So, Adam Habib has been suspended from his new job at the University of London’s School of African and Oriental Studies. His sin? Not that he is a dreadful academic, but that he dared mention the “N-word” in a video conversation with his students.
Even though the outrage at Habib reached our shores, exciting a lot of emotions, I have no interest at this point in entering the row itself. Nor do I want to pronounce on whether he sought to mislead his audience regarding the usage of such offensive words in SA.
To my mind the controversy speaks to two things. First, the hurt that racism and its nomenclature continue to cause, not only in SA but elsewhere in the world as well.
Second, where do we draw the limits of free speech (even for academia), and who decides on those?
Regarding the first point, it is clear that racism has proved to be a formidable foe to humanity, surviving the formal abolition of slavery and apartheid — latterly provoking the Black Lives Matter movement in the US and other parts of the world.
Here at home, the equivalent of the “N-word” is the “K-word”.
The use of racist language, including name-calling, is an affront that must be called out and punished, seeking as it does to demean, exclude and hurt those at whom it is directed.
However, this imperative should not lead to a blanket suppression of the discussion of racism — which is, in fact, the source and oxygen of the “K-word” and other derogatory names. At best, we will succeed not in eradicating racist language, but in nearly suppressing it — only for it to emerge and convulse one generation after the next.
In SA, where racism was government policy for decades until 1994, we seem, curiously, to deem honest discussion about racism to be impolite or destructive to social harmony.
It is that approach that gives racists a lifeline and delays their day of reckoning.
By not saying the word, calling it the “K-word” instead, we sugarcoat it and imbue it with a respectability it does not deserve. We push it beyond even the scope of intellectual or academic interrogation and rigorous critique.
We seem to have taken the misguided view that by banning people from, under any circumstance, verbalising the “K-word” — and the “N-word” — they will miraculously burn themselves out and cease to exist.
But the fact that the “N-word” can still cause such social uproar, even jeopardising a person’s high-profile job, shows that simply declaring it taboo has not made it disappear, and it is still used by many. This after slavery was abolished in much of the world nearly two centuries ago.
In SA, where racism was government policy for decades until 1994, we seem, curiously, to deem honest discussion about racism to be impolite or destructive to social harmony
As with racism itself, the only way to effectively fight its repugnant terminology is to expose and confront it. Talking openly about the “K-word”, without using it to harm others, will force us all to more honestly engage with our very difficult past as a society, and its impact on us today.
Having been a victim of apartheid racism, I’d like to be able to discuss the “K-word” with my children without having to dash for the basement in fear of self-appointed thought police.
I’d like to be able to explain to them where the word came from and the nefarious purpose it was used for. Also, why it should never be used against another person, and why they should resist anyone trying to use it against them.
It would please me greatly if all our schools encouraged the same conversation in the classroom, among all our children, black and white, with the necessary sensitivity.
This would be more constructive than cloaking the word in secrecy.
In time, the total ban on the vocalisation or writing of the “K-word” may well lead to confusion in discourse. Then we will be unsure if we are talking about the apartheid racial slur or the one now used against African migrants, also starting with a “k”.
The issue is of additional relevance given that today is Human Rights Day, when we celebrate the wonderful rights bestowed by our constitution. Among those rights is the right to free speech.
That right not being limitless, where should we put the boundaries in the context of the debate on racism?
Certainly, we should continue to outlaw the use of hurtful and insulting language against others, including using the “K-word”.
But we should not go along with the absurdity of declaring out of bounds the mere vocalisation of the word in conversation about racism and related issues — as long as the objective is not to offend or cause harm.
Otherwise, we would face the contradiction that, as our society becomes more open, it rushes to embrace holy cows and taboos, giving succour to peddlers of racism.
To fix society’s race problem, young people, black and white, must understand both its origins and its continuing negative impact today. It is an understanding they are not born with, but that must be imparted through open conversation.
I’m not convinced that the most effective way of fighting racism and racist language is to simply drive them underground.
In his song Chileshe, the late Hugh Masekela — eminent anti-racist and pan-Africanist — shows how, instead of walking on eggshells, we can call a racial spade a racial spade, without pandering to racism itself. It’s a song I highly recommend.
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