membrane drums hung on poles, two or three players to one drum, each playing with two drums sticks, and all combining to produce a barrage of mono-toned patterns. In addition to conducting the ensemble, Umo directed, through his tuned drums, the dance-drama acts of every ekpo spirit manifest artist. The spirit manifest, mis-perceptually termed masquerades, acted their danced-drama anecdotes in turns, one after the other. Umo was open to spontaneous criticism by the cultural audience, but was such a confident artist that he did not mind bluffing occasionally.

During a second field trip to Anang in 1967, I took along a class of music students from the Music Department of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, to meet Umo and observe him direct the ekpo danced-drama from his music stand. Umo was so happy at seeing us that he drank himself tipsy before the performance. He was so tipsy that he got careless and was not marshalling the actions of the spirit manifests properly. The traditional ruler of the community who was in our company cautioned him. But Umo retorted by challenging the traditional ruler, or any other person present who felt competent, to come and take over. Nobody felt up to taking over, and I doubt that anybody present could have because ekong is a specialist instrumental music style. But the spirit manifest actors were ­most disappointed with Umo as he made them limp through their acts. If they made signs of disapproval Umo would merely snicker. An anticlimax was reached when the principal actor, eka ekpo, (mother ekpo) who usually climaxes and concludes a performance session, came out and had to protest vigorously, in mime, against the discomfiture Umo was occasioning the masked actors. The mother ekpo was so offended that, to the disappointment of all of us, she merely took a turn of dance-mime to indicate her skill, and then stalked back in anger into the ekpo grove from where each actor emerged.

Umo took all the criticisms unruffled. But later he confided that they could reprimand him but would not really dislodge him because there was no one good enough to play and communicate as effectively with the actors. He apologized for having taken more wine than he ought to, before a show. But the incident does demonstrate that even though everybody is capably musical in Anang society, not everybody does achieve exceptional musical ability required of a mother. It further makes points about standards of cultural artistic expression, criticism and aesthetic.

Nketia (1954: 39) points out that the art of a mother drummer role is inheritable and learned in the Akan society of Ghana, and that it is believed a person could be a born drummer. Gadzekpo (1952: 621), reports about the Ewe of Ghana that inheritance is a factor, but adds that a person from a non­-drumming family could also learn and mother the art of drumming. In effect, the ability to become a mother drummer in both Ghanaian societies could be ascribed or achieved. Either way it has to be developed through a process of learning and dedicated practice. Blacking states, concerning the Venda, South Africa that musical ability is not a matter of special talent, rather a matter of opportunity and encouragement. From his various published accounts about Venda music and cultural practices, we learn that specialists such as the mother drummer, matsige, are recognized, and that his presence in a district inspires young admirers to practice to attain his level of expertise. In other circumstances, especially with respect to dancing ability, Blacking informs that exceptional capability could be suggested to individuals from the ruling class who thereby ‘perform better because they have devoted more time and energy to it’ (Blacking 1965; 1976).

Merriam (1964: 68) reports that the Basongye of the Congo recognise that some individ­uals lack musical abilities for reasons associated with heritage. So there is a concept of a ‘gifted’ musician ‘whose talents come through inheritance’. Basden (1921: 120) notes about the Igbo that talent is recognized and that musicians ‘are treated with great respect’.

When at the age of nine I spent one year in my mother’s community in Nnewi, Igboland, attending school, I belonged to a children’s music (mask and dance) group in the community. My grandmother, with whom I lived, was a devout Christian convert with strict Christian attitudes that condemned indigenous musical arts practices, she could not effectively prevent me from playing with my mates. So we struck a compromise that restrained me from ‘entering the children’s mask’ (ibu mmanwu) myself. It was not every child in the community that belonged to the popular children’s masking practice type called nwabuja. But many would troop after us whenever we performed along the streets and in the playgrounds. Also during the early years of my life, which I spent in the southern Igbo towns with my father, we still managed to evade surveillance and form children’s musical arts groups. It was only a few of the children in the community around where we lived that participated. Within the group we made fun of those who could neither play nor dance well. And they never took such ridicules without trying to save face by provoking scuffles that often ended our performances.

In effect then, by virtue of acquired cultural rhythm, every Igbo should be capable of interpreting fundamental Igbo dance rhythms, and play music. When it is a matter of singing and playing simple tunes with syncopations, probably anybody could play. But when it comes to the level of ability to spontaneously compose extensions of melodies or melorhythms to interpret a context, experts emerge from a group of average practitioners because, in the first instance, they are gifted, and have also applied their faculties to acquiring specialist knowledge through practice. The general observation that so far credits every African with a capability to participate in the music and dance of her/his community is therefore informed by cultural factors other that automatic African musicality. But the fact that there are knowledgeable experts within a generality of participants commands probing beyond the cultural fundamentals to consider the factors of the developed artistic acumen, agugu isi. The acumen, and its development according to cultural norms, accrues exceptional knowledgeable in any aspect of musical arts specialisation.

Acknowledgement

Public acknowledgement of competence validates general cognizance of a culture’s standards creativity and performance. This presupposes an audience that is conversant with, and critical of the ramifications of musical sense in a culture. Acknowledgement has two aspects: the social personality of the musician, and the artistic quality or suitability of a performance informed by the markers of style and content.

Social aspect
The musician must be seen as a person in society. The society assesses a person primarily on the basis of social personality and the circumstances of human achievement and lifestyle. In some societies musicians tend to exhibit peculiar, often ascribed, behavioural traits, and are consequently classified as a social category, especially highly stratified societies.

Ames and King (1971) observe in the stratified socio-political system of the Hausa of Nigeria that musicians are treated as a class. Within that class, musicians further distinguish themselves according to classes. Ames (1973) further indicates that the Hausa have no single generic word for the various categories of musicians. In the categories listed by Ames and King, the Hausa have marok’an saarakuna, for instance, as praise musicians attached to patrons. To this category belongs ‘anybody who acclaims another, whether solicited or not, in the hope of obtaining reward as a means of livelihood’. But they could earn additional income during naming and marriage ceremonies. They classified the range of Hausa musicians into:

– Court musicians and acclaimers with official status in courts;

– Performers tied to distinct class of patrons like farmers;

– Hunters and blacksmiths but who have no titles;

– Free lancers and semi-professionals and non-professionals who are not considered by themselves or their audience to be marak’a (Ames and King 1971).

Here, therefore, we find musicians being acknowledged on the basis of their social attributes in a class society, and not on the basis of their musical arts ability. Thus a Hausa musician is born into a class and recognized as such, irrespective of his level of expertise.

Ames’ (1973) view is that the Hausa musician is a ‘social specialist’ as well as a professional in the sense that his social reference is as a musician, and he earns his living through making music as a trade. Within the class there is a distinction between a performer with ordinary technical skill and one with originality, inventiveness, and the ability to improve. According to Ames these qualities are assessed by how the music affects the audience. There is, therefore, recognition of outstanding musicians. We also find that although the Hausa may admire the art of a musician, he has little respect for a musician, socially. It could be deduced from these accounts that the Hausa musician of any classification or categorization has no direct organisational responsibility for the way an event for which he performs is enacted. His music also appears to be peripheral to its social context.

Merriam (1973: 257) argues that the musician is a ‘specialist’ in whatever culture he is found, and further qualifies his use of the term as ‘economic specialist’. His qualification applies to the Hausa example as perceived by Ames, and also the Basongye. In the indigenous Igbo society the musician is not an ‘economic specialist’ unless we could regard a university professor in Economics who gets an allowance for playing the organ during Sunday services in his parish church as an economic specialist. Merriam further argues that ‘the “true” specialist is a social specialist; he must be acknowledged as a musician by the members of the society of which he is a part’ (Merriam 1964: 125), and that the ultimate criterion for professionalism hinges on this. In the Igbo society the ultimate criterion for mother musicianship hinges only partly on social acknowledgement.

Fances Bebey (1975) cautions that it would be a mistake to assume that all Africans are necessarily musicians, in a brief study of a class of professional musicians fairly well distributed over the northern areas of West Africa and generally identified as ‘griots’. Griots have local names in various West African societies where they are found. In Gambia they are known as the jali (Knight 1974). Griots are found in the Fali of Guinea and the Bambara of Mali (Gorer 1949). They belong to a menial social class, and the accounts about them indicate that they are not buried in the ground so that their corpses would not desecrate it. They were rather buried in hollow tree-trunks so that their bodies would not bring a curse such as barrenness of the earth. The griots were indigenously treated as the lowest group in the class or social hierarchy of their various class societies. And from all accounts they apparently did everything to exploit their derogated status to economic advantage. On the other hand, according to Bebey’s account, they are feared because as genealogy singers and satiric minstrels, they ferret out many social secrets: ‘They know everything that is going on and … can recall events that are no longer within living memory’ (Bebey 1975: 24). They are treated with ‘contempt’ because of their interaction traits that include insulting a patron who did not reward them sufficiently for praise. At the same time

… the virtuoso of the griot command universal admiration. This virtuosity is the culmination of long years of study and hard work (Bebey 1975: 24). [Griots] are extraordinary musicians with outstanding talent who play an extremely important role in their respective societies. Their knowledge of the customs of the people and courtly life in all countries where they exercise their art gives them definite advantages; for the whole life of the people, its monarch, and ministers, is preserved intact in the infallible memory of the griots (27-8).

As such the griots could be argued as evoking ambivalent social acknowledgement: derogated and feared, lowly but powerful, socially-politically indispensable but discriminated. Gorer (1949) reports that they could be very rich, and exercise great influence over the life and activities of those whom they serve. The griots’ model presents a paradoxical situation where a group in a society is respected and admired as knowledge­able, full time professional musicians, but is, at the same time, held in low esteem because of the social status ascribed to them. Bebey also infers that they are extreme individualists; a self centred and self-seeking group whose music is not necessarily conceived as an indispensable factor in social institutions other than articulating social classes. Their music, it would seem, is a luxury in the art of living. A griot plays for what he could get, and uses the art to insult for what he is not given.

Mvet players of southern Cameroon and Gabon are itinerant professional entertainers like the griots, but they do not ply their trade on the same terms. Mvet players use the harp either to accompany mythical tales, and are highly regarded by their audiences (Bebey 1975). What the Mvet players have in common with the griot is that their music is in the music-event category, that is, for social entertainment (Nzewi 1977).

In some societies that are organised as monarchies there are musician-­families, many of which are attached to the court, and are maintained as professionals by the ruler. Nketia’s (1954: 40-1) report recommends that the Akan court drummers belong to this category, although the situation has been changing, and they are no longer content to be solely dependent on the courts. He distinguishes between mother drummers and secondary drummers. The former ‘conducts’ the performance of the whole orchestra. The secondary drummer requires just enough expertise to provide persistent, accompanying ‘contrasting’ themes, or those themes that underline the basic beats, or provide the ground bass for the music. The mother drummers are those that give the music its fullness, and quite often its distinctive character. A drummer is required to know his art as well as the duties required of him, including the ‘conventions and routines of dances and matters of procedure’ (ibid . : 36). Among the Yoruba of Nigeria there are also drum families some of whom are attached to the courts as in the example of the Timi of Ede’s court.

Social acknowledgement is, as such, not necessarily synonymous with social respect in the indigenous African reckoning of specialist musicianship. The specialist or subsistence professional musician could be accorded recognition on the merits of artistic expertise without attracting much social prestige thereby. There would, therefore, be a tendency for such musicians not to be too particular about personal integrity except probably in the case of court drummers, for instance, where lack of integrity could affect the image of the ruler or the conduct of court events. Some societies have terminologies with which to recognise musicians as a distinctive group of specialists whose social status is primarily dependent on other social factors, such as the ascribed class of birth that is not necessarily informed or determined by their skill or specialization as musicians. They could be seen as trade-professionals in a sense that would not automatically implicate artistic expertise.

Proficient musical arts practitioners in the Igbo society enjoy the same status and opportunities, by right of birth and extra-musical achievements, as every other member of the society. They could achieve any height in the social hierarchy, and perform without any compelling social ascriptions. The specialist musical arts practitioner performs in order to avail the society of the exceptional skill acquired, and is compensated with appropriate societal acknowledgement. Such extraordinary attainment accrues the musical arts specialist additional social distinctions. When she is performing within her society she is not necessarily paid for her artistic expertise. But her music group could be engaged on a customary token fee, to make special performance-appearances. A musician is required to have a normal subsistence occupation. She could then charge fees for engagements on the principle of making up for the workdays lost in fulfilling a privately contracted musical arts engagement. She is acknowledged as a person in society first on the basis of what she does for a living apart from playing music; and also on her social integrity: how she conforms to the norms of behaviour and discipline of her society without reference to the additional specialization or stature as a musician. The special factor of being a musician becomes additional recommendation that boosts rather than detracts from extra-musically attained social stature. And her music making is conceived and programmed as an input factor in the organisation and enactment of Igbo social systems and institutions.

Artistic aspect
With reference to artistic proficiency, expertise has been argued as an innate capability that is exceptionally developed, and not an automatic endowment by the advantage of being born into an Igbo culture. The debate on whether there is such a phenomenon as talent as opposed to environment, opportunity, and encourage­ment, remains unresolved, and continues to engage the attention of scholars. I argue that normative cognitive skill in the musical arts is the birth potentiality of everybody in the society, and could be developed through practical engagement during in-cultural upbringing. Whereas not everybody is an expert musical arts performer, everybody could be a cognitive critical audience. Hence Blacking (1976: 46) argues about the Venda: ‘Judgement is based on the performer’s display of technical brilliance and originality, and the vigour and confidence of his execution’. The society has criteria for evaluating standards of musical arts creativity and criticism. In such a situation the gifted musician has freedom to create within such ethnic criteria while her audience respects the creative freedom but checks any tendency towards unrestrained individualism. At other times the structure and expectations of the social context in which the musical arts is operational, and/or the musical arts style itself, model and control the scope of creative freedom in certain musical arts types.

Specialization in instrumental performance commands instruments that demand special skills. These have been referred to in the literature as master (mother) instruments. Although the opportunity and ability to become proficient on such instruments is the advantage of a few in the community, everybody in the society by reason of exposure or cultural assimilation could develop the cognitive intellect to evaluate the standard of performances on the instruments. So that while a few are skilful in the art of specialized musical arts, recognition of mother status proves the musical perspicacity of the audience. In the final analyses, therefore, it is the audience that acknowledges the exceptional musical genius of a few in the community who have achieved extraordinary expertise – both technical and creative – that mark specialist musicians and dancers and dramatists. The principle of rating expertise based on acknowledgement of skill warrants that an Igbo celebrant who is organising a prestigious event could ignore practitioners in own patrilineage or community, and search farther afield to engage practitioners reputed for outstanding merit in the particular musical arts type needed.

Organization
Cognizance and acknowledgement require further qualifications before the attribution of expertise to a degree that would make an Igbo refer to an artist as ‘attaining the ultimate degree of its essence’ as different from ‘leader of a music type’. Organization is taken into account. The importance of organization is stressed because it is in the contextual organization of the musical arts production and presentation that musical meaning emerges and becomes validated. Organization here has two levels: the personal, and the event itself.

Personal organization
A knowledgeable musical arts expert is conscious of her esteem in the Igbo society where good reputation is assiduously built up in order to elevate one’s social stature in any field of human endeavour. In such a comparative achievement milieu as marks the Igbo society every person strives to excel in any trade or artistic engagement, in order to emerge as the icon of achievement in a field of expertise. So, to achieve eminence is one thing, and to maintain it is another. If a person’s social reputation drops to a low rating, the artistic reputation would not guarantee her continued top public acknowledgement. The Igbo would ask: ‘Is he the indispensable that would prevent an event from taking place?’ And recognition would pass on to a more responsible artist who may be less accomplished.

The leader of a music group is responsible for the organization and discipline of the group, and ensures a high standard of social and artistic reputation for the group. The type of licenses and peculiar social irresponsibility allowable to expert musicians in some other societies does not obtain in the Igbo society. Merriam (1964: 123-44) offers an extensive sampling based on the reports of many field researchers, on the social behaviour of musicians in various world societies. It would appear from the reports recorded in Merriam’s book that the social regard accorded musicians within a society goes a long way towards determining how they organise themselves as social personalities in the society.

Event organization
The mother musician is the maker of a musical event, i.e., the stimulator of musical intention. The musician’s ability to understand and interpret with cognitive insight a musical arts type instituted for an event and its observance in the Igbo society is probably more important, therefore, than her personal organization. The expert musician is here required not only to be knowledgeable about what makes musical meaning in a given context, but more so, to be knowledgeable about the structure and the customary procedure for the event in which her music is involved, especially if it is an event-music (Nzewi, 1977). Mother instruments are more commonly found associated with specific events of high institutional hierarchy in the Igbo society. In such instances the musical arts serves as the frame of reference on which the scenario, as well as the interpretative scope of the event, depends for a satisfactory realisation. The mother musician has the task to coordinate the music in a manner that would underscore the event-mood, interpret the scenic activities, and generally promote the fulfilment of the objective of an event. She has, in addition, to be sensitive to the reactions of the actors and the audience in order to sustain action and interest. She has to compose and arrange at every event-occasion according to the structural eventualities of the particular occasion, as what transpires during every occasion of an event is a variant elaboration of the prescribed standard expectations typifying such an event. If she should fail to generate the mood as well as sustain the interest of the audience and actors, the event would not be a success and the event-musician would loose acclaim.

Thus, the role of the mother musician does not end with being a mother of her music (that is, making musical sense). Rather, it begins with that, and ends with applying the skill to capably transacting the meaning of the musical arts type in event context. It is especially in the context of being the organizer of the structural-contextual intentions of the music that the term mother musician has relevance and application in the Igbo society. A dextrous performer on a finger piano (ubo aka) could be acknowledged as an expert musician (onye egwu), but not as a mother musician, ‘without whose role there would be no event’ (afugh n’ejegh); that is to say, who is the maker and marker of an event.

Execution
In performing the role of the organizer of an event the mother musician’s integrity in executing the musical arts type as a phenomenon that transcends its institutional use is highly cherished. Artistic integrity and sensitivity in execution, that is, performance-composition that communicates effectively the conceived musical meaning, complete the qualifications of a mother musician. She must possess talent as a matter of creative flair; skill as a matter of technical proficiency; and timing as a matter of social responsibility and dramatic or event sensitivity.

It is necessary to make a distinction between skilful conformity, and creative originality. That some good musicians die and live on through their musical legacies, while others live acknowledged but die forgotten, is not necessarily because they were competent within a given tradition, but rather because within conformity they extended the artistic range of a tradition. Quite often this dimension of creative-flair in reckoning musicianship is explained at the level of supernatural endowment. Israel Anyahuru and Nwosu Anyahuru, both of whom are mother musicians in Ngwa, discussed their creative genius on the plane that: ‘No man is a creator. Only the Supreme Deity is the creator, and man, the instrument through which He creates’. This is not an echo of Merriam’s report about the Bala musicians of Zaire who ‘do not admit to composition, holding rather that music comes from Efile Mukulu (God) who will it so at that instant’. Merriam interprets the explanation as an apparent absence of any ‘purposeful intent to create something aesthetic’ among the Bala (Merriam 1973: 179). By their dictum Israel and Nwosu attribute creative capability (talent) and inspiration to the supernatural, while the creative experience within a cultural matrix, is consciously pursued by them as mothers of music. Hence an Ngwa mother musician is always proud to claim that he is the author of a musical creation, or the stylistic adaptation of an extant number. However, the matter of creative originality is merely an extra distinction that marks a mother musician. It should also be borne in mind that the relative importance of a mother musician in a community could be determined by the artistic medium and style of creative expression, as well as the rating of the musical arts type in the community’s criteria for hierarchical classification of its musical arts inventory.

Igbo mother musicianship
A mother musician is not, to begin with, necessarily a subsistence professional musician if we take cognizance of the arguments so far adduced from the Igbo situation vis-à-vis the reports about some other societies that have been cited. On the other hand, a professional musician could be, but is not always, a mother musician as in the Hausa example. A professional musician could be a skilled specialist recognized at the level of expertise and sentiment that includes talent. The professional musician who engages in music making or musical arts creativity as a matter of livelihood belongs to a social class in some societies. The Igbo mother musician is committed to music making and musical arts creativity as primarily a matter of artistic integrity, and also because she fulfils a specialized role that makes the musical arts a societal institution, and the practitioner a person of stature in the organization and explication of the other institutions in a society.

To have mother musicians in a society, therefore, the society needs to be cognizant of the concept of the musical arts as a contemplative art because of its intrinsic artistic-aesthetic aspirations, as well as a public utility that effectuates the functioning of other non-musical institutions. Compensations as well as distinctive social recognition accrue to those practitioners central to the fulfilment of such utilitarian intentions.

Mother musicianship is a social-cultural concept of the music-maker and music making as much as it defines creative-artistic expertise. This is the frame of reference in which the term is used in this study that models the Igbo society. The social and musicological portraits of five mother musicians with whom I studied will, it is hoped, bring into clear perspective, the Igbo concept of mother musicianship as well as the Igbo philosophy and theory of the musical arts as illustrative of the indigenous philosophy and epistemology that mark musical arts creativity and practice in Africa.

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Published in:

Meki Nzewi, Israel Anyahuru & Tom Ohiaraumunna – Musical sense & meaning – An indigenous African perception

Rozenberg Edition : Rozenberg Publishers – ISBN 978 90 5170 908 7 – 2009

Unisa Edition: www.unisa.ac.za/press

‘Think, instead of identity as a “production” which is never complete, always in process, and always constituted within, not outside representation’ (Hall, 2000).

Abstract

The easing of legal and unauthorized entry to South Africa has made the country a new destination for Black immigrants. As this population continues to grow, its children have begun to experience South African schools in an array of uniquely challenging ways. For these immigrant youth, forging a sense of identity may be their single greatest challenge. Accordingly, this study asks how do immigrant students construct, negotiate, and represent their identities within the South African schooling context. Findings were multifold in nature.

First, although immigrant students’ ease of assimilation into the chosen reference group was to some degree sanctioned by their phenotypic racial features, their attempt at ‘psychosocial passing’ was politically motivated. Second, immigrant students did not readily classify themselves according to skin pigmentocracy. Third, the majority of immigrant students heightened their ethnic self-awareness in forming their identity, but also assumed hyphenated identities. Fourth, immigrant students were not seen as having an identity, but rather as being ‘plugged into a category with associated characteristics or features’. Fifth, immigrant students forged a ‘continental identity’. And sixth, the selfagency of immigrant students was twofold in nature; not only did they want to improve their own condition, but there seemed to be an inherent drive to improve the human condition of others.

Introduction

The demise of formal apartheid has created new and as yet only partially understood opportunities for migration in South Africa. One of the most notable post-apartheid shifts is the sheer volume and diversity of human traffic now crossing South Africa’s borders. South Africa is increasingly host to a truly pan-African and global constituency of legal and undocumented migrants.

Legal migration from other Southern African Development Community (SADC) countries, for example, increased almost tenfold since 1990 to over four million visitors per year. South Africa’s (re)insertion into the global economy has also brought new streams of legal and undocumented migrants from outside the SADC region and new ethnic constellations within. The easing of legal and unauthorized entry to South Africa has made the country a new destination for African asylum-seekers, long-distance traders, entrepreneurs, students, and professionals (Bouillon 1996; Saasa 1996; Rogerson 1997a; de la Hunt 1998; Perbedy & Crush 1998b; Ramphele 1999; Klotz, 2000). Consequently, traditional forms of migration are being reconfigured and new forms of migrant linkage are emerging with traditional neighbours (Crush et al. 1991). These reconfigured and new forms of migrant linkages hold serious implications for immigrant children in South African schools as the dynamics of belonging is no where so harsh as it is as in the day-to-day activities on the classroom floor and in the schoolyard. Many scholars claim that the structure of immigrant students’ journeys to their new homes follows multiple pathways that are motivated by a variety of factors, namely, relief from political, religious, or ethnic persecution; economic incentives; as well as the opportunity to be reunited with family members (Berry, 1997; Suarez-Orozco & Suarez-Orozco, 2001). Furthermore, these scholars argue that immigrant students are stripped of many of their sustaining social relationships as well as the social roles that provide them with culturally scripted notions of how they fit into the world, which often results in acculturative stress (Berry, 1997; Suarez-Orozco & Suarez-Orozco, 2001).

‘For these immigrant youth, forging a sense of identity may be their single greatest challenge. Do they feel comfortable in their homeland? Do they feel accepted by the “native-born” of the host country? What relationship do they have with their parents’ country of origin? Is their sense of identity rooted “here”, “there”, “everywhere”, or “nowhere”’ (Suarez-Orozco, 2001:176)?  How do they forge collective identities that honour both their parents’ culture of origin as well as their new home in South Africa? How can they develop a sense of belonging while coping with the dissonance of ‘excluded citizenship’ (Suarez-Orozco, 2004)?

Since the advent of democracy in South Africa, most public schools in South Africa in addition to opening their doors to all South African children irrespective of race, colour, or creed, have also opened their doors to a number of [black] immigrant children. There is however, very little research on the ways in which immigrant student identities² are framed, challenged, asserted, and negotiated within the dominant institutional cultures of schools. Accordingly, this study asks how do immigrant students construct, negotiate, and represent their identities within the South African schooling context. Are new forms of immigrant students’ self-identities beginning to emerge? The argument is presented as follows. I begin by sketching the background context of the study. This is followed by a review of the literature that informs research on immigrant students’ identities. Conceptual markers and theoretical groundings of this research study are subsequently presented. I then describe the design and sampling of this research study. Findings in the form of emergent themes from interviews and observations of immigrant students are then presented. I conclude with an analysis and discussion of findings, and examine ways in which immigrant students’ identities are constituted, negotiated, and represented within the South African schooling  context.

Background Context

To date, studies in this field have focused mainly on the black and white dynamics of South African students. There is very little, if any, research on the experiences of [black] immigrant students within South African schools. In much of the research on hybridity and transculturalisation, the important role of schooling as a mediating force in identity-making processes has also received little attention. Schools, through both formal and informal relationships, represent powerful interpretations of what it means to be ‘South African’, ‘Mozambican’, or ‘Zimbabwean’, that is, of belonging and nonbelonging. This research study sets out to explore how [black] immigrant students construct, mediate, and negotiate their identity within South African schools. The context of this study was limited to the Gauteng³ province of South Africa.

The central cities of Gauteng have some of the largest numbers of Black immigrants, who are diverse not only in terms of national origin, but by ethnic affiliation, cultural tradition, and generational status. The majority of Black immigrants in the Gauteng province of South Africa are from Mozambique, Lesotho, Zimbabwe, Democratic Republic of Congo, Swaziland, Botswana, Angola, and Malawi, but substantial numbers of immigrants also come from Zambia, Pakistan, Nigeria, Namibia, India, Kenya, Somalia, Uganda, Ruwanda, Ethiopia, Sri Lanka, Tanzania, and Mauritius (Gauteng Department of Education, Ten day statistics – 2008). As this population continues to grow, its children have begun to experience South African schools in an array of uniquely challenging ways. As a result of these demographic trends, researchers have increased their focus on how Black immigrant youth fare once in South African schools. Some of the data capture of this research study occurred during the height of the xenophobic attacks in South Africa (Hassim, Kupe, & Worby, 2008). Larger societal tension fuelled by sensationalistic media attention had much more saliency in the formation of immigrant student identities, and in everyday interactions between South African and immigrant students at schools. The perpetrators of the violence in May explicitly targeted the makwerekwere. ⁴ These xenophobic attacks illustrated violent verbal and physical acts being directed towards Black immigrants by their Black South African counterparts who often erroneously perceived their Black immigrant peers’ lack of  familiarity with so-called ‘South African norms’ as intentionally distancing themselves from Black South Africans and related anti-Black South African arrogance. This ‘shack on shack violence’ (Hassim, Kupe, & Worby, 2008:16) was distinctive in several respects (Verryn, 2008). First, the attacks were on black foreign nationals. There is no record as far as any whites or Indians being caught up in these attacks. Second, it was mainly the poorer and more vulnerable foreign nationals that were exposed to the most vicious onslaught. Third, at least a third of the people killed were South African. And fourth, the violence was visited on the particularly marginalised of society, taking on ethnic and xenophobic connotations.

The Architecture of Identity

Theorizing Identity

A number of scholars claim that identity goes through a variety of permutations during adolescence as the individual experiments with different identity strategies (Phinney & Ong, 2007; Suarez-Orozco, 2004; Sirin & Fine, 2008; Murrell, 1999; Marcia et al., 1993; Marcia 1980; Parham 1989). Some argue that all youth move steadily from a stage of ethnic or ‘racial unawareness’ to one of ‘exploration’ to a final stage of an ‘achieved’ sense of racial or ethnic identity (Marcia, 1966; Erikson, 1968). Others point out that the process of identity formation is, rather than linear, more accurately described as ‘spiralling’ back to revisit previous stages, each time from a different vantage point (Parham, 1989). Yet, others claim that identity is ‘an internal selfconstructed, dynamic organisation of drives, abilities, beliefs, and individual history’ (Marcia, 1980:159), which facilitates psychological differentiation from others. A sense of emerging identity characterised by ‘a flexible unity’, that makes an individual less likely to rely on others views and expectations for self-definition.

Suarez-Orozco (2004:177) challenges the view held by Erikson and argues that identity formation is not simply a process, by which one passes through a variety of stages on the way to achieving a stable identity. Rather it is a process that is fluid and contextually driven. The social context is essential in predicting which identity is constructed (Suarez-Orozco, 2000). Many immigrant youth today are articulating and performing complex multiple identifications that involve bringing together disparate cultural streams. Immigrant students are constantly reinventing and rediscovering themselves through interactions in social structures, particularly peer reference groups and institutionally circumscribed roles, values, and ideologies. Among these social worlds, inconsistencies in the codes, values, roles, or expectations add to the difficulty of identity development (Suarez-Orozco, 2004). Identity is thus ‘socially constructed’. It is an interaction between an internal psychological process and an external process of categorisation and evaluation imposed by others. The social context is thus essential in predicting which identity is constructed (Suarez-Orozco, 2000).

Negotiating the Currents of a Complex Society

Negotiating the currents of identities for immigrant students can be particularly complex. The pathways they take, and the identities they form are determined in multiple ways. Resources, experiences, stresses, and trauma, as well as the coping strategies that immigrant students bring with them, play a key role. Critical to the formation of their identities is the structural and attitudinal environment, within which they find themselves (Suarez-Orozco & Suarez-Orozco, 2001; Taylor, 1994). Immigrant students must not only deal with aspects of personal development shared by all adolescents (relationships, work choices, examining values) but also often confront culture-related differences concerning these choices. They must also seek to create a sense of identity through personal choices surrounding relationships, occupation, worldviews, and values, which sometimes may conflict with parental and other family expectations  (Murrell, 1999; Dion, 2006).

The single greatest developmental task of adolescence is to forge a coherent sense of identity (Erickson, 1964). Erickson (1964) argued that for optimal development, there needs to be a certain amount of complementarity between the individual’s sense of self and the varied social milieus he or she must traverse. However, in an increasingly fractured, heterogeneous, transnational world, there is much less complementarity between social spaces (Suarez-Orozco, 2000). The ethos of reception plays a critical role in the adaptation of immigrant students (Suarez-Orozco & Suarez-Orozco, 2001). Although the structural exclusion suffered by immigrants and their children is tangibly detrimental to their ability to participate in the opportunity structure, prejudicial attitudes and psychological violence also play a toxic role (Taylor, 1994). One of the ways in which this plays out is that of the social mirror (Suarez-Orozco, 2000). When the reflected image is generally positive, the individual is able to feel that she is worthwhile and competent. When the reflection is generally negative, it is extremely difficult to maintain an unblemished sense of self-worth. The social mirror creates the fertile conditions for what Du Bois (1903/1989) termed ‘double-consciousness’ to thrive.

‘Double-consciousness’ is a complex and constant play between the exclusionary conditions of social structure marked by race and the psychological and cultural strategies employed by the racially excluded and marginalised to accommodate themselves to every indignities as well as to resist them (Essed & Goldberg, 2002).

One way of overcoming the effects of the social mirror is that of psychosocial passing. ‘Psychosocial passing’ refers to people who seek to render invisible the visible differences between themselves and a desired or chosen reference group. By behaving in ways that are consistent with other group members, they subconsciously seek to avoid having their differences noticed. Phenotypic racial features have considerable implications for the ease of assimilation. In this era of globalisation immigrants, ability to ‘pass’ or be fully assimilated unnoticed is no longer possible for most new arrivals and this can lead to undue stress (Berry, 1997; Nesdale, Rooney, & Smith, 1997; Suarez-Orozco, 2000). Identities of immigrant students manifest themselves within the context of social worlds in numerous and multiple forms, namely Achieved or an Ascribed [imposed] Identities (Suarez-Orozco, 2004; Suarez-Orozco & Suarez-Orozco, 2001; Suarez-Orozco, 2000; Helms, 1990; DeVos, 1980); Performing Identities (Maestes, 2000; Waters, 1886); Global Identity (Arnett, 2002); Dominating Identities (Murrell, 1999);  Ethnic Identities (Phinney & Ong, 2007); and Hyphenating and Perforating Identities (Sirin & Fine, 2008).

Furthermore the identity pathways or styles of adaptation of immigrant students differ. Suarez-Orozco and Suarez-Orozco (1995) noted that youth attempting to traverse discontinuous cultural, political, and economic spaces tended to gravitate towards one of the dominant styles of adaptation: ‘ethnic flight’, ‘adversarial’, ‘bi-cultural’, and ‘transcultural’. These styles are not fixed or mutually exclusive. ‘Ethnic flight’ is characterised by immigrant students who willingly attempt to symbolically and psychologically dissemble and gain distance from their families and ethnic groups. The ‘adversarial style’ is characterised by immigrant students who structure their identities around a process of rejection by institutions of the dominant culture. These youths respond to negative social mirroring by developing a defensively  pppositional attitude and are likely to act out behaviourally (Aronowitz, 1984; Garcia-Coll & Magnuson, 1997). The ‘bi-cultural style’ deploys what is termed ‘transnational strategies’. These children typically emerge as ‘cultural brokers’, mediating the often conflicting cultural currents of home culture and host culture (Suarez-Orozco, 1989; Suarez-Orozco & Suarez-Orozco, 1995). The ‘transcultural style’ is characterised by youth who creatively fuse aspects of two or more cultures – the parental tradition and the new cultures. In so doing, they synthesize an identity that does not require them to choose between  cultures but rather allows them to incorporate traits of different cultures while fusing additive elements (Falicov, 2002).

Theoretical Moorings

The problem of identity has been theorised through different competing paradigms. The two most relevant theoretical frameworks that have a bearing on this research study are Critical Race Theory (CRT) and  Hall’s (Grossberg, 1996) figures of identification. CRT provides a theoretical framework, through which individually and institutionally motivated racist acts can be highlighted, critiqued, and corrected (Tate, 1993; Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995; Crenshaw et al., 1995; Lynn, 1999; Tyson, 2003). It distinguishes between individual racism and institutional racism. CRT is an important construct for understanding Black immigrants who have made South Africa their home. It sheds light on the fact that Black immigrants are racialised as Black in South Africa, despite their varied self-identification on the basis of nationality, ethnicity, language, and other cultural signifiers, and are therefore subjected to the same racial prejudices and discrimination as their native Black counterparts. The concern of critical race theory is to re-narrativise the globalisation story in a way that places historically marginalised parts of the world at the centre rather than the periphery of the education and globalisation debate, and, thus, ultimately to bring about social change (Amnesty International, 2000). Scholars across disciplines have identified several dominant and unifying themes that describe the basic tenets of CRT (Velez et al., 2008; Yosso, 2006; Tyson, 2003; Lynn, 1999; Crenshaw et al., 1995; Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995; Delgado & Stefancic, 1993; Tate, 1993).

First, race is a social construct, not a biological phenomenon. It is not rooted in biology or genetics but is instead a product of social contexts and social organisations. The construct of races involves categories that society creates, revises, and retires as needed. Second, racism is endemic to life and should not be regarded as an aberration. Socially constructed racial categorisations are a fundamental organising principle of society. Individual, cultural, and institutional expressions of racism reflect the racial stratification that is part of the fabric of society. Race and racism is part of the dominant cultural ideology that manifests in multiple contexts, and are central and defining factors to consider in understanding individual and group experience. Third, racism benefits those who are privileged and serves the interests of the powerful to maintain the status quo with respect to racial stratification. Fourth, CRT represents a challenge to the dominant social ideology of colour-blindness and meritocracy. Race neutrality and the myth of equal opportunity ignore the reality of the deeply embedded racial stratification in society and the impact it has on the quality of life. Fifth, racial identity and racial identification are influenced by the racial stratification that permeates society. The perceived salience of race, the significance of racial and ethnic group membership to the self-concept, the degree to which racial and ethnic heritage and practices are embraced or rejected, and the affiliations and identifications that are made within and outside of one’s own racial and ethnic group are all influenced by the dominant cultural narrative of superiority. Sixth, assimilation and racial integration are not always in the best interests of the subordinated group. Seven, CRT considers the significance of within-group heterogeneity and the existence of simultaneous, multiple, and intersecting identities. This is often referred to as anti-essentialism or inter-sectionality. All people have overlapping identities and multiple lenses through which the world is experienced.

CRT challenges the idea that any person has a uni-dimensional identity within a single category (e.g., race or ethnicity) or that racial groups are monolithic entities. Eight, CRT argues for the centrality, legitimacy, and appropriateness of the lived experience of racial or ethnic minorities in any analysis of racial stratification. CRT has advocated for marginalised people to tell their often unheard and unacknowledged stories, and for these perspectives to be applied to the existing dominant narratives that influence the law. Ninth, CRT insists on a contextual analysis by placing race and racism in a cultural and historical context, as well as a contemporary socio-political context. And, tenth, the ultimate goals of CRT are to inform social justice efforts and the elimination of racial oppression. The figures of identification as propounded by Hall (1996) comprise Difference, Fragmentation, Hybridity, Border, and Diaspora. The figure of Difference is constituted by the logic of difference through which the subject is constructed as an ‘adversarial space’ living in ‘anxiety of contamination by its other’ (Huyssen, 1986: vii). The figure of Fragmentation emphasises the multiplicity of identities and of positions within any apparent identity (Haraway, 1991).

Identities can, therefore, be contradictory and are always situational… we are all involved in a series of political games around fractured or decentered identities… since black signifies a range of experiences, the act of representation becomes not just about decentering the subject but actually exploring the kaleidoscopic conditions of blackness (Hall, 1992:21).

The figure of Hybridity is used synonymously with the other figures. Hall (1996) uses it to describe three images of border existences of subaltern identities existing between two competing identities. Images of a ‘third space’ (Bhabha), literally of defining an ‘in-between place inhabited by the subaltern’. Images of ‘liminality’ collapse the geography of the third space into the border itself, the subaltern lives, as it were, on the border. Images of ‘bordercrossing’ mark an image of ‘between-ness’ out of which identities are produced. The Diaspora experience is defined by the recognition of a necessary heterogeneity and diversity; by a conception of ‘identity’ which lives with and through, not despite, difference; and by hybridity. Diaspora identities are those which are constantly producing and reproducing themselves anew, through transformation and difference.

Research Strategy

The research study was both exploratory and descriptive in nature. The overall school environment with particular reference to how immigrant students construct, negotiate, and represent their identity within the schooling context of South Africa was the unit of analysis. Particular emphasis was placed on the dynamics of institutional culture, and the climate of the school and the classroom. The research design was qualitative in nature, and the narrative method and case study approach was used. Three secondary schools located in the Gauteng province of South Africa provide the research sites for this study; a former white Model C school, a former Indian school, and an inner city school that had a majority of black immigrant learners. The rationale for selecting secondary school students is that these students are at the adolescent stage of their lives, where the selfcreation of one’s identity, which is often triggered by biological changes associated with puberty, the maturation of cognitive abilities and changing societal expectations, and the process of simultaneous reflection and observation is commonly experienced (Tatum, 1999). Criteria used in the selection of students were based on racial background and gender.

The data-gathering techniques that were used in this study included a mix of semi-structured interviews, observations, and field notes. Semi-structured interviews were conducted with a purposive sample of immigrant students to determine how their identities are constituted, negotiated, and represented in schools. The researcher selected approximately fifteen [black] immigrant students (Lesotho, Kenya, Nigeria, Malawi, Congo, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka) across Grades 8 to10 at each school. The selection of immigrant students depended on the mixture that was found at each of the identified schools. An attempt was made to include both Anglophone and Francophone immigrant students in this study. A total of 45 students were interviewed. These interviews were conducted in 2008 over a period of six months. Questions comprised five to six broad categories and were openended.

The duration of interviews ranged between 1½ to 2 hours. All interviews were recorded and transcribed. Semi-structured interviews were conducted with the principal, the School Management Team, the School Governing Body, selected teachers of these Grades (8 -10), and parents of immigrant children at each of the three research sites to explore the phenomenon of immigrant student identities. Observations were conducted to coincide with the interview period. Researchers observed immigrant students over a period of six weeks at each school with a focus on their experiences of school life, and how it plays out on the classroom floor and on the school grounds. Observations of classroom practice, activities, and associations during the break sessions, assemblies, and other activities of the school, including after school activities, were captured. It must, however, be noted that there are advantages and limitations of observations at a small number of schools. The advantages of such a technique is that it provides a lens into the ‘lived experiences’ of classroom life over a period of time that allows for in-depth study and creates the opportunity for patterns (if any) to emerge. The limitation is that the small number of schools observations could be seen as instructive and illustrative, and not as representative of all schools.

In order to get a better feel of the schooling and learning environment, various field notes were written, based on informal observations of these schools (ethos, culture, and practices of the school). Informal conversations were conducted with some teachers. Attention was also given to the physical appearance of the school, which included observations of artefacts such as paintings, décor, photographs, portraits, and school magazines to provide a sense of the institutional culture of the school. Do immigrant students feel a sense of belonging and being at home at the school? Particular emphasis was on the experiences of immigrant students, and how they constructed, negotiated, and represented their identities within these schooling contexts, and how these contexts influenced their identity formation.

Data was analysed utilising qualitative content analysis (Mayring, 2000; Sandelowski, 2000). Codes were generated from the data and continuously modified by the researcher’s treatment of the data ‘to accommodate new data and new insights about those data’ (Sandelowski, 2000:338). This was a reflexive and an interactive process that yielded extensive codes and themes. The extensive codes were further analyzed to identify data related to key concepts in the research question, theoretical frameworks, and literature review (Miles & Huberman, 1994). Multiple readings of the data were conducted, organizing codes and themes into higher levels of categories within and across the interviews, observations, and other sources of data (Merriam, 1998).

Findings

Major findings that contrasted with what was found in the voluminous literature in this field were multifold in nature. First, although immigrant students’ ease of assimilation into the chosen reference group was to some degree sanctioned by their phenotypic racial features, their attempt at ‘psychosocial passing’ (Robinson, 1999) was politically motivated. They claimed that because of the political status of the host country, it was in their interest to ‘pass’ as local blacks, but they wanted to do this in terms of appearance only and nothing else. For many immigrant students, the behaviour and code of conduct of their local black peers in the host country represented a site of contamination and shame. The concept of ‘passing’ within the black community in the western world traditionally referred to blacks who pass for white because of their light skin colour (Wu, 2002). However, in the South African context this concept refers to black immigrant students who ‘pass’ for local black students because of similar phenotypic racialised features.

I can honestly say, I have not once noticed that the girls treat them any differently to a South African Zulu girl or a South African Xhosa girl or a South African Sotho girl, they look the same. It is really difficult to tell them apart physically (Ms Wilson, Grade 10 teacher).

They don’t really react badly because they say I look mostly like a South African, like a Venda. I don’t look like a foreigner. I mean I look like a Venda. So when I tell them I am from another country they actually get surprised (Effi, Zambia).

I fit in well, like the other South African Indians in this school. I speak English well, I don’t really have an ‘Indian’ accent so I am like one of them (Jeet, Pakistan).

Well they didn’t really see me as an immigrant; I was just like one of them. So I just let them go on believing that I am one of them. I don’t let them know that I am really an immigrant (Vena, Zimbabwean).

The ability to join the mainstream unnoticed is more challenging when one is racially marked. However, in the South African context the most discernible marker among black immigrant students was not one of race, but that of language and accent. In the case of black [African] immigrant students it was their lack of proficiency in indigenous languages that signalled their ‘foreignness’. Whereas with black [Indian] immigrant students, it was their lack of proficiency in English that made them conspicuous as foreigners. In both cases ‘accent’ in the use of the English language was the critical signifier of the ‘Other’. A secondary instantaneous indicator was that of ‘shades of blackness’. Indigenous black students could immediately recognise black [African] immigrant students by the ‘blackness of their skin pigmentation’. Wu (2002) argues that immigrants ability to ‘pass’ or be fully assimilated unnoticed is no longer possible for most new arrivals in this era of globalisation. Kevin who could physically identify with the local black students because of a similar ‘shade of blackness’, tried to desperately ‘pass’ as one of them by addressing his shortcoming in terms of learning an indigenous language.

He claims: I do not want to be identified by my culture. I look like South African black people. I have made an effort to learn Sepedi to try to fit in and to communicate with the local blacks so that they do not say I am a makwerekwere.

Immigrant students chose varied ways to present and orientate themselves in relation to others in the host country. What is important to note is that although the phenotypic features of many immigrant students allowed them to ‘pass’ for one of the local blacks, all immigrant students were resolute in maintaining their sense of moral integrity. Second, immigrant students did not readily classify themselves according to skin pigmentocracy. They initially identified themselves in terms of personality traits and subsequently in terms of ethnicity linked to culture, traditions, language, and country of origin. The label of ‘Black’ was something that was ascribed to them on entry into the host country and something that they learnt to incorporate as part of their identity, given that they shared similar phenotype features as indigenous black students, as evident from this vignette.

Interviewer: Would you class yourself according to colour?

Immigrant: Yes.

Interviewer: Who would you say you are?

Immigrant: I’m black; I’m African.

Interviewer: Why do you say you are an African?

Immigrant: Because I originate from Africa.

Interviewer: And why do you call yourself black?

Immigrant: Because that’s how we’re classified by the South African government.

Interviewer: And are you happy with that?

Immigrant: Not really, because I’ve heard so many people complain about being called black because our skin colour is naturally black.

Interviewer: So you won’t classify yourself as black in Zambia?

Immigrant: Me, no, no, no definitely not! I was not identified as ‘black’ in Zambia, but here I am told that I am ‘black’ because I look more like the local black Africans than like the Indians and whites.

Interviewer: In Zambia, how would you classify yourself?

Immigrant: As African.

Interviewer: Just African?

Immigrant: Yes. It is only when I came to South Africa that I realized that I’ve got another label, now I am a black African.

Interviewer: How does this make you feel?

Immigrant: I feel bad because I am not ‘black’ I am ‘African’… because I come from Africa. ‘I am not happy about being called black. I prefer being called African’. Also, my culture is totally different from theirs [black South Africans] and in my culture we are taught to respect and behave well. We also dress differently. There are so many differences with them, so how can people see me like one of them? I am just an African student in South Africa from Zambia… all these other labels; black and all that doesn’t get into my identity.

And another student’s response:

In Burundi we just say our culture and language, but when I came to South Africa I learnt that I am now ‘black’ (Andrew).

I am Zimbabwean and I’m black and I speak Kalanga…I say I am ‘black’ because when I came to South Africa I was told by the learners, teachers and the principal that I am black and I could also see that I look like the ‘black South Africans’. No, in Zimbabwe I was not ‘black’. I was just from the Kalanga tribe (Vena).

Third, the majority of immigrant students heightened their ethnic self-awareness in forming their identity, but also assumed hyphenated identities, as much as the hyphen was heavily skewed in favour of the  country of origin. Immigrant students negotiated the balance and contours of the hyphen as they navigated their way through the social contexts of the host country:

I am Rwandan, but I am living now for 12 years in South Africa, so I’d say I am Rwandan but also becoming South African. I am a Rwandan-South African. [Sighs] I don’t… I wouldn’t say I’m a foreigner, no. I am a Congolese-South African, yes. I’m… who I am is two different cultures that play a huge, huge, impact on me and sadly I’m going say it’s more South African than Congolese people that have made me who I am. But because culture means a lot to me, I have to say I am Congolese-South African (Vanessa, DRC).

Fourth, immigrant students were not seen as having an identity, but rather as being ‘cast into a category with associated characteristics or features’. In terms of ‘Othering’ they were ascribed the group categorisation of ‘makwerekwere’. A further sub-categorisation process occurred within this group category and was based on ‘Shades of Blackness’, which further negatively influenced many immigrant students’ formation of social identities and their sense of belonging to groups. Students who come from Congo, Zambia, Somalia, and Malawi are naturally darker skinned than indigenous African learners. According to one of the principals:

They say this is a terrible thing which is part of our country, how dark the person is, because now South African students identify and discriminate against black immigrant students on the basis of darkness of skin colour because they say that person’s too dark to be South African. This places the immigrant child under much stress and the child feels isolated.

Some immigrant student responses in this regard:

They use my surname Dakkar to mock at me and they say I am dark. I am a makwerekwere and I must go back to Zambia. They say you are black, like you are black more than other learners; you must be Congolese or maybe you from Somalia? There was this one time we were arguing with some other people. So they were dissing me [slang: insult someone] and so I also dissed them and they say I’m dark. I must go back to Malawi and stuff.

Fifth, in order to counteract the social representation of being a foreigner, and to seek a sense of inclusion, many black [African] immigrant students forged a ‘continental identity’ to create a sense of solidarity with local black students. Thus, their identities became subjected to a process of evolution and modification within the new social context. There seemed to be an increasing emphasis on an ‘African’ identity:

In Zimbabwe, I was a Zimbabwean, but now they say Unapa is a makwerekwere. That’s not who I am. I am an African from Zimbabwe. I’m a Congolese girl from the DRC. They say I am a foreigner; a makwerekwere and they push me and say ‘Go back to your country’. I don’t see myself as a foreigner. I am an African from Africa (Jeanette, DRC).

Andrew was resolute in his thinking and preferred to present himself in relation to others in terms of a continental perspective. Since the context within which he now found himself forced him to be classified according to colour, he vehemently denied being ‘black’, instead he argued:

I do not classify myself as ‘black’ according to South African racial categories. I am ‘coffee brown’. I am an African since like them [South Africans] I too am from the continent of Africa. How can they [South Africans] call me a makwerekwere? (Andrew, Ghana).

And sixth, immigrant student self-agency was twofold in nature. They not only wanted to improve their own condition, as much of the literature in the field reports, but there seemed to be an inherent drive to improve the human condition of others. There was genuine concern and a form of empathy. They wanted to assist indigenous black students in the spirit of ‘brotherhood’ [we are the same we are all ‘Africans’] to improve the moral, academic, and social fibre of South African society.

I see a kind of deficiency in the attitude of learners. For me, this is something that I can use to build the school into a better school and make the learners see that what they are doing is wrong. The South African government is giving the youth too many rights. I mean like already at the age of 12 you can have an abortion. That is just wrong in the Bible and it is wrong as a person (Chanda, Zambia). I can’t say we really different, we look more or less the same except I am slightly lighter in colour then them but where we are different is in the attitude. The only difference is attitude. I’ll change them. I will want them to understand what education is really about and how to treat elders. They must really get to understand that (Kevin, Zimbabwe).

The black people the way they treat people. I don’t think we treat people the same way. I’d like to teach them about respect and how to treat people well (Athailiah, Mozambique).

Analysis and Discussion of Findings

The influence of race and the effects of racism on black immigrant students were glaringly visible in this research study. Black immigrants were racialized as Black and were, therefore, subjected to the same racial prejudices and discrimination as their indigenous black counterparts. The homogeneous categorization of Blacks ignores the important national, ethnic, linguistic, cultural, political, and even racial differences that exist within the population. In particular, homogenous descriptions ignore the fact that for many Black immigrant youth, racial and ethnic identities are fluid and complex; thus many do not strictly identify with the rigid and dichotomous Black/White constructs, through which racial and ethnic identities are based in South Africa. However, within the stream of ‘Blackness’ prejudices against particular nationalities and ethnicities were clearly evident. Indigenous Black students demonstrated little incentive to eliminate racism. From a CRT analysis, this feature is known as ‘interest convergence’ or material determinism (Crenshaw et al., 1995; Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995). Efforts to eliminate racism occur only when the change will benefit the privileged group in some way. Both Black and Indian students did not perceive any benefit from the Black immigrant students, but viewed them as a threat. This tenet encourages an exploration of the role of societal need and power interests in a way that specific qualities are associated with particular racial groups.

In addition, many Black immigrant students experienced challenges in forming their identity in their very different home and school environments. They experienced difficulty in reconciling the expectations placed upon them by their traditional culture and those that hailed from South Africa, or the Eurocentric culture generally found in South African school settings. They thus took on hybrid and hyphenated identities as a measure of reconciling these disparate cultural streams. However, the hyphen assumed a skewed formation, as many black immigrant students leaned heavily on their ethnic identities that provided the foundation of their cultural and moral mores. This seemed to comply with Hall’s figure of Difference where the black immigrant student was constructed as an ‘adversarial space’ living in ‘anxiety of contamination by its other’ (Huyssen, 1986: vii). The multiplicity of identities and of positions within any apparent identity as characteristic of Hall’s figure of fragmentation was evident in the manner in which immigrant student identities manifested themselves. Black immigrant students were ascribed identities, namely ‘makwerekwere’, ‘black’, and were further cast into categories according to ‘Shades of Blackness’. Furthermore, they were ascribed identities according to the country of origin, namely Nigerians were categorised as thieves, womanisers, drug lords, and people who were unhygienic. Zimbabweans were ostracised because of the perception that they came from a poverty-stricken country that lacked resources and a country that would seem to be ‘uncivilised’ and ‘backward’. Dominating identities of immigrant students were very much in the form of an ethnic identity.

While at the same time there was overwhelming evidence of hyphenating and perforating identities. There was also a very strong association with a ‘Continental identity’. The emphasis on a ‘Continental identity’ by Black immigrant students was one way of counteracting the social representation of being a foreigner, and seeking a sense of belonging. Images of a ‘third space’ (Bhabha, 1990), literally of defining an ‘inbetween place inhabited by immigrant students’. And, images of ‘bordercrossing’, that mark an image of ‘between-ness’ out of which identities are produced, seemed to be the favoured options. The identity pathways of immigrant students leaned more towards the bicultural and transcultural styles of adaptation. None of the black immigrant students chose to willingly attempt to symbolically and psychologically dissemble and gain distance from their families and ethnic groups, nor did they opt for an adversarial style that centred on rejecting institutions of the dominant culture. They, however, rejected norms and values of South African culture; they just did not actively act out against it. In contrast, there seemed to be genuine empathy and a collective sense of ‘brotherhood’ with indigenous students, as evident from the manner in which their self-agency unfolded. Hence, the Diaspora experience was very much evident in the way immigrant students recognised the necessary heterogeneity and diversity; by a conception of ‘identity’ which lives with and through, not despite, difference; and by hybridity. Through this Diaspora experience, immigrant students constantly produced and reproduced themselves anew, through transformation and difference by subjecting their identities to a process of evolution and modification within the new social context, as evident from their increasing emphasis on an ‘African’ identity.

Conclusion

Reactions of indigenous students to Black immigrant students reflect the racial stratification that is part of the fabric of South Africa. In a CRT analysis, this endorses the tenet that races are categories society creates and that individual, cultural, and institutional expressions of racism are part of the dominant cultural ideology that manifests in multiple contexts. Current manifestations of racial stratification occur within a broader historical landscape that has shaped the present forms and expressions of racism. This research study uncovered both similarities and differences with what was found in the literature review. The similarities are that immigrant students in the South African context also have to contend with discrimination and harassment, but this is largely in terms of intra-black dynamics, while they struggle with issues of language, curriculum, and instructional strategies that do not address their cultural or linguistic background, and they feel a sense of alienation rather than one of belonging. These findings are in significant contrast with the literature in terms of the aspects of psychosocial passing, agency, identity, and language as a tool of exclusion. Black immigrant students have different stories to tell regarding the way race affects their life experiences. These stories have not had as significant an influence on policies, practices, and opinions as have the dominant cultural narratives about race. Black immigrant students have unique perspectives on racial matters and their voices speak of experiences involving marginalisation, devaluation, and stigmatisation. It becomes clear from these narratives that ‘South Africanness’ is not just a question of citizenship in official documentation. It is also about contests over the more concrete (and often mundane) daily requirements of life, and the territoriality and space that accompany them. It becomes imperative to not only acknowledge and recognise the heterogeneous constitution of black groups in South Africa but to incorporate the linguistic and cultural capital of these differing groups into the very fabric of schooling so as to ensure that all students feel a sense of belonging and feeling at home. It is only in this way that all students can truly become ‘cosmopolitan citizens’ of the world, guided by common human values. Research from the CRT framework should contribute to efforts to facilitate the empowerment of marginalised and disenfranchised groups, and to inform strategies for eliminating racism and other forms of oppression.

¹ This chapter stems from a broader SANPAD-funded project on Immigrant student identities in South African schools. Parts of this chapter have already been published in Education Inquiry. Vol. 1 (4):347–365 and the Journal of Educational Development.

² Identities – In this chapter the ‘multiple’ and ‘fluid’ identities that are addressed are those of race, ethnicity, nationality, language, and related identifi cations; not class and gender.

³ Gauteng – One of the nine provinces of South Africa.

⁴ Makwerekwere – people who were identified as not properly belonging to the South African nation. Makwerekwere is the derogatory term used by Black South Africans to describe non-South African blacks. It refers to Black immigrants from the rest of Africa.

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About the Authors:

Saloshna Vandeyar is an NRF C rated scientist and the recent award-winning scholar on intercultural education from the prestigious international BMW Awards in the category: theory. Her work has also received national recognition as evident from the other awards she has received, namely, Winner in the National Science and Technology Forum Award 2007 in the Category H: NRF Sponsored T W Kambule Award: Senior Black Researcher over the last 5 to 10 years; finalist in the category Education of the Shoprite Checkers/ SABC 2 Woman of the Year 2006; Exceptional Young Researcher’s award from the University of Pretoria; Gold medal for Research, Excellence and Achievement, University of Pretoria, and two Community awards for Excellence in Education and Research (2007/2009). She was also nominated for the social justice award (American Education Research Association) in 2009. She has authored and co-authored several books, journal articles and chapters in books. Her scholarly book, Diversity High: Class, Color, Culture and Characterin a South African school was nominated for the outstanding book award (AERA) in 2009 and her paper that was published in an international journal was nominated for the Joyce Cain award (2009). Her specialist areas and the foci of her research encompass Race, Identities, Social/cultural Justice, Diversity Education, Teacher Professionalism as well as Assessment Practices. She serves on the editorial boards of the International Journal of Early Child Care and Development; International Journal of Learning for Democracy; Perspectives in Education (2004-2006). She is particularly interested in the implications of teacher and student identities in constructing classrooms inclusive of racial, linguistic and ethnic identities and in promoting Intercultural and Peace Education.

Thirusellvan Vandeyar (Thiru) is a lecturer in the department of Science,Mathematics and Technology Education at the University of Pretoria, South Africa. He commenced his career as an educator in 1981. His teaching experience includes being a head of department for mathematics, deputy principal, principal and a lecturer at a teacher training college. During his extensive teaching career, he obtained a BA degree and a Diploma in Datamatrixs. He currently holds a Masters and Phd degree in Computer Integrated Education. His main research interests include e-learning; ICT and teacher professionalism.

This essay has been published as Chapter One in:

Saloshna Vandeyar (Ed.) Hyphenated Selves – Immigrant Identities within Education Contexts – 2011

Rozenberg Edition: ISBN: 978 90 361 0247 6

Unisa Press Edition: ISBN: 978 1 868 8 679 1