Are we 20 years behind South Africa?
I’m sitting on a metal bunk in a medium-security prison in South Africa as I write this. The blazing sunlight and gorgeous natural scenery outside seem strangely juxtaposed with the barred windows and razor wire-topped walls, but I suppose Africa has always been a land of contradictions. The cold concrete walls do something to alleviate the 35 degree temperature outside, but I can’t quite stave off a slick of sweat.
I am, by the way, referring to the long-defunct prison on Robben Island, just off the coast of Cape Town, where I am currently spending three weeks working in heritage conservation. The island itself is quite beautiful, which — speaking of contradictions — is also at odds with its unsavoury history. It has served as a leper colony, a mental asylum, a military outpost, and several forms of prison. Most famously, Robben Island was for many years the dumping ground for South Africa’s political dissidents — including Nelson Mandela, who finally broke the back of the apartheid system in 1991.
Institutionalised racism is not what you’d call a new problem. It is so old a problem, in fact, that it boggles the mind to think that it was still in place as recently as 1991. Surely, in our world of genetic science and understanding of DNA, we should be passed the concept of race itself, let alone of racism. That is, of course, wishful thinking, as the obsessive need to classify and divide is one of the defining features of humanity, and not something that we have much chance of wiping out entirely (despite it also being one of our most problematic and conflictive tendencies). Once humans do begin to spot petty differences among things, especially themselves, it’s all but inevitable that a pecking order is established — usually somewhat less-than-diplomatically. Apartheid, in some form or another, has existed since the dawn of colonialism. South Africa was simply the first country to give it its own name.
In many ways, while researching the history of the racial struggles here as close to first-hand as one can get today, I am reminded of our own racial conflicts in Canada. The colonial efforts in both countries show a very distinct strategy designed to dehumanise the indigenous populations: a policy of attempted assimilation followed by one of segregation, with the two policies overlapping to various degrees; the ‘innovation’ of ID cards; heavy stereotyping and distortion of history to portray the people as inferior and savage; and systems of enforced poverty.
With all these similarities in mind, however, there is one major difference that does need to be pointed out. South Africa managed to free itself from this archaic system 20 years ago and establish for itself a new, non-racist order. Difficulties still exist among the people, as they are prone to, but the government is, finally, officially colour-blind (one absurd exception being that employers are required to give preference to non-white job candidates — a bizarre twist of prejudice, though I refuse to use the phrase ‘reverse racism’). The question does have to be asked, therefore: why is Canada so far behind in this — pardon the expression — race?
While Canada is not an overtly or intentionally racially oppressive country, and has made great efforts to rectify past injustices (correction of history and stereotypes and repatriation of artefacts, for instance), it continues to retain some of those hallmarks of racism that South Africa shed so decisively in the ‘90s. In particular, segregation and ID carding persist, via reservations and status cards, respectively. But they have been somewhat watered down and warped, being presented as a) voluntary, and b) beneficial.
Segregation via the reserve system is still going strong. It’s not an enforced situation; anyone has the right to move out of the reservation if they want to. However, it is nevertheless a system whereby a single denomination of people can become isolated from all others —segregation by choice! Similarly, no one will be arrested for failing to produce a status card, but the card’s demeaning effect still takes hold: a document that identifies you as disparate from all other humans (not simply from white people; there are no status cards for people of black, Hispanic, or any other descent) — which is dehumanization of the self.
The key point is that instead of rectifying the situation, the government has merely offset the responsibility for it: they place the decision in the hands of the minority whether or not to shed these remnants of oppression and unite with ‘mainstream’ society. And though I do not believe the legislation regarding the problem is designed to actively oppress native people, neither does it encourage them to free themselves. By presenting things such as reservations and status cards as benefits, and moreover as entirely optional, the government is able to maintain a façade of equality while retaining those old elements of colonialism.
I realize I may sound a bit contradictory here: if I don’t believe the government is still being deliberately racist, what explanation can I offer for the retention of those colonial elements? Why would they not just get rid of them now? I present to you the rub: they have backed themselves into a corner. In their zeal to compensate for the wrongs of the past, they have created a situation from which they cannot escape without a further indictment of racism. Were they to abolish reservations and status cards now, apparently revoking First Nations’ benefits, they would look straightforwardly racist. But by leaving things the way they are, they can be accused of backhanded racism instead.
While I think the first choice would ultimately be more humanistic and a step towards truer equality, this would sadly not be the outward impression. And as appearances are usually so much more important in politics than undercurrents, this catch-22 may persist for some time. What a beautiful example of that famous Canadian fence-sitting.
