'I’d do it again': Adam Habib reflects on rocky tenure at Wits as he bows out

Students of the Russian Revolution will know that the brilliant yet polarising revolutionary, Leon Trotsky, was hounded out of the politburo, and succumbed to the assassin’s ice pick, in Mexico, in 1940, at the order of his nemesis, the dictator Joseph Stalin. It’s a cautionary tale for any firebrand who would attempt to speak out against the inevitable resort to bureaucracy and authoritarianism that “liberators” often succumb to, usually when they’re out of ideas. A revolution is no place for idealists.

Neither, it seems, is the South African university campus a place any more for Adam Habib, loquacious and elegant (youthful) struggle veteran, albeit with an independent streak, elevated to arguably the highest academic post in SA, vice-chancellorship of the University of the Witwatersrand in December 2012.

And now we’ve lost him: no more natty, irritated professor seated (voluntarily, he has always insisted) on the floor of Senate House, haranguing activists at the height of the student protests of 2015/2016.

It is with these and other academic ruminations in mind that I make my way through the Wits campus, en route to the 11th floor of what is now Solomon Mahlangu House, from where the VC (as he is known) surveys his academic kingdom. I chat to a worker who shows me where the lift is. He’s been at the university since 2002, and he’s quite old. I ask him whether he was one of the workers “insourced’’ after the volcanic student protests, and he says yes, and he’s happier for it. But he thanks God for the intervention.

WHY'S HE GOING AT ALL?

Since the announcement that Prof Habib would be curtailing his tenure at Wits in favour of taking over at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) in London at the end of the year, reporters have beaten a trail to his door. It’s ironic that SOAS, recognised as one of the world’s foremost “leftist” academic institutions, is taking Habib on board even as some on the “left” in SA have washed their hands of him. It’s a plum job, and in academia there aren’t many more sought-after positions than head of SOAS. Still, many are asking why.

It’s a great compliment to Habib, and indirectly to SA as well. But why are we throwing down the rose petals for one of the finest minds and sharpest political commentators, to leave the country? Why is he going at all? Don’t we need him here? These, and other questions, will be answered as we have tea at a table in his office, brightly decorated, yet understated.

There’s a big portrait of Nelson Mandela on the wall, black and white, nothing ostentatious. Habib, one senses immediately, has limitless energy, and speaks with a rapid-fire delivery, all the while maintaining the social scientist’s caution and habit of enumerating and listing things. He’s part nutty professor, part earnest agent of social change, with a gold-trimmed shirt that suggests a leaning towards flamboyance. And flamboyance in language, too.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that some people, maybe more than just a few, are happy to see the back of Habib. The Academic Staff Association noted he had served for seven years “under difficult times”, and commented that academic staff numbers had not increased in line with enrolments, that “millions were paid in executive bonuses”, that post-retirement medical aid benefits had been cut, and it urged more speed on broader aspects of transformation.

The EFF will be even more glad to see him go. And more’s the pity, too. Isn’t he the thorn in the side SA needs so badly? And I wonder if Habib’s leaving will not further demoralise those in public life who speak out against corruption and who hold the line against the fightback being launched in the name of, or at the behest of, former president Jacob Zuma.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Habib’s tenure at Wits will be remembered as much for whatever strides were made in transformation and embracing a reimagined future as it will for the part he played in the #FeesMustFall protests that rocked South African universities, and especially Wits, in 2015/2016. Most dramatically, it was calling in the police in September 2016 — ostensibly to complete the academic year — that will be Habib’s trademark legacy. It drew criticism both from student leaders and academics.

Habib is unrepentant, recalling, “… our institution, a public institution, I might add, that is responsible for the training of generations, was under threat and had 17 attempts at arson. We were under attack by student leaders, and by fascist politicians and anarchist politicians who were prepared to sacrifice a public institution for their own narrow political ends. I had received multiple requests from hundreds of poor students saying, please help us. ‘We support this cause but we have to finish because our future and our families’ future is in our hands.’ And in that context we had to rise to the challenge.’’

And he did. Even more so when he disarmed his detractors by having a poll of staff and students conducted, to test his support on reopening the campus, with police in attendance if necessary.

“I polled the students and 80% of those students said they want to complete, even if I have to bring security, and 92% of our staff said the same. I had student leaders who say, ‘we speak for the students’. Ironically, they’d forgotten the 80% of the students. I guarantee you I spoke for those 80% of those students. I acted as a democrat, and more importantly, it was perhaps my most important revolutionary act in my years as vice-chancellor. And frankly, if it was the same circumstances with the same challenges, I’d do it again.

'I WAS A KINDA RADICAL STUDENT ACTIVIST'

“I will not apologise for coming to the defence of a public institution. If you want to understand what’s happening at Eskom or Transnet or what’s playing out at UKZN you will see the destruction of state institutions. I will always rise to the defence of the public institution because the inclusive future of my society is dependent on it.’’

Habib remarks about how transformation in SA has been pursued in a “robotic’’ fashion, and not a “thoughtful’’ one. He says, “They’ve got a formula from the 1960s and they think that’s going to play out in 2020.” I wonder about his own “transformation’’, from student firebrand at the University of Durban-Westville in the ’80s, to spokesman for the silent majority at historically advantaged Wits in a new era.

Yes, he admits, “As a student I was a kinda radical student activist in the sense that I really did believe in a much more inclusive future, a socialist future. I described myself as a Marxist and Trotskyist. I think I am less strident in that sense, probably more social democratic today. But I still believe very much in an inclusive future and in healing the disparities of our past. A highly unequal world enables social and political polarisation and that’s dangerous.’’

Habib revels in the infamy with which he is regarded by some, especially given his outspokenness and his history-lesson criticism of the EFF, and its leader, Julius Malema. He’s clearly horrified, offended even, that Malema once again used public enterprises minister Pravin Gordhan’s Indian name, Jamnadas, at the state of the nation bust-up. “It was shockingly racist and the fact that so many South Africans tolerate it is completely unacceptable.

“People sometimes say to me, why are you so vocal about this? Well, partly I’m vocal because I do not want it said that we were silent when fascism arose. We must make sure as democrats, people who believe in an inclusive future, that even though we don’t all agree on everything, as people who believe that humanity can come together and cohere together, we need to stand up to fascism. I don’t think the political leadership does [speak up].

“Cyril Ramaphosa is the best political leader we have under the circumstances, but I think he can lead with more decisiveness. He allows the racialisation of our society, the nativist language, the scurrilous racism to manifest itself without once standing up and saying, enough is enough. South Africans would appreciate it if he stands up. They’d say we’ve got your back Mr President, if he stood up to the fascists and the anarchists and said enough is enough, and said, I lead with a mandate and actually if you are violent we are going to lock you up.

'ETHNIC ENTREPRENEURS'

“The real danger of our time is the 95% of our society who are really decent people. They’re crowded out by the loud Stalinist few, the 5% who are loud, vocal, who are sometimes violent and they crowd out the 95%. If you want to lead and heal the society you need to seek out the interest of the 95% and give them a voice because when you do that I think magic things can happen.’’

Habib isn’t exactly shocked by the particular forms the democratic SA he fought for has taken in its 25 years. Except, “I didn’t anticipate the growth of fascist forces amongst the black population as you see in the form of the EFF. I think there is no doubt that the EFF is a fascist movement, it’s crudely racist in many ways as you see in its many pronouncements, particularly around Pravin Gordhan.”

However, the tools of social science helped him prophecy “the growth in inequalities [and] polarisation of our society. The cause is the very, very deep inequality and frankly the failure of the post-apartheid elite to attend to those inequalities. Too many of them have actually used empowerment as an excuse for enrichment and in the process they have deepened those economic inequalities.

“I said in the late 1990s, and I wasn’t the only one [who] spoke — there were many progressives that wrote about this — and basically a number of us said that in a highly politically and socially polarised world what you will get is a series of ethnic entrepreneurs that will rise in that era and they will use the very real divides and the very real angst of the population to deepen divides for their own opportunistic ends.

The real danger of our time is the 95% of our society who are really decent people. They’re crowded out by the loud Stalinist few, the 5% who are loud, vocal, who are sometimes violent and they crowd out the 95%

“So Julius Malema is merely a symptom of a crisis. He is a manifestation. He is one of those ethnic entrepreneurs who play these games. These fascist forms of organisation à la the EFF etcetera emerge in this very environment of deep, deep inequality.”

Habib’s a youthful 54, “too young to retire’’. “In two-and-a-half years I would have come to the end of my tenure, my term, and we have two terms, and I find myself as too young to retire and in that context what would I do? I could have stayed and there would have been other institutions. My skill set, my passion, is about building research universities and there are only a few of those, and they’ve got good leaders and in that context, the kind of opportunities were not available. If I had had an opportunity I would have stayed. SOAS has a mandate that is African, Asian and Middle East. It allows me to stay connected to the continent, and to higher education. It doesn’t mean I’m going forever. This is home for me. This is where memories are, so I see myself as returning. And so I’ll always come back. In any case I can’t make life easy for the fascists and the anarchists. Why should I make them comfortable by going away? I will come back.

“I’ve been bemused by some of the political leaders of the EFF who’ve gone to town on social media about how it is good riddance. Do you think I really care what a fascist activist thinks? Did I care what the apartheid state thought about me?”

For all his prognostications on matters political one quite forgets the matter of being the No 1 prof on campus. “We’ve transformed but we’ve enhanced excellence as well. The two are not mutually exclusive. It has to be done thoughtfully. Part of the challenge in basic education is that we haven’t done this thoughtfully. I do worry that higher education is absorbing resources,’’ he says, in reference to the millions of youth who will never benefit from the taxpayer-funded largesse for students, with a state NSFAS budget up from about R14bn to more than R38bn to R40bn for 30%-35% of students, nationally.

'WE WILL BURN'

In that context, “I do worry about that, the activist who says if you don’t give us, we will burn. Firstly that kind of logic is unacceptable but secondly they don’t care about the consequences and I think we need to think through the hard trade-offs and choices to create inclusion and enable social justice. It has to be a thoughtful process.”

But how to fund it all, in particular the 40% of students whose family income is above R350,000 but below R600,000 a year, and who do not qualify for state aid.

“The vast majority of Wits students are in the missing middle. They are too rich for the loan scheme but too poor to pay for themselves.

“We are a society that’s growing at 0.7%. We don’t have the money to pay for all of this, so the question you have to ask is how can I get a loan scheme going that can pay for access, and people when they start earning a certain income can pay it back, and that as growth improves I can free greater parts of the system? That would be a logical thing to think through but that’s not what is happening. Frankly, the ANC leadership is incapable of turning that around because of the politics associated with it.”

As I leave and make my way back through the campus to the car, I reflect that it’s still much the old Wits, with vacuous-looking students floating around, or sitting in circles on the lawn. Prosperous-looking, too. Now they are demanding “healthy food’’, and I’m thinking back to the pies and chips (in polystyrene packaging) we devoured as students.

I wonder whether Habib’s going reflects the disenchantment of the cosmopolitan and progressive-minded with the prevailing trends and trajectory in our politics and society. Another idealist bites the dust?

Maybe he and his family just need a break. He’s done his job. For practical purposes, the campus looks much like a non-academic might imagine a transformed campus to look. The lawns and brick buildings and the Great Hall and the granite doorways look the same, but the ground has shifted beneath it all. One black girl I pass is wearing a neat T-shirt that says “Black Slogan Tee’’. So, transformed, but with a sense of humour too.