Last week, I wrote about competing conceptions of citizenship, and how this was expressed in the recent case of Chidimma Adetshina and her participation (or not) in the Miss SA pageant. The outcry against her raised important and discomforting questions about national identity and how individuals fit into it. This I framed as a matter of citizenship.
The Adetshina matter deals with one particular element of the citizenship debate: who belongs? What does it mean to be a South African? This is largely a question of citizenship as an analogue for nationality, with the associated issues of how this is acquired and legitimated.
But there is a related question: if we can settle on an understanding of what it means to be a citizen, what does it mean to act as one? In other words, having established whether we belong, how do we belong?
This was brought into focus – unwittingly – by the now-resigned mayor of Johannesburg, Kabelo Gwamanda. Facing mounting criticism of his leadership of the city, he attempted push back by denouncing his opponents and appealing for racial solidarity. “When you are a black child from Soweto,” he opined in response to calls for his removal from office, “you have to have certain expectations where you can qualify as a human being. They don’t perceive me as such, and I think we cannot continue allowing racism to prevail unabated.”
“Black child”
Perceptive readers will note themes reminiscent of the Miss SA controversy, in particular, pegging his woes to questions of his identity, and the accusation that they arise from the contempt his detractors have for his origins. Yet what really strikes me is his description of himself as a “black child”.
The term “child” (“black child”, “African child”) is one that has seeped into the political vocabulary in recent years. It is meant to be evocative. It suggests innocence and purity and an organic connection to a community around him. To my mind, it’s meant to allude to religious imagery – the idea of people as Children of God – but with an appeal to the Divine replaced by an assertion of nativist identity. Think of this as a sort of secular religion.
Gwamanda is, however, not a child. He is an adult, and at 39-years-old could accurately be termed middle-aged. He has had a (controversial) career as a businessman and has served as the Executive Mayor of Johannesburg, South Africa’s largest city and the economic hub of the country. He carried responsibilities weightier than most of us ever will, responsibilities for public wellbeing and the stewardship of public resources.
Citizenship implies more than just belonging and acceptance. It is not simply about whether one is entitled to live in a territory or participate in its labour market; nor even about entitlements to welfare benefits or the protection of the state.
These elements may not even require citizenship per se; they may be afforded by any relationship of authority, such as that of the monarch or the despot to those under his authority. Those living under such conditions – even where the result may be a pleasant, secure life – are best described as “subjects”. What authority – benevolent or venal – can confer at its discretion, it may also take away.
Democratic citizenship
Democratic citizenship, by contrast, has always been a relationship between the state, society, and the individual. How this is lived out in practice has typically been expressed in two models. The first of these – the so-called “liberal” conception – stresses citizenship as a basket of rights geared largely at protecting the individual from the predations of the state.
The second, with roots in the Classical era, is what is known as the “republican” tradition. While not entirely contradictory to the liberal version, it sees citizenship as a set of reciprocal relationships, in which each party – the state, society as a whole, and the individual – may legitimately make demands upon the others. It values participation in public life and sees citizenship as an active rather than a passive state.
Moreover, republican citizenship is deeply invested in the public face of authority. If people are to be involved in their own governance, transparency and accountability are vital. Those holding office are granted the power to exercise authority and leadership but are expected to do so in a manner that reflects the best interests and highest standards of the society they come from. This is the notion of “civic virtue”.
The republican ideal is what South Africa formally aspires to. Officially, it is embodied in demands for effective public participation in the political process and for leaders to be held to account for their misdeeds – in other words, to embody civic virtue, although it goes without saying that the conduct of public life typically falls woefully short.
So, it was with Gwamanda. Whatever may be said, justly, of the scale of the challenges he inherited, there is little to demonstrate progress in alleviating them. An adult citizen in a constitutional democracy, he took on a public role and failed to discharge it adequately. For that, the loss of office was fitting recompense.
Dependence
Indeed, the term “child” suggests dependence if not helplessness. That may be understandable when speaking of humanity before the majesty of the Almighty, but not in matters of governance. And it stands in stark contrast to the agency that citizenship confers. It also has an uncomfortable echo of the pre-democracy colloquialisms for African (adult) men and women: “boy” and “girl”, words that acknowledged humanity but affirmed their inherent subordination – a verbal denial of citizenship.
To attempt to dodge responsibility in the idiom of race and innocence is not merely a renunciation of civic virtue, but of the citizenship on which South Africa’s democracy is (nominally) founded. To be a citizen – and even more a leader – in a constitutional democracy is to accept the burdens and responsibilities it imposes.
Gwamanda is out of office and I doubt many will miss him. But the debased idea of citizenship that he signified remains a challenge for South Africa to address.
Image by Chickenonline from Pixabay
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