Citizenship education in South Africa: A critique of post-apartheid citizenship education policy Philemon Thokozani Mathebula A Thesis submitted to the Wits School of Education, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Johannesburg, 2009 ii ABSTRACT It is widely agreed that effective citizenship, whether in well-established democracies or in those in transition to democracy, require some educational preparation. In post- apartheid South Africa, education policy and subsequent curriculum development placed participatory democracy and active citizenship at its centre. Although South African education policy documents have a maximalist tone in places, they collectively reflect a minimalist conception of citizenship and of citizenship education. The focus of my critique of citizenship education policy is the tendency manifest in the state policy documents to undermine democratic participation and active citizenry, conceptions first developed and put into practice in the Greek city- state of Athens. The conception of education for citizenship does not guide the practice in terms accessible to the school?s democratic community. State policy?s concept of students? democratic participation and representation does not reflect a representative model of democracy in South African schools. Furthermore, extant policy does not envisage democratic citizenship education that is enjoyed by a significant proportion of the South African learners. This minimalist conception of citizenship and of citizenship education is not appropriate for the South African context. This thesis, further, mounts a defence of compulsion, arguing that within the theoretical framework of current theories of the Athenian prototype of democracy, deliberative and representative democracy, compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education can be justified on the grounds that they promote individual autonomy and build social cohesion ? towards the common good in South Africa. The recently proposed compulsory citizenship education programmes are not compatible with compulsory citizenship education that is designed to promote active, critical and inquiring South African citizens. These value-based education documents promote obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the South African government. iii Moreover, neither the Bill of Responsibilities nor the School Pledge offer possible strategies for getting from where we are to where we ought to be. In the final analysis, post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency can be attributed in large part to the conflicting forms and conceptions of citizenship in South Africa. The goals of citizenship education in South Africa would be better served by cosmopolitan ideals, that is, preparing South African learners to act in a local, national and global scale. Keywords Citizenship, citizenship education, community, compulsory schooling, democracy, education policy, participation, representation. iv DECLARATION I, Philemon Thokozani Mathebula, declare that this is my own unaided work. It is submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg. It has not been submitted before for any other degree or examination at any other university, nor has it been prepared under the aegis or with the assistance of anybody or organisation or person other than the University of the Witwatersrand. Signed at on this day of November 2009 Philemon Thokozani Mathebula v DEDICATION This thesis is dedicated to the mass democratic movement of the 1980s that, on the educational front, struggled for a participatory, community-based citizenship education in South African schools To the memory of my late father Paulos Sgili Mathebula who never lived to see the demise of the apartheid rule, and the ushering of a free, non-racial and democratic South Africa Also to the memory of Silas Radebe who constantly reminded me of the significance of education and even in his absence has been my inspiration throughout my studies vi ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Several people assisted me with this study and I wish to place on record my sincere appreciation and gratitude to them. I wish to express my sincere thanks to my supervisors, Professor Penny Enslin and Doctor Kai Horsthemke for their invaluable advice, mentorship and excellent supervision. I have grown as an academic because of their efforts and guidance. Both supervisors must be commended for their encouragement, critical scrutiny and unfailing good humour, despite my interruptions and delays, as I prepared and wrote this thesis. In addition, the financial assistance of the National Research Foundation, the Mellon Programme and the Canon Collins Trust towards this research is hereby acknowledged. Opinions expressed in this thesis and conclusion(s) arrived at are those of the author and are not necessarily to be attributed to these three bodies. Furthermore, to all my friends who I have not mentioned by name a very big thank you for your love and support and believing in me. Finally, I would like to thank the Wits School of Education, especially Professor Mary Metcalfe, who has consistently shown interest in this research, as well as my future career path. vii TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT ................................................................................................................. ii DEDICATION .............................................................................................................. v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ......................................................................................... vi PART 1 CHAPTER 1 .................................................................................................................. 1 RESEARCH OVERVIEW ............................................................................................ 1 CHAPTER 2 ................................................................................................................ 13 PROTOTYPICAL ATHENIAN DEMOCRACY, PARTICIPATION AND EDUCATION .............................................................................................................. 13 2.1 Introduction .................................................................................................. 13 2.2 Prototypical Athenian democracy: its problems and its virtues ................... 15 2.3 Theories of democracy: participation and education ................................... 22 2.4 Popular participation and democracy: a deliberative perspective ................ 29 2.5 Participation and representation: parallel models of democracy.................. 38 2.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................... 44 CHAPTER 3 ................................................................................................................ 45 PROTOTYPICAL ATHENIAN CITIZENSHIP AND EDUCATION: MODERN DEBATES AND TRENDS ......................................................................................... 45 3.1 Introduction .................................................................................................. 45 3.2 The classical concept of citizenship: its origins and its virtues .................... 47 3.3 The Citizenship Advisory Group: a prototypical Athenian view ................. 56 3.4 Prototypical Athenian Citizenship: a civic-centred view ............................. 63 3.5 Active community engagement and doing citizenship: international trends 71 3.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................... 80 viii PART 2 CHAPTER 4 ................................................................................................................ 81 CONTESTED NOTIONS OF CITIZENSHIP IN SOUTH AFRICA ......................... 81 4.1 Introduction .................................................................................................. 81 4.2 South African citizenship: common but not inclusive ................................. 83 4.3 Apartheid and homeland citizenship in South Africa .................................. 89 4.4 The Freedom Charter and citizenship education .......................................... 97 4.5 The restoration of South African citizenship: transformative or democratic? ................................................................................................................... 104 4.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................. 109 CHAPTER 5 .............................................................................................................. 111 SOUTH AFRICAN EDUCATIONAL POLICY DEVELOPMENT SINCE 1994: A CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR DEMOCRATIC CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION .................................................................................. 111 5.1 Introduction ................................................................................................ 111 5.2 People?s Education for People?s Power: a prototypical Athenian view .... 112 5.3 South African education policy: a minimalist view of democracy ............ 121 5.4 Citizenship education and curriculum development in South African schools ................................................................................................................... 127 5.5 Conclusion .................................................................................................. 137 CHAPTER 6 .............................................................................................................. 139 FROM ?BOY-GOVERNMENT? AND ?STUDENT-GOVERNMENT? TO ........... 139 REPRESENTATIVE COUNCILS OF LEARNERS: THE BEST ........................... 139 OF BOTH WORLDS? .............................................................................................. 139 6.1 Introduction ................................................................................................ 139 6.2 The British system of ?boy-government?in South African schools ............ 141 6.3 A brief history of student struggle and the rejection of the prefect system 147 6.4 Critical analysis of the Guides for Representative Councils of Learners .. 155 ix 6.5 Conclusion .................................................................................................. 169 PART 3 CHAPTER 7 .............................................................................................................. 170 COMPULSORY SCHOOLING AND OBLIGATORY CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION IN SOUTH AFRICA ................................................................................................. 170 7.1 Introduction ................................................................................................ 170 7.2 The origins of a formal compulsory schooling in South Africa ................. 171 7.3 Compulsory schooling and citizenship: resistance and struggle ................ 180 7.4 Universal primary education and state regulated compulsory citizenship education .................................................................................................... 186 7.5 Compulsory, participatory citizenship education: rights ? not coercion .. 192 7.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................. 198 CHAPTER 8 .............................................................................................................. 199 THE FUTURE OF CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION IN SOUTH AFRICAN SCHOOLS ................................................................................................................................... 199 8.1 Introduction ................................................................................................ 199 8.2 The origin of the Bill of Responsibilities and the national Schools Pledge ..... ................................................................................................................... 201 8.3 The Bill of Responsibilities and democratic citizenship education ........... 205 8.4 The national Schools Pledge and democratic citizenship education .......... 211 8.5 The Bill of Responsibilities and the Schools Pledge: dialogue and debate 216 8.6 Citizenship education in South African schools: ?the new patriotism? or cosmopolitanism ......................................................................................... 220 8.7 Conclusion .................................................................................................. 234 CHAPTER 9 .............................................................................................................. 235 CONCLUSION ......................................................................................................... 235 x REFERENCES .......................................................................................................... 243 1 CHAPTER 1 RESEARCH OVERVIEW The first recorded democracy was the Athenian democracy around 500 BC. The word democracy combines the elements demos, which means ?people?, and kratos, which means ?force? or ?power?. Theoretically, what does this mean? In the abstract, this prototypical (or traditional Athenian) democracy, we are told, was a political system in which ?the people? ruled: collective self-rule. More concretely, there were three political bodies through which ?the people? ruled Athens: 1) the popular assembly ruled on foreign policy, made laws, tried political crimes and comprised all male citizens over the age of 18 years; 2) the Council of Five Hundred was an administrative body that prepared the agenda for the assembly, oversaw the meetings or day-to-day business of the assembly and prepared legislation for consideration by the assembly; and 3) the courts administered justice in Athens. Although the Athenians bequeathed to us their conception of democracy and participation, most of the basic tenets of prototypical Athenian democracy, such as people? power, equality and freedom, were not pursued with sufficient rigour and consistency. Athens accommodated citizens and non-citizens. Among the non-citizens were slaves, children, women and foreigners. Despite the limitations of prototypical Athenian democracy ? the hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship ?, ?the people? through the assembly, the council and law courts testify to the broad, ?active? participation of citizens in the Greek city-state of Athens. Chapters 2 and 3 will focus on theories of participatory democracy and active citizenship that have endorsed and interpreted the Athenian conception of democracy and citizenship for and within 2 modern day societies. In the words of Pateman (1970), ?it is their stress on this aspect of participation and its place at the centre of their theories that marks the distinctive contribution of the theories of participatory democracy to democratic theory as a whole? (p. 22). It is, therefore, the model first recorded in the Greek city-state of Athens that I will be considering when I discuss participatory democracy and active citizenship in post-apartheid South Africa schools. South Africa has undergone dramatic changes since the first non-racial and democratic election in the country?s history on 27 April 1994. Among the changes that have taken place is the enactment of education policies relevant to the establishment of a unitary, non-racial and democratic South Africa. South African education policy and subsequent curriculum development placed participatory democracy and active citizenship at its centre. The White Paper on Education and Training (1995) is concerned with the concept of popular participation, which denotes a broad range of participants (or ?agents?/?actors?) in education policy processes in South Africa. At the heart of the South African Schools Act (1996) lies the idea of democratic governance and partnership. In line with the pronouncements in the White Paper on Education and Training (1995) and the South African Schools Act (1996) is the development of Curriculum 2005 (1997), which declares its commitment to active, creative, critical types of citizens in a culturally diverse, democratic society. The ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy? (2001) provides a practical framework intended to instil and reinforces democratic values (of the Constitution) in young South Africans. The Guides for Representative Councils of Learners (1999) aim to promote student participation and representation in school governing bodies in South African schools. The proposed Bill of Responsibilities and the new national Schools Pledge (2008) encourage school children to take their rightful place as active, responsible citizens by declaring a pledge of allegiance to the Constitution (1996) and the Republic of South Africa. According to educational philosopher McLaughlin (1992), the concept of 3 citizenship is mapped in terms of a continuum of minimal and maximal interpretations. This mapping is correspondingly true of education for citizenship, McLaughlin argues. In this context, the term ?minimal? refers to citizenship as ?taught?, and by extension to education for citizenship that relies entirely on the formal school curriculum. Interpreted maximally, citizenship can be ?taught? and ?caught?, this is to say, effective education for citizenship covers opportunities for teaching about citizenship within and outside the formal curriculum. Although the post-apartheid South African education policy documents have a maximalist tone in places, they collectively reflect a minimalist conception of citizenship and of citizenship education. When the National Party came to power in 1948, they introduced apartheid ? which means apartness or a state of being apart or separated ? a policy they used to govern South Africa. The new South African government?s intention to dismantle apartheid education and democratise education can be seen within the context of transforming the country from an apartheid regime to a new democratic order. The central target of my critique of post-apartheid citizenship education policy is the tendency manifest in the state policy documents to undermine democratic participation and active citizenry, conceptions first developed and put into practice in the Greek city-state of Athens. The seeds for this thesis were sown when I was a Teacher Liaison Officer (TLO) at Nirvana Secondary School, south west of Johannesburg, between 2002 and 2003. But first, it is important to point out that as I mentioned above, Curriculum 2005 (1997) declares its commitment to promote active, creative, critical citizens in South African schools. Looking ahead to later discussion on post-apartheid South African educational policy development in Chapter 5, Curriculum 2005 (1997) makes provision for citizenship education through the Human and Social Sciences Learning 4 Area1, which comprised four components: History, Geography, Archaeology and Citizenship/Civics. The Citizenship or Civics education section on Participatory Citizenship intends to develop ?active participatory citizens able to promote a democratic, equitable and just society? (Department of Education, 1997, p. 99). To realise its vision of an active, participatory type of character, learners are expected to take an active part in democratic representative structures and in decision-making processes in the classroom, school or community based organisations. The Citizenship/Civics education component of the Human and Social Sciences Learning Area that claims to reflect a maximalist conception of citizenship and of citizenship education prompted me to make the following observations: ? I became increasingly concerned with pupils? seeming lack of interest and of active involvement in the Representative Council of Learners (RCLs), an ?official? structure set up to promote student participation in representative governing bodies in South African schools. ? By contrast, there were a few ?unofficial? Democracy Projects, such as the South African Youth Ministers Project (SAYMP)2 that played a crucial role in 1 The inclusion of a Citizenship/Civic education component was a positive step, although (as I will argue later) it was based on a minimal conception of citizenship education. However, Curriculum 2005 (1997) was reviewed in 2000 and replaced by the Revised National Curriculum Statement (RNCS). Again, there is a reinforcement of the minimalist interpretation of citizenship education contained in the original Curriculum 2005 (1997), and an equally minimalist emphasis on educating learners to a greater extent about rights, and less about the responsibilities of citizens in a democratic society, in the later, revised version. 2 The South African Youth Ministers Project was established in mid-2002. The project aims to develop leadership skills, strengthen democracy, promote good governance and combat unemployment. To date the project is implemented in 15 schools in 3 provinces, with a total of 225 beneficiaries and the support of national government ministers. Each school has 10 learners participating in the project, representing their schools and communities. These learners are elected into office as ?Youth Ministers? under the auspices of the Electoral Institute of Southern Africa (EISA). The Youth Ministers Project?s mission is ?to promote youth participation in active citizenship and volunteerism in building our New South Africa, to strengthen our democracy and governance ? and well-informed skilled citizens for tomorrow? (www.saymp.co.za, 16 May 2006). 5 developing innovative programmes, projects and strategies to enhance participatory, community-based citizenship education in South African schools, including Nirvana Secondary School. ? This led me to believe that successful education for citizenship and democracy in post-apartheid South Africa sees schools as inseparable from community engagement, thus citizenship education in relation to democracy requires a range of forms of learning both ?taught? and ?caught?, or ?inside? and ?outside? schools. ? This reminded me of the democratic Student Representative Councils (SRCs) and progressive Parent-Teacher-Student Associations (PTSAs) in the 1980s that equipped young people to be active, critical and inquiring citizens who took part in the struggle for a democratic South Africa. ? Unfortunately, education policy in South Africa after the transition recedes from the model of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition.3 It is impossible to understand recent educational policy and curriculum developments in South Africa without considering the anti-apartheid struggle, and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? that embodies the Athenian notion of people?s power. The idea of ?People?s Education? was first developed by the African National Congress (ANC) in protest against the Bantu Education Act of 1953. In ensuing years the term ?People?s Education? was used to establish an alternative, popular education against a racially segregated system of education. In the 1980s, anti-apartheid educational organisations like the National Education Co-ordinating Committee (NECC) adopted the catch phrase ?People?s Education for People?s 3 The Freedom Charter is the anti-apartheid opposition document drafted in Kliptown, Johannesburg, in 1955. The Charter lays out the requirements for a free, non-racial and democratic South Africa. The Charter?s preamble has the hallmarks of prototypical Athenian democracy: people?s power, self-rule, equality and freedom, and envisages ?a government that is based on the will of the people, black and white? (The Freedom Charter, 1955). Furthermore, it comprised 10 clauses which committed its adherents to strive for the achievement of a democratic state that expressed people?s power or people rule in South Africa. One of the clause envisioned South Africa, as a country where ?the people shall govern? (The Freedom Charter, 1955). 6 Power? to express the strategic objective for the future of the educational struggle. I often look back with nostalgia to the days of ?People?s Education? and its vision that resembled a prototypical Athenian democracy based on mass participation. This tradition, recalling the Athenian version of democracy, emphasised preparation of school pupils for active participation in all social, political or cultural spheres of South African society. It is against this backdrop that this project on ?Citizenship education in South Africa: A critique of post-apartheid citizenship education policy? can be seen to be inspired by the anti-apartheid struggle notion of participatory democracy or mass-based politics in the 1980s. It is this prototypical concept of democracy, with regard to education for democratic citizenship, for which I personally have a great deal of admiration. I contend that this notion of active participatory citizenry is still relevant in post-apartheid South African schools. The thesis contends that successful education for democratic citizenship is more likely to be achieved when education policy endorses a modified version of the Athenian prototype of democratic participation and citizenship in South Africa schools. What are the criteria by which we might analyse and judge post-apartheid citizenship education policy? McLaughlin?s (1992) concept of citizenship, and education for citizenship, that is mapped in terms of a continuum of ?minimal? and ?maximal? interpretations suggests some possibilities. So, too, does the model of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition. Further criteria emanate from the international literature on citizenship and citizenship education that supports the claim that learning democratic citizenship is not limited to the formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement. For these reasons, I propose some fairly loose, overlapping questions and criteria for evaluating post-apartheid citizenship education policy: ? Is the policy conceptually coherent? 7 ? Does its concept of education for citizenship guide the practice in terms that are accessible to the school?s democratic community: parents, teachers and students, non-teaching staff, the principal and co-opted members? In other words, does it speak to its intended democratic audience? ? How, if at all, does it justify its selection of democratic citizenship education? In other words, does its concept of student participation and representation, to use Pitkin?s (1967) phrase, reflect a representative model of democracy? ? Does it envisage citizenship education being enjoyed by a significant proportion of the South African learners? In other words, does it cover opportunities for teaching about citizenship in schools and beyond? ? Is it appropriate for the South African context? In other words, is it able to foster active, critical and inquiring individuals able to build, strengthen and consolidate South Africa?s democracy? ? How does it justify the need for citizenship education? In other words, is compulsory citizenship education based on participatory democracy or on forced obedience, or even worse, unquestioning loyalty to the state? ? Does it offer possible strategies for getting from where we are to where we ought to be? Unfortunately, what is emerging in post-apartheid education policy South Africa is a concept of citizenship education comprising of complex and contradictory elements that provide both continuity and discontinuity with what preceded the 1994 historic democratic elections. In short, there is a tension in post-apartheid South African educational policy and subsequent curriculum development between minimal and maximal conceptions of education for citizenship. Although the policy instruments have a maximal tone in place, they fail to provide guidance at the very points where it is most required. The positive elements are tentatively expressed and outweighed by the general orientation of the instruments. In fact, policy development after the transition reflects a minimalist conception of citizenship ? and by implication of citizenship education. 8 Using recent educational policy and curriculum developments as a focal point, I challenge post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s claim to promote education for citizenship and democracy in South African schools. In this context, a modified version of the Athenian prototype of participatory democracy and active citizenship are used as analytical tools and defended as frameworks for the participation of students in citizenship in South African schools. A critique of post-apartheid citizenship education policy in South Africa concerns: ? exploration, interpretation and interrogation of what may be called the ?classical theory?, especially the democratic zeal for participation and its concept of citizenship, generally regarded as having emerged first in the prototypical Athenian democracy; ? analysis of its implications for democratic citizenship education (determination, effects and content); ? philosophical inquiry into the aim, justification and defence of compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education in schools; ? evaluation of and prognosis for the recent proposals of compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education in South African schools. The thesis is divided into three different parts. Part 1 focuses on conceptual clarification, considering the meaning and practical significance of classical theory (and theories of ?participatory democracy?), ?representation? and ?citizenship?, in order to set up a framework from which to analyse the assumptions reflected in post- apartheid education policy in South Africa. Chapter 2 presents and defends a view of democracy that reflects the democratic vision of the model of democracy developed in the anti-apartheid struggle and envisioned in the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996) ? as well as in the Charter tradition. The chapter begins by discussing conceptions of democracy practiced in the Greek city-state of Athens. The attention then turns to the modern theories of participatory democracy that corroborate and throw light on the value of education in democratic participation. The 9 chapter also shows that participatory democracy, as understood in the Athenian city- state, as an idea and a practice is still relevant in modern societies like South Africa. In Chapter 3, I provide an account of the development of theories of citizenship since its origins in the Greek city-state of Athens. I consider the Athenian view of active citizenship as the most fitting model for citizenship in state schools. The chapter starts by considering various theories of citizenship that have built and expanded on the Athenian concept of citizenship in modern day societies. It argues that it is an education towards a maximal interpretation of citizenship that values individual autonomy, while at the same time builds modern democratic societies. In addition, it suggests that modern democracies such as Britain embrace an updated version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship and citizenship education as a foundation for citizenship education in schools. This chapter also gives consideration to British and United States studies on citizenship education that support the claim that learning democratic citizenship is not limited to the formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement. Part 2 centres on critical analysis and discussion of post-apartheid citizenship education policy in South Africa. Chapter 4 shows that South Africa is marked by different phases of citizenship that present challenges for citizenship education policy. The chapter begins by reflecting on the hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship in South Africa. It shows how ?race? and ?ethnicity? were applied in order to foster apartheid and homeland citizenship in South Africa. It also establishes that the anti-apartheid vision endorsed a modified version of the Athenian prototype, one that was also reflected in the early post apartheid South African education policy documents. In addition, it claims that since it reflects different interpretations of citizenship, post-apartheid citizenship education policy is preoccupied with balancing these conflicting notions, instead of promoting a view of citizenship that embodies 10 attributes of ?participative? or ?maximal? components inherited from the struggle tradition and affirmed in the 1996 Constitution of the Republic of South Africa. Chapter 5 analyses South African educational policy development as a product of a negotiated settlement or compromise between the anti-apartheid movement and the apartheid state. The chapter discusses how the democratic strengths of the anti- apartheid movement were considerably curtailed during the interregnum, a negotiation period in South Africa. It argues that the anti-apartheid struggle?s vision of school democratic governance is undermined in post-apartheid South African educational policy development. Against this background, the thesis maintains that the main tendency in current state policy documents is to undermine democratic participation, the anti-apartheid vision that emphasises a highly participatory citizenship, and that their favoured conception of education for citizenship is minimalist. This chapter emphasises the need for a maximal approach to democracy and citizenship education in South African schools. In Chapter 6, I explore the claim that the Guides for Representative Councils of Learners (1999) attempt to blend the ?prefect? and Student Representative Councils? traditions to consolidate democracy at school level. In so doing, the chapter argues that the Guides represent in significant respects retrieval of the less democratic tradition of student representation in South African schools. The chapter begins by looking at the claims and features of three contrasting views of student representative organisations in South African schools. In addition, it points out that Student Representative Councils were born out of the rejection of the unpopular ?prefect system?, and shows how the Guides attempts to reconcile the ?prefect? and SRC traditions in post-apartheid South Africa. This chapter also provides a critical analysis of the Guides and argues that, despite its intention to promote democratic student representation, the policy document in the end regresses to features of the ?prefect system?. The chapter ends by defending the Student Representative Councils? tradition due to its emphasis of the educative potential of learner participation. 11 Part 3 is concerned with fundamental philosophical questions such as the aim, justification and defence of compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education in post-apartheid education policy for South African schools. In taking up this issue in Chapter 7, I mount a defence of compulsion, arguing that within the framework of the Athenian version of democracy and active citizenship, compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education can be justified as an essential component of the curriculum in South African schools. The chapter begins by noting that the concept of compulsory schooling is a recent phenomenon inherited from the western education tradition. The chapter argues that claiming the right to free and compulsory schooling and, by implication, compulsory citizenship education is linked to the struggle for a united, non-racial and democratic South Africa. It also points to the global policies that support universal compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education. The chapter concludes that compulsory schooling is neither exclusive nor repressive, compulsory citizenship education can be justified on the grounds that it develops an active, self-helping type of character and promotes democratic citizenship education in South African schools. Chapter 8 examines the recently proposed compulsory citizenship education initiatives in South African schools, namely the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge. The documents aim to forge a democratic national character, as reflected in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). The chapter briefly discusses the background of the Bill of Responsibilities and the new national Schools Pledge. It shows that the language of the Bill of Responsibilities is prescriptive and dictatorial. The term ?dictatorial? is synonymous with the rise of totalitarian states based on mass participation ? that is with the collusion of the masses.4 The Bill appears to echo the 4 According to Pateman (1970), the collapse of the Weimar Republic into fascism ?underlay the tendency of ?participation? to become linked to the concept of totalitarianism rather than that of democracy? (p. 2). As a result, participatory democracy based on mass participation has been seen by some to pose a threat of ?tyranny of the majority? as de Tocqueville (2002) argued. The spectre of totalitarianism explains the concern with stability in a democratic polity. The ?preoccupation with the stability of the political system ? has its origins in the contrast drawn between ?democracy? and ?totalitarianism? as the only two political alternatives? (Pateman, 1970, pp. 1-2). 12 apocalyptic stereotype of the youth who are dangerous, irresponsible, uncaring, reckless and ungovernable, a conception criticised by Seekings (1993) in Chapter 6. Unsurprisingly, the authors of the document are preoccupied with stability and normality in post-apartheid South African schools, rather than with the educative potential of learner participation. It is against this background that the Bill of Responsibilities might be seen as dictating or demanding unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools. It then maintains that the patriotic School Pledge promotes obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the South African government. I argue that the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge are not compatible with compulsory citizenship education that is designed to promote active, critical and inquiring South African citizens. Furthermore, I point out that the proposed value-based education documents are unlikely to lead the country into its desired future ? the promotion, strengthening and consolidation of South Africa?s democracy. Finally, the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge do not embrace cosmopolitan ideals, that is, they place allegiance to South Africa ahead of universal humanity. A post- apartheid citizenship education policy that is consistent with the needs and aspirations of ?the people? resembles the tradition of Athenian democracy, and its conception of citizenship. An appropriate model of democratic citizenship was developed in the anti-apartheid struggle, reflected in early policy documents, but diluted in the later official documents. 13 CHAPTER 2 PROTOTYPICAL ATHENIAN DEMOCRACY, PARTICIPATION AND EDUCATION [O]ur chief troubles about the classical theory [the Athenian prototype of democracy] centered in the proposition that ?the people? hold a definite and rational opinion about every individual question and that they give effect to this opinion ? in a democracy ? by choosing ?representatives? who will see to it that that opinion is carried out. Thus the selection of the representatives is made secondary to the primary purpose of the democratic arrangement which is to vest the power of deciding political issues in the electorate (Schumpeter, 1950, p. 269, addition mine). 2.1 Introduction Schumpeter attacks what he calls ?the classical theory of democracy?, the prototypical concept of democracy that expresses the will of the electorate or ?the people?5 as reasonable beings. In the course of this chapter, I will examine Schumpeter?s main criticism of the notion of democratic theory as a theory of means and ends. The classical doctrine, Schumpeter asserts, is a political method designed to produce a strong representative government. The theory of democracy appears to be tied either 5 The term ?the people? denotes what Arnstein (1969) refers to as the maximal degree of citizen power and control that allows for more participation in political issues. This prototypical concept of democracy implies that there is genuine robust debate and engagement with government policies which should ?articulate the practice of a substantial form of education for citizenship? (McLaughlin, 1992, p. 245). In other words, in a democracy ?the people? are encouraged to participate actively in the discourses of educational policy development. I will look at citizenship education policy later on, in Chapters 5, 6 and 8; the chapters will show that post-apartheid citizenship education policy is not consistent with: 1) an updated/modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, especially its democratic zeal for participation; 2) McLaughlin?s (1992) maximalist conception of citizenship, and of citizenship education; 3) the model of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition; and 4) global trends in liberal democracies that support the claim that learning democratic citizenship is not limited to formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement, all of which I will argue to be essential parts of education for and in a democratic South African society. 14 to the classical definition of ?rule by the people?, or a maximalist conception of democracy, on the one hand, or to the revisionists? argument, on the other, that stresses representative rule, or a minimalist conception of democracy. The prototypical concept of democracy that puts political power in the hands of the electorates, not the representatives, continues to raise questions about its relevance and viability in modern democratic societies. In this chapter, I challenge Schumpeter?s minimalist conception of democratic participation6 ? where sovereignty is exercised by a subset of ?the people?, usually on the basis of election. In the Greek city-state of Athens, maximal participation in decision making was a central feature of democracy. At the same time, classical critics (classical Greek philosophers) who used the term ?democracy? in a minimalist fashion, cast grave doubt on the possibility of its attainment. By the middle of the twentieth century democracy was still the ideal, but it was the emphasis on participation that had become contentious and with it the classical formulation of democratic theory. The purpose of this chapter is two-fold: 1) it defends a modified version of the Athenian prototype, especially its democratic zeal for participation; and 2) also shows that participation does not stand in contrast to representative democracy; it is possible to combine the two into representative participatory democracy. To support this assertion, a substantial body of philosophical work constituting variations on the Athenian prototype of democracy, deliberative democracy and participatory forms of representation bear testimony to the relevance and, indeed, the compellingness of the classical theory. 6 In the introduction to this thesis I mentioned that McLaughlin (1992) locates citizenship on a continuum of maximalist and minimalist conceptions. In Chapter 3, I will show how McLaughlin contrasts minimal and maximal conceptions according to how much political involvement is necessary for effective citizenship. Since this chapter is concerned with democratic participation, I will confine myself to McLaughlin?s notion of political involvement. On minimal views, political involvement and participation is limited primarily to voting for elected representatives. In contrast, a maximal concept of democracy emphasises the broad participation (decision making) of ?the people? in government, that is to say, direct democracy. In brief, Schumpeter?s minimalist conception of democratic participation is not compatible with the Athenian prototype of democracy and active citizenship as defined in the previous chapter. 15 This chapter is divided into four sections. Section 1 reflects on the advocacy, challenges and criticisms of the prototypical concept of democracy. Section 2 examines various theories of democracy that endorse and explicate the educational value of participation. Section 3 reveals that, notwithstanding the classical and revisionists? critique of it, the prototypical Athenian model of democracy remains viable in present-day societies. Section 4 concludes by maintaining that participation and representation can be effectively embodied in public institutions that educate for democracy, both at the macro and micro level of modern society. These sections are intended to introduce a modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy both as an analytical tool and as a framework for the participation and representation of learners in post-apartheid South African schools. 2.2 Prototypical Athenian democracy: its problems and its virtues This section discusses conceptions of democracy in the times of the Greek city-state of Athens. The purpose is to show how classical theorists defend, debate and criticise Athenian democracy. Among the Athenian governors was Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), the first ideologue of a maximal conception of democracy, which he acclaims as being the rule of the whole people. The Athenian fervour for democratic participation is expressed in Pericles?s declaration of the value of democracy, contained in a funeral oration delivered to honour Athenian soldiers who died in the Peloponnesian Wars. He said: Our constitution is called democracy because power is in the hands not of a minority but of the whole people. ? We are free and tolerant in our private lives; but in public affairs we keep to the law. This is because it commands our deep respect. ? Here each individual is interested not only in his own affairs but in the affairs of the state as well: even those who are mostly occupied with their own business are extremely well-informed on general politics ? we do not say that a man who takes no interest in politics is a man who minds his own business; we say that he has no business here at all (Thucydides, 1972, pp. 145-147). 16 There are two immediate points worth noting about Pericles?s affirmation of the value of Athenian democracy. First, the orator proclaims the value of individual autonomy, as a central feature of democratic theory. Secondly, he also characterises democracy as ?the rule of the people?. In other words, in a democracy the personal and public dimensions of citizenship are not incompatible but, rather, are intimately and reciprocally linked. In addition to the above, Pericles?s speech is notable for three reasons: 1) in contrast to his contemporaries? views, as this section will show, it affirms the democratic ideals of the Greek city-state of Athens; 2) it encourages more citizens to participate in collective self-government than Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s vision of appropriate and desirable government permits; and 3) it also shows that citizens? active participation in democracy is likely to be an educational one. As Kreibig (2000) maintains, ?we might contest Pericles? claim that ?the whole people? governed, but here is a powerful statement in support of participatory democracy? (p. 94). Nonetheless, this prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, which was later revived and famously espoused in 1863 by Abraham Lincoln as ?government of the people, by the people, for the people? (Rogers, 1984, p. 20), has over the centuries remained contentious, both in theory and in practice. The starting point is to look at the prototypical concept of democracy from the perspective of those writing in the context of the Greek city-state, who had pointed to the problem of practice, and the realisation of the democratic ideal. In Plato?s dialogue, The Republic (1994), Socrates?s ideal (fictitious) city-state was an organic unity of reciprocally assisting parts, or classes of people, each of which was needed to make up the whole. The city of Socrates?s imagination grouped citizens in three classes: 1) the guardians who were properly selected and trained to manage the affairs of the city-state; 2) the auxiliaries had a ?policing? function, they protected the state, suppressed domestic disorder, and repelled attack from outside; and 3) ordinary citizens, these were, farmers, artisans and other workers, who engaged in the menial 17 offices of production.7 Socrates? tri-functional system embodies the idea that only the wise should rule, and that wisdom was generally the function of bloodlines (although Socrates allowed for the possibility of ?iron and copper? children to be born to ?gold? parents, and or potential philosopher-rulers to worker and artisan parents) and of specialised education. On Socrates?s elitist model of the state (and of education within the state), participation in public affairs is best suited for those who have what it takes to be rulers, just as the rational and the spirited are the ruling elements of the soul (but not its appetitive element ? however important desires may otherwise be). According to Socrates, it is difficult to argue that democracy is efficient or indeed just; so it would be unwise to encourage more people to participate in government. In a nutshell, the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, or ?government of the people by the people?, is neither feasible nor desirable. Plato (1994) and Aristotle (1943), then, are among the prominent philosophers who have interrogated Athenian democracy, especially its enthusiasm for democratic participation. In The Republic, Plato argues that the prototype Greek demos can be understood as ?the people? or the ?mob?. As mentioned earlier in this chapter, for Pericles the distinct features of Athenian democracy are freedom and equality. In the introduction to this thesis I also mentioned that, even though the Athenians bequeathed to us their conception of democracy and participation, most of the basic 7 Socrates referred to his imagined society, as he sketched it, as ?a single noble lie? (see Plato, 1994, p. 118). In other words, by propagating the ?noble lie?, Socrates, permits the rest of the community to submit to the rule of the guardians. At the same, members of the three classes ? gold, auxiliaries and workers ? have to be made to believe that the mythic character of this postulation ? castes of gold, silver and copper or iron, is the way God intended, and there was little room for change. Plato writes, ?with a single noble lie. ? I?ll be trying above all to convince the rulers themselves and the military, and secondarily the rest of the community ? that God included gold in the mixture when he was forming those of you who have what it takes to be rulers, silver when he was forming the auxiliaries, and iron and copper when he was forming the farmers and other workers? (Plato, 1994, pp. 118-119). Socrates openly objected to a form of government that did not conform to his idea of a perfect republic where political power and participation were reserved for the guardians and the auxiliaries: democracy as understood in the Greek city-state of Athens was not compatible with Socrates?s idea. As a critic of Athenian democracy, Socrates was at odds with his fellow Athenians? conception of democracy that denotes people?s power. 18 assumptions of Athenian democracy (such as freedom and equality) were not pursued with sufficient rigour and consistency. Plato criticises this concept of democracy of his time precisely because of its emphasis on individual autonomy (freedom) and citizens? active participation (equality) in the polity. In a democracy, Plato writes, citizens have ?independence and freedom of speech, and everyone has the right to do as he chooses ? it?s an enjoyable, lax, and variegated kind of political system, which treats everyone as equal, whether or not they are? (1994, pp. 295-297). For this reason, Athenian democracy runs the danger of excessive freedom, of permitting citizens to do as they like, which leads to anarchy. Secondly, Plato argues that strict equality, that is to say, the mob?s belief that everyone has a right and equal capacity to rule, is likely to lead to instability, since it entrusts the affairs of the state to those leaders with no political knowledge (episteme) and skills (techne). The author criticises the arbitrary rotational system of government by the mob on the grounds that making political decisions required knowledge and skill, not opinion, something that can only be attained by the few who are best equipped, who possess the requisite rational and philosophical skills. His basic weapon against Athenian democracy, Wolff (1996) tells us, is the ?craft analogy?. This means that if ruling is a skill, it seems absurd or irrational to leave democracy ?to the rabble, the vulgar, the unwashed or the unfit? (Wolff, 1996, p. 73). In short, mass political participation will lead to worse results and picking the brains of the populace is likely to be harmful to the Athenian city-state.8 Aristotle considered the state (the ?polis?) to be a creation of nature, and held that man is by nature a ?political? animal. Aristotle?s ideal city-state has its origins in the natural associations of male and female, and of master and slave, freeborn, non- 8 It is often claimed that much of Plato?s anti-democratic orientation came from Socrates?s (Plato?s teacher) trial and subsequent death at the hands of the 500-man jury of Athens. Socrates was found guilty of corrupting the minds of the youth of Athens and undermining Athenian democracy. Against this backdrop, Plato?s charge against the democracy he knew from the Greek city-state of Athens was that it opened the gates to blatant injustice, and tyranny by an ignorant and prejudiced majority. 19 artisan males and artisans and manual labourers. Given that the master-slave relation is basic and natural, females, slaves and workers? castes are to be excluded from taking part in political decision-making, on the grounds that their occupation deprives them of the leisure required both for active political participation and for the intellectual development such participation demands. In a democracy, the demos are capable of wisdom, but the ?decrees of the people override the laws, by referring all things to the popular assembly? (Aristotle, 1943, pp. 179-180). In support of Plato, Aristotle further argues that if power is in the hands of ?the people? the polity ?could easily degenerate into a form of autocracy, where the popular majority ignored the limits of laws and imposed its will regardless? (1943, pp. 178-179). In brief, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle challenge and criticise the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy as a form of government that is both unfeasible and undesirable. On the other hand, in the classical canon of democratic theory, there is Pericles, a political theorist who had saluted a maximal Athenian prototype as the best possible regime. In sum, the discussion of democracy and democratic theory can also be construed in minimal and maximal terms. At the maximal end is Pericles?s conception of democracy that emphasises broad participation in political bodies through which ?the people? ruled Athens. At the other end are Socrates, Plato and Aristotle who provided a minimal and conditional role for the demos, for a number of reasons: ? The inadequacy of Athenian democracy, as a ?rule by the demos?, ?the mob?, ?the rabble?, ?the vulgar?, ?the unwashed? or ?the unfit?, is evident with the purge, trial and death of the most upright citizens like Socrates; ? Plato never saw ?the best? social and political order in the democratic city- state of Athens: ?democracy originates when the poor win, kill or exile their opponents? (Plato, 1994, p. 295); and ? for Aristotle, in a democracy, political offices are open to all, and people?s power overrides the law by or submitting decisions on policy to the popular assembly. 20 The three main concerns I have with the classical critics? minimalist approach to democracy pertain to the following aspects: first, their definition of democracy as ?mob rule? is based on their ideals of a perfect Greek city-state of Athens; second, their assumption that mass political participation will lead to worse results and picking the brains of the populace is harmful in a democratic polity; and third, their denial that the collective ?will of the people? is feasible, and desirable. The discussion of prototypical democracy that draws from the work of Pericles, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle has a significant historical bearing on issues addressed later, in particular the discourse on education for citizenship and democracy in South African schools. By drawing on Pericles?s strong affirmation of democracy, as depicted in this section, I hope ? in the process of this study ? to lay the basis for a model of democracy that vouches for an uninterrupted education in citizenship appropriate to the South African context. Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s minimal and conditional role for the demos: ?the mob? who lacks political knowledge and skills anticipates the post-apartheid South African citizenship education policy?s tendency that undermines democratic participation and active citizenry, conceptions synonymous for the Greek city-state of Athens. However, this chapter vouches for the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy that promotes broad, ?active? participation of citizens in the Greek city- state of Athens. Regarding Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s critique of prototypical democracy, my response to their claims is as follows: 1) a major function of participation in the theory of democracy is an educative one, that is, the development of an active, self- 21 helping type of character and the pursuit of the common good9; 2) there is no insurmountable knowledge barrier between the different classes, the guardians, the auxiliaries and the farmers, artisans and other workers, as Budge (1993) will show in this chapter; and 3) deliberative democratic procedures impart information, promote good reason and, generally, heighten moral, social and political awareness of the elites and demos alike. There are three thinner conditions than those of shared understanding or the goals of finding a common good are essential for communicative democracy, Young (1996) argued. These are 1) interdependence of people living together in a polity; 2) its members must have a commitment to equal respect for one another; and 3) members must also agree on procedural rules of fair discussion and decision-making. In contrast to Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s understanding of democracy, the anti-apartheid struggle?s vision of democratic participation suggests that a maximal conception of democracy or popular politics is feasible, realistic and can, in fact, restore stability. In Chapter 4 I will also show how the Freedom Charter sought the common good by expressing interdependence of the South African people across race and ethnic lines. Second, the Charter affirmed the basic assumptions of a prototypical Athenian democracy, such as equality and freedom. Thirdly, it declared that no democratic state can claim legitimacy if it is not based on ?the will of the people?. In short, the Freedom Charter?s political and educational goods were later reflected in the anti- 9 Schumpeter (1950) and Young (1996) have shown how problematic, and yet useful, the idea of the common good is, especially where democracy is pursued. According to Schumpeter, the common good means different things to different people. Furthermore, even if a definition of the common good proved acceptable to all, this will not imply equally definite answers to individual issues, Schumpeter argued. The author concludes that there is no such thing as a uniquely determined common good. Young questions the deliberative theorists? assumption that deliberation must ?either begin with shared understandings or take a common good as their goal? (1996, p. 120). There are at least two problems with the way the common good is formulated, Young argued. Firstly, contemporary pluralist societies lack sufficient shared understandings that appeal in many situations of conflict and solving collective problems. Secondly, the assumption of prior unity obviates the need for self-transcendence as an important component of a communicative model of democracy (see Young, 1996, p. 125). In the next section of this chapter, I will show, as Pericles pointed out earlier in this chapter, how Rousseau (1968) and Mill (1975) defend the pursuit of democracy as a way of achieving the common good and as an expression of freedom and equality. 22 apartheid struggle and, its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power?. For example, Chapter 5 discusses how the National Education Co-ordinating Committee and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? saved the student movement from destroying itself and gave them a practical political perspective in the 1980s. A defence of compulsory citizenship education that promotes social cohesion ? which is the common good of all South Africans, will receive attention in Chapter 7. In the next section, the attention turns to the modern theories of democracy that corroborate and throw light on the role of education in democratic participation. 2.3 Theories of democracy: participation and education Inspired by the Athenian prototype, not to mention Pericles?s (Thucydides, 1972) affirmation, theorists such as Rousseau (1968) and Mill (1975) testify to and elucidate the educational value of democratic participation. Let us examine these theories of participation and democratic theory in more detail. To recapitulate, Pericles?s praise of the Athenian prototype of democracy is based on a conception of the Greek city-state as comprising two reciprocal dimensions, namely the personal (autonomous, individual) and the public (political) dimension. Echoing Pericles?s assertion, Rousseau?s hypothesis as stated in The Social Contract (1968) makes two points clear: 1) that participation in democratic institutions helps ?the people? to make decisions that affect their lives; and 2) participation is a way of ensuring good government. In order to understand Rousseau?s theory of participatory democracy, it is essential to be clear about the problem of the political system he describes, that is: To find a form of association which will defend the person and goods of each member with the collective force of all, and under which each individual, while uniting himself with the others, obeys no one but himself, and remains as free as before. ? Just as the sovereignty is inalienable, it is for the same reason indivisible; for either the will is general or it is not; either it is the will of the body of the people, or merely that of a part. In the first case, a declaration of will is an act of sovereignty and constitutes law; in the second case, it is only a declaration of a particular will or an act of administration, it is at best a mere decree (Rousseau, 1968, pp. 60-70). 23 Rousseau sets out to defend a prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, both on instrumental grounds (as a way of achieving the common good) and in itself (as an expression of freedom and equality). Rousseau?s ideal system is designed to develop the personal and public dimensions of citizenship in three ways: 1) participation increases individual freedom by enabling the individual to be (and remain) his/her own master; 2) a participatory process ensures that all citizens are equally dependent on each other and equally subject to the law; and 3) participation has an integrative function; it increases the feeling among individual citizens that they belong to their community. Considering the implications of Rousseau?s theory of participatory democracy for the education of citizens, it promises to teach an active, participatory citizenry how to preserve individual liberties and appeal to the public good. In contrast to Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s minimalist account of democracy, Rousseau?s participatory or maximal conception of democracy aims to educate the entire citizenry to take an active part in government to discharge, as Pericles already advocated, their public functions, local or general. In Rousseau?s theory of participatory democracy, participation has a profound effect on the education of all citizens, using the term ?education? in the widest sense. For example, during this participatory mode in decision making, the individual learns that individual and collective interests are linked, and ?each one of us puts into the community his person and all his powers under the supreme direction of the general will; and as a body, we incorporate every member as an indivisible part of the whole? (Rousseau, 1968, p. 61). Put differently, through their participatory role, citizens ?come to feel little or no conflict between the demands of the public and private sphere ? the citizen is educated to distinguish between impulses and desires, learning to be a public as well as a private citizen? (see Pateman, 1970, p. 25). Looking ahead to later discussion regarding citizenship education, this implies that, unless learners are educated to contribute both in their own affairs, namely how best to develop their characters along with taking part in matters concerning the state, 24 South Africa?s democracy will witness declining levels of political participation. In Chapter 7, I will argue that within the theoretical framework of a modified Athenian democracy, compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education can be justified on the grounds that they: 1) promote individual autonomy, a citizen?s ability and inclination to act for himself; and 2) build social cohesion by strengthening and consolidating South Africa?s democracy ? which is a political goal or common good. The commitment to the public good is likely to produce remarkable change among learners in terms of ?putting aside their particular interests and seeking the good of the whole? (Young, 1996, p. 126). This moral/personal development from egoism to autonomy enables learners to become free and fulfilled beings. Rousseau?s argument that centers on the pursuit of the public good and individual freedom had an influence on a number of theorists. In his essay ?Representative Government? (1975), Mill defends a popular form of government. In a similar fashion to Rousseau?s argument, Mill bases his defence of popular government on two considerations. Firstly, popular government promotes the good management of the affairs of society. Secondly, popular government promotes a better and higher form of moral character. Of note in the present conjecture is that the emphasis on a self-helping, active individual is not in conflict with the idea of a more collective, public democracy. On the whole, Mill?s theory adds a further dimension to Rousseau?s participatory conception of democracy. Mill claims that it is only within a context of popular participatory institutions or large-scale society that one sees an active type of character fostered: The active, self help character is not only the best, but is the likeliest to acquire all that is really excellent. The private citizen is called upon to weigh interests not his own; to be guided, in case of conflicting claims, by another rule than his private partialities to apply at every turn, principles and maxims which have for their reason of existence the common good. He is made to feel himself one of the public and whatever is for their benefit to be for his benefit (Mill, 1975, pp. 340-341). 25 For this reason, Mill?s preferred form of government is to be judged by its effects on individuals, whether they are able to transcend their subjective, self-regarding perspective and take the public interest into account. What comes out in Mill?s work is that all citizens should play their role in the exercise of sovereignty. Mill?s defence of popular government favours a participatory or maximal conception of democracy. For example, when local government institutions promote debates on current issues or allow citizens to share in collective decisions affecting the political life of the community, Pateman (1970) maintains, this is more than likely to force an individual ?to widen his horizons and take the public interest into account? (p. 30). There is a stress here on practising popular government at local level, as an enabling condition for participation on a large scale. As the last section of this chapter will emphasise, the educational aspect of participatory democracy relies on active engagement in many spheres of society, namely in schools, community organisations, mass movements and so on. Rousseau and Mill see the educative function of participation in much the same way. For both theorists, Rousseau and Mill, the Athenian democratic prototype and education for citizenship are inseparable. In contrast to Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s scepticism of Athenian democracy, Rousseau and Mill?s interpretation suggests that participation of citizens in government develops an active character and contributes to the common welfare of society. By also participating in all aspects of public life, critical and rational thinking allow individuals to actively engage in the attempt to improve the public good. In sum, at odds with the anti-democratic critiques, Rousseau and Mill?s theories uphold a maximal conception of democracy that informs the orientation of subsequent chapters here, regarding a conception of democracy based on the participatory vision of the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa. In Chapter 4, I will show how the vision of the Freedom Charter embodies attributes of ?participative? or ?maximal? components of democracy. Chapter 5 examines ?People?s Education? movement?s conception of democracy that emphasised democratic participation and greater involvement of students, teachers, 26 and parents in school affairs. In Chapter 6 I defend the Student Representative Councils? democratic tradition on the grounds of its emphasis on the educative potential of learner participation. In other words, the theory of participatory democracy has the effect of empowering and educating the student population in South African schools. Yet, substantial doubts and reservations about participatory theories of democracy ? such as the works of Rousseau and Mill ? emerged from revisionist writers on democratic theory in the mid-twentieth century, and it is to these that we now turn. Spearheaded by Schumpeter (1950), the revisionists? scepticism of the classical notion of popular participation in politics derives from the conviction that theories of earlier writers on democracy are in need of drastic revision. Having expressed his uneasiness about the classical theory, as stated in the citation that precedes the introduction on the present chapter, Schumpeter provides an influential revision of the theory of democracy. [T]he democratic method is that institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions in which individuals [i.e. representatives] acquire the power to decide by means of a competitive struggle for the people?s vote. ? The classical theory ? attributed to the electorate an altogether unrealistic degree of initiative. ? The principle of democracy then merely means that the reins of government should be handed to those who command more support than do any of the competing individuals or teams (Schumpeter, 1950, pp. 269-273, addition mine). As the quotation indicates, the basis of Schumpeter?s main criticism of the classical doctrine is that democracy is a method, rather than an ideal of political culture, where competing individuals, rather than the public at large, acquire the power to decide on public affairs. Its modus operandi, therefore, is a competitive struggle for the people?s vote and in contrast with Lincoln?s ideal of ?government of the people, by the people, for the people? that places faith on the demos to decide on matters of self-government. In Schumpeter?s revised theory, competition for leadership, not citizen participation and involvement in the making of decisions, is the distinctive and vital feature of 27 democracy. There seems to be no room for active participation of ?the people? as far as political decision-making is concerned. The only means of participation open to Schumpeter?s citizens is voting for political leaders. The ?citizens? votes serve the purpose of electing a government from among candidates competing for leadership, which entitles them to act on behalf of the electorate? (Enslin, 2000, p. 146). The electorate do not normally control their leaders except by replacing them at election with alternative leaders. Since the focus of the theory of democracy is on the minority, this is to say, the leaders, the electoral mass ?is incapable of action other than stampede?, according to Schumpeter (1950, p. 283). Schumpeter?s minimalist conception of democracy has a good deal to say about the masses? lack of rationality in political matters. As Schumpeter puts it: The typical citizen drops down to a lower level of mental performance as soon as he enters the political field. He argues and analyses in a way which he could readily recognise as infantile within the sphere of his real interests. He becomes a primitive again. His thinking becomes associative and affective (Schumpeter, 1950, p. 262). Schumpeter?s claim that the ordinary citizens are incapable of making everyday political decisions is not without contradictions, as the next section of this chapter will show. Part of what Schumpeter says here is that in the domain of politics the masses have no well-defined role. It is leaders who must be active, who initiate and decide on political issues. It is competition between leaders for votes that is the characteristically democratic element in this account of political method. For Schumpeter ?participation? has no special or central role in democratic citizenship education. My disquiet about Schumpeter?s minimalist conception of democracy, which also applies to Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, is that it regards the demos or electorates as passive, apathetic, inactive and generally uninterested in public affairs. Theorists of popular government, such as Pericles, Rousseau and Mill have shown that citizenship participation in a democracy is likely to be an educational one. The criticisms of the prototypical concept of democracy I have examined were advanced, 28 for the most part, by classical critics who thought of democracy, or at least of the Athenian democracy, as unrealistic ? indeed, as an illusion. Schumpeter too, as he examines the idea of people?s power, emphasises the masses? lack of initiative in political matters. At this point, it would appear that Socrates, Plato and Aristotle and Schumpeter?s challenge and criticism of the prototypical concept of democracy are not incompatible but, indeed, intimately and reciprocally linked. The next section of this chapter will challenge Schumpeter?s minimalist account of democracy. Overall, the problems and objections raised against the Athenian democracy can be summarised as follows: ? In the Greek city-state of Athens, democracy was understood as legitimising mob rule; ? as such, the Athenian prototype picture of democratic man is hopelessly unrealistic; ? to partake in (and decide on) political issues and affairs requires judgement, skill and rational commitment, essentials that only the elites possess; ? the Athenian prototype of democracy does not recognise, indeed ignores, the importance of leadership; ? therefore, democracy is a specialist business which should be conducted by the experts until electors choose other representatives. I do not concur with Schumpeter?s ?revisionist? model of democracy that also sees tyranny in the masses and virtue in the elites. On the contrary, the next section will defend a modified version of the Athenian prototype that has sought to challenge the anti-popular-participation arguments, especially the alleged inability of Schumpeter?s electoral citizens to participate in political life. The last section will take participation and representation as two interrelated and complementary elements of democratic theory. The debate about the classical doctrine proves to be far from over, as contemporary theories have re-launched a defence of Athenian democracy in the context of modern democratic societies. 29 2.4 Popular participation and democracy: a deliberative perspective Thus far, we have noted that the classical critics and revisionist theorists have objected that the common people are too ignorant, uneducated and unmotivated to hold the key to a truly democratic polity. This claim, that the ordinary citizens are incapable of making everyday political decisions, is not without contradictions. For instance, if the multitude should be naturally excluded from direct decision-making because of ignorance and lack of initiative, why would they participate in electing a government from among ?entitled? candidates competing for leadership? A different standpoint to this seemingly anti-democratic and paradoxical stance is worth quoting at length, for what it reveals about both human agency and the political nature of democratic processes: [T]erms like ?political ignorance? and ?expertise?, ?uneducated?, ?unsophisticated? and ?apathetic? are all controvertible from differing points of view. This is particularly true when they are regarded as static and unresponsive to changes in political circumstances. ? To accept that these characteristics are not static and that they change with political circumstances is to accept the thesis of participatory theorists, namely that an extension of opportunities will itself change the political nature of many citizens from the apathy and lack of interest, which produce withdrawal and ignorance, to involvement and interest, which produce more sophistication and information (Budge, 1993, p. 148). The quotation above endorses a modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy that provides for a broad, ?active? participation of citizens in making political decisions that affect their lives. In opposition to the classical critics? and revisionists? attack on Athenian democracy, Budge admits that while the masses certainly need information and the time to make sense of democracy, they are nevertheless capable of acting responsibly when asked to do so. Just as we expect all adults to take responsibility for directing their own personal lives, so they are also capable of taking a share in decisions affecting the life of their society. There is a 30 need to extend Plato, Aristotle and Schumpeter?s circumscribed democracy of the ?demos? in local decision-making so that ordinary people are able to contribute to the public good. Even more importantly, if we leave decisions on any subject to the experts (Plato), freeborn, non-artisan males (Aristotle) or elites (Schumpeter), we may be deceiving ourselves about their abilities. Moreover, giving unchecked powers to the ?natural born leaders? might lead to feathering their own nests. In support of this claim, Chapter 6 will show how the prefectorial system was resented and rejected because prefects enjoyed privileges and powers and were easily distinguished from the rest of the student population in South African schools in the 70s. Budge has challenged the classical and revisionists? minimalist conception of democracy. In his essay ?Direct Democracy: Setting Appropriate Terms of Debate? (1993), he retrieves elements of a prototypical Athenian democracy. The author defends Athenian democracy that was direct and argues for its relevance even in states that have grown increasingly large and densely populated. His argument is that a modified version of the Athenian prototype is self-improving and has educational value through the effects of debate and decision-making. According to Budge, the minimalist claim that ordinary citizens are ?ignorant?, ?uneducated? ?unsophisticated? and ?apathetic? misses the point. The prototypical version of democracy, in Budge?s view, maintains that there is no insurmountable ?knowledge barrier looming between population and elite which inevitably debars the former from full political participation; the longer a debate goes on the more citizens absorb specialised knowledge? (Budge, 1993, p. 151). Virtually all claims to expert knowledge, as opposed to substantial emphasis on participatory citizenry as a model of education for citizenship, are fallible. Theorists of a prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, such as Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), Rousseau (1968) and Mill (1975), have also shown that citizens? active participation in a democracy is likely to be educational, that is, to contribute to the 31 education of the people?s intellectual, moral and practical capacities. In other words, in a democracy equable participation is likely to foster active, critical and inquiring citizens appropriate in western democratic societies like South Africa. Horsthemke and Enslin (2005) posed the question, ?Is there a philosophical foundation for thinking about education that is distinctly and uniquely African? (p. 54). In an attempt to answer this question, Chapter 7 looks at Adeyemi and Adeyinka?s (2003) ?customary education in Africa based on sound philosophical foundations? (p. 431). I will show that Adeyemi and Adeyinka?s account of the principles of African traditional education ?are either not particularly or uniquely African or do not constitute obvious ?sound? foundations? (Enslin and Horsthemke, 2004, p. 554). In support of Enslin and Horsthemke (2004), I maintain that the basic principles of democratic citizenship education are neither western nor (South) African but apply to any society. In short, the discussion of citizenship education in South Africa draws from modern democracies in other parts of the globe. In contrast to a minimalist account of democracy, participatory democracy strives to create opportunities for all members of a political community to make meaningful contributions to decision-making and seeks to broaden the range of people who have access to such opportunities. An extension of opportunities will itself change the political nature of many citizens from apathy and lack of interest, which produce withdrawal and ignorance, to involvement and interest, which produce more sophistication and information. Budge?s account seeks to establish that general discussion lessens the knowledge barrier between specialists? knowledge and that of ordinary citizens. The important point to note about a modified version of the Athenian prototype in the contemporary world is that electronic democracy may allow people to participate in politics actively and comprehensively. Through modern technologies such as DVDs, the Internet, cellular telephones, radio, television, satellite TV, computers and videoconferencing, electronic democracy 32 potentially allows decision-making to be made effective and efficient along the same lines as popular assemblies. Instead of merely providing the representatives who decide legislation, voting on laws, rules and policies would be done by ?the people? at large, registering their preferences electronically. This characterisation of participatory democracy looks more like the example of historical Athens, where the vast numbers required for the assembly, the council and law courts to work testified to a breadth of ?active? participation of citizens in the Greek city-state. The objections to the quality of electronic debate are certainly relevant to the matter in hand: ?I have also and concurrently held that an electronic, ?referendum democracy? while technically feasible, would be disastrous and, in all likelihood, suicidal? (Sartori, 1987, p. 283). However, there is no denying that the technologies or ?electronic democracy? testifies to the vitality and renewal of the democratic ideal.10 With technological advances, citizens are easily informed by increased access to media through debates, documentaries and educational programmes. At this point I would like to address some of the concerns raised against Athenian democracy, and, by implication, a participatory or maximal conception of democracy: 1) the tendency to irrationality on the part of ?the people? or ordinary citizens in a polity; 2) its detraction from promoting individual autonomy; and 3) its claim that broad participation leads to greater equality in a democracy. 10 In the White Paper on e-Education (2004), ?the government has expressed strong commitment to the use of ICT in education ? to encourage creativity, analytical skills, critical thinking and informed decision-making? among South African learners (Department of Education, 2004). Using information and communication technologies (ICT) to participate in democratic processes implies that South African learners have access to modern technology. This is not given, especially due to historical inequalities that still persist in post-apartheid South African schools. In her address at the World Ministerial Seminar on Technology in Education on 09 January 2007, Naledi Pandor, the Minister of Education in South Africa, acknowledged that the majority of learners and schools do not have access to ICT infrastructure. The use of ICT is a recent phenomenon in South Africa. In her own words, South Africa has 26 000 schools for 12 million learners. ?Only 3 in 10 schools have access to ICT. ? Only 1 in 10 schools have access to the Internet? (Department of Education, 2007). Nevertheless, the White Paper on e-Education?s commitment to ?electronic democracy? is admirable. Without government?s provision of technologies cyber-democracy will remain a mirage in South African schools. It is hoped that in South Africa, modern technology will transform the prospects of direct democracy in the near future. 33 In Changing Citizenship (2005) Osler and Starkey assert that in the context of globalisation, there is a need for a critical assessment of liberal, communitarian and classical republican traditions as well as the development of new models. In what follows, various authors, such as van Gunsteren (1994), have criticised the Athenian prototype of citizenship as making ?one community absolute and [showing] little appreciation for the particular meaning and diversity of other communities? (pp. 36- 42). I am aware of the debate about the changing nature of citizenship, along with the challenges that the unparalleled speed of globalisation presents to many countries. Nonetheless, I do not consider growing global interdependence to warrant a philosophical rearrangement of this prototypical, maximal concept of democratic citizenship in South Africa, or elsewhere in the world. The Athenian perspective seeks to foster equal and active citizenship, be it local, national or continental in context. In a modern society, the prototypical concept of citizenship has become a transnational affair, which implies that citizenship is possible both within a restricted geographic domain and within the larger global community. In other words, a modified version of citizenship of the Athenian prototype promotes not only individual rights and freedoms, group solidarity and nationalism (loyalty to the nation) ? but also the social and moral duties individuals owe the world and its people. This means, and this is where I agree with Osler and Starkey (2005), that people need to be given the chance to acquire an understanding of the ways in which their own lives and those of others are linked ? globally as well as locally ? as well as a capacity to contribute to shaping the future they have in common with others across the globe. In Chapter 8 I will argue that the goals of citizenship education would be better served by cosmopolitan ideals, that is, preparing (South African) learners to act in a local, national and global scale. Benhabib (1996) has defended deliberative democracy as a variant of the Athenian version of democracy. In her recent book The Claims of Culture: Equality and 34 Diversity in the Global Era (2002), Benhabib?s account of democracy also shows that deliberative democracy, as understood in the Athenian city-state, as an idea and a practice is still relevant in modern societies. Pericles maintains: ?We Athenians, in our own persons, take our decisions on policy or submit them to proper discussions? (Thucydides, 1972, p. 147). When properly conducted, deliberative democracy becomes a cooperative enterprise among citizens considered to be free and equal moral beings. Benhabib writes, ?democracy is best understood as a model for organising the collective and public exercise of power in the major institutions of a society on the basis of the principle that decisions affecting the well-being of a collectivity can be viewed as the outcome of a procedure of free and reasoned deliberation among individuals considered as moral and political equals? (Benhabib, 2002, p. 103). Given that the critics of Athenian democracy are concerned with the public?s lack of rationality, Benhabib has argued for a deliberative model of democracy that aims to generate legitimacy and assure practical rationality with regard to self-government in a polity. According to the deliberative model of democracy: The institutions of this polity are so arranged that what is considered in the common interest of all results from processes of collective deliberation conducted rationally and fairly among free and equal individuals. The more collective decision-making processes approximate this model the more [it] increases the presumption of their legitimacy and rationality (Benhabib, 1996, p. 69, addition mine). According to Benhabib, in deliberative institutions of democracy democratic legitimacy results from free and unconstrained public deliberation about matters of common concern. As deliberators, Benhabib?s democratic citizens are considered as moral and political equals. The author challenges the classical critics? assertion that once ?the people? begin to ?reason? all is lost. Again, contrary to Schumpeter?s archetypal, ordinary citizen who succumbs ?to extra-rational or irrational prejudice 35 and impulse? (Schumpeter, 1950, p. 262), the citizen in a deliberative democracy relishes the opportunity of becoming and being informed. In addition, deliberative procedures promote good reason and encourage one to adopt a considerably less narrow point of view. In short, in a democracy decisions that come as a result of deliberation remain acceptable until they are challenged by good reasons. Notably, in a deliberative model of democracy, society?s members? points of view are examined, challenged, tested, criticised and rearticulated, as in parliamentary procedures. Cohen?s (1989) ideal of a deliberate democracy sketches a procedure that captures the principles of freedom and equality. The ideal deliberation is free and equal because: Participants regard themselves as bound only by the results and preconditions of the deliberation. They are free from any authority of prior norms or requirements. The participants suppose that they can act on the decision made, the decision through deliberation is a sufficient reason for compliance with it ? anyone can put forth proposals, criticise, and support measures. ? The participants ? do not regard themselves as bound by the existing system of rights, except insofar as that system establishes the framework of free deliberation among equals (Cohen, 1989, pp. 22-23). The case for deliberative democracy employs Rousseau (1968) and Mill?s (1975) argument that there is, to use Pateman?s (1970) words, ?an interrelationship between the authority structures and the psychological qualities and attitudes of individuals, and with the related argument that the major function of participation is an educative one? (p. 27). The strength of the deliberative democracy is that it promises both inclusion and empowerment. Interlocutors recognise one another as having deliberative capacities to deliberate as free and equal moral beings. Given this framework, it cannot be accurate for Schumpeter to say that the electorates have less sophisticated knowledge and understanding of their rights and duties as citizens; therefore, ?participatory democracy fails when too much is expected of participants, without sufficient guidance, support and even control from the centre? (Ndlovu and Dieltiens, 2004, p. 7). In Cohen?s model, there are free and equal participants in the democratic process, not only the elitist decision-makers. In this process deliberative 36 democracy generates ideal conditions of impartiality, rationality and knowledge of the relevant facts. In the end, a deliberative democracy has educational implications for its deliberators. Benhabib?s deliberative theory of democracy promises to educate citizens by teaching them practical reason.11 Agreed procedures of deliberation generate legitimacy by formulating norms of moral equality, freedom and respect among deliberators. Most importantly, citizens learn how to impart information, articulate good reasons and thus acquire a heightened social awareness. In addition, they learn institutional procedures and practices for reaching decisions in societies characterised by pluralism, conflict of interests and contestation. Unlike the classical and revisionists? minimalist accounts of democracy, participation is open to all deliberators and access to deliberation is not restricted to Schumpeter?s elites. Benhabib?s norms of universal moral respect and reciprocal recognition imply that citizens can be taught to put themselves in the place of others in making both moral and political judgements. By so doing, democratic citizens learn about the relations between equality, symmetry and reversibility. Budge and Benhabib?s enabling accounts of participation challenge both the classical and the revisionists? defence of what is arguably a narrow and impoverished idea of participation, in this way providing grounds for its heightened educational worth 11 Benhabib is sympathetic to Young?s (1996) broad theory of communication in which the accommodation of diverse styles of communication (greeting, rhetoric and storytelling) provide for participation by the oppressed or disadvantaged groups. In South Africa, I will argue in Chapter 6, post-apartheid citizenship education policy seems to suggest that learners lack rationality in political matters. On the contrary, the anti-apartheid struggle and, its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? encouraged collective input and active participation by all, and stimulate[d] critical thinking and analysis? (Chisholm and Fuller, 1996, p. 701). I will look at the ?People?s Education? movement in greater detail in Chapter 5. How is deliberation to be encouraged in post-apartheid South Africa that enforced obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the state? According to Young (1996), contemporary democracies that discourage deliberation ?ought to be reformed to create more opportunities for deliberation? (p. 121). In Chapter 7, I will argue that within the framework of current theories of Athenian democracy, deliberative democracy and participatory forms of representation, participatory citizenship education can be justified and should underpin a revised approach to post- apartheid education policy in South Africa. 37 regarding citizenship. It would seem, then, that the arguments against Athenian democracy (which are based on a static and utopian conception of specialist knowledge) have been met, in the light of a contemporary perspective on the correlation between democracy, participation and education. The anti-democratic arguments examined in this chapter ultimately fail to acknowledge historical and contemporary developments in democratic theory, which show that the educational value of participation in ?democracy is no dim and distant chimera, confined to the Greek city or the idealistic affinity group, remote from people?s needs ? but a very real, practical human enterprise of the greatest possible political significance, repeatedly undertaken by ordinary people? (Pitkin and Shumer, 2000, p. 453). In a nutshell: Participation ? together with democracy and education ? forms a three- piece suit advertising one?s enlightenment and fellow-feeling, showing one?s good taste and sympathy, and putting one among the pure and innocent. ? Participation then is educative in that it is itself a learning process with the crucially valuable function of developing what is essentially human about persons (Margetson, 1978, pp. 35-40). Margetson?s verdict echoes Rousseau (1968) and Mill?s (1975) claim that Athenian democracy, its enthusiasm for democratic participation and education of citizens are indivisible. Dewey interpreted ?democracy as a way of life that may be expressed as the necessity [?] for participation ? which is necessary from the standpoint of both the general social welfare and the full development of human beings as individuals? (Dewey, 1939, p. 404). From this quotation one might deduce the following argument: popular participation, even in the smallest public function, has both individual and social educational value: this form of engagement is most likely to develop within a democratic system; therefore, education for citizenship is likely to be more effective in a democracy, where rule is by ?the people? and not the rulers. In this way, democracy, participation and education seem to be interwoven in some crucial ways. 38 As in Dewey?s assertion, democracy is vitally important for participation, which is necessary from the viewpoint of developing learners? critical faculties so that they can play their part in the democratic society. An important part of education for democratic participation involves practical experience of democracy in schools. In Chapter 6 I will argue that learners? practical experience in democratic Student Representative Councils was valuable in its own right, and not simply as a preparation for the future. In other words, the SRCs constituted the potential to educate for citizenship in a democratic society, because through participation in them students found a ?free space? that produced active, informed and critical citizenry convinced that they can influence government in their quest to achieve an equitable, democratic and participatory schooling system. In the chapters that follow I will attempt to draw together these arguments about democratic theory, and its emphasis on participation, and relate them to the education of school children in a democratic South Africa. In the face of extant scepticism, contemporary theorists of deliberative democracy show that participation and the decision-making role of ?the people? rest on actual, attainable principles. Firstly, they agree that there is no insurmountable knowledge barrier between the elites and the demos. Secondly, ?electronic democracy? may allow citizens to participate in politics, thus eliminating some of the distance constraints in participatory democracy. Thirdly, deliberative democratic procedures impart information, promote good reasoning and, generally, heighten moral, social and political awareness. In the words of Ross (2004), ?deliberation then becomes the heart not only of education for democratic citizenship, but also of democracy itself? (p. 251). At the heart of the debate lies the transformation of this prototypical concept of democracy that gave rise to the modern representative democracy. 2.5 Participation and representation: parallel models of democracy The argument in this section does not constitute a departure from defending a 39 classical theory, a prototypical, maximal concept of democracy that is tied to the notions of autonomy and the common good. In a democracy, as Pericles?s (Thucydides, 1972) affirmation of the value of Athenian democracy showed, the pursuit of individuals? rights does not stand in contrast to the quest for the common good ? it is possible to combine the two central features of democratic theory. In the second section of this chapter, I examined Rousseau?s (1968) theory of participatory democracy for the education of citizens, which promises to teach an active, participatory citizenry how to preserve individual liberties and appeal to the public good. Mill (1975) defended a popular form of government on the grounds that it develops an active character and contributes to the common welfare of society. It is evident that in modern societies the prototypical concept of democracy, as an idea and a practice, has undergone a metamorphosis. In More Participation, More Democracy (2000) Parry and Moyser point to the discontinuities between the Athenian prototype and modern experiences of democracy. The authors argue that ?citizenship participation ceased to be the paramount indicator of democracy. ? It has been joined by several others ? the competitiveness of elites, the representativeness of representation? (p. 443). In other words, participatory and representative models of democracy are no longer alternatives to be chosen between on the basis of personal proclivity. Enslin (2000) points out Schumpeter?s theory of democracy ?is only one possible, rather bleak alternative to a vision of active, participatory democratic citizenship? (p. 146). This means that in a contemporary society, the prototypical notion of democracy can assume a participatory form of representation, dissimilar to Schumpeter?s theory of democratic elitism, where the only means of participation open to the citizen is voting for leaders. The focus of the theory is on the representatives, the leaders ? who must be active, and initiate and decide on political issues. Let us look at some of the advocates of representative democracy who argue for limited political participation in a democratic society. Theorists of representative 40 democracy like Burke (2000) see ?the representative as a member of a superior elite of wisdom and reason?, to use Pitkin?s (1967) phrase. In November 1774, Burke told his constituents: ?Your representative owes you, not his industry only, but his judgement; and he betrays you, instead of serving you, if he sacrifices it to your opinion? (Burke, 2000, p. 150). According to this Burkean view of political representation, a citizen?s primary responsibility was to elect representatives who would make decisions on their behalf, rather than delegates who would act in accordance with constituents? wishes. In support of a Burkean view of representation, Milbrath (1971) argues that limited political participation is meaningful even in countries like the United States: Governments flourish and are effective without active citizens, and this enable(s) citizens to keep politics as a peripheral concern in their lives ? present (low) levels and patterns of participation in politics do not constitute a threat to democracy; they seem, in fact, to be a realistic adjustment to the nature of modern society (Milbrath, 1971, p. 154). Milbrath holds the view that citizenship participation would produce wide and deep divisions which would be detrimental to good government. According to Kreibig (2000), such claims suggest that the political representative system works because citizens are not active ? the passive citizen is necessary for representative government. In other words, the post-classical form of democracy, which came to be known as representative democracy, was meant, in contrast to the democracy of the Athenian prototype, ?to be epitomised by a system of political representation, that is, a form of representation in which the representative who is called on to pursue the interests of the nation cannot be subject to a binding mandate?, as Bobbio (1999, p. 300) argued. Although advocates of representative democracy, such as Schumpeter (1950), Burke (2000) and Milbrath, (1971) have provided an influential account of a restricted model of representation, representative democracy has regained some favour, in a more participatory form, in the last decades of the twentieth century. 41 By way of illustration, instead of a concept of democracy in its Rousseauian version, it is possible to imagine a form of Athenian democracy that takes to their limits participatory devices that currently exist in restricted form in representative democracies. A notable case in point is Pitkin?s (1967) essay, ?The Concept of Representation?, which develops the idea of substantive political representation. Her formulation of this view is as follows: Political representation is primarily a public, institutionalised arrangement involving many people and groups, and operating in the complex ways of large-scale social arrangements. What makes it representation is not any single action by any one participant, but the over-all structure and functioning of the system, the patterns emerging from the multiple activities of many people. It is representation if the people are present in the governmental action, even though they do not literally act for themselves (Pitkin, 1967, p. 425). According to Pitkin, a participatory representative body is one that demonstrates that: its subjects have control over what it does; its actions have substantive content, meaning the subjects really do act through their government and are not merely passive recipients of its actions; representative bodies not only control and promote public interests, but are also responsive to these interests; the governed are capable of action and judgement, capable of initiating government activity, so that the government may be conceived as responding to them; representatives provide for the expression of the wishes of the represented and the government responds to these wishes unless there are good reasons to the contrary (see Pitkin, 1967, pp. 430-431). In other words, selecting delegates to a participatory representative assembly serves two purposes: 1) it affirms that participation does not stand in contrast to representation ? the two elements of democracy are not incompatible but, rather, intimately and reciprocally linked, and 2) it guarantees a maximal degree of electorates? power and control over the representatives. There is an element of truth in Sartori?s (1987) assertion that when we declare that ?there are two types of democracy ? we are not discussing interchangeable systems 42 but the modern large-scale solution of a problem left unresolved by the ancients? (p. 283). Surely, some would argue, representative democracy exemplifies what is democracy, though the context is fundamentally different from the framework of the Athenian city-state of ancient Greece. It is for this reason that arguments for increased participation are significant. They do not rule out a representative system of government as being legitimate. Of particular importance in this transformation of democracy is that the active and participatory role of ordinary people remains valuable. Both the representatives and those represented must acquire considerable knowledge, skills, values and attitudes ? that come with a participatory or maximal conception of democracy, if well-established democracies or those in transition, like South Africa, are to work. The idea of substantive representative democracy is compatible with popular participation, as opposed to the elitist and restricted model suggested by Schumpeter. Indeed, it is amenable to a considerable degree of participation and citizenship education. In the words of Budge (1993), ?participatory (or direct) and representative democrats should bury their specific differences and work together, recognising that what they have in common is much more than what separates them? (p. 154). Both Pitkin (1967) and Sartori (1987) contend that representative bodies need to encourage collective input and active participation by all stakeholders, in order to promote representative democracy in modern societies. It follows, as I will show, that South African education policy and subsequent curriculum developments should aim to promote democracy and participatory forms of representation in schools. Whereas the Constitution of South Africa (1996) depicts a representative mode of democracy at national level, the South African Schools Act (1996) also takes the representative mode of democracy to the level of the school. The Act paved the way for democratically elected and representative structures, officially known as School Governing Bodies (SGBs) and Representative Councils of Learners (RCLs). In other words, the notion of ?school community?, that is, parents, educators, learners, may be 43 interpreted as invoking participatory democracy and representation in post-apartheid South African schools. This means that current SGBs and RCLs can be taught to be responsible, responsive and accountable to the wishes and interests of every voter in schools. Although the Act?s declaration and commitment to co-operative governance and partnership, and representative democracy, has a maximal tone in place, it essentially reflects a minimalist conception of democracy. In Chapters 5, 6 and 8, I will argue that the discontinuities between the anti-apartheid struggle vision of participatory democracy, on the one hand, and policy development after the transition, on the other, can be attributed to a lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency in post-apartheid South African educational policy. The discussion of conceptions of democracy undertaken in this chapter will contribute to the thesis in a number of ways. First, the latter maintains that South Africa is a democratic state committed, at least in theory, to ?government [being] based on the will of the people? (Republic of South Africa, 1996, p. 1, addition mine), people who have power and control over their representatives. Second, post- apartheid citizenship education policy embraces an updated version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, which promises to develop active characters that contribute to the common welfare of South African society. Third, this prototypical, maximal concept of democracy remains a viable model of democracy for many present-day societies, including South Africa. Last, student participation and representation are parallel models of democracy in South African schools. It is against this background that a prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, as depicted in this chapter, provides the basis for critiquing post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s tendency to undermine democracy and participatory forms of representation in South African schools. 44 2.6 Conclusion In this chapter, I began by exploring the reservations of classical Greek philosophers who critically interrogated democracy, especially the classical zeal for democratic participation. I showed how the prototypical concept of democracy is characterised by tensions and has also encountered contemporary criticism. Against this backdrop, later theories of democracy have reaffirmed the three-part description of democracy, seeking to (re)establish a defensible theory of participation as a viable model of democracy. As an ideal, it is not difficult to see the attraction of democracy in the classical mode: as a human way of life, individually ? to ?improve? the citizens and socially ? to manage their public affairs. The various theories of democracy discussed in this chapter have endorsed and explicated the value of democratic participation, i.e. the development of an active, self-helping type of character and the pursuit of the common good. With recent developments in communication technology and electronic access, a modified version of the Athenian prototype has regained its democratic fervour for participation. It has also been argued that the Athenian prototype of democracy is not based on outmoded and unrealistic theoretical and practical foundations. For this reason, Athenian democracy as such remains a viable model in deliberative procedures and practices in modern democratic societies. Given this transmutation of the prototypical theory, representation and participation can be effectively embodied in existing political institutional arrangements that provide opportunities for political participation by the ordinary citizen. The next chapter looks at international debates and trends in liberal democracies that suggest that the prototypical Athenian concept of citizenship offers the most promising underpinning for citizenship education. 45 CHAPTER 3 PROTOTYPICAL ATHENIAN CITIZENSHIP AND EDUCATION: MODERN DEBATES AND TRENDS A polis or state belongs to the order of ?compounds?, in the same way as all other things which form a single ?whole?, but a ?whole? composed, nonetheless, of a number of different parts. In other words, a state is a compound made up of citizens; and this compels us to consider who should properly be called a citizen and what a citizen really is. ? The nature of citizenship in general emerges from these considerations. ? We may thus conclude that the citizen of our definition [one holding the indeterminate office of judge in a court and member of an assembly] is particularly and especially the citizen of a democracy (Aristotle, 1943, pp. 125-128, addition by Blaug and Schwarzmantel, 2000, p. 210). 3.1 Introduction The term citizenship has been debated in democratic theory ever since the time of the Greek polis, as the extract from Aristotle makes clear. Aristotle?s definition of citizenship in the Athenian city-state not only reiterates the hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship, but also ?raises the question of inclusion and exclusion [in modern democratic societies]: who forms the citizen body? Who exactly are the citizens? And what exactly should citizens do?? (Blaug and Schwarzmantel, 2000, p. 206, addition mine). As mentioned in the previous chapter, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s critique of the prototypical concept of democracy sheds light on these philosophical questions. According to Socrates, the ideal city-state was an organic unity of reciprocally helpful parts, each of which was needed to make up the ?whole?. For Plato?s imagined society, the guardians were entitled to participate in office, as office holders. It is against this backdrop that Aristotle defined a citizen of a democracy as a person entitled to hold public office, that is, to active participation in 46 the exercise of power, as a member of the popular assembly, the Council of Five Hundred and the courts of justice in the Greek city-state of Athens. In contrast, as mentioned in Chapter 2, for Pericles, the Greek city-state of Athens recognised all citizens as fully participating members who had the right to make decisions and speak in public gatherings. In modern times, the distinction between ruling and subject class, based on differences in social and professional function is being challenged by theories of citizenship that embrace a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship. The purpose of this chapter is two-fold: 1) it examines various theories of citizenship that espouse and build on this prototypical, maximal concept of citizenship; 2) it also shows how the notion of citizenship that emanates from the Greek city-state of Athens is widely regarded as the most fitting model for citizenship education in schools, and thus constitutes a prospect for a revised post-apartheid citizenship education policy in South Africa. Through a brief review of some of the theories of citizenship I hope to indicate the relevance, effectiveness and practice of the Athenian concept of citizenship, and correlated notion of education in modern democratic societies. This chapter is divided into three sections. Section 1 provides an account of the development of theories of citizenship since its origins in the Greek city-state of Athens. Section 2 shows that modern democracies like Britain embrace an updated version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship as a foundation for citizenship education in schools. Section 3 gives consideration to a selection of British and American studies on citizenship education that support the claim that successful citizenship education can be ?taught? and ?caught?, namely learning for democratic citizenship is not limited to the formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement. The discussion of citizenship education in Britain is crucial for a critique of post-apartheid citizenship education policy in South Africa in the later chapters, for two reasons: 1) although the British case undoubtedly has its idiosyncrasies, it will nonetheless show how the prototypical, maximal concept of citizenship has regained currency, and 2) the report of the Advisory Group on 47 Education for Citizenship and the Teaching of Democracy in Schools (1998), chaired by Bernard Crick, presents an opportunity, not only in England, but also in South Africa, to put into practice the educational benefits of citizenship participation which theorists of participatory democracy, such as Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), Rousseau (1968), Budge (1993) and Benhabib (1996) have advocated. From a historical perspective, Britain and South Africa have ties that date back to the early nineteenth century. The British colonial domination or control of South African spheres of society provides a useful basis for discussions in the coming chapters: 1) the notion of citizenship in South Africa has its roots in English law pertaining to citizenship and nationality, and I will examine this claim in Chapter 4; 2) the concept of student participation in school governance in South African schools has its origin in the British prefect system, and this point will be dealt with in detail in Chapter 6; and 3) the idea of compulsory schooling in South Africa was inherited from the British tradition. I will discuss the British and South African notions of compulsion in schools in Chapter 7. Furthermore, the contemporary British government?s decision to introduce compulsory citizenship education in schools as a matter of national policy (in May 1999) speaks directly to the argument in Chapter 7 that compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education, can be justified as an essential component of the curriculum in South African schools. 3.2 The classical concept of citizenship: its origins and its virtues In this section of the chapter I will examine various theories of citizenship that have endorsed and interpreted the Athenian concept of citizenship in modern societies. The word ?citizen?, derived from civitas, is distinctively Latin in origin, but historically the emergence of the concept of citizenship is bound up with the development of the Greek city-states. The starting point is to look at how classical theorists interpreted citizenship in the times of the Greek city-state of Athens. From a historical Athenian 48 perspective, the concept of citizenship can be interpreted from two viewpoints that are hardly complementary. First, there is Pericles?s participatory notion of citizenship, where every citizen took turns at ruling and being ruled ? democracy by rotation or ruling by lot. Second, there is Aristotle?s interpretation of a hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship that permitted adult male citizens to participate in the popular assembly, the Council of Five Hundred and the courts of justice, on the one hand, and denied participation to non-citizens, such as women, children and foreigners, on the other hand. Athenian citizenship thus implied both an active and a passive mode. In short, Pericles?s prototypical, maximal concept of citizenship is incompatible with Aristotle?s notion of exclusive citizenship. The essence of this version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship is captured in Pericles?s claim, ?a man who minds his own business ? has no business [in Athenian democracy] at all? (Thucydides, 1972, p. 147, addition mine). Pericles?s conception of citizenship is active citizenship which encourages more citizens to participate in collective self-government than Aristotle?s polis or state permits. It is, therefore, Pericles?s idea of citizenship that promotes broad ?active? participation of citizens in the Greek city-state of Athens we shall be considering when I examine various theories of citizenship that espouse and build on this prototypical concept with regard to education. In other words, education is associated with democratic participation and active citizenry, conceptions first developed and put into practice in the Greek city-state of Athens. This chapter maintains that Pericles?s interpretation of the prototypical, maximal concept of citizenship remains pertinent in modern democratic societies. Although the beginning of discourse about citizenship is linked to the classical Greek polis, the concept did not gain wide currency in modern social theory until Marshall put it on the map in his influential discussion Citizenship and Social Class (1950). Marshall took a historical approach, which focused upon the development of citizenship rights in a modern society. His thesis was that modern citizenship includes 49 three different kinds of rights: civil, political and social rights. Civil rights are the rights necessary for individual freedom, such as speech, property and fair trial. Civil rights emerged largely in the eighteenth century. The second wave of citizenship rights, political rights, including the right to vote and to stand for political office, followed in the nineteenth century. In the twentieth century, social rights constituted the third wave of rights. By the ?social? element, Marshall meant entitlement to welfare rights, including education. Marshall?s analysis of the three elements of citizenship was, I would argue, influenced by classical theory: In early times these three strands were wound into a single thread. These rights were blended because the institutions were amalgamated. ? When the three elements of citizenship parted company, they were soon barely on speaking terms. These periods must, of course, be treated with reasonable elasticity, and there is some evident overlap, especially between the last two (Marshall, 1950, pp. 173-174). Marshall?s concept of citizenship incorporates citizens? rights as understood in the Greek city-state of Athens. In Chapter 1, I mentioned that despite the limitations of prototypical Athenian democracy ? the hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship ? ?the people? through the assembly, the council and law courts testify to the broad, ?active? participation of citizens in the Greek city-state of Athens. From a civil rights perspective, citizens took part in public debates; they owned properties and respected the law. With regard to political rights, there was direct or popular voting and participation in political decision-making bodies or daily government. Regarding social rights, citizens? active participation in democracy, as Pericles?s speech affirmed, was likely to have substantial educational value. In practice, of course, it is important to note that social citizenship is a recent phenomenon or modern idea inherited from the western education tradition, as Chapter 7 will show. In short, although there is little evidence that the idea of social citizenship had any currency in ancient Greece, the Athenian prototype of citizenship as expressed in Pericles?s declaration of the value of democracy, remains viable in modern societies. 50 Marshall seeks to (re)establish a defensible theory of (Athenian) citizenship as a central theme in western democratic societies. In terms of the civil and political dimensions, Marshall?s picture and assumptions can be summarised as follows: individual citizens and their institutions of political power cannot be considered in isolation from one another. In other words, the citizenship rights of all those who remained outside the citizenship body in historical Athens, that is, children and women, ?because they had no recognised role in the public life of society and lacked the relevant knowledge to participate in the affairs of state? (Enslin and White, 2003, p. 111), and foreigners who were hated by locals because they were perceived as outsiders, should be taken into account. In modern times, the notions of Athenian citizens? rights can readily be found in the South African Constitution (1996). For example, among the founding principles of the Constitution is equal enjoyment of an array of citizen rights, including both civil rights and political rights. These rights are promoted by public participation projects whose task is to provide the public with access to central and provincial government (sections 59, 72, and 118). In the next chapter I will discuss how the Athenian concept of citizenship is echoed in the Freedom Charter, as well as the Constitution of South Africa (1996). Our present discussion of citizenship has focussed on Marshall?s civil and political elements that could be traced back to the Greek city-state of Athens. Marshall?s idea of citizenship was broadened to include social elements where every citizen is entitled to the ?right? to education. In Chapter 7 I will discuss an important aspect of social citizenship: that is, state provision of compulsory schooling and its impact on citizenship education in South Africa. In this chapter I aim to set the scene for this discussion by quoting Marshall, that ?the right to education is a genuine social right of citizenship, because the aim of education during childhood is to shape the future adult? (1950, p. 172). In other words, a right to education aims to prepare the youth for active participation in civil and political responsibilities of adult society. Marshall?s social aspect endorses a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship as the most fitting model for citizenship education in schools, not only in 51 England, but also in South Africa. In a nutshell, Marshall?s social rights enable school pupils to participate in a civilised society, and in some sense they complete the achievement of civil and political dimensions of citizenship. According to Roche (1992), Marshall?s theoretical framework represents the ?dominant paradigm? in citizenship theory in Britain and has continued to represent the touchstone for discussions about citizenship. It is to the conception of citizenship elucidated by McLaughlin that we now turn our attention. The concept of citizenship is complex and contested even when discussion is confined to citizenship in the context of western democratic societies (McLaughlin, 1992). In the introduction of this thesis I mentioned that McLaughlin (1992) maps citizenship along a continuum of minimal and maximal conceptions. The differences between the minimal and maximal ends can be broadly expressed in several kinds of comparison, for example, between thin/ thick, private/ public, representative/ participatory, passive/ active, and the like. McLaughlin (1992, pp. 236-237) contrasts minimal and maximal conceptions by reference to four features of citizenship: identity, citizenship virtues, the individual?s degree of political involvement and the prerequisites required for citizenship. Since this chapter endorses a modified version of the Athenian prototype, one that puts emphasis on active participatory citizenry, I will confine myself to McLaughlin?s (1992) discussion on individual political involvement. In the context of this chapter, the term ?minimal? refers to citizenship as ?taught?, and by extension education for citizenship that relies entirely on formal school curriculum. Interpreted maximally, citizenship is both ?taught? and ?caught?, and by extension education for citizenship covers opportunities for teaching about citizenship within and outside the formal curriculum. Drawing again on Enslin (2000), interpreted maximally, McLaughlin?s citizens engage in a participatory democracy, a prospect that is essential for citizenship education. McLaughlin?s (1992, p. 245) mapping is correspondingly true of education for citizenship. 52 A major point of divergence between these two interpretations of education for citizenship is the extent of political involvement and participation that is seen as required by citizenship. On minimal interpretations, there is a degree of scepticism about widespread political involvement and participation, and the citizen is seen primarily as a private citizen (McLaughlin, 1992, p. 237). In her article, ?In defence of minimalism: beyond a robust approach to citizenship education? Dieltiens (2005), defends this minimalist account of citizenship on the educational grounds that it develops individual autonomy and contributes to the democratic project that seeks the common good. Conversely, the author criticises a maximal concept of citizenships for ?slip[ping] too far from education?s other central role ? that of developing autonomous individuals? (Dieltiens, 2005, p. 191). In other words, maximalism ?strains against the more traditional liberal idea of education?s primary task as cultivating the autonomy of individuals apart from a socially or culturally defined role?, Dieltiens (2005, p. 194) argues. There are two difficulties with this argument. First, one could reject Dieltiens?s interpretation of a maximal approach that overrides individual freedom and argue instead that the pursuit of individual autonomy does not stand in contrast to the quest for the common good ? indeed, that it is possible to combine the two central features of democratic theory, as argued in Chapter 2. Second, in Chapter 2, I also examined various theories of democracy which have endorsed and explicated the educative value of democratic participation, i.e. the development of an active, self-helping type of character and the pursuit of the common good. As the third section of this chapter will show, global trends in liberal democracies also tend towards participatory, community-based citizenship education. Put differently, a prototypical, maximal concept of democratic citizenship ?improves? the citizens (i.e., values individual autonomy) and promotes the good management of the affairs of society (contributes to the democratic project that seeks the common good). 53 In Chapter 7, I will challenge Dieltiens?s interpretation of maximal account of citizenship by arguing that, within the theoretical framework of the Athenian version of democratic citizenship, maximalism can be justified on the grounds that it promotes individual autonomy and builds social cohesion ? which is the common good in a democratic South African society. Importantly, the maximal project is not only admirable, as an educational project, but it also educates citizens in how to preserve individual liberties and appeal to the public good. Unlike the maximal theorists who rely on coercion and force, the Athenian version of democratic citizenship guarantees children the freedom to opt out of the ?official? school democracy projects. The remainder of this chapter will show that an education towards a maximalist citizenship, to use Dieltiens?s, words, ?offers a way of achieving both (the development of individuality, while at the same time contributes to the democratic project that seeks the common good) educational objectives? (p. 189). In terms of the Athenian concept of citizenship discussed thus far, Aristotle (1943), Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), Marshall (1950), and McLaughlin?s (1992) theories can be summarised as follows: ? For Aristotle a citizen of a democracy is a person who possesses political power and partakes in the popular assembly and the Council of Five Hundred, and sits at the courts of justice, although this historical Athenian concept of citizenship excluded women, children and workers. ? In contrast, Pericles?s participatory notion of citizenship encourages more citizens to participate in collective self-government than Socrates, Plato and Aristotle?s vision of prototypical Athenian city-state democracy permits. ? Marshall?s analysis of citizenship is concerned not only with the Greek legacy, but with the understandings of citizenship in postwar western societies, in particular the arenas of citizenship (the civil, political and the social) and institutions (the law courts, parliament and the schooling system) in respect of which those citizenship rights are effectively pursued. 54 ? McLaughlin?s political involvement feature favours a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship, a fuller more participatory approach to democracy, an aspect that is essential for citizenship education. In other words, the prototypical, maximal concept of citizenship endorses democratic participation and active citizenry. As mentioned in Chapter 1, a maximal conception of citizenship, and of citizenship education, has as its major priority the development of active, critical and enquiring citizens in schools. In the previous chapter, I reiterated Osler and Starkey?s (2005) argument that people need to be given a chance to acquire an understanding of the ways in which their own lives and those of others are linked ? globally as well as locally ? as well as a capacity to contribute to shaping the future they have in common with others across the globe. As McLaughlin states, Perhaps one of the most salient points of contrast for educational purposes concerns the degree of critical understanding and questioning that is seen as necessary to citizenship. Maximal conceptions require a considerable degree of explicit understanding of democratic principles, values and procedures on the part of the citizen together with the dispositions and capacities required for participation in democratic citizenship generously conceived (McLaughlin, 1992, p. 237). According to McLaughlin, terms like ?understanding?, ?dispositions? and ?capacities? suggest that the prototypical concept of citizenship has an ambitious purpose, that is, the education of the entire citizenry. It would appear, then, that a major function of participation in the theory of democratic citizenship is an educative one (including both the psychological aspects, such as the building of self-confidence, and the gaining of practice in democratic skills and procedures). While McLaughlin does not explicitly dismiss minimalist notions, his analysis demonstrates a number of shortcomings of the type of approach adopted in Dieltiens?s article: ?the most notable of these is that it may involve merely an unreflective socialization into the political and social status quo, and is therefore inadequate on educational, as well as on other, 55 grounds? (McLaughlin, 1992, p. 238). To recall from Chapter 2, central to theories of participation and democratic theory is the stress on maximum participation in a political system. In short, a minimalist interpretation of citizenship can be dismissed as inadequate on educational grounds. As a result of the above shortcoming the minimal interpretation of education for citizenship is open to a number of notable objections: ? The pursuit of individual autonomy does not stand in contrast to the quest for the common good ? indeed, that it is possible to combine the two central features of democratic theory; ? various theories of democracy have endorsed and explicated two features of the educative value of democratic participation, i.e. the development of an active, self-helping type of character and the pursuit of the common good; ? therefore, participation of citizens in government develops active characters who contribute to the common welfare of society. I agree with Osler and Starkey (2005) that people need to be given a chance to acquire an understanding of the ways in which their own lives and those of others are linked ? globally as well as locally ? as well as a capacity to contribute to shaping the future they have in common with others across the globe. A maximal conception of citizenship, as I will argue throughout the thesis, is likely to address the persistent challenges confronting citizenship universally, including South Africa, such as the historical and current exclusion of young adults from the sphere of citizenship. For putatively obvious reasons: 1) children are seen as consumers of citizenship education, rather than as partners in programmes, projects and strategies to enhance citizen democracy; 2) they are portrayed as threatening yet politically apathetic (Seekings, 1993; Osler and Starkey, 2005); 3) at best, they are viewed as citizens-in- waiting who need to be inducted into their future role; and 4) all too often, however, they are seen as needy individuals whose incompetence needs to be addressed. This 56 deficit model of the youth is then applied in education and particularly in the construction of citizenship education in schools. A focus on obedience or loyalty works against the kind of active, critical and inquiring citizen many maximal theorists, such as Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), Marshall (1950), and McLaughlin (1992), assumed is required in a democratic society. It would appear, then, that a maximal concept of democratic citizenship values individual autonomy and contributes to the common welfare of society. Various theories of citizenship, such as Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), Marshall (1950) and McLaughlin?s (1992), have endorsed a maximal concept of citizenship and citizenship education on the grounds that it is democratic and participative in its outlook. Let us turn our attention to the establishment of the Citizenship Advisory Group (1998) in England, a sign of faith in the Athenian concept of citizenship. 3.3 The Citizenship Advisory Group: a prototypical Athenian view In this section of the chapter, I will argue that the Advisory Group reflects a vision of active, participatory citizenry of the Greek city-state of Athens. In the previous chapter, I discussed theories of democracy that place high value on educating the young for democratic citizenship. I also stated that participation takes place in many spheres of society, one such sphere being the school. In Britain, citizenship education was included for the first time as part of the school curriculum in 2002. It is a new foundation subject for students at Key Stage 3 (11-14 years of age) and Key Stage 4 (14-16 years of age). I must hasten to say that this section does not offer a critical evaluation of the report, but focuses on the concept of citizenship and related notion of citizenship education which is embodied in the Crick Report. The discussion on the Citizenship Advisory Group will show that: 1) the Group?s terms of reference endorsed the importance of the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, and its notion of active citizenship; 2) in doing so, the group absorbed Marshall?s (1950) tri- partite approach to citizenship in its attempt to lay down stronger foundations for 57 citizenship education in schools; and 3) the report?s theoretical framework embodied McLaughlin?s (1992) notable attributes of ?participative? or ?maximal? components of citizenship. It may be illuminating, in the present context to examine the background to the introduction of citizenship education in England. In 1997 the Secretary of State for Education and Employment in England appointed an Advisory Group on Citizenship, with wide ranging terms of reference relating to the provision of advice on effective citizenship education in schools: To provide advice on effective education for citizenship in schools ? to include the nature and practices of participatory democracy; the duties, responsibilities and rights of individuals as citizens; and the value to individuals and society of community activity (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 4). These terms of reference, ?participatory democracy?, ?citizens? rights and responsibilities? and ?community involvement?, already bear the language inherited from the classical Greek. In the Greek city-state of Athens as discussed in the first three chapters of this thesis: 1) Athens bequeathed to us their conceptions of participatory democracy and active citizenship; 2) a citizen had a right to participate in the exercise of political power as a free and equal member of the assembly; 3) individual citizens had duties that include participation in government affairs and the administration of justice; and 4) citizens were not only interested in personal affairs, but in the affairs of the state too. Similarly, the Advisory Group?s terms of reference have wide implications for our understanding of education for citizenship and democracy in schools, as a popular participatory institution. Thus it is envisaged that the Advisory Group?s concept of education for citizenship in relation to democracy is likely to foster an active type of characters guided by a sense of duty to maximise the welfare of their society. 58 In practice this means that citizenship education is meant to: 1) develop knowledge, skills, values and attitudes that would enable school-pupils to participate in modern democratic society; 2) enhance the awareness of rights and duties, and a sense of responsibility required to develop school-pupils into active, participatory future citizenry; and 3) establish the value of pupils in playing an active part in citizenship, i.e. of local and the broader involvement and service. Against this background, a major task of the Advisory Group was to adopt as a starting point the understanding of citizenship found in Marshall?s analysis of citizenship that draws on the civil, political and social elements of classical Greek tradition. In his article ?Citizenship in the National Curriculum (England): Issues and Challenges? (2000), Kerr explains how Marshall?s revised version of the Athenian prototype has weighed heavily on the Advisory Group, particularly its attempt to define citizenship education in a parliamentary democracy.12 In the 1980s and early 1990s, the British Conservative government championed the individualism of the free market and placed emphasis on the importance of civic obligation or active citizenship (Kerr, 2000). The term ?active citizenship? that is a central feature of the Greek city-state of Athens ?was part of a wider Conservative philosophy based on the primacy of the rights and responsibilities of the individual over those of the state? (Kerr, 2000, p. 75). The Conservative government urged individuals to take up actively their civic responsibilities rather than leave it to the government to carry 12 The latest policy review of citizenship education undertaken by the Advisory Group was influenced largely by different phases of citizenship in England. The term citizenship was interpreted broadly to reflect different traditions: First, a liberal citizenship whose features include the preservation of individual rights and maximising freedom of choice. Second, a communitarian citizenship that borders on the communitarian rhetoric of community, with a particular emphasis on group solidarity rather than individualism. In a democracy, as Pericles?s (Thucydides, 1972) affirmation of the value of Athenian democracy showed, the pursuit of individuals? rights does not stand in contrast with active participation in public affairs of society ? it is possible to combine the two central features of democratic theory. Third, the Athenian prototype of citizenship is characterised by a sense of community, enthusiastic loyalty and zealous engagement in civic duties. This Athenian version of citizenship, as the discussion of citizenship education in Britain will show, favours a more participatory or maximal conception of democracy. It is the purpose of this discussion to show that a classical tradition, a reference to a revised version of the prototypical Athenian concept of citizenship embraces both the private (liberal) and the public (communitarian) dimensions of citizenship, a prospect for effective education for citizenship and democracy in schools, as the section will show. 59 them out. The idea of the specificity of active citizenship and preserving individual rights is the key point of much of Marshall?s work, especially the civil element that is composed of the rights necessary for individual freedom ? liberty of the person, freedom of speech, thought and faith, the right to own property and to conclude valid contracts, and the right to justice. It was not long before the Labour government promised to foster an active, participatory citizenry that preserve individual liberties and appeal to the public good. The New Labour government, which came to power in May 1997, championed a communitarian view of citizenship. This different approach to citizenship ?was one centred on the communitarian rhetoric of community ? based on the civic responsibilities of the individual in partnership with the state? (Kerr, 2000, p. 75). In contrast to the British Conservative government, the Labour government put emphasis on the primacy of public life, or public responsibilities, rather than egoism. The notion of active citizenship and obligation to the community is also at the centre of Marshall?s work, especially the social element that is composed of the right to play a full role as members of society. The shifting emphasis in citizenship over the past two decades had an influence on how the Advisory Group was formed and approached its work, particularly on its ability to set out a clear definition of citizenship education. The definition of the Advisory Group centred on ?civic participation? based on the prototypical version of Athenian citizenship. The Advisory Group unanimously agreed that ?effective education for citizenship? in schools would cover: The teaching of civics, participatory democracy and citizenship, and may be taken to include some understanding of the democratic practices and institutions, including parties, pressure groups and voluntary bodies, and the relationship of formal political activity with civic society in the context of the UK, Europe; and an awareness of world affairs and global issues (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 4). 60 Interestingly, the Advisory Group?s definition carries a personal, social and political agenda. Education for citizenship is concerned with the personal development of students, as well as the political and social development of society at a local, national and international level. In its introduction, the Advisory Groups declared its commitment to active participatory citizenry, a vision that resembled a prototypical Athenian democracy, ?Active citizenship is our aim throughout? (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 25). If British school-pupils are to be effective citizens, political engagement and participation in democratic society at local, national and international level is required. The Advisory Group?s definition of citizenship education is compatible with the Athenian prototype of democracy, especially its democratic zeal for participation and with Marshall?s analysis of citizenship that is concerned not only with the Greek legacy, but with the understanding of the arenas of citizenship (the individual, political and social) and institutions (the schooling system) in respect of which those citizenship rights are effectively pursued. In short, the Advisory Group reflects a tradition of a prototypical Athenian democracy that is rooted in an active or maximal conception of citizenship. The Citizenship Advisory Group agreed that ?effective education for citizenship? consists of three strands, interrelated but also distinct, which combine to make up such an education: Firstly, social and moral responsibility: children learning from the very beginning self-confidence and socially and morally responsible behaviour both in and beyond the classroom, both towards those in authority and towards each other. ? Secondly, community involvement: learning about and becoming helpfully involved in the life and concerns of their communities, including learning through community involvement and service to the community. ? Thirdly, political literacy: pupils learning about and how to make themselves effective in public life through knowledge, skills and values (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, pp. 11, 12 and 13; emphasis in original). There seems to be a conscious effort on the part of the Advisory Group to forge a 61 definition of citizenship that achieved an acceptable balance between the Conservative Party?s liberal and Labour?s communitarian concepts of citizenship in England. According to Kerr (2000), the Advisory Group?s interpretation of the prototypical Athenian tradition ?provided a workable ?third way? between the competing ?individualist? and ?communitarian? concepts of citizenship? (p. 78). As a result, the Advisory Group?s definition reinstated the second element ? the political ? which had been strangely absent from the Conservative government?s notion of active citizenship in the early 1990s. In this context, the Advisory Group?s participatory, community-based approach to citizenship education is compatible with McLaughlin?s (1992) maximal concept of citizenship, and of citizenship education that covers opportunities for teaching about citizenship within and outside the formal curriculum, both of which I will argue to be essential parts of education for and in a democratic South African society. Along all three lines the Advisory Group emphasised that citizenship education ?is not just knowledge of citizenship and civic society; it also implies developing values, skills and understanding? (1998, p. 13). The group placed considerable stress on the outcomes of effective citizenship education, namely the pursuit of individuals? rights and the quest for the common good. Interestingly, this is in line with what some commentators like Kerr (2000) and Kerr and Sardo? (2002) called the ?missing element? in Marshall?s triology, from both the Conservative and new Labour governments? approach to citizenship education: democratic participation and active citizenry, conceptions synonymous for the Greek city-state of Athens. Above all, the group stated that the teaching of citizenship and democracy is so important for schools and for society that it must be an entitlement for all pupils. I will examine the influence of British compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education in South African schools in Chapter 7. It seems clear that, although the Crick Report seeks to embody a broad conception of citizenship and citizenship education, the conception does contain marked evidence 62 of ?maximal? or ?active? elements. This is apparent in the following bold statement by the Advisory Group that the central aim of strengthening citizenship education and promoting democracy in British schools is to effect: No less than a change in the political culture of this country both nationally and locally; for people to think of themselves as active citizens, willing, able and equipped to have an influence in public life and with the critical capacities to weigh evidence before speaking and acting; to build on and to extend radically to young people the best in existing traditions of community involvement and public service, and to make them individually confident in finding new forms of involvement and action among themselves (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, pp. 7-8). According to the Advisory Group, education for citizenship and democracy has as its prime concern the promotion of active, critical and inquiring pupils in British schools. In this regard, the Advisory Group?s maximal approach seeks to produce pupils who can ?? participate in society effectively as active, informed, critical and responsible citizens? (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 9), thus constituting ?? an active and politically-literate citizenry convinced that they can influence government and community affairs at all levels? (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 9). In contrast to Dieltiens?s (2005) interpretation of maximalism, the Advisory Group?s account of citizenship education takes seriously the development of individuality. The group cannot be said to subordinate individual autonomy to the needs of the state, as it attempts to balance universal political participation with an emphasis on defending individual rights. It is evident that the group?s interpretation of citizenship calls for ?critical understanding and questioning that is seen as necessary to citizenship? (McLaughlin, 1992, p. 237). The Advisory Group?s definition of citizenship, that is, its updated version of the Athenian prototype of democratic citizenship, bears testimony to the relevance and, indeed, the compellingness of the classical theory. With the recovery of the Athenian concept, an updated version of citizenship as an extreme form of participatory democracy is now being recognised and implemented in the British schooling system. 63 The Advisory Group?s modified version of the Athenian prototype furnishes the basis for the discussion of citizenship education in South Africa that lies ahead. It will be shown that: 1) the anti-apartheid struggle reflected Marshall?s classical definition of citizenship concerned with the personal growth of students and the political and social development of society; 2) the anti-apartheid struggle, and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power?, had an integrative effect and was able to encourage collective input and active participation by parents, teachers and students in schools; and 3) post-apartheid education policy and subsequent curriculum development nonetheless reflects a minimalist conception of citizenship, and of citizenship education. In other words, the Advisory Group?s view of citizenship shows similarities to developments in South Africa but also a crucial difference. A brief review of the Advisory Group?s recommendations indicates that effective education for citizenship and democracy requires public spaces, both in schools and in communities, in which to thrive. To this effect, modern debates and trends bear elements from individualistic and communitarian trains of thought. A group of scholars have recently argued that a new ?civic field? is emerging, a narrative of citizenship distinct from a liberal and communitarian views of citizenship. 3.4 Prototypical Athenian Citizenship: a civic-centred view This section argues that a narrative of ?civic fields? and civic agency is not a new phenomenon in South Africa. The resurgence of ?civic fields? or ?public spaces? understood as democratic energy of the masses, that is, where ordinary people act as agents of their own development is also reflected in South Africa?s struggle history. It is the purpose of this discussion to reiterate a classical tradition, a reference to a revised version of the prototypical Athenian concept of citizenship that is two- dimensional: it promotes individual freedom, the pursuit of the general enlightenment; and builds social cohesion?the political goal or common good across the borders of communities. A crucial task of establishing an account of this emerging ?civic field? is to make the following claims: 64 1) That the term ?civic? ? and by implication ?civic fields? as a narrative of citizenship is a slippery or convoluted concept; 2) That a modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy is not incompatible with a civic-centred view of citizenship, that is, it has elements of individualism, communitarianism and cosmopolitanism in its outlook; and 3) A proposed shared perspective of civic agency that puts emphasis on citizens? capacities, individually and collectively, to be agents of their lives is consistent with the anti-apartheid tradition in South Africa. Let us turn our attention to the advocates of civic driven change who point to different and often divergent conceptions of civic agency. In his essay ?Civic Driven Change and Developmental Democracy? (2008), Boyte argues that there is a re-emergence of civic agency in democratic societies. Boyte defines agency as ?the navigational capacities to negotiate and transform the world around us, which is understood to be fluid and open? (Boyte, 2008, p. 2). In other words, the term civic agency has two dimensions: it promotes individual freedom, understood as human capacity and empowerment and it builds social cohesion, interpreted as organisation or collective discourse and action to shape the general good: ?. a bottom-up development paradigm in which people are agents of their own development, contrasted with top-down development in which people are ?helped? or ?saved? by others ? the capacity not only to direct one?s life and shape one?s environment but also to collaborate with others across differences to address common challenges and to make a common world (Boyte, 2008, pp. 2-3). Boyte?s concept of civic agency reinforces the idea that democratic agency is about the (democratic) development of its citizens. The author argues that civic agency remains alive in community organisations and in popular education sites. To illustrate this point, he draws on the experience of organising and self-directed popular education movement in KwaZulu-Natal, a province in South Africa. The Abahlali 65 movement and the University of Abahlali were created by tens of thousands of shack dwellers in 34 townships in KwaZulu-Natal to: ?fight for land and housing, for an end to forced removals, and for access to education, water, electricity, sanitation, health care and refuse removal? (Boyte, 2008, p. 5). The impact that Abahlali has on civic life corroborates and throws light on how democratic agents are able to ?shift from conceiving themselves as victims or narrow interests, and learn to see themselves as shapers of the world and as citizens? (Boyte, 2005, p. 2). Abahlali?s collective action dimension shows that citizens? active participation in democratic communities is likely to be an educational one. As Boyte maintains, ?organizing and popular education ? expand the civic talents and energies ? to reverse patterns of civic decay and regenerate civic muscle? (Boyte, 2008, pp. 6-10). Is people?s capacity, individually and collectively to shape their destiny the only distinctive feature of civic agency? In her essay ?Civic Driven Change and Political Projects? (2008), Dagnino claims that civic agency ?should not be reduced to mobilisation/organising, as if civic is to be thought of as a set of specific contents and drives for action? (p. 2). Interestingly, Dagnino points out two interrelated but different meanings of ?civic?: ? civic as a ?location?, defined as pertaining to citizens and/or to civil society, to ?lifeworld?, as opposed to state and to the market; ? civic as an ?attribute?, an ?inherent? virtue, which derives from that ?location? and only from it, and, therefore, is not present in other locations (Dagnino, 2008, pp. 1-3). The author identifies two profound problems with the above meanings of civic. First, they homogenise a field (citizens and/or their organizations) that is heterogeneous and diverse by nature. Second, by naturalizing a ?virtuous? quality, as being intrinsic to this field, they end up by idealising and mystifying it. In contrast, Dagnino puts forward two important enabling conditions for a civic-driven narrative to have practical meaning: 66 1) To recognise that the notion of civic-driven change (CDC) is moot under conditions where the ?right to have rights? is denied; 2) To be critically attentive to what terms mean to those using them, for multiple interpretations of the same terms hinder an understanding of what a civic- driven paradigm actually stands for and implies for action (Dagnino, 2008, pp. 1-3). There are two points worth mentioning about Dagnino?s enabling conditions for a civic-driven narrative. First, in South Africa, the mass democratic movement of the 1980s was a direct response to the colonial-apartheid authorities? denial of civil, political and social rights of citizenship to the black majority. Second, there seems to be no agreement on the meaning of civic agency in democratic societies. Against this background, Dagnino advised that ?the pseudo unanimity of the perverse confluence and the opacity it creates impose? a rigorous analysis of what hides behind the divergent and often antagonistic uses of the ?civic? and its correlates? (Dagnino, 2008, p. 11). In a nutshell, the discussion between Boyte (2008) and Dagnino (2008) confirms that there is no single meaning but rather differences and divergent views on what is ?civic? and civic agency. In ?Civic Driven Change for Deepening Democracy? (2008), Fowler and Biekart suggest a shared perspective on civic agency to be found in the following propositions and characteristics: ? a paradigm (or narrative) of civic-driven change needs to be explained within the ?political project? it aspires to, making explicit the meaning of core concepts (Dagnino, 2008). ? civic agency is a self-directed ability and right of citizens to shape their lives and circumstances as well as solve common problems through individual and collective action (Boyte, 2008). 67 ? the ?civic? in CDC recognises people acting as citizens with rights and obligations in relation to states with duties as guarantors of rights (Dagnino, 2008). ? CDC is intentional in acting to bring about a transformative change in society towards an imagined new situation. By definition, citizens will have different ideas, images and priorities for what transformative change should be (Boyte, 2008). ? derived from citizenship, civic agency is not located within one institutional sector or realm. Both civic and ?uncivic? (or undemocratic) agencies can be found in all walks of life and the social structures that people create: families, business, government, political parties and civil society. Civic-driven change does occur and can be further developed in all of them (Dagnino, 2008). ? CDC relies on a civic agency as a normative pro-social value-based human predisposition. This behaviour should be based on respect for differences between people and a concern for society and its environment as a whole (Boyte, 2008) (see Fowler and Biekart, 2008, pp. 7-8). The authors? framework of civic-driven change testifies to the contested notions of civic agency in modern democratic societies. There are two general points worth noting about Fowler and Biekart?s proposed shared perspective on civic agency. First, the authors points to a false consensus on a single meaning among the proponents of civic driven change. Second, the term civic agency reflects two distinct formulations ? citizenship as a legal status (to enjoy the rights, privileges and benefits of citizenship) and citizenship as a practice (the obligations to play an active part in citizenship, that is, public participation in political, socio-economic life). That, in effect, is a capacity of individuals to influence political institutions, a sense of agency, which leads citizens to exert themselves on behalf of others. In addition to the above, Fowler and Biekart?s view on civic agency is notable for three reasons: 68 1) it shows that civic agency is a dynamic, complex and ambiguous concept, i.e., it is multi-dimensional in its approach; 2) it reiterates Mill?s (1975) claim that it is only within a context of popular participatory institutions or large-scale society that one sees an active type of character fostered; and 3) it endorses Young?s (1990) politics of difference as a product of social processes, where voices of the oppressed as well as the privileged are recognised in democratic deliberations. As Gould (1996) observed, citizens learn about principles of equal right and social justice in the public sphere and institutions of economic, social and political life. How distinct is this new ?civic field? from a liberal theory ? the preservation of individual rights and freedom, the pursuit of the general enlightenment and a communitarian theory ? characterised by a sense of community, enthusiastic loyalty and zealous engagement in civic duties? In his paper ?Everyday Politics: Reconnecting Citizens and Public Life? (2004), Boyte looks at liberalism, communitarianism and civic agency as three separate, competing models of citizenship. For Boyte (2004): The idea of the citizen as a voter, protester, or claimant, associated with liberal political theory, produces civic classes, with perhaps a complementary focus on student government. The idea of the citizen as a volunteer, associated with communitarian theory, leads to the modern service movement, where the dominant focus is on individual helping, the concepts like power, politics, and self-interests are normally missing, and real world civic products are seldom discussed. The concept of the citizen as a civic producer or co-creator of the commonwealth leads ? expands the roles and capacities of the citizen by retrieving a nonprofessional conception of politics, as the activity of citizens (Boyte, 2004, p. 12). The two main concerns I have with Boyte?s mutually exclusive competing notions of citizenship pertain to the following aspects: first, his distinct and competing models are not consistent with a revised version of the prototypical concept of citizenship that embraces both the private (liberal), the public (communitarian) dimensions of 69 citizenship ? it is possible to combine the two central features of democratic theory; second, Boyte?s idea of citizenship undermines global trends in liberal democracies that tend towards participatory, community-based citizenship education. In his essay, Civic Drive Change for Deepening Democracy (2008), Tandon argues that ?individual rights and obligations are important. ? But, collective fellowship and solidarity is also important, and citizens must act in ways that make it happen ? this is a rationale for situating civic agency in the communitarian context? (p. 5). Tandon?s quotation shows that a narrative of ?civic fields? is not distinct from a liberal and communitarian notions of citizenship. In a nutshell, the Athenian concept of citizenship is not after all ?uncivic? or anti-civic it its outlook. I mentioned in the second section of this chapter that the Athenian concept of citizenship is two-dimensional: it develops human capacities ? agency approach; and helps people forge social solidarity with their peers ? communitarian approach. The argument presented by the civic agency advocates is not sufficient since individuals do not exist independently of their communities. A communitarian approach is also inadequate as communities are not fixed in their membership or their characteristics. Individuals are able to feel solidarity with others at local, national and global levels. In addition, Chapter 8 will show how a classical tradition embraces cosmopolitan ideals, that is, it promotes the primacy of citizens? voices at local as well as global spheres. There is little difference between Fowler and Biekart?s (2008) civic agency approach and the Athenian view of individualism, on the one hand, and a more communitarian rhetoric of community, on the other. Both philosophical conceptions of citizenship put emphasis on agency not as an isolated individual but as equal co-creator operating in a free association with the agency of others. This long tradition and recent revival of ?organising? approach is evident in South African public philosophy. According to Coughlan et al (2007), ?the anti-apartheid struggle tradition developed models of public consultation in which leaders of trade unions and civic organisations sought mandates, consulted and reported back to constituencies? (p. 83). 70 Chapter 4 will show how the United Democratic Front (UDF) brought together a number of political and organisational strands. They included civic associations, trade unions, youth organisations, student movements, women?s groups, religious groups, political parties, professional organisations and so forth. In Chapter 5, I will argue that at the centre of the anti-apartheid struggle, and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? in the 1980s lies the democratic energies of parents, teachers, students, community leaders, religious bodies, NGOs, academic institutions, workers. These political and organizational strands were ?mobilised into appropriate organisational structures to participate actively in the initiation and management of ?People?s Education? in all its forms? (Chisholm and Fuller, 1996, p. 701). In taking up this issue in Chapter 6, the term ?student movement? refers to the sum total and intentions of students, individually, collectively and organisationally, directed towards change in the students? own circumstances and for educational and wider social change (see Jacks, 1975, p. 13). In other words, ?student? activists were able to link educational demands to a broader national political struggle. Furthermore, I point out in Chapter 6 that the objectives of the Charter Campaign were inter alia: to reach out to and consult all students ? to develop the organizational network of ?student movement? and all other participatory organizations (see Christie, 1988, p. 251). In sum, given that civic driven change is at its infant stage, there is no unanimity on the definition, meaning and direction it should adopt. The challenge of deepening this new ?civic field? movement is to acknowledge that liberalism, communitarianism and civic-oriented view of citizenship are not incompatible but, rather, are intimately and reciprocally linked. The focus now turns to the international literature on citizenship education that supports the claim that learning for democratic citizenship is not limited to the formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement. 71 3.5 Active community engagement and doing citizenship: international trends Influential authors like Barber (1984) and Boyte (2004) argue that learning democratic citizenship is most likely to be achieved through active community engagement rather than through the formal school curriculum. In his book Strong Democracy (1984), Barber argued for a strong democratic theory of citizenship. Strong democracy is given the following formal definition: ?strong democracy in the participatory mode ? creates a political community capable of transforming dependent private individuals into free citizens and partial and private interests into public goods? (Barber, 1984, p.151). In other words, strong democracy enables genuine participation, where individual citizens retain their autonomy and come to political decisions through deliberation with other autonomous citizens in the community. There are two points worth noting about Barber?s definition of democracy. First, the author emphasised the value of citizens? participation, as a central feature of democratic theory. Secondly, in support of Pericles (1972), Rousseau (1968) and Mill (1975), Barber shows that the private and public dimensions of citizenship are inseparable. In the process of creating a self-governing community: Individual autonomy is preserved because their vision of their own freedom and interest has been enlarged to include others; and their obedience to the common force is rendered legitimate because their enlarged vision enables them to perceive in the common force the working of their own wills (Barber, 1984, p. 232). In a strong democratic community, individual members are transformed, through their participation, from their narrow interests and acquire the capacity for common vision. Barber?s theory of strong democracy is already found in the work of Rousseau (1968). In Rousseau?s words, a democratic community ?produces a remarkable change in man?; that is to say, through participation in it, ?man?s faculties are exercised and developed, his ideas broadened, his feelings ennobled, and his soul 72 elevated? (Rousseau, 1968, pp. 64-65). Importantly, the educative factor is not limited to the individual denizen, but spreads in many spheres of society, one such sphere being the school. Drawing from Barber?s theory of a strong democracy, in this section of the chapter I maintain that the two terms participation and community are also features that characterise Athenian citizenship, and by implication citizenship education. Nieborg and Vos (1983) investigate the relationship between community participation and learning. The authors establish that there are two types of learning resulting from community activities, ?soft? and ?hard? learning.13 Soft learning involves special learning through training programmes. Hard learning refers to learning by doing. The writers conclude that both forms of learning are important to the citizen development process. Much of the international literature on education for citizenship and teaching of democracy supports both ?soft? and ?hard? notions of community participation and learning. A typical understanding of a maximal acquisition is summarised by Hoodless (1992), when she quotes the Speaker?s Commission: ?Tell me and I forget. Show me and I remember. Involve me and I understand? (p. 69). British educators have also added their voices to the verdict that citizenship is caught and taught, as Sutherland (2001) maintained. In ?Everyday Politics: Reconstructing Citizens and Public Life? (2004), Boyte, too, argues that citizenship education is a craft, not only a programme. The following paragraphs elaborate on the understanding of citizenship as a craft and a programme, that is, that successful citizenship education is more likely to be achieved through active participation in popular or grassroots organisations rather than through the formal school curriculum. There is striking empirical evidence that shows the attraction of citizenship in the classical mode: learners play an active part in citizenship, namely 13 In this context, the term ?soft? refers to a minimalist conception of citizenship, and by extension education for citizenship, that relies entirely on the formal school curriculum. Interpreted maximally, learning democratic citizenship in a ?hard? way covers opportunities for teaching about citizenship within and outside the formal curriculum. Nieborg and Vos?s (1983) forms of learning are compatible with the prototypical concept of citizenship, a successful or effective education for citizenship that can be ?taught? and ?caught?. 73 children are seen as partners, not as consumers or portrayed as threatening, nor as citizens-in-waiting in community projects, programmes and services that enhance democratic citizenship in schools. British and American studies indicate that a ?modern? version of Athenian citizenship is crafted and fomented by participating in schools that have ties with local community organisations.14 Edwards and Fogelman?s (1991) study ?Active Citizenship and Young People?, reviews research evidence of active citizenship concerning young people in Britain. With a specific focus on student participation in democratic school governance, Edwards and Fogelman reveal that school representation gives students a degree of power and responsibility in matters relating to the curriculum, assessment, extra-curricular activities, and so on. Of particular importance in Edwards and Fogelman?s school study of representative democracy is that the active, participatory role of the students is beneficial not only for their own self-development, but also for the management of the school as a public, institutionalised arrangement involving parents, teachers and school authorities. In resonance with McLaughlin?s (1992) ?maximal? element of individuals? degree of political involvement, school teachers in Edwards and Fogelman?s survey saw the benefits of pupil participation in promoting competent, self-reliant and responsible citizens. Comparable to Pitkin?s (1967) concept of representation, the Athenian view of citizenship education regards active participation in local institutions as a multi- faceted arrangement where the young and old are active participants, not merely passive recipients of representative structures. Edwards and Fogelman suggest that 14 The following are some of the individual organisations Edwards and Fogelman (1991) looked at as part of the review of research evidence on active citizenship concerning young people. International Voluntary Service is a movement founded in 1920 that aims to promote international understanding and peace through sending volunteers to work in developing countries. A Community Projects Foundation that was established in the 1960s focused its work on community development, for instance, developing skills of collective self-reliance and participation in public decision making and so on. The Politics Association has existed for nearly twenty years and aims to foster an informal political awareness among young people in Britain. 74 students? participation in democratic citizenship is imperative in promoting and consolidating democracy in British schools. A look at the authors? review provides a practical case in point for discussions in later chapters. Referring to the case of South Africa, Chapter 6 will show that pupils are one of the most indispensable components of democratic school governance at secondary schools. Against this background, I will defend the Student Representative Councils? (SRCs) tradition on the grounds of its emphasis of the educative potential of learner participation. Unfortunately, as I will show, post-apartheid educational policy represents in significant respects retrieval of the less democratic tradition of student representation in South African schools. In ?Citizenship in Schools? (1991), Gyte and Hill observed a Community Planning Research organisation that carried out a survey that sought out the views of young people on citizenship and volunteering. The survey uncovered that all those interviewed would have welcomed the opportunity to learn about citizenship that focuses on a wide range of local activities boosting the community?s sense of identity, and that looks at community-state of affairs while still at schools. One 17- year old expressed his regret this way: ?You should know about it [the community]. It?s your community ? and you really have a responsibility to yourself to know about it? (Gyte and Hill, 1991, p. 81). A university student?s comment referred to a host of issues also embedded in the teaching of citizenship: What you are taught at school is to obey what you are told to do by a teacher. That is absolutely opposed to good citizenship. Good citizenship is that you use your brain and teach yourself about things. What you?re told to do is: ?don?t question, just do what you?re told?. You are actually being taught to be a bad unresponsive, passive, stupid citizen (Gyte and Hill, 1991, p. 81). Both interviewees deplored the inability of schools to engage pupils in learning through active community involvement and its minimal citizenship education 75 project that seems not to foster active, critical and inquiring young citizens. The non-existence or lack of community involvement strands in citizenship programmes in schools deprives pupils of the opportunity to develop their intellectual, practical and moral excellences, a prospect that is paramount in the Advisory Group?s emphasis on ?civic participation? based on the prototypical version of Athenian citizenship. The level of personal commitment and enthusiasm for community participation promotes active, participatory citizens who are likely to provide a solid foundation for democracy, in schools and beyond. Referring to South Africa, Chapter 6 will show that the anti-apartheid struggle points to SRCs? steadfastness to serve the interest of the community. The clarion call was that students must serve the community because they were members of society first, and an indispensable component of democratic school governance second, in that order. Jones and Jones (1992) review the national survey that was carried out by Fogelman in 1990. Some 57% of the mainstream secondary schools in England and Wales responded to the inquiry. It highlighted the very local nature of activities pursued by pupils ? with the elderly, the disabled and the people in health-care institutions, for example. Community-link tutors and teachers from a number of schools devised a Modular Course on Citizenship in Oxfordshire. The practical aspects are focused on work experience, community placements, residential experience plus a practical project in response to an identified need in the community, and an investigation into some aspect of provision of services in the community. The source confirmed the active and participative nature of citizenship. It was more important to do citizenship than to learn about citizenship. The course also emphasised problem solving and decision making in both theoretical and practical aspects. It also provided an appropriate methodology for assessing the learning taking place ? of the knowledge, understanding, and skills for citizenship. Jones and Jones?s (1992) study points to the ameliorative feature of a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship where schools? authorities identify 76 and repair deficiencies in local community life. These examples together with others, where young people gave informal help to neighbours and the needy, illustrate sites of learning for citizenship in homes and the community that can be built upon in schools. Schools can, as this investigation shows, play a very important role in helping young people work collaboratively to solve problems and achieve a just, healthy, and democratic community. In South Africa, the national Department of Education (DoE) introduced the Bill of Responsibilities as part of the national curriculum in 2008. It sought, among other things, to teach young people democratic values such as equality and fairness; reverence, respect and dignity; compassion; responsibility; diligence; tolerance and so on. Unfortunately, the language of the Bill of Responsibilities is prescriptive ? an instance of ?top-down? transmission teaching. In contrast to Jones and Jones?s (1992) survey, the Bill exemplifies Hyslop (1988) and Seekings?s (1993) apocalyptic stereotype of the youth who are dangerous, irresponsible, uncaring, reckless and ungovernable. It is against the background of this image that the Bill appears to tend towards dictating or demanding unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools. This approach to education for citizenship and teaching democracy is likely to treat pupils disdainfully, in the process fanning resentment and alienation. Against this I will argue that compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education, but ?bottom-up? citizenship education intended to develop moral character, can be justified on the grounds that: 1) they promote individual autonomy, a citizen?s ability and inclination to act for himself; and 2) they build social cohesion by strengthening and consolidating South Africa?s democracy ? which is also a political goal or a common good; and 3) they are open to students? right to ?optional? participation in citizenship as an integral part of their learning. Mosher, Kenny and Garrod (1994) look at school democracy in the United States of America. Vincent from Hanover High School spoke of personal changes stemming from his participation in local community meeting: 77 Town meeting has put some order in my life. I used to skip over my homework, but now that I have a position of responsibility, I feel and act more responsibly. ? [B]eing in Town Meeting has made me interested in politics. I watch the news and read the newspaper. ? This kind of stuff never interested me before (Mosher et al, 1994, p. xiii). As discussed in the first section of this chapter, the Athenian concept of citizenship underlines the gravity of civic virtue. To be a citizen was a way of being among others, a ?political being? ? set apart by one?s knowledge of and interest in political life. However, it is often assumed that, as non-voters, young people like Vincent cannot be expected to have an interest in or a comprehension of general politics. How can one explain young people?s modern indifference to political participation? This chapter maintains that there are persistent challenges confronting citizenship universally, including South Africa, such as the historical and current, ongoing exclusion of adolescents and young adults from the sphere of citizenship. As a result of this exclusion, little attempt is made to build on their political knowledge or experience and to use this as a basis for learning citizenship and teaching democracy in schools. The quotation by Mosher et al (1994) seeks to draw attention to citizenship education programmes that have the tendency to depoliticise the concept of citizenship, which generally excludes adolescents and young adults from the sphere of citizenship. The survey indicates that the infusion of the political element in citizenship education programmes promises students substantive engagement as active citizens. The study by Mosher et al (1994) draws attention to the political implications of citizenship education in South Africa. These are some of the issues to be visited later in the thesis: 1) Chapter 6 will show that SRCs became representatives of social change, and played a critical role in the general struggle for democracy and emancipatory education in South Africa, particularly in the struggle for educational transformation; 2) the SRCs contained the potential to educate for citizenship in a democratic society, because through participation in democratic ?student-government? students found a 78 ?free space? that produced an active, informed and critical citizenry convinced that they can influence government in their quest to achieve an equitable, democratic and participatory schooling system. In sum, what is worth noting from the understanding of citizenship learning as both ?taught? and ?caught? is that it is compatible with the Citizenship Advisory Group?s concern with the teaching of citizenship and democracy in schools, which comprises three strands: social and moral responsibility; community involvement; and political literacy. For example, Jones and Jones?s (1992) survey highlighted the social and moral responsible behaviour of pupils towards the elderly, the disabled and the people in health-care institutions. Mosher et al (1994) spoke of a transformed citizen as a result of student participation in community involvement. Edwards and Fogelman?s (1991) review of research showed how political literacy can foster students? civic ?power? and experience of (some degree of) control. Global trends in liberal democracies tend towards participatory, community-based citizenship education. Much of the international literature reveals that the ?taught? and the ?caught? notions of citizenship education need not be in conflict with one other. The gulf might be narrowed if our understanding of effective education for citizenship in well-established democracies or in those in transition to democracy enables pupils to experience citizenship education beyond the school perimeters, thus putting community participation at the centre of democratic citizenship. Those who are locked out, or lock themselves out, of ?community participation? have fewer opportunities to learn. Quoting Aristotle, Mosher et al (1994) remind us that ?people do not naturally grow up to be democratic citizens; they learn as a result of lifelong personal and community effort? (Mosher et al, 1994, p. xii). When the school socialises each child of society into membership within such a political community we shall arguably have the deepest and best guarantee of a larger democratic society. What this means is that pupils may be instructed in the duties of citizenship in two 79 ways: first, by learning that citizenship, as we saw on our brief exploration of a classical Greek tradition, both in Chapters 2 and in this chapter, is related to the notion of participatory democracy; and second, by playing an active part in citizenship, namely local community and wider involvement and service, with the hope to equip learners for their future, as this chapter maintains. A prototypical, maximal concept of citizenship is crucial for a highly educated democratic citizenry, not only in Britain and America, but also in a post-apartheid South Africa. As mentioned in the introduction to this thesis, the focus of Chapters 2 and 3 is on conceptual clarification, on establishing the meaning and practical significance of the classical theory (Athenian democracy), ?representation? and ?citizenship?, in order to set up a framework from which to analyse the assumptions reflected in post-apartheid education policy in South Africa. These chapters build a conceptual framework for the detailed discussion that comes later: 1) the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy reflects the democratic vision of the model of democracy developed in the anti-apartheid struggle and envisioned in the Constitution of South Africa (1996) ? as well as the Charter tradition; 2) this concept of democracy, as understood in the Greek city-state of Athens, as an idea and a practice is still relevant in modern societies like South Africa; 3) the prototypical Athenian concept of citizenship, I will argue is the most fitting model for citizenship preparation in South African schools; and 4) the interpretation, effectiveness and practice ? the ?viability? of prototypical Athenian democracy, and its notion of citizenship and citizenship education, is affirmed by the global trends in liberal democracies like Britain and America that tend towards participatory, community-based citizenship education. These modern debates and trends on citizenship and citizenship education offer prospects for a revised post-apartheid citizenship education policy in South Africa. 80 3.6 Conclusion What is a citizen? How do we define a citizen? In prototypical Athenian democracy a citizen was defined by the fact of his holding some kind of rule or office. This Aristotelian designation indicates that the citizen is not identical to the entire or the ordinary person. The prototypical concept of citizenship, as an idea and a practice, has also gone through a metamorphosis, i.e. has been reformed, rethought and reinvented since the mid twentieth century. In terms of its relevance in modern society, the Athenian concept of citizenship, and by association citizenship education, might be recommended for its attempt to balance the disparate, competing philosophical conceptions of citizenship, such as individualism and communitarianism. The Citizenship Advisory Group?s interpretation of the prototypical Athenian tradition sets out to enable pupils, parents, teachers, local communities and all those with an active interest in education for citizenship to experience citizenship education beyond the school perimeters, thus reinvigorating the participative or maximal element in modern society. A re-emergence of ?civic fields? and civic agency is not a new phenomenon in South Africa?s struggle history. Africa. Against this background, global trends in liberal democracies tend similarly towards participatory, community-based citizenship education. At this stage, the focus on global debates and trends points to the modification of the prototypical Athenian concept of democracy and its related concept of citizenship. The next chapter focuses on competing concepts of citizenship, which shows the challenges posed for democratic education in post-apartheid South African schools. 81 CHAPTER 4 CONTESTED NOTIONS OF CITIZENSHIP IN SOUTH AFRICA We the people of South Africa believe that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, united in our diversity. There is a common South African citizenship. ? All citizens are ? equally entitled to the rights, privileges and benefits of citizenship; and equally subject to the duties and responsibilities of citizenship (Republic of South Africa, 1996, pp. 1-3). 4.1 Introduction In South Africa?s Constitutional democracy, the term citizenship reflects two distinct formulations ? citizenship as a legal status (to be a citizen) and citizenship as a practice (to act as a citizen). In other words, to be a citizen means to enjoy the rights, privileges and benefits of citizenship. Citizens? rights and responsibilities include the obligations to play an active part in citizenship, that is, public participation in central, provincial and local government. I contend in this chapter that there is a tension in the 1996 Constitution between ?symbolic? and ?substantive? conceptions15 of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education. The difficulty is that presently a common South African citizenship is at the crossroads; it is stretched and pulled in different directions. In support of this claim it will be argued that South Africa does not have a settled conception of citizenship to draw on. By implication, education for 15 According to Christie (2008), ?policies always engage with what already exists, either to change it or to preserve it? (p. 122). In South Africa, the Constitution (1996) sets out an ideal common citizenship that cannot necessarily be achieved in practice. It may be understood, to use Christie?s words, as symbolic policy. By contrast, the set of policy instruments listed in the introduction to this thesis are regarded as substantive policies, i.e. they instil and reinforce democratic values of the Constitution that can be promoted in South African schools. In the context of this chapter, the term ?substantive? is synonymous with the Athenian concepts of democratic participation and active citizenry. The Constitution (1996) and post-apartheid citizenship education policy tend towards symbolic (transformative) rather than substantive (preservative) notions of education for citizenship and democracy in South African schools. For example, the 1996 Constitution provides a framework for a transformed citizen who will strive to overcome the apartheid past. 82 democratic citizenship, too, is still at a formative stage (Enslin, 2003, p. 73). This chapter builds on the discussion of the prototypical concept of democratic citizenship that I regard as the most fitting model for citizenship education in post-apartheid South Africa schools. In South Africa, a revised version of the ?classical theory?, especially the democratic zeal for participation and its concept of citizenship, first emerged in the Freedom Charter. This vision of the Freedom Charter embodies attributes of maximal components of democracy and citizenship. The purpose of this chapter is two-fold: Firstly, it shows that South Africa is marked by different phases of citizenship; Secondly, it also shows that since South Africa reflects different interpretations of citizenship, post-apartheid citizenship education policy is torn between ?transformative? goals, on the one hand, and ?democratic? goals, on the other. To support this claim, I will rely on the South African Citizenship Acts that shed some light on the official pronouncements of the rulers. Significantly, the chapter will trace the formation of South African citizenship in three phases: apartheid race-based citizenship; homeland ethnicity-based citizenship; and a modified version of the prototypical concept of democratic citizenship envisioned in the Freedom Charter. This chapter is divided into four sections. Section 1 reflects on the origins of separate and unequal citizenship in South Africa. Section 2 shows how ?racial? and ?ethnic? identities were applied in order to foster nationalist and traditionalist16 conceptions of citizenship in South Africa. Section 3 asserts that the Freedom Charter endorsed a modified version of the Athenian prototype, one that was also echoed in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). Section 4 claims that post-apartheid South African citizenship and citizenship education put more emphasis on the ?transformative? goals as compared to the ?democratic? project. Consequently, the 16 The term used to refer to the National Party (NP) government?s appointed ?traditional chiefs? in Bantu states or homelands. In the words of the chairman of the Bantu Affairs Commission in 1968, the National Party government ?did not view all Bantu as one single people, but as several ? divided by language, culture and traditions into several peoples or nations? (Barker et al, 1988, p. 425). In other words, in South Africa the Nationalists acted as the guardians of the Bantu self-governing nations. 83 democratic elements are tentatively expressed and outweighed by the general transformative orientation of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996). In the end post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency can be attributed in large part to these conflicting forms and conceptions of citizenship in South Africa.17 4.2 South African citizenship: common but not inclusive In the previous chapter, I mentioned that Britain and South Africa have ties that date back to the early nineteenth century. The British colonial domination or control of virtually all spheres of South African society provides a useful basis for the development of contested notions of citizenship in this country. The concept of apartheid citizenship in South Africa has its roots in ?the English law of citizenship and nationality that originated in the common law concept of allegiance? (Schmidt, 1993, p. 212). As a consequence of this dominant-subsidiary relationship, when the Boer republics (Transvaal and Orange Free State) and the British colonies (Cape Colony and Natal) formed the South African Union government in 1910; there were no South African citizens, only British subjects and Union nationals. The Hertzog government (1924-1934) with its policy of ?South Africa First? was eager to enhance the rights and status of South Africa by placing the Union, Britain and other dominions on an equal footing. This was a pivotal moment in the development of a legal or formal ?South African citizenship?. It was at this period that the Union began to entertain the concept of nationality, the status of a Union national, outside and independent of British territorial control. As the debate around national identity 17 For Ramphele (2001), citizenship is a dynamic, complex, even ambiguous concept. In her essay ?Citizenship Challenges for South Africa?s Young Democracy?, Ramphele explores the complexities of defining citizenship and challenges the tendency to assume that there is one form of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education in post-apartheid South Africa. It is against this background that post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s conceptual incoherence can be attributed to these conflicting forms and conceptions of citizenship in South Africa. In ?Citizenship Education in Post- Apartheid South Africa?, Enslin (2003) examines the tensions between what she calls ?the official conceptualisation of citizenship and a more popular interpretation of citizenship as access to socio economic rights? (p. 73). She raises some of the tensions that are likely to pose potential problems in South Africa?s democracy, as well as a challenge for citizenship education in schools. The present chapter builds on Ramphele (2001) and Enslin?s (2003) work, by examining conflicting forms and conceptions of citizenship in post-apartheid South Africa. 84 unfolded domestically, the Union government quickly passed a number of laws that divided the South African demographic landscape, and later citizenship, into black18 and white. The beginning of disparate ?South African citizenship? under the Union government came with the Natives Land Act (26) of 1913 that set up reserves (later known as ?homelands?) for black people. The Act provided for setting aside existing black reserves as ?scheduled areas? reserved for black ownership and occupation, and also prohibiting blacks from purchasing land outside them. The Act read in part: a) a native shall not enter into any agreement or transaction for the purchase, hire, or other acquisition from a person other than a native, of any such land or of any right thereto, interest therein, or servitude thereover; and b) a person other than a native shall not enter into any agreement or transaction for the purchase, hire, or other acquisition from the native of any such land or of any right thereto, interest therein, or servitude thereover (Union of South Africa, 1913, p. 438). The Natives Land Act provided the base for territorial separation of white and African in the rural areas. Reflecting on the Natives Land Act, it can be observed that Marshall?s (1950) classical typology of civil rights indicates that, by law, black and white South African citizens were only allowed to own land in certain separate areas, and neither group was allowed to buy land in the other?s designated area. Only 7, 5% of the land surface in the country was set aside for black African occupation, even though Africans formed the majority of the population. The results were overcrowding, land hunger, poverty, and people forced to leave the designated land often ended up in the cities or working in the Witwatersrand mines. The Act laid the basis of a ?South African citizenship? that was later permeated by racism, that is, a systematic process of discrimination based on one?s race or colour. The introduction of the explicitly racial conception of apartheid citizenship will be discussed in the 18 In this thesis the term ?black? is used to refer to all the oppressed groups, namely: Coloureds, Asians/Indians and Africans under apartheid South Africa. Disaggregation (i.e. Coloureds, Indians and Africans) of this generic term will be used particularly in Chapter 7 to describe the full and differential impact of colonial-apartheid education policies on the various oppressed groups in South Africa. 85 next section. The effects of the Land Act on citizenship education were far reaching. For Ramphele (2001), the prohibition of the right of black South Africans to own land denied them ?not only the [civil element of] citizenship, but also the kind of education that would prepare them to become morally autonomous agents? (p. 3, addition mine). In the third section of this chapter, I will show three contradictory conceptions of citizenship education programmes in South Africa, from three viewpoints that are hardly complementary: the British Girl Guide Movement, the National Party?s Youth Preparedness Programme and Veld Schools19 and the democratic citizenship education of the anti-apartheid movement. The purpose is two-fold: 1) to show that in apartheid South Africa, there were different languages of education policy debate, which were roughly labelled as ?official?, the hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship, where power and control was used to foster both subservient and superior forms of citizenship, on the one hand, and 2) a ?popular? concept of citizenship based on some of the basic tenets of the Freedom Charter, such as people?s power or democracy, equality and freedom, conceptions, on the other hand, that emerged first in the prototypical Athenian democracy. In Chapters 5, 6 and 8, I will show that there is a tension in post-apartheid South African education policy between official (minimal) and popular (maximal) conceptions of education for citizenship and democracy. 19 In brief, Veld Schools were part of the white education system in the Transvaal province which were specifically set aside for physical and moral teaching. As the name tells us, they were schools in the veld. Buwalda (1979) set out the aims and objectives of a typical Veld School as follows: To lead the pupil on the road to maturity and adulthood. ? The aim of this course is not simply to impart knowledge but to reinforce the norms, values and morals (customs) of our society. ? To encourage the pupil to be a better South African. ? To encourage pupils to become better Christians. ? To show that a threat to South African?s existence and stability does exist, and what we can do about it. ? To prepare our young for emergencies which may take place (quoted in Christie, 1988, p. 172). 86 The South African government gave effect to the colonial provisions of the Land Act of 1913 by introducing the Natives Urban Areas Act (20) of 1923. By separating native locations from towns administratively, the Act segregated black and white people socially (territorially they had been separated earlier, purportedly on hygienic grounds). According to the Act, urban local authorities were given powers to ?define, set apart and lay out one or more areas of land for the occupation, residence and other reasonable requirements of natives, either as extensions of any area already set apart for that purpose or as separate areas? (Union of South Africa, 1923, p.142). The establishment of any location, native village or hostel, as the case may be, depended on Ministerial approval once he was satisfied that the land was not in the arid and hostile areas reserved for use by the government. Resulting in the separation of black townships from white administrative areas, the government and municipal administrators during the first half of the twentieth century were very concerned about towns increasingly becoming racial melting pots. To prohibit this racial cross- fertilisation, the government insisted that towns belonged to white citizens, who would be responsible for controlling them. The Native Trust and Land Act (18) of 1936, among others, made further provision for the acquisition and occupation of land by ?natives?, thus increasing the blacks? total acreage to 13,7% of South Africa?s total land area. The Act aimed to enlarge the reserves to ease congestion and curb the urban inflow of blacks to the ?white? cities. To speed up the process the South African Native Trust fund was set up to administer the settlement, support, benefit, and material and moral welfare of the ?natives? of the Union. On the whole, these three ?bedrock? legislations established the basis of a partitioned ?South African citizenship?. Firstly, by confirming the loss of black- owned land in favour of white landowners, the legislation left South Africa with no black (African) ?citizens? at all. Secondly, the regulation of African mobility and the confinement of blacks to the reserves translated into a substantial denial of civil, political and social rights of citizenship. For example, on the civic side, as already stated, the natives lost the right to own property and to conclude valid contracts. 87 Politically, Africans were not entitled to participate, vote or stand for government office in the ?white? South African Union. On top of that, with the basic principles of segregation enshrined in the statutes, a separate system of education was designed to prepare the African for an inferior type of citizenship. These enforced measures constituted three of the cornerstone policies of white supremacy in South African history of citizenship. The segregationist policies provided the basis for the further racial segregation policies after the National Party?s victory in the 1948 elections. On the international front, the Union government persisted with its attempts to establish a South African citizenship independent of the British Empire and Commonwealth. At the Commonwealth Conference of 1926, the Balfour Declaration stated that Britain and the dominions including South Africa, were independent countries within the British Empire, equal in status, in no way subordinate one to another in any aspect of their domestic or external affairs.20 However, in terms of the English law of citizenship South Africa was still tied to the British Crown and remained an affiliate member of the British Commonwealth of Nations. In an unprecedented move, the South African Citizenship Act (44) of 1949 was essentially substituted for that of Union nationality.21 The Act repealed the existing statutes dealing with British subjects and Union nationals. The Act read as follows: Any reference in any law to a Union national or to Union nationality shall be deemed to be a reference to a South African citizen or to South African citizenship, as the case may be, and any reference to a British subject shall be deemed to be a reference to a South African, a citizen of a Commonwealth country or a citizen of the Republic of Ireland, and any reference to natural- 20 At the conference all questions regarding relations within the British Empire, that is, the relationships of the dominions of the Empire to one another and to Britain, were referred to a special committee. The chairman was Lord Balfour, at that time chief whip of the House of Lords under Baldwin?s government. 21 The Union Nationality and Flags Act (40) of 1927 created a distinct South African nationality, the status of a Union national. According to Klaaren (2000), ?while not all British subjects had status as Union nationals, all Union nationals were considered by South African legislation as British subjects, and the overlap was nearly complete? (p. 223). Another step towards South Africa?s resolve to have a definite nationality, section 7(1) of the Union Nationality and Flags Act (1927) also made provision for two South African flags: the Union Jack and the national, official flag. 88 born British subjects shall be deemed to be a reference to persons who by virtue of birth or descent are South African citizens or citizens of any Commonwealth country or of the Republic of Ireland, or who have at any time been such citizens and are not aliens (Union of South Africa, 1949, p. 448). The South African Citizenship Act (1949) was ground-breaking in three ways: 1) it created the new status of South African citizenship, essentially substituting the status for that of Union nationality; 2) the Act highlighted the Union?s long struggle to give substance to the original Hertzog motto of ?South Africa First? and to free the country from all the confines of its colonial past; and 3) unsurprisingly, the Act ushered in a seemingly common albeit unequal South African society. As the next section will show, while the Act?s concept of citizenship sounded inclusive, in reality it did not include non-citizens, that is, the already secluded majority of the South African population both in the black reserves and in native locations. Although, at that stage, the South African Citizenship Act (1949) did not place any emphasis on race regarding the acquisition or loss of South African citizenship, ?citizenship was later employed as an element of the intended establishment of sovereign black nation states in the deployment of separate development? (Schmidt, 1993, p. 228). Thus far, I have been concerned with the history of South African citizenship from 1910 to 1949. This historical background provides insight on the formulation of South African Citizenship (1949) based on ?racial? and ?ethnic? classifications. In other words, the formation of apartheid South African citizenship, and its related notions of citizenship education, is rooted in the nationalists? pronouncement that within the borders of the Republic there are two types of nations: the White nation and several Bantu nations ? hence the policy of separate development. It is to the racial conception of apartheid citizenship, the first phase of formal South African citizenship that we now turn to. 89 4.3 Apartheid and homeland citizenship in South Africa The groundwork for a hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship involving white and black South Africans, as the previous section indicated, was laid during the first half of the twentieth century. When the National Party assumed power in 1948, the policy they used to govern South Africa was called apartheid, the definition of which has already been given in Chapter 1. While black South Africans were denied full citizenship, the nationalists espoused a form of apartheid race-based citizenship ? a concept of citizenship that classified the South African population into different race groups. As regards citizenship and race relations, the National Party leader, D.F. Malan (1948-1954) stated, as two main principles of the nationalists: ? that there should be no racial equality in the white areas, and ? that the Natives should develop along their own lines in their own areas (quoted in Hepple, 1967, p. 113). If formal South African citizenship was to be so rigidly organised around racial differences, there had to be a governing system for telling people to which race group they belonged. With the Union government Natives Land Act and the Natives Urban Areas Act already established as the basis of a partitioned ?South African citizenship?, that is, effectively withholding civil, political and social rights from Africans, the nationalist government enacted racial policies that served to buttress apartheid citizenship. The Population Registration Act (30) of 1950 was one of many racial policies that reinforced apartheid citizenship. The Act classified South African citizens into four different race groups, Europeans (whites), Coloureds, Indians and Africans (blacks): Every person whose name was included in the register shall be classified by the Director as a white person, a coloured person or a native, as the case may be, and every coloured person and every native whose name is so included shall be classified by the Director according to the ethnic or other group to which he belongs. The Director shall assign an identity number to every 90 person whose name is included in the register (Union of South Africa, 1950, p. 279). These racial classifications provided definitions of race based on physical appearance and identity cards in which the race of a person would be clearly marked. Because (non-) citizenship was determined on the basis of race membership, the Act caused enormous personal suffering, since it classified, declassified and reclassified ?thousands of coloureds into whites, whites into coloureds, Indians into ?Malays?, Cape coloureds into ?other? coloureds, ?Malays? into Chinese, Chinese into whites, and so on? (Barker et al, 1988, p. 376). The nationalists? emphasis on racial differences signalled not only a separate, but also, a racial sort of citizenship in South Africa. The next section analyses the fine points of the nationalists? apartheid citizenship, starting with its propagation of a distinct Afrikaner identity, rather than a South African identity that belongs to all racial groups, united in their diversity. For the National Party, apartheid citizenship entailed serving one?s country and God. In other words, citizenship emphasised loyalty to the Christian-National Republic of South Africa based on the word of God. On the announcement of the Afrikaner victory in the 1948 election, D.F. Malan was reported to have said, ?We feared that we would lose our fatherland. Now South Africa is our own in a deeper sense than before ? May God grant that it remains our own? (Van Rooyen, 1988, p. 18). At the core of the nationalists? view lies a religious and political myth which held that God had appointed by providence the Afrikaners to rule South Africa. Apart from putting blacks in their own place, to various sections of the Afrikaners ? particularly the professionals, educators and civil servants ? the 1948 victory also meant that national unity and self-realisation through service of ?the people? had finally dawned. This concept of citizenship relates first and foremost to membership of the Afrikaner community. By implication, apartheid citizenship promoted by the National Party government is bound up with communitarian features, such as fraternity, solidarity, civic pride, social obligation and tradition, attributes that are rarely present in the 91 liberal vision of citizenship. In this context, the nationalists? concept of citizenship created a struggle between the Afrikaners and English-speaking South Africans. The majority of English-language speakers have argued that there has long been another tradition, a non-apartheid dimension in South African history, one that may be called the liberal tradition. But historically it is a tradition that has expressed an ?individual ethic? rather than the ?communal? ethic? of Afrikaner nationalism. South African liberals share with others certain convictions, among them the beliefs that the individual is of supreme importance and that his legitimate interests should not be overridden by the Afrikaner Republic. The liberals had constantly advocated a liberal, non-racial, democratic South Africa at the time when the nationalists were consolidating Afrikaner national unity. After 1948, the Afrikaners and blacks who supported a liberal vision of citizenship were soon to learn that in apartheid South Africa, individuals? rights and responsibilities and traditional communal obligations co-exist in a state of tension. A closer look at nationalism and liberalism as conflicting modern political ideologies provides a useful basis for explaining this tension in citizenship as antimonies, viz, as contradictions which simply could not be solved under the circumstances. A nationalist member of parliament, Nico Diederichs, articulates this space of tension well, when he expressed the National Party?s attitude to the liberal ideal of equality, non-racialism and democracy in South Africa: We are not concerned here purely with a fight between two ordinary political parties [the National Party and the United Party] ? what is at issue is two outlooks on life, fundamentally so divergent that a compromise is entirely unthinkable. ? The fight in South Africa is between Nationalism and Liberalism ? this doctrine of Liberalism that stands for equal rights for all civilised human beings (quoted in Hepple, 1967, pp. 63, 269, addition mine). Both the Afrikaner nationalists and the English liberals quibbled among themselves over the proper understanding of ?white? South African citizenship. Interestingly, the 92 contested notions of the South African Citizenship Act (1949) took place at a time that black South Africans were treated as civil, political and social outcasts. Moreover, despite the contest between the nationalist and liberal perspectives, the South African government?s apartheid citizenship continued to be propagated by white politicians, academics and ordinary people. Despite ideological differences, both the nationalists and the liberals were entitled to the rights, privileges and benefits of the South African Citizenship Act (1949). For black South Africans, citizenship (manifested in the form of the Afrikaner nationalism as well as English liberal traditions) remained a distant dream. The second phase of South African citizenship got into full swing when the Nationalist government imposed ethnic identities to repress blacks, pushing them further down in the hierarchy of apartheid citizenship. According to Abercrombie et al, (1984), ?ethnicity as a concept refers to shared social elements such as language, religion, customs, traditions, and history within a particular social group, which in some way contributes to the distinct identity of that group? (p. 275). In South Africa, with a long history of racial exclusion of the majority population from full citizenship, the racial categories of ?White? ?Coloured?, ?Indian? and ?Black? became the categories that were then used to define ethnic groups. In other words, the concepts of ?racial groups? and ?ethnic groups? were used interchangeably to attempt to invent distinctly separate ethnic identities, in order to strengthen the argument for distinctly separate races. As a first step towards a ?racialisation? of ethnicity, the Bantu22Authorities Act (68) of 1951 imposed government-appointed ?traditional chiefs? as the local administrators in ?tribal areas?. Through the Act, the chiefs were given powers to promote what amounted to ethnic identity. Prime Minister Verwoerd (1958-1966) got parliament to agree in 1959 to the Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act (45), which provided for the establishment 22 The term ?Bantu? was an adaptation of the Zulu word abantu, meaning ?people?. In a democratic South Africa, Bantu is synonymous to African sub-groupings, defined by languages such as Setswana, isiZulu, isiXhosa, and so on. 93 of ten independent/autonomous black states. Of these, four were ?independent?: Transkei, Bophuthatswana, Venda, and Ciskei (TBVC). The other four were ?self- governing?, Lebowa, QwaQwa, KwaZulu and Gazankulu. The last two were still in the formative process: Kangwane and Kwandebele. The salient feature of the Nationalist government?s native policy was that Africans belong to different ?ethnic nationalities?, each possessing a distinct language, culture, lifestyle, values and traditions. The concept of Bantustans was entrenched in the principle that these ten separate ?nations? would exercise democratic rights and citizenship in their traditional tribal homelands, which together comprised just over 13% of the total area of the country. Although the Act was intended to repatriate Africans who had lost their South African citizenship to their alleged ?ethnic nationality?, beneath this qualification was an ambitious scheme to leave South Africa with no African citizens whatsoever. On 17 September 1958, as the Minister of Native Affairs in the National Party government (1950-1958), Verwoerd succinctly summed up the nationalists? prescriptive and conditional political involvement and participation granted to the Bantus in South Africa: The Bantu in the cities are not distinct from the Bantu in the Native Reserves. They belong to one another. ? Their roots are in the Native Reserves. The opportunities for them to enjoy rights, whether they are social or political rights, are available in their home areas (quoted in Hepple, 1967, p. 120). Effectively, Africans had no civic, political and social citizenship rights, save in the Bantustan states. In practice, homeland citizenship meant that all the Bantu in the Republic of South Africa, whether domiciled in established African reserves or not, were considered to be citizens of the black areas for their ethnic group, and to have citizenship rights there. In order to foster homeland ethnic-based citizenship, the National Party?s strategy took two forms: 1) an enforced division of the Bantu along ethnic lines; and 2) an imposed separation between urban (town) and rural 94 (countryside). With the Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act (1959), black South Africans were able to exercise rights, albeit restricted, to own property and to conclude valid contracts. They were entitled to participate, vote or stand for political office. Each homeland established its own education system. As Verwoerd indicated, the Nationalist government believed that the Act would give Africans full civil, political and social citizenship in their respective states. The Act was perceived as a form of ?African representative democracy?, in the eyes of a number of office holders. In other words, local chiefs interpreted the homeland system as the National Party?s attempt to transform existing neo-traditional African areas into states in which Africans would be party to their newly found rural governance and citizenship, that is to say, were they are expected to participate, and attend to matters of democracy or self-government. Savoury as it sounds, the guise of a Western-style democracy was a white ploy to ?separate black struggle into eight different struggles for eight false freedoms that were prescribed long ago? (Biko, 1996, p. 83). A closer look at the nationalists? claim to democratic citizenship in these ?independent? and ?self-governing? Bantustans indicates that it is not without contradictions. As a point of departure, the Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act (26) of 1970 attested to the National Party?s commitment to race- and ethnicity-based notions of citizenship. For example, for the purpose of determining which ethnic-based citizenship was to be conferred upon a person, it had to be established: ? that every Bantu was not a citizen of any other self-governing territory ? and spoke any Bantu language used by the Bantu population of that area, including every Bantu person belonging to any associated linguistic group which normally uses any dialect of any such language; ? that every Bantu person in the Republic was related to any member of the Bantu population of that area or who has identified himself with any part of such population or who was associated with any part of such population by virtue of his cultural or racial background (Republic of South Africa, 1970, p. 5). 95 This form and expression of ethnicity encouraged self-determination based on ethnic nationalities, which in effect signalled a setback for those who rejected both racial and ethnic identities during the anti-apartheid struggle. The rejection of imposed ?racial? and ?ethnic? conceptions of citizenship in South Africa will be discussed in detail in the next section. The Act?s segregationist and, in fact, exclusionist view of ?democratic citizenship? is apparent in that citizens of these separate traditional entities were expected to exercise and enjoy their right to vote, including ?privileges and benefits and be subject to all the duties, obligations and responsibilities of citizenship of that territorial authority area as are accorded to or imposed upon him in terms of any law? (Republic of South Africa, 1970, p. 3). The homelands policy represented what might be called a common ?whitism?, aiming to preserve white political dominance over those destined to perpetual servitude. The intended outcome of homelands citizenship was articulated by C.P. Mulder, in his capacity as Minister of Bantu Administration and Development. On February 7, 1978, Mulder stated in Parliament: If our policy is taken to its full logical conclusion as far as the black people are concerned, there will be no black man with South African citizenship. ? Every black man in South Africa will eventually be accommodated in some independent new state in this honourable way and there will no longer be a moral obligation on this Parliament to accommodate these people politically (quoted in Dugard, 1980, p. 16). Mulder?s statement supported the nationalist ideologues who maintained that African people who resided in ?white? South Africa were not entitled to the rights, privileges and benefits of the South African Citizenship Act (1949). In 1980, the policy of separate development was denounced by black people in general, including the 96 leaders of the self-governing homelands23, who remained opposed to homeland citizenship unless and until two stern conditions were met. These, according to the report by Dugard (1980), are that, firstly, ?the condition that citizenship on satisfactory terms is negotiated which gives non-residents [of ?self-governing? states] the choice of either independence or South African status or both? (p. 18). Secondly, the South African government should attempt to secure international recognition for those homelands that opt for independence. It is important to note that traditional leaders expressed the latter concern in the wake of the unsurprising failure of Transkei, Bophuthatswana and Venda to secure such recognition. All the same, because the Bantustans? self-government continued to be imposed on reluctant participants and were an extended arm of the apartheid regime, the South African ?government [?] patently failed to enlist general black acceptance of the homelands as the ultimate channel for black political participation? (Geldenhuys, 1981, p. 79). As far as citizens? participation is concerned, the apartheid race-based and homeland ethnicity-based citizenship phases can be summarised in the following way: 1) blacks were not really citizens since they did not exercise full civil, social and political rights in ?white? South African government affairs; and 2) in order to arm against the accusation of ?injustice?, the apartheid South African government resorted to the device of giving black citizenship, that is civil, political and social rights, in the homelands. However, it was precisely the racial and ethnic orientation of citizenship that prompted the development of a modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy and its notion of citizenship with roots in the Freedom Charter. 23 The 1970 Act provided that all Bantu in South Africa would be made citizens of one of the Bantustans, even those who had never lived outside of the white areas. Until 1976, citizenship certification in ?self-governing? territories implied a form of dual citizenship, which meant that Bantustan citizens retained South African citizenship. However, the citizens of the four Bantustans that became independent since 1975 the Transkei, Bophuthatswana, Venda and Ciskei, were unilaterally deprived of their South African citizenship. 97 4.4 The Freedom Charter and citizenship education In South Africa, the formulation and defense of democratic ideals of citizenship are attributed to the broader anti-apartheid struggle. The ANC was founded on the basic values of unity, non-racialism and democracy in 1912. On behalf of the Bantu, in 1923, the organisation pronounced that it ?claimed equal rights for all civilised men south of the Zambezi, as well as the democratic principles of equality of treatment and equality of citizenship in the land, irrespective of race, class, creed or origin? (quoted in Asmal, 2005, p. 47). The struggle conception of citizenship was reignited when the United Democratic Front (UDF) was launched as a national body at a meeting in Cape Town on 20 August 1983. The UDF slogan was ?Apartheid Divides, UDF Unites?, aimed to counter the apartheid government?s strategy of divide and rule, by maximising unity of the oppressed within and outside the borders of South Africa.24 It is against this background that the ANC demanded the granting of full citizenship rights and equal opportunities such as those enjoyed exclusively by all whites in South Africa from its inception until 1994. In June 1955, to put the ideal of citizen participation into action, the Congress of the People was held in Kliptown, Johannesburg, to draw up a Charter for the democratic South Africa of the future. The convention was dubbed the people?s assembly because more than two thousand delegates of all different race groups, Europeans, Indians, Coloureds and Africans from various cities, towns, villages, factories and farms throughout the country participated in this extraordinary gathering. The people?s demands for an alternative to the imposed racial/ethnic template of citizenship upon the black population were collected, debated and expressed in the Charter. The Charter?s preamble called for a highly participatory notion of democratic citizenship: 24 Although the Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act of 1970 made provision for democratic participation and citizenship in Bantustan states, these assumptions were based on the policy of separate development, thus lacked political legitimacy and widespread support both inside and outside the homelands. 98 We, the people of South Africa, declare for all our country and the world to know: that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white ? that our country will never be prosperous or free until all our people live in brotherhood, enjoying equal rights and opportunities ? that only a democratic state, based on the will of the people, can secure to all their birthright without distinction of colour, race, sex or belief (The Freedom Charter, 1955). There are two points worth noting about the Freedom Charter?s concept of democracy and citizenship. First, the reference to ?the will of the people? is strongly reminiscent of the prototype of democracy sketched by Pericles (Thucydides, 1972). Second, it also affirms its basic assumptions, i.e. collective self-rule, equality and freedom. In other words, the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy and citizenship is clearly incompatible with the hierarchical and exclusive body of South African citizenship, namely apartheid race-based and homeland ethnicity-based notions of citizenship. Furthermore, the Charter?s preamble is noteworthy in three senses: 1) it starts from the premise that South Africa does not have citizens and non-citizens; 2) by so doing, it offers an early indication that both the racial and ethnic presumptions underlying of South African Citizenship Act (1949) and Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act (1970) seem to be inconsistent with the democratic project in the maximalist sense; and 3) it also makes the highly plausible claim that only a democratic state based on ?the will of the people? is likely to bring prosperity and secure individual liberties. In short, in South Africa, the Athenian concept of active, participatory citizenship was echoed in the Freedom Charter as well as in the anti-apartheid struggle movement of the 1980s. Against attempts by the apartheid government to separate black from white and to divide blacks amongst themselves, the Charter proclaimed that South Africa belongs to the nationalists, liberals and traditionalists alike. What this means is that those who support the Charter sought no reprisal against racists and traditionalist governments, but demanded citizens? rights which black South Africans did not have. In South Africa ?the people? would have the authority ? the legitimate power ? to enjoy the 99 rights, privileges and benefits of citizenship on the one hand, as well as engage in a participatory vision of democracy, thus fulfilling the full potential of the status. By and large, the concept of ?the people? in the Charter tradition referred to all South Africans, regardless of race and ethnicity that defined citizenship in apartheid legislation. The Charter heralded the beginning of a new era where citizenship, as envisaged by the volk, the ?chosen (Afrikaner) people, would not be defined by fixed and enduring qualities such as race, religion, language, culture or history. Despite the hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship in apartheid South Africa, the homeland citizenship won support from prominent people in the tribal or ethnic reserves.25 Nevertheless, the document symbolised a beacon of hope for the National Education Co-ordinating Committee (NECC) and Student Representative Councils (SRCs) broad goals of setting up a democratic system of education relevant to the establishment of a unitary, non-racial and democratic South African society, as the next three chapters will show. The overwhelming majority of the oppressed South African population also rejected Bantustan citizenship as a fraud designed to maintain apartheid and thwart the political demand for democracy in a unified country. Given these varying conceptions, what were the implications of a separate, racially segregated schooling for citizenship education in South Africa? I would like to discuss at least three contrasting conceptions of citizenship education programmes in South Africa. These are: the British Girl Guide Movement that prepared both black and white pupils for a ?good? and ?useful? subservient citizenship; the National 25 These were many of the chiefs who saw the separate policy as a way of gaining more power and status. Among those who collaborated with the apartheid government was Chief Kaizer Matanzima from the Transkei, Eastern Cape. At the first sitting of the Transkei Assembly, 18 May 1964, Chief Matanzima, then chief minister, declared that his government wholeheartedly endorsed the policy of separate development and the traditional system of chieftainship. He said: Separate development offers the Africans of the Transkei the opportunity of getting their land back. ? We must revert to the old system where the land belonged to the people with the Chief as trustee. ? We don?t want to mix with Whites. ? Africans must be able to buy properties in the towns of the Transkei. That is why I support the government. They have offered us land. Dr Verwoerd is a friend of the African people ? the Congress people have brought misery to their people (Mbeki, 1984, pp. 137-138). 100 Party?s Youth Preparedness Programme that trained white children for an ?uncritical? and ?supportive? role under the status quo, while at the same time assigning them to a superior form of citizenship; and a democratic citizenship education consistent with the Freedom Charter tradition. The philosophy of racial and ethnic segregation, as far as education was concerned, ?sought to socialise black students so that they can accept the social relations of apartheid as natural. That is, to accept the supposed superiority of whites and their own inferiority? (Nkomo, 1990, p. 2). It was the intention of the segregationists and the nationalist officials to provide a formal education that would make the African child, whether in the reserves or in the township locations, a ?good? and ?useful? citizen. The Girl Guide Movement for Africans in the Transvaal in the 1930s among non-European girls shed some light on the aims of citizenship education during the segregation era. In the first section of this chapter, I mentioned that British colonial control of most spheres of South African society provided a useful basis for the development of citizenship, and citizenship education. The South African Girl Guide Movement owes much to this British control. In South Africa, Guiding started as early as 1910. Within two decades, there developed a pronounced keenness in joining the Guides among African girls on the Reef. In an attempt to mould them into better citizens, reflecting a true sense of the ?ideal native? in the colonial era, good citizenship was interpreted by education authorities to mean: better Christian habits of truthfulness, obedience, industry and courtesy; teaching them services and handcrafts useful to others as well as to themselves; promoting their physical development; making them good homemakers and capable of bringing up good children (Gaitskell, 1991, pp. 234-235). In the main, under colonial regimes schooling for blacks and whites was aimed at producing subservient citizens ? not active, critical and inquiring members of the South African Union. On the whole, the colonialists? purpose in education was to enable at best minimal political involvement and participation by blacks in the 101 ?white? South African Union. It is against this backdrop that educational preparation would involve ?proper? and ?adequate? development of good citizenship among Girl Guides. To foster good citizenship, authorities emphasised religious and moral training. In Chapter 7, I will argue that the opening and extension of compulsory schooling to black pupils prior to the democratic election in 1994 was never intended solely to expedite the Dutch religious crusade and to serve the British economic interests, as the literature seems to suggest, but that it also represented a move to prevent the sort of education that aims to promote democratic citizenship in South Africa. The Girl Guide Movement?s notion of good citizenship was compatible with this attempt to subvert moves to a possible free, equal, non-racial, and democratic South Africa. By the same token, education for national citizenship aimed at encouraging service and unquestioning loyalty to the Republic of South Africa. One of the most remarkable features of citizenship education under apartheid in the Transvaal Education Department (T.E.D.) was the Youth Preparedness Programme (YPP), intended to assist white pupils in containing the threat posed by the national liberation struggle, and by external ideas deemed to fan or inspire the struggle. In fulfilling their pledge to serve the country, the Nationalist government embraced a ?patriotic? view of citizenship education that sought to promote stability and normality in South Africa seen by some to originate outside the republic.26 The Youth Preparedness Programme covered the physical and moral aspects of citizenship. Physical preparedness was aimed at the acquisition of skills in the event of any crisis and included, inter alia, first aid, fire fighting, self-defence, marching, drilling, shooting, map reading, and field tactics. Moral preparedness was concerned with 26 In the early 1970s, the Nationalist government believed that there was a Moscow-inspired total onslaught against white South Africans. It claimed that children needed to be physically and morally prepared for the hard times that lay ahead. In 1972, the Director of Education in the Transvaal 1969- 1975, A.L. Kotzee launched the Youth Preparedness Programme. Kotzee appealed to all headmasters present to launch and execute the YPP with vigour and enthusiasm. In Chapter 8, I will discuss the nationalists Christian National Education CNE) as an aspect of the Afrikaner nationalist ideology. 102 cultivating sound moral attitudes and rectitude in the youth of the country. However, the Nationalist policy based on forced obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the state did not speak to its intended audience. Rabe?s (1986) study investigated the attitudes of a small non-random but fairly typical group of English speaking teachers and pupils towards the Youth Preparedness Programme. The author?s conclusion was that the YPP has been ?attacked and criticised by both teachers and pupils and seen by them as a subject which has little or no relevance to life, and is therefore incapable of preparing them to adjust to and play a part in society? (Rabe, 1986, p. 61). Rabe?s findings point to an ideological tension produced by the apartheid policy?s conception of education for citizenship, among the nationalists and the liberals in South Africa. By contrast, the modified version of the prototypical concept of citizenship education was neither in favour of inferior nor of superior citizenship, but, rather, represented a vision of democratic education based on grassroots community participation. I now turn to a discussion of the anti-apartheid struggle and its notion of democratic citizenship. The struggle movement?s conception of citizenship education was based on participatory democracy. At the heart of the anti-apartheid struggle lies the idea of active, critical and inquiring individuals able to take part in the struggle for a democratic South Africa. From the anti-apartheid perspective, democratic citizenship meant a progressive pedagogy consonant with the needs and aspirations of all South Africans. In this context, a maximal concept of citizenship was endorsed because [It] encourages collective input and active participation by all, and stimulates critical thinking and analysis and allows students, parents, teachers and workers to be mobilised into appropriate organisational structures to participate actively in the initiation and management of people?s education in all its forms (Chisholm and Fuller, 1996 p. 701). This maximal concept of democratic citizenship strove to liberate and put students in command of their lives, rejecting the British Girl Guide system and the nationalist 103 Youth Preparedness Programme designed to control and produce a subservient, passive type of character. This notion of democratic education was both a political and an educational strategy based on mass participation, encouraged through ?debates, discussions, invited speakers, plays, poetry readings, films and songs. Prescribed textbooks were critically dissected; the daily press was read politically? (Bundy, 1987, p. 320). From a Charter tradition perspective, this version of citizenship education enables pupils to understand the distinction between an education that aims to produce useful servants and one that aims at developing democratic citizens. In Chapter 5, I will argue that this anti-apartheid struggle and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? that embodies the classical notion of people?s power is undermined in post-apartheid South African educational policy development. In sum, both the Girl Guide Movement and the Youth Preparedness Programme are incompatible with the maximal concept of democracy that reflects the model of democracy developed in the Charter tradition ? envisioned in the anti-apartheid struggle movement (to be discussed in Chapter 5, 6 and 7) ? and enshrined in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). The former conceptions of citizenship dispel any hope to educate for democratic citizenship and democracy, while the latter embodies a participatory, community approach that informs democratic citizenship. The current notion of common citizenship in post-apartheid South Africa is informed by racial and ethnic integration at all levels of society. However, the above analysis and discussion of citizenship education programmes point to the contested notions of citizenship in South Africa that have also affected post-apartheid citizenship education policy, as well as the conditions under which it has to be implemented. As a result, the policy lacks conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency, as indicated both in this and later chapters: 1) Chapter 5 will show that there is tension in the South African education policy and subsequent curriculum development policy between minimal and maximal conception of education for citizenship in relation to 104 democracy; 2) Chapter 6 will show that despite its intention to promote democratic Student Representative Councils (student-government), the policy document in the end regresses to features of the ?prefect system?. (autocratic ?boy-government?); and 3) although the Bill of Responsibilities and the patriotically-tinged School Pledge are built on the classical concept of citizenship echoed in the Constitution of South Africa (1996), as Chapter 8 maintains, the documents are prescriptive and promote obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the state. In the next section I will argue that, although the South African Constitution (1996) claims to promote common citizenship, its provision seeks to ?transform?, and not yet, build a ?democratic? South African society. 4.5 The restoration of South African citizenship: transformative or democratic? In the previous chapter, I mentioned that the classical notion of citizens? rights reappears in the South African Constitution (1996). The concept of active citizenship envisioned in the 1996 Constitution also reflects the Charter tradition. Its beginning was marked by the passage of the 1986 Restoration of South African Citizenship Act (73) enacted to provide for the granting of South African citizenship to certain citizens of Transkei, Bophuthatswana, Venda and Ciskei with effect from 1 January 1994. The restoration period is important in the history of South African citizenship for three reasons: 1) it acknowledges that the segregationists? experiment to divide South African society was ill-advised, at best well-intentioned but poorly conceived (at worst, it was surely deeply immoral); 2) it recognised that the conflicting notions of social membership are not compatible with a united, free and democratic South Africa; and 3) therefore, subscribing to a notion of equal citizenship builds social cohesion by strengthening and consolidating South Africa?s democracy ?which is also a common good goal. A significant piece of legislation towards common South African citizenship was the Restoration and Extension of South African Citizenship Act (196) of 1993. The Act 105 was driven by the need to provide an administrative structure for the participation of TBVC citizens in the April 27 1994 elections and it embodied a notion of common citizenship. On September 14 1991, anti-apartheid organisations, the National Party government and Bantustan governments formed a multiracial council, later called the Transitional Executive Council (TEC). The TEC served as a temporary executive authority before the first non-racial and democratic election in the country?s history on 27 April 1994. The interim constitution ? The Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1993)27 provided that: There shall be a [common] South African citizenship. ? Every person who is a South African citizen shall ? be entitled to enjoy all rights, privileges and benefits of South African citizenship, and shall be subject to all duties, obligations and responsibilities of South African citizenship (Republic of South Africa, 1993, p. 8; addition mine). In terms of formal citizenship, South Africa has moved over time from a segregation- apartheid28 concept of citizenship (underplaying the role of the individual and stressing loyalty and obedience) through an ethnic concept of citizenship (which conceded to blacks ?separate-but-equal? civic, political and social rights) to common citizenship (the restoration and extension of South African Citizenship to those previously excluded on the basis of race, culture and language). In September 1992, the ANC and the NP agreed to a democratically elected five-year interim Government 27 The Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1993) was ratified on 22 December 1993 and implemented on 27 April 1994. It provided a framework for a coalition government, and the subsequent Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996) was drafted by the Constitutional Assembly. Importantly, the current Constitution had to comply with the principles embodied in the 1993 Constitution, including equal citizenship. 28 South Africa?s political system during the first half of the twentieth century was labelled ?segregation? and after 1948 it was labelled apartheid. Though by definition apartheid is segregationist, nevertheless I will use the terms to refer to the first and second halves of the 20th century. 106 of National Unity.29 Despite the Government of National Unity?s (GNU) endeavour to create a common South African citizenship, the separate citizenship regimes of the former independent homelands continued to operate in each of the formerly independent black national states up to 1995. It took the 1995 South African Citizenship Act (88) to formally repeal various pieces of homelands citizenship education and to create a unified citizenship regime. This was an important development towards eradicating apartheid and homeland citizenship policies. In support of the above Act was the South African Constitution (108) of 1996, which emphasised common citizenship. As this section will show, ?policy-making had a double task: to dismantle the past and to put in place foundations for the future? (Christie, 2008, p. 128). In contrast to a citizenship that was marked by segregation and apartheid, the final Constitution (1996) has reconstituted national citizenship in South Africa in terms of a norm of equality, that is, all South Africans are equally subject to the duties and responsibilities of citizenship. The South African Constitution (1996) is widely admired internationally. In certain respects, the preamble acknowledges the suffering brought by periods of segregation, apartheid and homeland citizenship ? and rightfully so. It declares its intention to heal the historical divisions of the past and establish a democratic society whose citizens will be protected by law and enjoy the benefits of equal citizenship in a post- apartheid dispensation. Although the Freedom Charter?s concept of citizenship that fed the Constitution of South Africa?s (1996) common citizenship is acknowledged and commended, in reality there is manifest here a tendency to undermine democratic education. In other words, though the 1996 Constitution?s provision of a common citizenship is admirable ? but as an educational project it is flawed. In Chapter 5, I will argue that educational policy developments during the period of ?consensus 29 In September 1992, the ANC and the NP agreed to a democratically elected five-year interim Government of National Unity. The democratic government that came to power in South Africa in 1994 was the product of a negotiated settlement between the anti-apartheid opposition and the apartheid state. The GNU brought together former adversaries (ANC and NP) to run the affairs of the state on behalf of all South Africans. The principles of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996) formed the basis of the new government. 107 seeking? exhibits a trend towards ?retreat?, specifically the centering and narrowing of the educational policy agenda of the anti-apartheid struggle that supports a prototypical, maximal conception of education for citizenship in South African schools. For example, the education policies are geared towards addressing the historical challenges confronting citizenship ? like the hierarchical and exclusive bestowal of citizenship created and enforced through a number of segregation- apartheid policies structured along racial classification and ethnic grouping ? on the one hand, and promotes South Africa?s democracy, on the other. There is arguably a tension between ?transformative? and ?substantive? conceptions of citizenship and of citizenship education. Enslin (2003) captures this ?space of tension? well, when she claims that South Africa?s emergent conception of citizenship has to be understood in the context of the negotiated transition to democracy that was marked by the election of 1994, as well as the period of struggle against apartheid that preceded it ? This still recent transition and the radical break with the past that it is supposed to represent means that South Africans do not yet have a settled conception of citizenship to draw on. ? Thus citizenship education too is still in a formative stage (Enslin, 2003, p. 73). The quotation above shows that the effects of the past that bear on the understanding of South African citizenship still linger. For example, in ?Education Change and Transformation in South Africa: A Review 1994-2001? (2001), the government argued that during this period, educational reform had been driven by the need ?to overcome the devastation of apartheid, and provide a system of education that builds democracy, human dignity, equality and social justice? (p. 1). Now, the focus shifts to a new national system that seeks to redress past injustices in educational provision and advance the democratic transformation of society. The transformation of society, it is hoped, will translate to a common South African citizenship. There are two points worth noting about the policy?s conceptual incoherence. First, the 1996 Constitution raises questions about citizenship as a practice that can be promoted in South African schools. Second, what is emerging in post-apartheid South Africa is a 108 concept of citizenship comprising complex and contradictory elements that provide both continuity and discontinuity with what preceded the 1994 historic democratic elections. The Constitution?s (1996) ?transformative? agenda has set the tone for both post-apartheid citizenship education policy documents. Currently, there can be little doubt that there have been changes, as far as dismantling apartheid structures and creating a unified education system are concerned. But these changes are not entirely reassuring. In his analysis of the achievements and prospects for South Africa?s new democracy, Mattes (2002) argues that ?South Africans? support for democracy is lukewarm and has not grown in any substantial way? (p. 29). This lack of ?political culture?, as the next chapter will show, contrasts with the country?s commitment to developing a culture of active, democratic citizenship encapsulated in the Freedom Charter. This indication does not bode well to those who embrace a modified version of Athenian citizenship as a foundation for citizenship education in post-apartheid South African schools. Mattes (2002), indicates that South Africans need to shift the focus to (substantive rather than transformative) problems of citizenship, representation and participation, thus building a grassroots culture of citizenship: This requires renewed emphasis on civic education by schools and civil society organisations, in order to teach citizens the intrinsic value of democracy and equip them with the resources necessary to participate more fully in the political processes (Mattes, 2002, p. 34). What this means is that the narrative of South African citizenship that was fragmented along racial and ethnic lines demands a radical, not merely an affirmative (moderate) transformation of a citizenry. In other words, a maximal conception of citizenship, as I argued in the previous chapter, does not view children as citizens-in- waiting who need to be inducted into their future role. This deficit model of the youth is characteristically applied in education and particularly in the construction of citizenship education in South African schools. A closely related challenge is to 109 prepare an active citizenry and widen the envisaged participatory democracy by giving effect to the democratic vision of school policy in post-apartheid South Africa. There is an evident failure on the part of the government to address the growing apathy about democracy in South Africa, which is arguably the result of its (the government?s) moderate politics of compromise tampering with the radical ideas of the anti-apartheid movement, rooted in the Freedom Charter tradition. In other words, it does not speak to its intended audience, whose rights and responsibilities include the obligations to play an active part in citizenship in the near future, that is to say, public participation in central, provincial and local government. Education for citizenship and democracy, in a maximal sense, is better achieved by drawing on the Freedom Charter?s rich tradition, one that is likely to prepare young people to play an active part in this formative stage of South African citizenship. 4.6 Conclusion The concept of South African citizenship has undergone a transition from colonialism via apartheid to democracy. The Bantustan or reserve system in the segregation period provided the basis for the later separate freedoms, or self-determination of traditional communities, giving the impression of a western-style democracy. The rejection of the volk?s ?ethnic nationalism? gave rise to the emergence of a popular notion of democratic citizenship associated with the Charter tradition in the 1950s. Schooling, in general, prepared the white child for (unquestioning) domination and the black child for (equally unquestioning) subordination. In post-apartheid citizenship education policy, with the restoration of equal citizenship and the establishment of a non-racial democracy, one might have thought that the idea of citizenship education, explicitly built on the tradition of democratic participation, would be seen as vital in order to bring together those previously divided. In theory, the Constitution (1996) embraces an updated version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, and its notion of citizenship. In practice, however, South Africa?s emergent, post-1994 conception of citizenship tends toward a ?transformed? citizen able to overcome the apartheid divide, i.e. race and ethnicity-based contested notions 110 of citizenship in South Africa, without committing to the provision of the tools necessary for such transformation (both internal/personal and external/political), in pursuit of a modified version of the prototypical concept of democratic citizenship envisioned in the Freedom Charter. The next chapter looks at the tension in post- apartheid South African educational policy, and subsequent curriculum developments, between minimal and maximal conceptions of education for citizenship with regard to democracy. 111 CHAPTER 5 SOUTH AFRICAN EDUCATIONAL POLICY DEVELOPMENT SINCE 1994: A CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR DEMOCRATIC CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION It is time to declare that a new era has dawned [?T]he Ministry of Education opens not just a new chapter but an entirely new volume in the country?s educational development. The efforts of all South Africans will be needed to reconstruct and develop the national education and training system so that it is able to ? build our democratic nation. The ministry invites the goodwill and active participation of all parents, teachers and other educators, students, community leaders; religious bodies, NGOs, academic institutions, workers, business, the media, and development agencies, in bringing about the transformation we all seek (Department of Education, 1995, pp. 19-20). 5.1 Introduction In the previous chapter, I argued that there is a tension in the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996) between ?transformative? and ?substantive? concepts of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education. This chapter builds on the discussion of the South African concept of citizenship education in post-1994. The quotation from the White Paper on Education and Training (1995) at the beginning of this chapter reflects a conception of popular participation, which appeals to the collective strength of the community with respect to policy formulation and curriculum development. Using recent educational policy and curriculum developments as a focal point, I critically analyse approaches adopted in promoting education for citizenship and democracy in South African schools. South African policy needs to be analysed within the context of the negotiated transition from apartheid to democracy and as vacillating between minimal and maximal interpretations of citizenship. The chapter maintains that policy on citizenship education has become more minimal and less participatory than that envisioned in the 112 anti-apartheid struggle and enshrined in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). Against this background, I argue that South African education policy?s conception of education for citizenship does not guide the practice in terms accessible to the school?s democratic community, this is to say parents, teachers and students, non- teaching staff, the principal and co-opted members. In other words, post-apartheid citizenship education policy does not speak to its intended democratic audience. This chapter emphasises the need for a maximalist approach to citizenship education and for more scope for participatory, community democracy in schools. This chapter is divided into three sections. Section 1 claims that the participatory vision of citizenship education developed in the anti-apartheid movement was diluted during the interregnum, a negotiation period in South Africa. Section 2 provides an analytical framework for interpreting the minimalist approach to citizenship education policy in post-apartheid South Africa. Section 3 shows that South African educational policy development after the transition reflects a minimalist conception of citizenship, and of citizenship education. It is impossible to understand recent educational policy and curriculum developments in South Africa without considering the anti-apartheid struggle and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? that embodies the Athenian notion of participatory democracy. 5.2 People?s Education for People?s Power: a prototypical Athenian view As a starting point, I would like to begin by elaborating on the anti-apartheid struggle, and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? in the 1980s. The National Education Co-ordinating Committee, an affiliate of the United Democratic Front, was established in Johannesburg in December 1985. As Chapter 6 will show, the early 1980s was a period when school students were associated with a perceived tradition of violence, destruction and ungovernability in South Africa. The prevalent ?immediatism?, that is, the belief that the revolutionary victory was imminent, among the school student population was expressed in the slogan ?Liberation Now, 113 Education Later? in 1985. By the end of the year, students were making calls for 1986 to be ?The Year of No Schooling?. The consequence was a growing rift between the older generation (parents, teachers, academics, community leaders, religious bodies and so forth) on the one side, and students on the other. In an attempt to break the grip of ?immediatism?, a historic national education conference was convened in Johannesburg in December 1985. The National Education Co-ordinating Committee was launched at this conference. It was this turn of events that saved the student movement from destroying itself and gave them a practical political perspective. The NECC adopted the slogan ?People?s Education for People?s Power? to express the strategic objective for the future of the educational struggle. The slogan outlined the concern with democratisation of the education system, particularly in schools, as follows: ?the real struggle is to replace an undemocratic, coercive, ineffective and irrelevant education system with a democratic, participatory and relative alternative? (cited in Van den Heever, 1987, p. 4; emphasis mine: Van den Heever probably meant ?relevant?). At the centre of this strategic goal was a strong commitment to the prototypical, maximal concept of participatory democracy, where mass democratic movement including parents, teachers and other educators, students, community leaders, religious bodies, NGOs, academic institutions, workers, business, the media, and development agencies worked vigorously and energetically to generate an alternative both within and, if necessary, outside the existing paradigm. The NECC called for the establishment of ?progressive? Parent-Teacher-Student Associations to build on educational relationships based on democracy. The National Education Consultative Conference noted: That statutory parents? committees [School Management Council or Governing Council] at schools are the agents of the state and carry out the 114 work of the oppressive apartheid education system throughout South Africa.30 The conference resolved that: a) progressive parent-teacher-student structures be formed at all schools so that: (i) parents, teachers and students can come to understand each other?s [education] demands and problems. (ii) interaction can take place between different schools to develop the education struggle to higher levels (National Education Consultative Conference, 1986, pp. 60-61, addition mine). The NECC regarded parent-teacher-student structures as democratic mediums that could effect transformation as far as democratic participation and representation was concerned in South African schools. The anti-apartheid movement?s concept of democracy emphasised popular participation and greater involvement of parents, teachers and students in school affairs. From the NECC perspective, to confront the oppressive apartheid education system, parents, teachers and students needed to participate in the mass-based gathering of school governing bodies. A pamphlet issued in August 1995 in greater Cape Town stated that: It is important that we build strong student, youth and community organisations because a well-organised community can never be defeated. It is important that we form student-teacher-parent bodies so that we can stand united in this time of intense repression. Some schools have already taken such steps (Bundy, 1987, p, 319). 30 Historically, the notion of school governing bodies has oscillated between the ?tyranny? of school boards and school committees, ?democratic? Parent-Teacher-Student Associations and ?official? School Governing Bodies (SGBs) in South Africa. The Cape School Board Act of 1905 instituted school boards-committees later extended to the rest of the South African colonies. The objective of the Act was to grant white parents a measure of control and management of education. After the formation of the South African Union in 1910, school boards-committees were established in ?white? schools throughout the country. On the contrary, there were never official school governing bodies of Africans under missionary education at the time. It was the Bantu Education Act (47) of 1953 that introduced the school boards and school committees in black schools. The school boards-committees were established along ethnic or tribal lines, and were fundamentally incompatible with democratic precepts. The school boards and committees were perceived by the anti-apartheid movement as organs of the oppressive system. The Education and Training Act (90) of 1979 abolished the school boards- committees and established the School Management Councils. The current institution of School Governance Bodies will be discussed in detail in the next section. 115 The anti-apartheid struggle?s vision of popular participation supports the claim made in Chapter 2 that the prototypical, maximal conceptions of democracy and participation are feasible, realistic and can, in fact, restore stability. In the previous chapter I also mentioned that the struggle?s concept of education for citizenship was also based on participatory democracy i.e. it encouraged collective input and active participation by all which allowed students, parents, teachers and workers to be mobilised into appropriate organisational structures to participate actively in the initiation and management of ?People?s Education? in all its forms (Chisholm and Fuller, 1996, p. 701). Furthermore, it stimulated critical thinking and analysis among learners because ?prescribed textbooks were critically dissected; the daily press was read politically? (Bundy, 1987, p. 320). In brief, the anti-apartheid struggle?s concept of school democratic governance equipped young people to be active, critical and inquiring citizens in South Africa. From the NECC?s perspective, a post-apartheid South African education policy and subsequent curriculum development should aim to promote democracy and participatory forms of representation in schools. In other words, the NECC?s notion of a ?school democratic community?, this is to say parents, educators, learners, may be interpreted as an expression of participatory democracy and representation in post- apartheid South African schools. Despite the fact that the ?People?s Education? agenda of the 1980s did not constitute a coherent set of policies, it did provide a vision of a participatory, community based approach to education required to build a democratic South Africa. Regrettably, the concept of ?People?s Education? failed to re-surface in post-apartheid South African policy discourse. Following the unbanning of anti-apartheid political formations in 1990, the African National Congress and its ally, the South African Communist Party (SACP), embraced the Freedom Charter?s concept of democracy during the negotiations with the National Party government. The formal negotiations process which began in 1990 with the first face-to-face meeting of the apartheid government and the ANC alliances 116 was significant, as this chapter will show, in 1) limiting the democratic power of the anti-apartheid movement; and 2) producing an ?elite pact? around the emerging policy framework and the establishment of educational priority. The political negotiations on education, which paralleled the policy process through the National Education Conference (NEC) ? leading to the National Education and Training Forum (NETF) in 1993, then to the White Paper on Education and Training (1995) ? were vitally important in bringing about a compromise that receded from the model of democracy and citizenship education developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition. The National Education Conference was convened in March 1992 in Broederstroom by the Education Delegation31, in association with political and trade union organisations of the liberation movement. The purpose of the NEC was to identify a framework for the restructuring of the education system. One of the four objectives identified was, ?the development of a mechanism for constructing a new education system and for dealing with education in the transition period? (Back to Learning: The National Education Conference, 2000, p. 6). While there were differences over the exact nature of the transformation the NEC attempted to define a policy agenda based on the principles of ?People?s Education?. Arising from a set of basic values was a set of key principles determined as follows: Education and training policy and practice shall be governed by the principle of democracy, ensuring the active participation of various interest groups, in particular teachers, parents, workers and students; and education shall be based upon the principles of co-operation, critical thinking and civic responsibility, and shall equip individuals for participation in all aspects of society (Back To Learning: The National Education Conference, 2000, pp. 8- 9). 31 The Education Delegation was formed by Nelson Mandela in 1991 to participate in direct negotiations with the state to address the crisis and challenges in black education. The delegation aimed to persuade the government, inter alia, to take responsibility for resolving the crisis, including removing racist education laws and structures and laying the groundwork for a single education system; meaningfully involve black communities in decision making; and suspending the unilateral restructuring of education within the apartheid framework. 117 The NEC?s vision of a post-apartheid South African education policy implicitly embraced the Athenian prototype of democracy and participation. For example, the NEC?s concept of democracy implied genuine engagement and robust debate on the future education policies that would foster active, critical and inquiring individuals capable of building, strengthening and consolidating South Africa?s democracy. The NEC?s concept of democracy that encouraged popular participation in the discourses of educational policy development was consistent with the global trends in liberal democracies that supported the claim that education for citizenship and democracy is not limited to the formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement, both of which I will argue to be essential parts of education for and in a democratic South African society. Importantly, the NEC managed to create unity across the political and ideological divide. Fears initially expressed by other anti-apartheid organisations, such as the Azanian People?s Organisation (Azapo), the Workers Organisation for Socialist Action (Wosa) and the National Council of Trade Unions (Nactu), that the NEC was likely to be drawn into co-managing apartheid were allayed when conference delegates agreed on the need to campaign for a national education negotiating forum. The proposed forum was viewed as an attempt to bring together the government and the members of the NEC to: 1) halt the National Party government?s perceived unilateral restructuring of education; and 2) agree on an inclusive negotiated restructuring of education during the transition (Back to Learning: The National Education Conference, 2000, p. 42). The NEC endorsed the NECC and its slogan of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? that resembled a prototypical Athenian democracy based on mass participation. The NEC?s vision of education and training policy shaped by popular/ mass participation was upheld in the White Paper on Education and Training?s (1995). Throughout 1992 and early 1993, however, the Nationalist Part government refused to accede to the demand for a negotiated forum and an end to unilateral restructuring. 118 For instance, their unilateral decisions during this period of impasse included, among others, the privatisation of public assets: Within the education sphere, the classification of most white schools as Model C schools32, which gives white parents a decisive say in admission criteria under the guise of self-determination or local community democracy, falls squarely within the logic of privatisation. What used to be under the control of central government will in future be under the control of local white elites (Back to Learning: The National Education Conference, 2000, p. 40). Contrary to the NEC?s call for the democratisation of the education system, the National Party?s discourse on educational decentralisation emphasised parental choice and consumer power, thus creating a tension between the ?official? parental view of school democratic governance on the one hand, and the anti-apartheid movement?s maximal concept of democracy and its notion of citizenship, on the other. As mentioned in Chapter 4, in apartheid South Africa, there were different languages of education policy debate, which were roughly labelled as ?official? (or top-down) and popular (bottom-up). I argued that the vertical policy approach dispels any hope to educate for democratic citizenship, while the latter embodies a participatory, community approach that informs effective citizenship education. At this point the anti-apartheid movement?s concept of education for citizenship with reference to democracy was diluted. According to Badat (1995), pressure on the government to accede to a negotiated forum came ?only as a result of mass strikes by teachers [?,] militant and violent demonstrations by students [?,] coupled with demands for a negotiating forum? (p. 144). Eventually, the government agreed to the creation of a National Education and Training Forum launched on 7 August 1993. 32 Until the end of 1990, white education was administered under the auspices of the Department of Education and Culture: House of Assembly. From the beginning of 1991, the National Party government made provision for the enrolment of black students in white state schools. In other words, white state schools would be able, under certain circumstances, to change their status to one of the three models: Model A, Model B and Model C. Model C were formerly full state schools that converted into state-aided schools. Such schools received a subsidy to cover 75% of their normal operating expenses. The rest of their funds had to be raised by the school?s parent-elected Governing Body through fees and donations. From April 1992, 96% of white state schools became Model C schools and their fixed property and equipment was given by the state to the Governing Body of each school (see Pampallis, 1993, pp. 21-29). 119 This forum provided a useful example of how the apartheid government and the anti- apartheid opposition began to take part in negotiated education policy formulation. In contrast to the NEC that represented the anti-apartheid educational front, the NETF comprised representatives of the stakeholders in the education fraternity, ranging from the National Party government circles, business, the Bantustans, the training sector, universities, parent and church organisations, and NGOs. The mission of the NEFT was defined as follows: To initiate, develop and participate in a process involving education and training stakeholders in order to arrive at and establish agreements on the resolution of crisis in education; the restructuring of education for a democratic South Africa; and the formulation of policy frameworks for the long term restructuring of the education and training system which are linked to the human, social and economic development needs of South Africa (quoted in Badat, 1995, p. 144). Of concern to those who advocated the philosophy of ?People?s Education? was the NETF?s apparent shift from an oppositional discourse that drew upon local community support and participation base, to a pro-human capital position. In other words, high up on the NETF?s policy agenda was individualistic investment in human resources. Therefore, what the NETF reflected was the way in which public education was to take on characteristics of the private free market. As Chisholm and Fuller (1996) noted, the democratic movement that dominated the NEC ?advanced an agenda for central and local transformation built on the foundations of people?s education... [T]he NETF came to be dominated by representatives whose history and allegiance did not lie in the democratic movement? (pp. 704-705). Compared to the NEC, the NETF, while framing its goals in terms of the principles of democracy, participation and openness, in fact, often reflected the interests of its broad non- education stakeholder grouping, which favoured government as well as business. As a result, the concept of democracy based on the participatory vision of the NEC was superseded by the human, social and economic development needs of South Africa. 120 Of course, programmes of human resource development are crucial in addressing the major inequalities with respect to race, class and gender, but from a ?People?s Education? perspective this was not the only outcome intended by its negotiators. Regrettably, the NETF signifies an education policy that moved from collective and transformational priorities, salient during the 1980s period of resistance, to a market and human capital orientation. According to Chisholm and Fuller (1996), ?education budgets are now justified in human capital terms, depoliticised and less frequently linked to participatory aims? (p. 697). As the balance of power tilted towards the delegates of the Nationalist government, so too was the ?People?s Education? agenda reshaped. This served to critically weaken the content of the anti-apartheid movement?s broader education agenda led by the NECC and its slogan of ?People?s Education for People?s Power?. Another setback pertains to the NECC which ?began to articulate the necessity of moving beyond a purely oppositional politics towards a politics of transformation and reconstruction? (Badat, 1995, p. 151). To all intents and purposes, the participatory vision of citizenship education that was developed in the anti-apartheid struggle and exemplified in the NECC and NEC was watered down as a result of the enlarged elite pact that constituted the National Education Training Forum, a trade-off that all but abandoned the ideas formulated during the popular struggles. Referring to the United States of America, Boyte (2005) writes that technocratic politics shaped the institutions of learning in modern democratic societies. In South Africa, Chisholm and Fuller (1996) argue, earlier talk of ?People?s Education? and robust community participation is giving way to a technocratic discourse that ?has relieved the Right and bewildered the Left? (p. 693). There seems to be a significant switch from the ?People?s Education? language that advocated a prototypical, maximal concept of democracy and its notion of citizenship education discussed in 121 Chapters 2 and 3, respectively. That the enlarged elite pact in the interregnum did not include popular participation is pointed out by Gibson (2001): The problem is that these expressions of [a modified version of the Athenian prototype of] direct democracy, however flawed and limited in their practice, were celebrated but not translated into a radical rethinking of liberation theory that mapped out paradigms of social and ethical practices for a post-apartheid society. This ideological pitfall was exploited by the ANC which was able to capture these narratives and celebrate the idea of ?people?s power? while remaining the self appointed future negotiators (Gibson, 2001, p. 72, addition mine). For the advocates of the Athenian version of democracy, ?People?s Education? signifies the optimism of the masses and the pessimism of the elite in a post-apartheid South Africa. The ANC?s rein on ?People?s Education? represents an end to thinking democratically about South African educational policy development as rooted in the trajectory of resistance politics. In fact, it is deeply ironic that the ANC, which is committed to democracy and participatory forms of representation and the collective strength of the grassroots community, so to speak, diverted from a public, democratic debate about educational futures. On the contrary, a wide range of different interests were represented, invariably leading to the compromise of a once powerful notion such as ?People?s Education for People?s Power?, which had the potential to provide the basis for citizenship education and democracy in post-apartheid South African schools. The next section provides an analytical framework for interpreting post- apartheid South African education policy. 5.3 South African education policy: a minimalist view of democracy The complexity of the South African policy process cannot be understood in terms of sequential steps. It involved reaching political agreements ? ?settlements? ? between the National Party that wielded political power, on the one hand, and the anti-apartheid opposition, in particular the ANC that had the majority support, on the 122 other. In other words, South Africa?s policy process involved negotiating among the competing interests and powers of social actors. It is against this background that South Africa?s negotiated political process offers two approaches to post-apartheid South African education policy: vertical (minimal) and horizontal (maximal).33 According to Colebatch (2002), the vertical dimension covers the rational, top-down work of policy. Colebatch writes: The vertical dimension sees policy as rule: it is concerned with the transmission downwards of authorised decisions. The authorised decision- makers [post-apartheid South African government] select courses of action which will maximise the values they hold, and transmit these to subordinate officials to implement. ? This is a dimension which stresses instrumental action, rational choice and the force of legitimate authority. It is concerned about the ability or capacity of subordinate officials to give effect to these decisions (the implementation problem) and with ways of structuring the process of government so as to achieve this compliance (Colebatch, 2002, p. 23, addition mine). Colebatch?s vertical approach to policy is reflected in the post-apartheid South African education policy that placed participatory democracy and active citizenship at its centre. As already indicated at the beginning of this chapter, the White Paper on Education and Training (1995) was concerned with the concept of popular participation, which denoted a broad range of participants (or ?agents?, or ?actors?) in policy processes in South Africa. However, the document was a statement of intent that eventually subdued the slogan ?People?s Education for People?s Power?. The White Paper?s reference to democracy as a specialist business which should be conducted by the national Department of Education (DoE) experts is reminiscent of a minimal and conditional role for the demos, sketched in the discussion of Socrates, 33 According to Colebatch (2002), the horizontal dimension of education policy covers the activities of a broad range of stakeholders, both inside government and in other outside organisations, who are participants of the policy process. An example is the National Education and Training Forum that consisted of the apartheid government and the anti-apartheid opposition who negotiated education policy formulation in South Africa. As indicated in the previous section of this chapter, when democratic government was formed in 1994 much of this ?horizontal? work, to use Colebatch?s model, was set aside. 123 Plato and Aristotle in Chapter 2. For example, its emphasis on experts to drive South Africa?s democratic governance project is alarming: Representative governance structures [such as Parent-Teacher-Student Structures and Student Representative Councils] ... do not exclude the importance of governments and institutions calling upon expert advice. ? The parents, teachers, students, managers and other stakeholders who are seeking an equitable and democratic solution which will best serve the educational needs of all communities, need a lead from the national Ministry of Education which will encourage them in their efforts (Department of Education, 1995, pp. 22 and 68). As this, and the following, chapter will show, there is no knowledge barrier looming between parents, teachers, students, managers and other key actors that prevents anyone from participating actively in the discourses of educational policy development. From one perspective, the White Paper is about the ideal and vision of a representative participatory democracy in South African schools. From another perspective, it is about the practicalities of whether and how representative governance can be achieved in South African schools (the implementation problem). The document seems to suggest that ?the people? lack political knowledge and skills required to participate actively in representative democracy in South African schools. In short, the transition to what is supposed to be a ?democratic education? saw the masses who pushed the apartheid regime to negotiation, to use Fanon?s expression, ?sent back to the caves? (1968, p. 183), thus reducing the spaces to elaborate on ?People?s Education for People?s Power?, or any alternative education system. My argument in this chapter is that education for citizenship is imperative in promoting and consolidating democracy in South African schools. The South African Schools Act (SASA) has been hailed as a milestone in the discourse of educational decentralisation in contemporary South Africa. The Act took the representative mode of democracy to the level of the school, namely it paved the way for democratically elected and representative structures, officially known as School Governing Bodies (SGBs) and Representative Councils of Learners (RCLs). According to the new 124 school governing policy an SGB of an ordinary public school comprises: a) parents of learners at the school; b) educators at the school; c) learners in the eighth grade or higher in the school; d) non-teaching staff; e) the principal, in his or her official capacity; and f) co-opted members. I will analyse the current Representative Councils of Learners in the Chapter 6. For now, this part of the chapter shows that although the SASA claims to promote democracy and participation, its recommendations are ambiguous and flawed. In support of this claim it will be argued that ? the maximal element of the SASA is constituted by its idea of co-operative governance and partnership; ? the minimal element of the SASA is constituted by its provision of a minimal, merely conditional role for the School Governing Body members. The SASA upholds the anti-apartheid oppositional discourse of educational decentralisation which regards schools as ?denizen-commune spaces?.34 These are public places that have the potential to marshal the collective and public exercise of power for the good of pupils, teachers, schools and society at large. What is distinctive about free spaces is that they assume a citizen-owned activity, where a school population becomes ?co-learners and co-creators of learning experiences with students and with community members? (Boyte, 2005, p. 8). In other words, under 34 The term refers to schools that encourage active, participatory, community-based citizenship education. The notion of ?free public space? is in line with the educational programme known as Tirisano ? a Sotho word meaning ?working together?. Tirisano was introduced by the former Minister of Education in South Africa, Kadar Asmal in 2002. The document perceive a school as a center of community life, as a public space where ?there is a role ? for religious bodies, business, cultural groups, sports clubs and civic associations, both to serve their own requirements and to contribute to the school?s learning programme both in and out of school hours? (Department of Education, 2000, p. 1). This concept of ?citizen-commune spaces; is not peculiar to South Africa. In Chapter 3, I raised a number of issues that pertain to community participation and citizenship: 1) Barber?s (1984) strong democratic theory showed that participation and community are two features of citizenship, and citizenship education; 2) the Citizenship Advisory Group?s interpretation of the Athenian tradition sets out to enable pupils, parents, teachers, local communities and all those with an active interest in citizenship education to experience citizenship education beyond the school perimeters, thus reinvigorating the participative or maximal element in modern society; and 3) global trends in liberal democracies tend towards participatory, community-based citizenship. 125 the SASA schools are assumed to be public spaces that are life-enhancing for all citizens, children and adults alike. The SASA reflects the Athenian concept of democracy echoed in the National Education Co-ordinating Committee, this is to say the establishment of ?progressive? Parent-Teacher-Student Associations ? as well as the NEC?s definition of a policy agenda based on the principles of democracy, co- operation and civic responsibility. Unfortunately, there is some ambivalence in the Act. The document shifts from a concept of ?People?s Education? that centred on ?civic participation? to official School Governing Bodies that reflect a minimalist conception of community participation and involvement in South African schools. To recall (from Chapter 2), central to theories of democracy is the stress on citizens? participation in decisions affecting the life of their society. The purpose of the SGBs with regard to participatory democracy in school governance is stated by the SASA as follows: The governance of every public school is vested in its governing body. ? A governing body stands in a position of trust towards the school. ? The governing body of a public school must function in terms of a constitution which complies with minimum requirements determined by the Member of the Executive Council (MEC) (Department of Education, 1996, p. 14). According to the SASA, the Constitution of the SGBs cannot be called democracy because power is in the hands of the Member of the Executive Council, not the governing members. What this means is that a governing body has no control over but stands in a position of trust towards the school. In other words, a governing body is expected to act in good faith, to carry out all its duties and functions on behalf of a school, and to be accountable for its actions. On closer examination the SASA?s idea of co-operative governance and partnership falls well short of delivering the Athenian conceptions of democracy and participation. It seems clear that, although the SASA embraced a modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, the concept contains marked evidence of Colebatch?s 126 ?vertical? elements. For example, a governing body may apply to the Head of Department in writing to be allocated any of the following functions ? to maintain and improve the school?s property, and buildings and grounds occupied by the school, including school hostels, if applicable ? to determine the extra-mural curriculum of the school and the choice of subject options in terms of provincial curriculum policy ? to purchase of textbooks, educational materials or equipment of the school ? to pay for services to the school (Department of Education, 1996, p. 16). It is evident that the SASA?s vision of participatory democracy is vague and unhelpful. The fact that participation is limited in school governance in South African schools, suggests that there is little direct democracy of the type defended by Budge (1993). In practice the SASA does not seem to support the anti-apartheid vision of participatory democracy and active citizenship. In doing so, education policy in South Africa after the transition recedes from the model of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition. The SASA also provides, at best, a minimal and conditional role for School Governing Body members. The SASA?s skepticism towards popular politics implicitly reflects the conclusions drawn by revisionist writers on democratic theory, summarised in Chapter 2 as follows: 1) the Athenian prototype picture of democratic man is hopelessly unrealistic; 2) because participation in decision-making requires judgement, skill and rational commitment, essentials that only the elites possess; 3) .the Athenian prototype of democracy does not recognise, indeed ignores, the importance of leadership; and 4) against this backdrop, school democratic governance is a specialist business which should be conducted by the national Department of Education in South African schools. The SASA?s skepticism appears to be based on the belief that promoting a central participation and decision-making role for the ordinary citizens rests on empirically 127 unrealistic foundations, as Schumpeter (1950) says. In this way, a restricted notion of democratic participation as understood by the SASA militates against democratic school governance, a commitment to the sort of community participation articulated in the anti-apartheid movement. The NEC?s vision of education and training policy and practice governed by the principles of democracy and active participation are lost. The National Education Co-ordinating Committee?s ?progressive? parent- teacher-student structures, took different forms as they moved from a populist political approach to education to the official structures that the new government favoured. Given that the SASA reflects a minimalist concept of democracy, the PTSA tradition seems to offer a glimpse of how parents, teachers and students can transform education by broadening participatory democracy for the benefit of the school and society at large. Neither the tradition of school-board committees nor the school governing bodies have much to contribute to the success of citizenship education and democratic practices in post-apartheid South African schools. This is arguably better achieved if SGBs are modelled on the PTSA vision. I contend that parents, teachers and students can articulate the practice of a substantial form of education for citizenship and democracy in schools. The anti-apartheid struggle and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? had the potential to promote education for citizenship and teaching of democracy because it embraced the prototypical Athenian notion of mass participation. Let us turn our focus on citizenship education and curriculum development in post-apartheid schooling, with special attention to the minimal-maximal continuum. 5.4 Citizenship education and curriculum development in South African schools I stated in Chapter 1 that in line with the pronouncements in the White Paper on Education and Training (1995) and the South African Schools Act (1996) was the development of Curriculum 2005 (1997) that declares its commitment to the 128 development of active, creative, critical types of citizens in a culturally diverse, democratic society. The ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy? (2001) provides a practical framework for instilling and nurturing democratic values of the Constitution in young South Africans. It was also mentioned that McLaughlin?s (1992) concept of citizenship, and education for citizenship, that is mapped in terms of a continuum of ?minimal? and ?maximal? interpretations, can be used to analyse and judge post-apartheid citizenship education policy. The White Paper on Education and Training (1995) and the South African Schools Act (1996) that both reflect a ?vertical? concept of citizenship, and of citizenship education, have already been discussed in this chapter. Although the set of post-apartheid curriculum instruments has a maximal tone in places, they collectively reflect a minimalist notion of citizenship and of citizenship education, as this section illustrates. In support of this claim, it will be argued that post-apartheid citizenship education policy is not consistent with ? an updated/modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, especially its democratic zeal for participation; ? McLaughlin?s (1992) maximalist concept of citizenship, and of citizenship education that encourages widespread political involvement and participation in schools; ? global trends in liberal democracies that support the claim that learning democratic citizenship is not limited to the formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement; and ? the model of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement, and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? that embodies the classical notion of people?s power. This chapter emphasises the need for a maximal approach to citizenship education and democracy in South African schools In other words, South African curriculum developments that reflect these maximalist features of citizenship and of citizenship 129 education are likely to speak to the intended audience, i.e. school learners. By contrast, curriculum development in South Africa after the transition recedes from the active, participatory model of democratic citizenship explored in the last three chapters. In order to evaluate curriculum developments in post apartheid South Africa, I will focus firstly on the learning outcomes that explain the sort of citizen the Curriculum aims to produce, and secondly provide details as to what learners should know and be able to do at the end of formal teaching. Curriculum 2005 (1997) made provision for citizenship education through the Human and Social Sciences Learning Area, which comprised four components: History, Geography, Archaeology and Citizenship/Civics. History and Geography formed key elements but Archaeology and Citizenship/Civics were also integral to this Learning Area. The Citizenship or Civics education section on Participatory Citizenship intended to develop ?active participatory citizens able to promote a democratic, equitable and just society? (Department of Education, 1997, p. 99). To realise its vision of an active participatory type of character, learners are expected to take an active part in democratic representative structures and in decision-making processes in the classroom, school or community based organisations. If this conception of the ?democratic? learner is anything to go by, education for citizenship and teaching of democracy in South African schools has a good deal in common with the Athenian prototype. The curriculum implicitly affirms the democratic ideals of the Greek city- state of Athens in several ways: ? It embraces a modified version of the Athenian prototype, especially its democratic zeal for participation. ? It suggests that participation of citizens in government develops an active character and contributes to the common welfare of society. ? It shows that participation does not stand in contrast to representative democracy ? it is possible to combine the two into representative participatory democracy. 130 ? It proclaims that central to theories of participation and democratic theory is the stress on maximum participation in decision-making processes in a polity. ? The educational aspect of participatory democracy relies on active engagement in many spheres of society, i.e. in schools, community, or public spaces. ? Finally, it supports the claim that learning for democratic citizenship is not limited to the formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement. Curriculum 2005?s notion of participatory citizenship promotes student participation based on the prototypical version of Athenian democracy. Its commitment to active, participatory citizenship in South African schools is admirable. When South African schools are likened to a democracy, a popular assembly, to use Caragata?s words ?citizenship reflects the idea that citizens act in the public sphere, they contribute to, and shape the discourses which, in turn and in part, structure our society? (1999, p. 270). The language of Curriculum 2005 in this respect is compatible with a maximalist interpretation that requires more than an educational programme that develops critical understanding and a much more extensive range of disposition and virtues on the part of students. In other words, Curriculum 2005 is not just knowledge of citizenship and how to make themselves effective in public life; it also implies developing learners? intellectual, moral and practical capacities as future adults. It would appear, then, that Curriculum 2005 reflects maximalist features of citizenship, and of citizenship education, thereby speaking also to South African school learners. Yet, it is impossible to read Curriculum 2005 in an unambiguously maximalist way, because education for citizenship and democracy is given a subsidiary status compared to History and Geography. Given the National Curriculum Statement?s undertaking to promote democratic participation and an active citizenry, one would expect citizenship education to be a key component of the curriculum. On the contrary, citizenship education has little or no status at all in post-apartheid South African schools. The conceptual incoherence of Curriculum 2005 is reflected by the 131 tension between the ideal and vision and the practicalities of what can be achieved under the circumstances. In other words, the document sets out ideals that it cannot necessarily achieve in practice. Furthermore, it reveals that the ?taught? and the ?caught? notions of citizenship education are in conflict with one other. Curriculum 2005 manifests the tensions and contradictions in the discourse of educational transformation that beset South Africa since the negotiation process in the 1990s. What follows is a brief summary of the central features of post-apartheid South African education policy discussed so far: ? The White Paper on Education and Training (1995) reflects a conception of popular participation, which appeals to the collective strength of the community with respect to policy formulation and curriculum development on the one hand, and relies on the DoE expert knowledge to give advice on matters relating to democratic participation and representation in South African schools, on the other. ? At the heart of the South African Schools Act (1996) lies the idea of democratic governance and partnership, but the Act fails to assign more than a minimal and conditional role to the School Governing Body members et al. ? Curriculum 2005 (1997) embraces an updated/modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, and its notion of citizenship, but this prototypical, maximal concept is given a subsidiary status in South African schools. Like the White Paper (1995), the South African School?s Act (1996) and Curriculum 2005, the Manifesto on Values (2001) is committed to active participatory citizenship, as envisioned in the Freedom Charter and echoed in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). The ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy? (2001) sets out to provide a practical framework for instilling and reinforcing democratic values of the Constitution in young South Africans. The idea of a document on values, education and democracy was born when the Ministry of Education was 132 working on a document dealing with religion in education in South African schools. The Ministry had no broader frame of reference to locate what is popularly known as ?Moral Regeneration Campaign? in South Africa. In July 2000, the Working Group on Values in Education appointed by the Minister of Education Kader Asmal, tabled its first report entitled Values, Education and Democracy. The document was put forward for national debate on the appropriate values South Africans need to embrace in schools. Subsequently, a national conference dubbed the Saamtrek Conference produced the ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy. In sum, the document is ?a call to all citizens to espouse the spirit of a democratic, non-racial and non-sexist South Africa (Department of Education, 2001, p. 3). The Manifesto is built on ten fundamental values of the Constitution of South Africa (1996) that include, among others, the political idea of democracy. The document?s concept of democracy endorses the educational value of participation. The authors write, ?education is the key because it empowers us to exercise our democratic rights, and shape our destiny, by giving us the tools to participate in public life, to think critically, and to act responsibly? (Department of Education, 2001, p, 2). Theorists such as Rousseau (1968) and Mill (1975) have testified to and elucidated the educational value of democratic participation that the Manifesto on Values espoused. As mentioned in Chapter 2, Rousseau and Mill suggested that participation of citizens in government develops an active character and contributes to the common welfare of society. Similar to the contemporary British model of citizenship education, the Manifesto on Values? maximal concept of democracy involves the socialisation of pupils who can ?participate in society effectively as active, informed, critical and responsible citizens? (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 9). The Manifesto also outlines sixteen strategies for instilling democratic values in young South Africans. One such strategy consists in affirming a common South African citizenship. To recall (see Chapter 4), in South Africa, citizenship reflected two distinct formulations ? to be a citizen (citizenship as a legal status) and to act as 133 a citizen (citizenship as a practice). In other words, to be a citizen means to enjoy the rights, privileges and benefits of citizenship. Citizens? rights and responsibilities include the obligations to play an active part in citizenship; this is, public participation central, provincial and local government. The ?Manifesto on Values? support for equal citizenship that subjects learners to equal duties, obligations and responsibilities has been widely applauded and praised. Given this conception of the ?democratic? learner, education for citizenship and teaching of democracy in schools is compatible with the prototypical concepts of democracy and citizenship: ? It supports Margetson?s (1978) verdict that echoes Rousseau (1968) and Mill?s (1975) claim that Athenian democracy, its enthusiasm for democratic participation and education of citizens are indivisible. ? It treats citizens? rights and responsibilities not as incompatible but, rather, as intimately and reciprocally linked. On the other hand, there are a number of elements in the document which indicate a minimalist interpretation of citizenship education. To recall from Chapter 4: ? A post-apartheid South African citizenship and by implication citizenship education is torn between ?transformative? goals, on the one hand, and ?democratic? goals, on the other. ? Consequently, the democratic elements are tentatively expressed and outweighed by the general transformative orientation of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996), thus rendering post-apartheid citizenship education policy instruments conceptually incoherent. ? South Africa does not have a settled concept of citizenship to draw on, and by implication education for citizenship and democracy too, is still at a formative stage. 134 ? There is a tension in the 1996 Constitution between ?transformative? and ?substantive? concepts of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education. ? In theory, therefore, the Constitution embraces an updated version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, and its notion of citizenship. In practice, however, South Africa?s emergent conception of citizenship education post- 1994 is ?transformative?, rather than ?preservative? of the Athenian concept of democratic citizenship. It is evident, then, that the ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy? does not encourage a maximalist interpretation of citizenship education. The document?s concept of citizenship education mirrors that of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996), which vacillates between ?transformative? goals and ?democratic? goals. Furthermore, education for citizenship and democracy is seen in localised terms, namely the school is not part of a larger community. Unfortunately, there is also a reinforcement of a minimalist interpretation of citizenship education contained in the original Curriculum 2005, and an emphasis on ?good? and ?loyal? citizenship that paints a picture of a school learner who, in the absence of explicit exhortation, is incapable of acting in a socially and morally responsible manner. In Chapter 8, I will discuss in greater detail the ?Values, Education and Democracy: Report of the Working Group on Values in Education? (2000) that introduced the original national School Pledge with a focus on the values and principles of the Constitution and Bill of Rights of 1996. In February 2000, the Ministry of Education commissioned a review of Curriculum 2005, which was completed on 31 May 2000. The Revised National Curriculum Statement (RNCS) was not a new curriculum but a streamlining and strengthening of Curriculum 2005. It kept intact the principles, purposes and thrust of Curriculum 2005 and affirmed its commitment to outcomes-based education. The RNCS planned to develop the full potential of each learner who is able to participate in society as a 135 critical and active citizen. The developmental outcomes envisaged learners who are also able to ?participate as responsible citizens in the life of local, national and global communities? (Department of Education, 2002, p. 11). I mentioned in Chapter 3 that the Citizenship Advisory Group (1998) agreed that ?effective education for citizenship? consists of three strands, interrelated but also distinct, which combine to make up such an education, that is, social and moral responsibility, community involvement and political literacy. Among other positive elements that are stressed are these three elements of citizenship education. In terms of social and moral responsibility, it is expected of learners to demonstrate compassion by caring for people (and animals); and to discuss effects of gender stereotyping, sexism and abuse on personal and social relationships. On the community engagement side, the RNCS envisioned learners who were able to: ?participate as responsible citizens in the life of local, national and global communities? (2002, p. 11). The political literacy strand calls on learners to ?think globally, act locally?. In other words, South African learners are encouraged to form generative democratic relationships and know their rights and responsibilities, not only to their country, but also to the rest of the globe. The maximal features of the revised Curriculum 2005 are not without ambiguities. It seems clear that the RNCS embraces a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship, namely to foster active, critical and inquiring individuals able to build, strengthen and consolidate South Africa?s democracy. Although the document promotes an active participatory citizenry, it does not pursue this notion with sufficient rigour and consistency. For example, Citizenship/Civics education is not only devalued, but removed from the Human and Social Sciences Learning Area. History and Geography continue to form key elements of the Human Social Sciences. Environmental education and human rights have replaced Archaeology and Citizenship/Civics as integral to the Human and Social Sciences Learning Area. The conspicuous removal of the Citizenship/Civics section from the document can be 136 interpreted in three ways: 1) it has become more minimal and less participatory than that envisioned in the anti-apartheid struggle and enshrined in the Constitution of South Africa (1996); 2) the expunging of Citizenship or Civics education from the Human and Social Sciences suggests that educating children for citizenship has no formal place in the curriculum; and 3) consequently, education for citizenship and democracy ends up in a rather restricted form, especially when compared to national goals. In other words, apart from the fact that there is little policy coherence across the five different official policy documents produced since 1994, education for citizenship appears to be given diminishing importance in post-apartheid South African education policy. Unfortunately, the minimalist conception of education for citizenship, as reflected in the original Curriculum 2005 documents, persists. In summary, although policy instruments since the transition to democracy are based largely on a minimal conception of citizenship, other aspects of the documents contain a maximalist reading or tone. The White Paper on Education and Training (1995) is concerned with the concept of popular participation, which denotes a broad range of participants (or ?agents?/?actors?) in policy processes in South Africa. At the heart of the South African Schools Act (1996) lies the idea of democratic governance and partnership. In line with the pronouncements in the White Paper on Education and Training (1995) and the South African Schools Act (1996) is the development of Curriculum 2005 (1997), which declares its commitment to active, creative, critical types of citizens in a culturally diverse, democratic society. The ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy? (2001) provides a practical framework that instils and reinforces democratic values of the Constitution in young South Africans. There is a reinforcement of a minimalist interpretation of citizenship education contained in the original Curriculum 2005, and an equally minimalist emphasis on educating learners to a greater extent about rights, and less about the responsibilities of citizens in a democratic society, in the later, revised version. 137 Unfortunately, what is emerging in post-apartheid education policy South Africa is a concept of citizenship education comprising of complex and contradictory elements that provide both continuity and discontinuity with what preceded the historic 1994 democratic elections. In fact, policy development after the transition reflects a minimalist conception of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education. The maximal concept of democracy and education for citizenship in South African schools was relegated to subsidiary status in Curriculum 2005 (1997), and obliterated altogether from the Human and Social Sciences Learning Area in the Revised National Curriculum Statement. It would appear, then, that South African education policy?s conception of education for citizenship does not guide the practice in terms accessible to the school?s democratic community, that is parents, teachers and students, non-teaching staff, the principal and co-opted members. Most importantly, it does not speak to its intended democratic audience in schools. In post-apartheid South Africa, opportunities to exercise and to learn democratic citizenship fell woefully short of active, participatory citizenship, as understood in the Greek city-state of Athens. It is not surprising that there is little policy coherence across all five different official policy documents produced since 1994. 5.5 Conclusion The chapter began by highlighting educational policy developments during the period of ?consensus seeking? that exhibit a trend towards ?retreat?, namely the centering and narrowing of the educational policy agenda of ?People?s Education? that supports a prototypical, maximal conception of education for citizenship and democracy in South African schools. The post-apartheid South African education policy approach favoured by the government ? a top down, vertical logic ? tampered with the radical ideas of the anti-apartheid movement. Although the broader elements of ?People?s Education? have evaporated, the conception of education for citizenship endorsed by the broader education policy, in particular policies of early transition since 1994, is a maximal interpretation. The discontinuities between the vision of the 138 anti-apartheid struggle of participatory democracy, on the one hand, and policy development after the transition on the other, can be attributed to a lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency in post-apartheid South African educational policy. A more well-grounded approach, one that avoids the unsteadiness, disjointedness and complexity surrounding the education for democratic citizenship policy position, will focus not merely on the ?content? but also on broader issues in school policy involving students? participation in learner representative councils. The next chapter focuses on the policy of Representative Councils of Learners that embodies in significant respects a roll-back of democratic participation and representation of students in school governance in South African schools. 139 CHAPTER 6 FROM ?BOY-GOVERNMENT? AND ?STUDENT-GOVERNMENT? TO REPRESENTATIVE COUNCILS OF LEARNERS: THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS? Many schools have a tradition of Student Representative Councils which played a major role in the birth of the new South Africa. Other schools have a long school prefect tradition. ? All these traditions needed to be brought together within the new context of consolidating democracy at school level. The best elements of these traditions had to be considered in order to see what was appropriate. This resulted in the SA Schools Act [1996] stipulating that [the Representative Councils for Learners] must be established in schools with learners in grade eight and higher (Department of Education, 1999, p. 11, addition mine). 6.1 Introduction In the previous chapter, I mentioned that the South African Schools Act (SASA) paved the way for democratically elected and representative structures, officially known as School Governing Bodies (SGBs) and Representative Councils of Learners (RCLs). In 1999 the national Department of Education issued Guides for the Representative Councils of Learners established in terms of the SASA of 1996. The Guides supplemented the Act?s declaration and commitment to representative governing bodies and democracy in South African schools. This chapter examines South African learners? participation and representation in school governance as envisaged by the Guides. The chapter probes not only the Guides? concept of students? democratic participation and representation, but it also raises philosophical questions pertinent to the policy instrument: 1) Does its notion of student participation and representation embrace the Athenian prototype of democracy? In other words, does it reflect an active model of democracy in post-apartheid South African schools? 2) How does it envisage democratic citizenship education that is 140 enjoyed by a significant proportion of the South African learners? In other words, does it cover opportunities to learn democratic citizenship in schools and beyond? In the history of South African education there have been three contrasting attempts to incorporate learners in the authority structures of schools. These traditions are the ?prefect system?, Student Representative Councils and Representative Councils of Learners. The narratives informing these attempts are linked to Sithole?s (1998) four critical viewpoints of student participation and representation in school governance in South African schools for the past two centuries.35 I explore the claim that the Guides? attempt to blend the ?prefect? and Student Representative Councils? traditions to consolidate democracy at school level. By so doing, I argue that the Guides represent in significant respects retrieval of the less democratic student representation in South African schools, thus reinforcing post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s conceptual incoherence depicted in the two previous chapters. This chapter is divided into three sections. Section 1 looks at the claims and features of three contrasting types of student representative organisations in South African schools. Section 2 points out that Student Representative Councils were born out of the rejection of the unpopular ?prefect system?, and shows how education policy after 1994 attempted to reconcile the ?prefect? and SRC traditions in post-apartheid South Africa. Section 3 provides a critical analysis of the Guides, and argues that despite its intentions to promote democratic student representation, a view of student representative structure that emerged first in the democratic Student Representative Councils developed in the anti-apartheid movement, school policy in the end regresses to features of the ?prefect system?. The chapter concludes by defending the Student Representative Councils? tradition on the basis of its emphasis on the educative potential of learner participation. 35 Perceptions of the role of student participation and representation in democratic school governance, according to Sithole (1998), can be distinguished by the following contrasting stances: absurdity, abnormality, restriction and indispensability. Sithole?s first viewpoint epitomises the conception of the ?prefect system?, as far as school governance is concerned. The second and third features relate to the Guides? approach to Representative Councils of Learners in post-apartheid South African schools. The last feature resembles Student Representative Councils? history and tradition. 141 6.2 The British system of ?boy-government?36 in South African schools The word ?prefect? (Latin, praefectus: a high-ranking military or civil official in the Roman Empire) can refer to any of a number of types of official. ?Boy-government?, rule by the prefects, was a term that linked government and schooling in British society. Randall (1982) succinctly summed up the relation between government and schooling in Victorian times: ?young people in schools were expected to emulate the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant gentlemen: the versatile, clean-cut, well-mannered, prudent man of affairs ? respected, and influential ?a pillar of society? (p. 2). In the context of schools a ?prefect? was a pupil who had been given authority to train his fellow students, to lead brave, courageous boys, moulded into conformity and loyalty towards the British Empire. By 1880 the ?prefects? in most English schools had attained enormous power and enjoyed a term of office that was for all practical purposes autocratic. This means prefects ?ran house activities and helped legislate rules; they kept order, judged offences and often did the punishment themselves? They were, in short, an administration, a judiciary, and part of the legislature rolled into one? (Wilkinson, 1964, p. 30). The drawback of this ?boy-government? notion of education for citizenship in British schools is obvious. The prefect system promoted obedient citizens who were loyal to the British Empire. This concept viewed young people either as pliable recipients or as ?problems? rather than as competent citizens capable of meaningful participation. How did ?boy-government? or prefectorial government come to be established in South Africa? As I indicated in Chapter 3, the South African educational system owes much to British traditions. The British system of education was introduced to the Cape Colony soon after the British captured the Cape from the Dutch in 1806. In 1810, a large number of educators were imported but there were not enough of them to be sent to smaller towns and villages. To remedy this shortfall, it was decided to introduce the 36 A term used by Randall (1982) in his analysis of private schools in South Africa via the British public school tradition. In this chapter I adhere to this usage on the understanding that one could also employ the term ?girl-government?, to refer to ?girl? prefects. 142 ?monitor system?. The Cape Government agreed to this system of education in order to make up for the shortage of educators. Individual educators chose specific pupils (known later as ?monitors?) for certain responsibilities, for instance hall monitor, sports monitor, library monitor and so forth. In other words, monitors served as agents of social control in Cape Government schools. With the disappearance of the original ?monitor system?37 there arose a new system, which was indeed a type of ?boy-government? or ?prefect system?. By the middle of the 19th century the ?prefect system? was formalised and existed in virtually every South African public school. Individuals who were chosen to carry out tasks within this system were still known as monitors. As opposed to the monitors, prefects assumed a disciplinarian role, namely they became responsible for discipline outside the classroom, reporting either to a class teacher or the headmaster. This British concept of citizenship education was later extended and put into practice in the Boer republics. In his dissertation, ?The Prefect System In The Transvaal: An Empirical Study? (1963), Blumberg looks at the history of the prefect system in the Transvaal in the 1960s. For the purpose of this chapter, I will confine myself to his comments on the nature, privileges, duties and powers of the prefectship. Blumberg?s study showed that choosing ?prefects? ranged from very autocratic to very democratic practices. For example, on one extreme, the principal and vice-principal chose the prefects; teachers and pupils had no say in the selection. In the opposite extreme, all the pupils in the school elected the prefects from the senior classes. Between these extremes, a combination of appointment (by the principal), nomination (by the teachers) and election (by older learners) of prefects took place in different schools. Owing to the concept of schooling aimed at producing obedient, if not loyal citizens, even a highly participatory, rotational prefect system became synonymous with autocratic styles of government in apartheid South African schools. This blend of autocratic-democratic 37 Andrew Bell (1753-1832) and Joseph Lancaster (1778-1838) established the ?monitor? system as an agency of social control in British schools. In 1800 Joseph Lancaster, a Quaker, opened Borough Road School in London, using a monitorial system. Arnold, Rugby?s famous headmaster of the 1830s, is frequently credited with having perfected the system. 143 practices is not compatible with the object of Pitkin?s (1967) idea ?which is substantive political representation, namely a democratic participatory representative body of learners ? where prefects? actions have substantive content, meaning the learners act through their ?boy-government? and are not merely passive recipients of its actions. I argued in Chapter 4 that the anti-apartheid struggle concept of democratic citizenship education strove to liberate and put students in command of their lives, rejecting the British Girl Guide system and the Nationalist Youth Preparedness Programme designed to control and to produce a subservient, passive type of character. In this regard, students? democratic participation and representation is consistent with the prototypical, maximal concept of democratic citizenship that also reflects the democratic vision of the model of democracy developed in the Charter tradition and enshrined in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). What were the central justifications and features of the ?prefect system? in South African schools? Hosiosky?s dissertation, ?Prefects In A Senior Secondary School In Eldorado Park- An Exercise In Democratic Leadership? (1978), defined a prefect as a senior pupil elected by the teachers or principals and authorised to enforce discipline in the school. Similar to the Arnoldian understanding of the prefect system as an agency of social control, prefects were also expected to foster religious and moral principles, gentlemanly conduct and intellectual ability in South African schools. The principal functions mentioned in Blumberg?s study revealed a dual duty involving prefectship: supervisory and special capacity. A supervisory role included supervising pupils on the school premises before and after school, during intervals, while games were in progress, at the swimming bath, in the school pavilion, in the school hall before and after assemblies, in the bicycle shed, in the hostels, during study periods, during meals in the hostels. Special capacity varied from ?library? to ?punishment? prefectship. 144 Regrettably, prefectship was identified with harsh punishment and brutal discipline. Using evidence of public schools in the early 19th century British schools, Busher argued that: The most common minor punishment was the lines. The minimum punishment was five or ten lines copied out of the classical author. Apart from expulsion, flogging was the major punishment. For the severest cases split canes, thongs, or a tightly bound mass of the switches specially and freshly made up each day were used (Busher, 1988, p. 10). At Rugby, ?prefects? were virtually minor members of the staff with flogging and fagging powers. In South Africa, Blumberg wrote that both in English and Afrikaans schools, punishments by prefects included ?the imposition of ?lines? ranging from twenty-five to a hundred, detention after school hours for a limited period, and small monetary fines, which were given to charity? (1988, p. 46). For example, a ?punishment prefect? dealt with unruly behaviour and unconventional dress and so on. Against this background, especially in black schools, first under the Bantu Education Act (47) of 1953 and, later the Education and Training Act (90) of 1979, prefects were seen as agents of school authorities, which rested only on the power to accept bribes, to threaten, and punish. Again, prefects enforced discipline without students? consent, thus exercising a substantial degree of power and control over them. As such, for decades prefectship endured as deplorable ?boy-government? structures that pursued a policy of autocratic rule in apartheid South African schools. Blumberg?s work also pointed out that prefects abused their authority by meting out harsh and sadistic punishments. In the mid 19th century, ?boy-government? or the ?prefect system? became virtually a universal phenomenon, often associated with cruelty and bullying. At Bishops in Cape Town, a head prefect of the late 1870s described the way in which juniors were abused by the seniors, who used their fags to such an extent that they failed to learn their lessons, and hid about to avoid being made fags. Sometimes the Seniors ? ordered them to sing, and if they failed would thrash them; and sometimes they would send 145 them into the village to buy them liquor and tobacco (Randall, 1982, p. 64). As a result of prefects? brutally enforced discipline, students? attempts to defend the rights of their peers would result in increased bullying and bad behaviour by pupils. From Randall?s account, prefects could beat, and were often greatly feared, more so even than the masters. Student teachers in Blumberg?s study accused the prefects of bullying and exacting fines in the form of sweets ?which the prefects ate. Those who disagreed with the ?prefect system?, in Blumberg?s research, attested that prefects were responsible directly or indirectly for much of the bullying which took place in school, and that they were the cause of great unhappiness and resentment among the senior pupils who were not elected prefects. On the whole, ?boy-government? sparked complaints about abuse of power by prefects. This version of the ?prefect system? that South Africa inherited from England has not gone uncriticised. In South Africa, critics of the autocratic prefect system have expressed disapproval and called for the alteration and abolition of the entire system. The bone of contention was that the prefect system envisages a notion of student representative democracy that is not enjoyed by a significant proportion of South African learners. These were some of the reasons put forth: it caused resentment, disharmony and unhappiness among pupils who had not been chosen as prefects; and it turned hitherto well- balanced individuals into conceited bullies. In January 2000 Hilton College, an independent school situated in the midlands of KwaZulu-Natal province, discontinued the ?boy-government? system (http://www.hiltoncollege.com, 07 September 2005). For more than a century Hilton employed a traditional prefect system with authority and responsibility being vested in selected senior boys. The school saw the following weaknesses in the prefect system. Firstly, it was divisive and exclusive, enabling direct student participation by only a selection of students. Secondly, it failed to take into account the valuable contributions by less outspoken and less aggressive pupils. Thirdly, it disheartened and discouraged those learners who were not elected to ?boy-government?. Lastly, it steadily reduced the space that 146 enabled students to have a direct experience of democracy as an integral part of their schooling. Thus, the ?boy-government?s? claim to democratic student representation did not reflect a participatory form of representative government, that is the ?boy- government? was unable to educate the entire student population to take an active part in student affairs. Recognising the growing criticism of the ?prefect system?, Redhill, an independent school in Morningside, Johannesburg, that portrays itself as immersing students in a rigorous liberal academic curriculum has also assumed a leading role in doing away with the traditional ?prefect system?, in favour of a democratic executive system in which everyone participates. A school policy statement says that ?no authoritarian prefect system, initiation or bullying is allowed in the school? (www.redhill.co.za, 07 September 2005). Redhill?s democratic executive system is in stark contrast with the autocratic version of the English public schools and their South Africa counterparts in the Transvaal in the 1960s. The Redhill prefect system is compatible with Blumberg?s democratic practice in which the election of prefects is transparent and highly participatory. In this way, prefects in democratic locales, as compared to autocratic settings, are likely to assume a participatory form of representation, consistent with Pitkin?s participatory form of representation that guarantees maximal degree of electorates? power and control over the representatives. Both the Hilton and Redhill studies provide a useful basis for the discussion below that 1) points out that Student Representative Councils were born out of the rejection of the unpopular ?prefect system?; and 2) defends democratic Student Representative Councils on the grounds of their emphasis on the educative potential of learner participation. In short, a consideration of the Hilton and Redhill review of the prefect system supports this chapter?s claim that although the Guides purport to promote student representative democracy, their recommendations are ambiguous and ultimately flawed. In support of this claim, the last section of this chapter will show that: 1) the Guides attempt to balance the disparate, competing student representative 147 traditions, such as the prefect system and Student Representative Councils; 2) the Guides? concept of student representative democracy provides both continuity and discontinuity with what preceded the 1994 historic democratic elections; 3) the Guides reflect a minimalist conception of citizenship, and of citizenship education; and 4) their commitment to democratic student representation does not ?articulate the practice of a substantial form of education for citizenship?, thus undermining democratic participation and active citizenry in post-apartheid South African schools. In sum, the history of the ?prefect system?, both under the British Empire and apartheid South Africa, yielded discontent and undemocratic practices like division and exclusion, excessive power and authority, harsh and sadistic punishment, cruelty and bullying. The official prefectorial system was also resented and rejected in Black schools in the 70s. School Student movement38 did not only reject the authoritarian ?prefect system? but also emphasised democratic student representation in South African schools. 6.3 A brief history of student struggle and the rejection of the prefect system The Student Representative Councils were born out of the rejection of the unpopular ?prefect system? in South African schools. Hyslop (1999) has detailed how black school students39 resented the less democratic ?prefect system? at mission schools in the 1940s. The reasons vary, from the privileges prefects enjoyed to their inability to convey complaints of students to the authorities. The privileges prefects enjoyed in day schools included, inter alia tea with the teaching staff during the breaks and at 38 The term ?student movement? refers to the sum total and intentions of students, individually, collectively and organisationally, directed towards change in the students? own circumstances and for educational and wider social change (see Jacks, 1975, p. 13). 39 The concept ?student? had a political tag attached to it during the apartheid era. ?Student? activists were able to link educational demands to a broader national political struggle. In a democratic education system the concept ?learner? has an educational tone synonymous with schooling, not student politics. Though I use both concepts interchangeably, they must be understood in their historical context. 148 the end of each term, and exemption from uniform inspection. Additional privileges included being allowed ?out? more often than non-prefects; their own rooms; being allowed to go to bed later than non-prefects; wearing ordinary clothes instead of school uniform to town and being allocated special seats at school functions (see Blumberg, 1963, pp. 48-49). As a result of the privileges that prefects enjoyed, prefects were easily distinguished from the entire student population. At Lovedale mission school, established in the Cape Province in 1841, allegations of preferential treatment by the school management towards prefects led to the 1946 student riot. For these reasons, prefects were tagged in the imagination of student community as being organs of the oppressive system. By the early 1950s, the ?prefect system? had been under strain at Healdtown mission school, established in the Cape Province in 1857, for some time. As a result, Healdtown witnessed a stand-up strike in 1953. Students refused their meals and refused to be seated in the dining hall, in protest against the placing of a prefect at each dining hall table. In 1952 there was a mass resignation of prefects. They felt their position was being undermined by the unwillingness of the housemaster, Mr. Mncube to take action on disciplinary matters. Mncube resigned, but students accorded the prefects no legitimacy. In an anonymous letter to the authorities the Healdtown school students complained: The most important point which causes us to scribble this is because our representatives are not taking our complaints to you ? these rules are not for all our students but for the juniors and seniors who have no say in your aristocratic form of government ? what is the use of these prefects as being our rep[resentative]s, they should be called your tools (Hyslop, 1999, p. 15, addition mine). The rejection of the prefect system swung the pendulum against ?boy-government?, even those democratically elected delegates and once respected student leaders that enabled students to gather around various issues, like inferior education, overcrowded classrooms, unhealthy study conditions and so on. Blumberg?s investigation captured 149 the unhappiness about the lack of representative participatory democracy expressed by students in Lovedale and Healdtown schools and also depicted the conditions that existed in South African schools in general. Among the list of complaints raised in missionary institutions were the following: 1) prefectship?s claim to promote student participation in essence was symbolic, in reality it was not bound up with the active, participatory concept of democracy, which embodies the Athenian notion of rule by ?the people? or student population; 2) teachers exercised considerable power and favouritism, as a result of which sycophants were often appointed; and 3) parents, teachers and students expressed strong objection to the principal?s power of veto in electing prefects. With regard to prefect duties, a large number of former prefects failed to find such pseudo-participation stimulating or life-enhancing, since there was too much interference by all and sundry, parents, principal and teachers. Thirteen years after Blumberg?s inquiry, the Soweto Student Representative Council (SSRC) was established on 13th June 1976 to give voice to the students? feelings and opinions. In Hyslop?s view (1988), the key issue in explaining the origins of the Soweto Student Representative Council was the enforcement of Afrikaans as medium of instruction by conservative officials within the Bantu Education Department. By late 1974 and into 1975, there were already indications of a new militancy among school students. In the Eastern Cape the South African Students Movement (SASM) was active. In 1975 at least two strikes occurred over educational grievances, one involving the occupation of a school. During the first months of 1975 tension over the issue of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction had arisen in Soweto and in April the first school came out on strike. The strike then spread fitfully through other eight-odd Soweto secondary and higher primary schools. On 13 June SASM convened a delegate meeting at Naledi High School which established the Soweto Student Representative Council. The SSRC called a demonstration for 16 June. Following the Soweto uprising in 1976, the SSRCs soon joined parents, teachers and other educators, students, community leaders, religious bodies, workers and so forth in rejecting the ?prefect system? in South African schools. 150 The SSRC began to campaign for democratic and progressive student representative structures in South African schools. In the opinion of Hyslop (1988), the SSRC promoted the idea of democratic Student Representative Councils as a way of forming ?student government? and power. The SSRC signified a conceptual shift from autocratic ?boy- government? to a democratic ?student-government? that brought to the school governing bodies the thoughts and views of the learners. The SSRC was able to organise and mobilise learners around issues of common interest and was seen by many as a true and genuine body that represented their aspirations. Within four months of the SSRC?s establishment, students insisted on democratically elected representatives in South African schools starting with ?the right to elect student representative councils ? for the expression of student grievances? (Davenport, 1991, p. 422). Most importantly, the SSRC?s definition of participation, as far as educating for a democratic society, was to give proper responsibility to students for, and control over, their lives. Starting with the broadening of the arenas of struggle against the ?prefect system?, the fight to achieve democratic representation in school governance was connected to demands for the complete overhaul of the apartheid machinery. This tradition, recalling the Athenian version of democracy, provided the SSRC with a political model for students elsewhere in the country who set up their own representative structures in the form of Student Representative Councils. School student organisations like the Congress of South African Students (COSAS)40 and the Azanian Students Organisation (AZASO)41 rallied and mobilised students to strive for a democratic student representation system. 40 A school student organisation formed in 1979 that took a position founded on the Freedom Charter of 1955. On the educational front, COSAS?s programme of action sought to achieve dynamic, free and compulsory education for all. In Chapter 7, I will show that claiming the right to free and compulsory schooling and, by implication, to compulsory citizenship education is linked to the broader struggle for a united, non-racial and democratic South Africa. 41 The Azanian Students Organisation was also formed in 1979 as a national organisation of black university students. AZASO identified its guiding principle to be the struggle towards setting up a democratic South Africa free of racist oppression and exploitation. 151 COSAS motto ?Yes to SRC, No to Prefects? served as an inspiration to the multitude of black school students. The students? appeal for student democratic representation, echoed nationally, represented the broadening of the avenues of struggle by students. In an interview conducted with AZASO members around the struggle for student participation associated with school representative democracy, an AZASO activist said: Briefly, education struggle today has come to focus on the question of representation. Democratic student representation in the form of SRCs and COSAS and AZASO branches has been stifled by the racist education authorities. At school level, any form of student organisation and representation has been firmly crushed and as an alternative, prefect systems, etc, have been implemented. Students and scholars have neglected such representation from the top and today continue to strive for better and more grassroots representation (Interview with Azaso activists, 1984, p. 74). Like the SSRC, COSAS and AZASO sought to promote the idea of democratic Student Representative Councils as a way of increasing student power and organisation in schools. There are two points worth noting about the anti-apartheid notion of student participation and representation in apartheid South African schools. First, the students? interpretation of participatory forms of representation resembled a prototypical Athenian democracy based on mass participation. In other words, School Student movement characterised student participation and representation as structures in which the student population ruled: collective self-rule. Secondly, it showed that participation does not stand in contrast to representative democracy ?it is possible to combine the two into representative participatory democracy in schools. The rejection of the ?dummy? SRCs was justified on the grounds that the education struggle aimed to replace an undemocratic, coercive, education system with democratic participatory structures like the SRCs. Therefore, it was argued, any attempts to impose undemocratic student representation would weaken student struggle in South African schools. So, in a sense, the education struggle continued to revolve around the demand for democratically elected SRCs, perceived as the only legitimate student 152 representative structures for a future South Africa. In short, the democratic Student Representative Councils? participatory form of representation bears testimony to the relevance and, indeed, the compellingness of the classical theory in South African schools before 1994. The concept of ?student-government? was rooted in the trajectory of the resistance politics. The democratic Student Representative Councils pointed to the educative value that comes with active community engagement. The connection between the struggle for democratic representation and mass participation was well captured by a COSAS activist, who said: Students must be organised through democratically elected representative councils (SRCs) ? ?we are members of society before we are students? ? and thereby demonstrate that students can play a ?progressive role in the broad democratic alliance?. Therefore, SRCs must relate the struggles in schools to the struggles in their communities (Wolpe, 1988, p. 206). This anti-apartheid activist speech is noteworthy in three senses: 1) it proclaims the value of individual autonomy and the appeal to the public good, as central features of the model of democracy developed in the anti-apartheid struggle; 2) it encourages more students to participate in collective self-government than the colonial British and the apartheid South African systems of ?boy-government? permits; and 3) it suggests that participation of students in democratic ?student-government? develops an active character and contributes to the common welfare of South African society. Drawing on Barber?s (1984) theory of a strong democracy, Chapter 3 maintained that the two terms participation and community are features of Athenian citizenship, and by implication citizenship education. I Chapter 3, I also showed how Edwards and Fogelman?s (1991) school study of representative democracy emphasised the educative potential of learners? participation. It is evident that School Representative Councils are likely to foster active citizenship engagement, both at national and at local level of school. 153 The SRCs? vision of school participation was reflective of the popular will and power envisioned and required in a post-apartheid South Africa in the mid 1980s. The SSRC, COSAS and AZASO also provided a political model for students elsewhere in the country who set up their own representative structures. Schools still within the Bantu Education system set up their own Student Representative Councils as an alternative to the ?prefect system?. In some schools SRCs successfully replaced prefects; in other schools both traditions co-existed, and attempts to establish SRC structures in conservative schools were met with fierce resistance by school authorities. Where conservative authority held sway the co-existence of prefectship and ?dummy? Student Representative Councils were accepted unwillingly, but in most schools prefects were rejected as being lackeys of the principals. Where SRCs existed in these state institutions, they did so in defiance of the state, but without the ability to organise and mobilise as before. The SRCs regarded their representation in school governance as a crucial element in the complete overhauling and democratisation of the schooling system. Even though the government banned SRCs and later, in 1986, outlawed ?People?s Education?, the student struggle for and recognition for democratic SRCs continued until the SASA (1996) paved the way for the RCLs. Student Representative Councils? achievements included, inter alia, the upholding of the principle of democratic school governance and the empowerment and education of the student population or citizenry; achievements that testified to the relevance and, indeed, the compellingness of the classical theory, that is broad ?active? participation of citizens in South Africa, in general, and in schools, in particular. These achievements were considerable, and they indicate that a ?prefect system? that embraced what were arguably less than democratic methods, such as elitism and competitiveness, is far from constituting agency of educational change. The SRCs, on the other hand, underlined the need for more scope for participatory democracy and representation in schools. To what extent was this student government articulated and expressed in post-apartheid SRCs? 154 The South African Schools Act (1996) provided for a new uniform system for the organisation, governance and funding of schools. Starting with the Education White Paper 2: The Organisation, Governance and Funding of Schools (1996), the idea of democratic authority in schools was clearly articulated: Other representative and deliberative structures within schools, such as student representative councils, parents? associations, and staff meetings, are important for successful democratic practice and school management. They should support, but not substitute for, the governing body. An SRC in each school should be mandatory (Department of Education, 1996, p. 10). Up to this point, the populist language of student participation in democratic school governance continued to inform South African educational policy. That is, the Education White Paper 2?s notion of Student Representative Structures was interpreted as an expression of participatory democracy and representation, namely as being in the best interests of parents, teachers and pupils to have a school that is both well governed and well managed in a participatory manner. This implies that in democratic school governance relationships are based on equality, with no place for a merely minimal and conditional role for student participation. The SA Schools Bill was viewed as a historic piece of legislation that lays the basis for the democratic Representative Councils of Learners. The White Paper?s provision for the establishment of a Representative Council of Learners indicated ?the realisation of the long struggle by students for representative SRCs? [?] All reference to the prefect system has been taken out of the Act? (Nzimande, 1996). The Bill was reflective of the history of student struggle, especially the abolishing of the prefect system in South African schools. At best, however, such efforts and struggles enjoyed only ephemeral success. The SA Schools Bill became an Act in 1996. Given the history of student struggle for a democratic representative system, it was hoped that the Schools Act would do away with autocratic prefectship in post-apartheid South Africa. Ironically, the Guides subsequently downplayed the SA Schools Bill?s acknowledgement of the SRC tradition. Instead, the Guides contradicted the SA 155 Schools Bill by recommending the merger of both the ?prefect system? and SRC traditions. Using this dual framework of representation, that is constituted by the prefect system and SRCs, I explore and clarify the conceptual schemes underlying the current Representative Councils for Learners. This I will do by using Sithole?s (1995) four critical viewpoints, or perspectives, on how South African education policy has perceived and articulated the participation of students in school governance for the past two centuries. 6.4 Critical analysis of the Guides for Representative Councils of Learners Sithole?s four contending perspectives are not complementary, but, rather, contradictory ?if not mutually exclusive.42 The perspectives on school student participation in representative governing bodies in South African schools are as follows: ? The idea that students should have a role in school governance is an absurdity of the first order. ? Students became involved in the struggle as part of that abnormality. ? Students do have a role to play in school governance, but it should be circumscribed. ? Students are one of the most indispensable components of democratic school governance at secondary school. 42 Sithole?s contending perspectives must be understood in context of South African history of education, i.e. a country whose education system has undergone different stages, such as colonialism, apartheid and democracy In the two previous chapters I mentioned that what is emerging in post- apartheid education policy in South Africa is a concept of citizenship education comprising of complex and contradictory elements that provide both continuity and discontinuity with what preceded the 1994 historic democratic elections. In short, there is a tension in post-apartheid South African educational policy and subsequent curriculum development between minimal and maximal conceptions of education for citizenship. Evidently, policy development after the transition, including the Guides for Representative Councils of Learners (1999), the proposed Bill of Responsibilities and the new national Schools Pledge (2008) reflect a minimalist conception of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education. I will examine the Bill and the Pledge in greater detail in Chapter 8. 156 Sithole?s four critical viewpoints can be mapped in accordance with Pitkin?s (1967) idea of a representative model of democracy. Outside the realm of substantive representation reside Sithole?s first three perspectives that see students? role in school governance as absurd, abnormal and restricted, respectively. These set the outer limits of what Pitkin deems acceptable as representation in the substantive sense. Only the last view, that is indispensability of student participation, occupies the intermediate range. This view emphasises the significance of common deliberation and rational argument, where ordinary citizens are not content to leave matters to the expert. For the purpose of this chapter, Sithole?s typology provides a framework for analysing South Africa?s three contrasting student representative bodies or traditions. The ?prefect system? regarded a prefect as a member of a superior elite of wisdom and reason. Similar to Sithole?s first three viewpoints, the prefect tradition leaves the realm of representation altogether, and we ?end up with an expert taking care of the ignorant masses as a parent takes care of a child? (Pitkin, 1967, p. 419). In the intermediate range, one finds the SRCs? tradition that treated both the representative and constituents as relatively equal in capacity and wisdom and information. At the other extreme, one also finds the RCLs who are perceived as ordinary, fallible representatives, with no special knowledge or abilities. Let us take a look at how Sithole?s viewpoints are reflected in the Guides document. The first viewpoint mentioned by Sithole dismisses the idea that students should have a role in school governance as an absurdity of the first order. There is ambivalence in the Guides interpretation of the Student Representative Councils? role in the struggle for a democratic South Africa In practice we have found that learners quickly realise the significance of their role in an RCL once they understand the connections between the struggle for democracy in the past, and the present need to consolidate and broaden democracy as we strive to build our nation (Department of Education, 1999, p. 11). This perspective does not place significant weight on democratic and participatory 157 governance structures in education. The Guides seemed to have taken a leaf from this portrait of the apocalyptic view of the youth as described in Seekings (1993) and Hyslop?s (1988) work later in this chapter. Unsurprisingly, the authors of the document are preoccupied with stability and normality in South African schools, rather than with the educative potential of learner participation The Guides set out to promote and maintain discipline in schools. To ensure that order and discipline is maintained, the Guides call on the RCL to appoint a sub-committee responsible for discipline in public schools. Though the sub-committee cannot punish learners, it should nevertheless encourage them to commit to the code of conduct. For example, learners may sign a statement that they subscribe to the code, ?it [the Representative Councils for Learners] must promote and maintain discipline among learners and promote the general welfare of the school. ? It must promote orderliness and not disrupt the order in the school? (Department of Education, 1999, p. 13). The Guides? emphasis on maintaining stability and normality supports the view that says: student struggle for representative participatory democracy must be understood as having taken place in the context that South Africa was at war ? an abnormal situation. Sithole?s first viewpoint or feature endorsed the ?prefect system?, as far as school governance is concerned. It comes as no surprise that elements such as competitive leadership, authority and discipline central to prefectorial government are reflected in the Guides. Explicit in the Guides is the ?boy-government?s? conscious technique of competitive elitism and authoritarianism. The Guides emphasise competition among learners to become representatives, rather than the involvement of all in a participatory democracy. The Guides define Representative Councils of Learners as: The most prestigious official structure of learners in the entire school [?A] structure made up of learners elected by their fellow learners to represent them [?T]he only body that represents every learner and in which every learner can participate (Department of Education, 1999, p. 11). 158 Electing a student leader to a hierarchical structure is seen as comparable to electing a professional politician to the office of president, premier or mayor. This race for leadership provides for competition for power and authority among learners in general. On the face of it, competition for power and prestige (as opposed to participatory democracy) runs the risk of silencing the less assertive and articulate learners. As a consequence of the exclusion of a large number of South African learners, in an ideal participatory system, competition for leadership would not be a defining characteristic. In Chapter 2, I challenged Schumpeter?s minimalist conception of democratic participation, where sovereignty was exercised by a subset of ?the people?, usually on the basis of election. This chapter defends a modified version of the Athenian prototype that sought to challenge the Guides? anti-popular- participation argument, especially the alleged inability of Schumpeter?s electoral citizens to participate in political life. To reiterate the point I made also in Chapter 2, virtually all claims to expert knowledge, as opposed to substantial emphasis on participatory citizenry as a model of education for citizenship, are fallible. Theorists of the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, such as Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), Rousseau (1968) and Mill (1975) have shown that citizens? active participation in a democracy is likely to be educational, namely to contribute significantly to the education of the entire people?s intellectual, moral and practical capacities. In short, the Guides? hierarchical and exclusive body of citizenship is telling, in that it does not endorse a participatory form of representative democracy that is enjoyed by a significant proportion of the South African learners. In a democracy equable participation is likely to foster active, critical and inquiring citizens, appropriate in western democratic societies like South Africa. According to Budge (1993), there is no insurmountable knowledge barrier between leaders and electorates that cannot be addressed. In support of the theorists of a prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, this chapter has shown how the prefectorial system was resented and rejected, because prefects enjoyed privileges and powers and were easily distinguished from the rest of the student population in South African schools 159 in the 1970s. The Guides encourage an interest-based model of democracy. This model is implied by the emphasis on voting and competition for leadership. One might argue against this view that Representative Councils for Learners should not be seen as little national legislative bodies of representatives from different and hostile interests, but rather as deliberative assemblies or bodies of one community, with one primary interest, namely, the active participation of all. The stress on competitive struggle for the learners? vote is likely to undermine ?participation?, an essential component of representative democracy in post-apartheid South African schools. As stated earlier, the South African Schools Act stipulates that Representative Councils for Learners must be established in schools with learners in Grade 8 and higher (14-18 years of age). A Teacher Liaison Officer (TLO) is nominated or elected by the learners or educators of a particular school to help and guide the RCLs. The Guides clearly view both leaders and constituents as ordinary fallible people with no special knowledge or abilities. The learners are assumed to possess little wisdom and reason. Like Schumpeter?s (1950) democratic elitism, the Guides have a good deal to say about the RCL?s lack of rationality in political matters. The following provisions bear testimony to this claim: An MEC (Member of the Executive Council) may, by notice in the Provincial Gazette, set out how an RCL is to be established, how the members are to be elected and what the functions of the RCL are (p. 9)? The TLO must help to guide and organise the RCL. ? The TLO must also develop a sense of leadership in the members of the RCL (Department of Education, 1999, p. 6). The Guides? reference to MECs and TLOs as experts in school democratic representation is reminiscent of a minimal and conditional role for the demos, sketched in discussion of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle in Chapter 2. To recall (from Chapter 2), these theorists argued that mass political participation leads to worse results and picking the brains of the populace is harmful in a democratic polity. In the words of Ndlovu and Dieltiens (2004), the ?impulse to ? encourage [student 160 representation and] participation needs to be embarked on with caution ? participatory democracy fails when too much is expected of participants, without sufficient guidance, support and even control from the centre? (p. 7). The Guides seem to suggest that the RCL?s picture of democratic man is hopelessly unrealistic, and therefore, the RCL?s need MECs or TLOs to tell them what to do. The Guides give the impression that ? without MECs? guidance, support and control, ?student government? is neither feasible nor desirable in post-apartheid South African schools; ? student participation and representation in school governance requires judgement, skill and rational commitment, essential attributes that only the TLOs possess; ? in the end, the post-apartheid South African education policy?s selection of citizenship education ?a top down, vertical logic ?dilutes the Student Representative tradition. The reduced sense of responsibility and lack of trust suggest that learners drop down to a lower level of mental performance as soon as they enter the school governance arena. The Guides share the revisionists? overall claim that populist theories of democracy involve unnecessary and unrealistic assumptions about the political interest, knowledge and rationality of the average citizen, particularly young adults. The objection might be raised that learners are young, with an as yet insufficient developed sense of responsibility, to participate in political issues on equal terms with adults. Learners may indeed be less mature and so disqualified, for the time being, from citizenship, but they remain one of the most indispensable components in promoting and consolidating democracy in South African schools. The Guides? selection of what form of education for citizenship is appropriate to consolidating democracy in South African schools is not about the nature of adulthood vis-?-vis childhood or adolescence. It is about the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa?s (1996) provision of every citizen?s rights and 161 responsibilities to play an active part in citizenship, namely public participation in central, provincial and local government. I contend that learners ought to have a say and share in collective decisions on matters affecting the life of the school ?for example, the school uniform, school times, late arrivals, missing classes, sport, organization of school debates, field trips and so on. The Guides? conception of democratic student representation does not articulate a notion of citizenship education that is appropriate for the South African context. The maximal conception of citizenship is likely to address comprehensively the Guides? view of learners as citizens-in-waiting who need to be inducted into their future role. It is to the second and third features that relate to the Guides? approach to Representative Council of Learners in post-apartheid South African schools that we now turn our focus. As it were, Sithole?s (1998) second viewpoint, which resembles but is distinct from the first, accepts that students played an important role in the liberation struggle in this country. However, it contends that this must be understood in the context of a South African struggle against the apartheid regime where students were embroiled in an abnormal situation. In Chapter 5, I mentioned that the early 1980s was a period when school students were associated with a perceived tradition of violence, destruction and ungovernability in South Africa. The consequence was a growing rift between the older generation (parents, teachers, academics, community leaders, religious bodies and so forth) on the one side, and students on the other. It would appear, then, that the Guides interpret this history of student struggle for democracy as threatening and inappropriate in post-apartheid South African schools. In terms of this view students should not be involved in school governance. It is against this background that the Guides, like the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge, as Chapter 8 will show, might be seen as dictating or demanding unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools. The third viewpoint is premised on the notion that students do have a role to play in school governance, but that this should be circumscribed. This view reiterates the 162 Guides? inability to envisage a form of representative democracy that is enjoyed by a significant proportion of South African pupils. The policy document supports this claim: The purpose of this Guide is to supply you (RCLs) with relevant information about your roles and to help you to develop the skills required to play your part in improving and stabilising your school. ? An RCL also has to enable learners to contribute towards the improvement of the culture of learning, teaching and service in their school (Department of Education, 1999, pp. 6, 11). Regrettably, the laudable emphasis on a culture of learning, teaching and service coincides with the erosion of the SRCs? historical vision of democracy. However, the anti-apartheid struggle?s vision of democratic participation showed that a maximal concept of democracy or popular politics is feasible, realistic and can, in fact, restore stability in schools. Questions might be raised about the Guides? acknowledgement of the ?tradition of Student Representative Councils which played a major role in the birth of the new South Africa? (Department of Education, 1999, p. 11). I argue that the Guides do not seem to rekindle ?the best elements? of the SRCs? history and tradition appropriate for South Africa?s democracy, as the document alleges. The ?best feature? of the Student Representative Councils? tradition was its emphasis on the educative potential of learner participation. The three main concerns I have with the Guides? attempt to provide a ?third way? between the competing prefect system and SRCs? traditions are that, first, this is an effort to balance disparate, competing student representative styles; and second, the Guides? conception of democratic citizenship education provides both continuity and discontinuity with what preceded the 1994 historic democratic elections; and third, its commitment to democratic student representation consequently does not articulate the practice of a substantial form of student representative democracy in South African schools. Furthermore, the Guides? interpretation of the vision of student participation, which emphasises the need for stability, presupposes a threat to civility and order in society. Supposedly, this threat is seen as coming from the youth, given that only, 163 ?the best elements of the SRC tradition had to be considered in order to see what was appropriate? [for South African schools] (Department of Education, 1999, p. 11), and the Guides seek to counter the threat by emphasising a stabilising role for youth leaders. According to Seekings (1993), the apocalyptic stereotype of the youth is essentially hostile, identifying the youth with violence and destruction. As already mentioned in this chapter, the early 1980s was a period when school students were associated with a perceived tradition of violence, destruction and ungovernabilty in South Africa. To cite one example, students enforced consumer boycotts and stay-aways, often in a violent arbitrary fashion against alleged boycott breakers. The ?immediatism? among the school student population was expressed in the slogan ?Liberation Now, Education Later? in 1985. Students? struggle against what they referred to as ?gutter? education threatened to shipwreck the entire student movement. According to Hyslop (1988), ?lack of leadership and of formal structures, and weak or non-existent political education, laid the student movement open to exploitation by lumpen elements, and prey to a tendency to lash out blindly and violently at anyone who incurred suspicion? (p. 198) . This trend towards politically destructive violence took a number of forms. One was a sequence of attacks, often deadly, on individuals held responsible for the deaths of students. A second form of this lumpen violence was the ?necklace phenomenon?, namely put and set alight a wheel tyre doused with petrol around the victims head. A third form of this lumpen politics was the vicious rivalry that erupted between the student supporters of the United Democratic Front and the National Forum (NF).43 In contrast, the model of democracy developed in the anti-apartheid struggle shows that popular politics can be realistic and ?in fact? restore stability, both inside and outside the school. This was evident by the NECC?s saved the School Student movement 43 A non-Charterist umbrella organisation (i.e. one not guided by the Freedom Charter) formed by the Azanian People?s Organisation in 1983. 164 from self-inflicted danger and destruction, creating unity between students and communities and giving students political direction, as was evident between 1985 and 1986. Seekings (1993) challenges the apocalyptic stereotype of SRCs and youth in general during the 1980s. According to him, this characterisation is an over-simplification. Reducing the youth to participants in violence ignores school students? education and democratic achievements. For Sithole, (1998) creating a significant role for students in democratic school governance structures will lead to schools becoming ?fertile ground for training and building future leaders? (p. 111). I am in agreement with Sithole?s consequentialist justification for creating these roles for students in democratic school governance. We have seen how students challenged the unpopular ?prefect system? and conceptualised their own modes of democratic student representation. Students played a significant role in overthrowing apartheid by participating in political boycotts, rallies, meetings, marches and stay-aways. In terms of education, students took part in ?People?s Education? through debates, discussions, plays, poetry readings, films and songs. The Guides misinterpret this significant chapter of school student politics. Even though the SRCs? educational and political struggle reflects the culture, as it existed at the time, the democratic education acquired is still relevant in promoting and consolidating South Africa?s young democracy. The student history of struggling for democracy seems to have fallen victim to a post-apartheid citizenship education policy that does not speak to its intended democratic audience, and ?significantly ?to the assumption that now that democracy is in place, there is no further reason for critical interrogation of the status quo. The Guides provide a minimal and conditional role for student representation. Theorists of participatory democracy, such as Rousseau (1968); Mill (1975); Budge (1993); and Benhabib (1996), have endorsed the idea of participation (though the 165 focus is on adult citizens) and provide substantial arguments for its educational value. The Guides document states the purpose of the Representative Council of Learners with regard to participatory democracy in school governance structures: ?The council is to provide learners with an opportunity to participate in school governance and to participate in appropriate decision-making? (Department of Education, 1999, p. 11). On this point, the Guides? vision is inexplicit and unhelpful. The Guides allow participation of learners in decision-making only in ?appropriate? cases. Those appropriate cases are not spelled out. The fact that participation is limited suggests that there is little room for democratic student representation of the type promoted by the NECC and School Student movement of the 1980s. It is evident, then, that the Guides undermine SRCs? participatory forms of representation, and that their favoured conception of education for citizenship is minimalist. This apparent opposition to large-scale participatory form of representation points to substantial similarities between the Guides and the revisionists? assumptions about democracy. The fourth point of view identified by Sithole holds that students are one of the most indispensable components of democratic school governance at secondary school. Regarding this aspect, educational struggle has seen students confront the lack of direct, participatory forms of representation in school governance through the demand for democratically elected SRCs. Student Representative Councils became representatives of social change, and played a critical role in the general struggle for democracy and emancipatory education in South Africa, particularly in the struggle for educational transformation. Students? educational demands involved the democratisation of school relations linked to a broader national political struggle. One of Bundy?s (1987) commentators recognised the students? contribution: I mean there is no doubt about that, that the whole struggle in South Africa is dominated by the students. The students are in the forefront of the struggle [?T]he students organising and ?you know - shaping the history of the country; and hence it is the students who forced apartheid to introduce so- called reforms (Bundy, 1987, p. 318). 166 The SRCs were able to relate the struggles in schools to the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa. This connection between the struggle for democratic representation and the struggle for national liberation was well captured by a COSAS activist, who said ?we are members of society before we are students? ?and thereby [Student Representative Councils must]? demonstrate that students can play a ?progressive role in the broad democratic alliance? (Wolpe, 1988, p. 206). The general involvement of students in national politics, and particularly in protest against apartheid education was linked to every sector of society: women, academics, workers, civics, professionals, political groupings and so on. The present analysis supports Sithole?s fourth perspective, which argues that students are one of the most indispensable components of democratic school governance at secondary schools. If the lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency in post-apartheid South African educational policy is anything to go by, there is little chance for the SRCs? view to triumph. There has been a significant shift from the populist language that advocated classical progressive education based on political and educational strategies towards an emphasis on education without political connotations. The SRCs? history as student government and power is reduced in the Guides to instruments for liaison and communication in schools. The authoritarian and less democratic rule once challenged by the SRCs and the NECC appears to have found its way into the Guides. School students are discouraged from challenging and questioning the prerogatives of the principals and educators and the Departments of Education: An RCL must support or contribute to the sound management of the school authorities and must normally act in accordance with the school authorities. ? An RCL must remember that the relationship between educators and their employers (the provincial Department of Education) is governed by Labour Law and that they have no direct influence on labour processes and matters. ? It [the Representative Councils for Learners] must liaise and communicate with the learners, professional school management team (SMT) and the SGB at the school (Department of Education, 1999, pp. 12-13, addition mine). 167 There is no longer a mass democratic movement that brought together a number of students, political and organisational strands. The School Student movement?s vision of mass participatory democracy and equality concerned with democratisation of control over schooling at local, regional and national level is obliterated by the state. Though the Guides lean on a minimal view of education for citizenship, there are other aspects of the Guides that do give encouragement to a maximal reading. Among other positive elements that are stressed in the document are learners? voice and representation in the SGBs (p. 12). An RCL fosters participation and democratises school activities (p. 13). However, the Guides do not indicate how this would be done. After every meeting an RCL gives feedback to the learners. If an idea is turned down, and RCL must explain why approval was not granted (14). Differences of opinion are accepted among learners (15). Democratic decisions and constant consultation is to be sought all the time (Department of Education, 1999, p, 16). However, it is impossible to read the Guides in an unambiguously maximalist way because, as shown earlier, its recommendations are ambiguous and, indeed, flawed. The Guides claim to promote student participatory form of representation is not clearly articulated. Although the document has a maximalist tone in places, at the very least it fails to provide guidance at the very points where it is most required. As a result, education policy in South Africa after the transition recedes from the model of democratic citizenship education developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition. Given this analysis the possible direction for the Guides is that it will join the scrap-heap of moderate South African education policy and curriculum development?s attempt to move towards participatory, community-based education for citizenship. In short, the Guides do not encourage learners to promote and deepen democracy in South African schools. The break with the SRCs? concept of democratic student representation in schools has been diluted in the Guides for Representative Councils of Learners. For example, Members of the Executive Councils have vested powers to determine the powers and 168 functions of governing bodies. The MECs may grant or refuse additional powers to governing bodies. Evidence of this shift can be seen, firstly, in the way earlier concepts of students? mass participatory democracy gave way to legalisation and officialisation of student representatives in South African schools. Secondly, the Student Representative Councils? organisational unity, vision of democracy and political awareness has been transmuted into a concern with reconciliation between the prefect and SRCs tradition. Thirdly, technocrats like the TLO representatives have assumed the role of experts taking care of the ignorant student populace in South African schools. The Student Representative Councils? struggle had the effect of empowering and educating the student population; technocratic discourse is likely to have the effect of disempowering them. As stated in Chapter 5, the educational and political strategy of ?People?s Education? is giving way to a technocratic politics or discourse. I have examined three ways in which, over the past two centuries, the concept of student representation has been used in order to analyse student democratic participation and representation in post-apartheid South African schools. The concept has oscillated between autocratic ?boy-government? and democratic ?student- government? interpretations in South African educational history. Of note in the present conjuncture is the ?official? attempt to merge both ?boy-government? and ?student-government? systems, an aim that is likely to overshadow the latter tradition of mass-based democracy. Neither the tradition of prefectship nor the RCLs have much to contribute to the development of citizenship education in South Africa. This is arguably better achieved if we rediscover the SRCs? rich traditional voice and give learners once again the power to speak. It is by participating at the local institutions like schools that the individual ?learns? democracy. The SRCs constituted the potential to educate for citizenship in a democratic society, because through participation in it students found a ?free space? that produced active, informed and critical citizenry convinced that they can influence government in their quest to achieve an equitable, democratic and participatory schooling system. 169 6.5 Conclusion Although the Guides claim to consolidate democracy in South African schools, their recommendations, to combine prefectorial government and Student Representative Councils into RCLs, leave the RCLs with dominant elements of the ?prefect system?. Many black school students viewed the elite prefect system as part of the overall apartheid education system. Within the national educational struggle orbit, prefectship was resented and rejected in predominately black schools. Alternatively, black students found space in democratic SRCs for self-definition, for organising, and participating in a microcosm of democratic self-governance. The Guides selection of democratic citizenship education, namely its attempt to provide a ?third way? between the competing prefect system and SRCs? traditions has also to be understood in the context of a negotiated transition from apartheid to democracy, a compromise that ultimately led to the Government of National Unity in 1994. Its commitment to democratic student representation does not articulate the practice of a substantial form of student representative democracy. It does not envisage citizenship education that is enjoyed by a significant proportion of the South African learners. Unfortunately, what seems to characterise the Guides is a lack of an adequate concept of democratic participation and representation, a maximal concept that is necessary in order to promote, deepen and consolidate democracy in South African schools. I cannot imagine better structures to promote and consolidate education for citizenship and teaching of democracy in South African schools than the democratically elected and representative school councils. We need to select citizenship education programmes carefully. The choices we make have consequences for the kind of democratic South African society we ultimately help to create. The next chapter is concerned with fundamental philosophical questions such as the aim, justification and defence of compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education in post-apartheid education policy for South African schools. 170 CHAPTER 7 COMPULSORY SCHOOLING AND OBLIGATORY CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION44 IN SOUTH AFRICA Every politically controlled educational system will inculcate the doctrine of state supremacy sooner or later, whether as the divine right of kings, or the ?will of the people? in a ?democracy?. Once that doctrine has been accepted, it becomes an almost superhuman task to break the stranglehold of the political power over the life of the citizen. It has had his body, property, and mind in its clutches from infancy. An octopus would sooner release its prey (Paterson, [1943], 1972, quoted in Davie, 2005, p. 33). 7.1 Introduction The previous chapter pointed out how the British schooling system aimed at producing courageous and loyal boys, devoted to the British imperial power. The idea of compulsory schooling in South Africa was inherited from the British tradition. In South Africa, colonial settlers encouraged compulsory Christian education and compulsory manual work to push black students into positions of servility and to turn them into efficient and compliant workers. Under the National Party government, the nationalists trained white children for an ?uncritical? and ?supportive? role under the status quo while assigning to them a superior form of citizenship. At the same time, the period of struggle prior to 1994 developed a vision of a free, compulsory education system pertinent to the creation of a democratic state based on the will of the South African people. The idea of compulsory schooling based on a democratic vision of the anti-apartheid struggle presupposes a particular conception of schooling, 44 Schooling (institutional or formal school education) is often taken as synonymous with education per se (a process of enculturation). It is frequently forgotten that schooling and education are not identical concepts, and that what goes on inside the school is not necessarily always education. It may initially appear paradoxical that a learner should be forced to receive education which s/he is entitled to. For the purpose of this chapter, it will be assumed that individuals have the right to education, a claim that arguably cannot be compelled, while what is to be enforced is schooling. In other words, education occurs as a result of compulsory primary and secondary schooling. 171 namely one that is appropriate for a free, non-racial and democratic South African society. It is this struggle for a free, compulsory and uniform system of education that sought to break the stranglehold of the National Party?s political power over the lives of the oppressed black South African population. The purpose of this chapter is to defend compulsion, arguing that within the framework of the Athenian concept of democracy, and its emphasis on the educative potential of learner participation, state regulated compulsory schooling can be justified as an essential component of the curriculum in post-apartheid South African schools. This chapter is divided into four sections. Section 1 notes that the concept of compulsory schooling is a recent phenomenon inherited from the western education tradition. Section 2 shows that claiming the right to free and compulsory schooling and, by implication, of compulsory citizenship education is linked to the Freedom Charter and reflected in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). Section 3 points to the global policies that reflect the prototypical concept of democracy, with regard to state regulated compulsory citizenship education. Section 4 argues that within the theoretical framework of the Athenian version of democratic citizenship, compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education can be justified on the grounds that they develop active, self-helping type of character and promote social cohesion ? which is the common good in a democratic South African society. Given the specificities of this background, it will be argued that compulsory citizenship education has special significance in post-apartheid South African schools. 7.2 The origins of a formal compulsory schooling in South Africa The Dutch missionaries introduced an official practice of compulsory attendance in South Africa. I used the term ?official? because before the arrival of the Dutch and British settlers there were no formal schools as we know them today. According to Christie (1988), in pre-colonial African societies education was part of daily life. African children learned by experience from doing tasks. For example: 172 The boys learned how to distinguish useful grasses and dangerous weeds, how to stalk wild game, and how to stalk sheep and goats. ? All children were taught tribal history by oral tradition and were also helped to acquire the sacred cultural mores and attitudes as well as the modes of behaviour which were valued by their society. While the mothers prepared the evening meal after a long working day, the grandmother kept the children awake by telling fireside stories and by asking them to find answers to riddles and puzzles (Kajubi, 1974, p. 80). This is one of the seven ?cardinal goals of African traditional education identified by Fafunwa (1974)?, according to Adeyemi and Adeyinka (2003), to ?develop a sense of belonging and to participate actively in family and community affairs? (p. 429). The question is, however, whether this goal can be transported into post-traditional social contexts. In Chapter 2, I mentioned, following Enslin and Horsthemke, that Adeyemi and Adeyinka?s (2003) principles of African traditional education ?are either not particularly or uniquely African or do not constitute obvious ?sound? foundations? (Enslin and Horsthemke, 2004, p. 554). In agreement with Enslin and Horsthemke (2004), I maintained that the basic principles of democratic citizenship education are neither western nor (South) African, but apply to any society. In addition, Adeyemi and Adeyinka identified two weaknesses of African traditional education. First, pre- colonial ?People?s Education? exclusively focused on the clan or tribe. A second concern is (perhaps inevitable) the problem of indoctrination, i.e. educating learners by means of instilling fear and punishment. In short, the simple biggest drawback of African traditional education in the pre-colonial era is obvious. It produced obedient and submissive learners loyal to the African traditional authorities or elders. Importantly, the concept of compulsory schooling formulated in Dutch religious 173 circles and English industrial cities45 was to shape the South African schooling system until the turn of the 19th century. In 1652 the Dutch settlers arrived at the Cape. The settler government (1652 to 1806) brought with them a tradition of religious education under the direct control of the Dutch Reformed Church, through bodies such as the Consistory, the Scholarch, and the Bible-and-School Commission. Much the same as in Holland, religious education in the Cape had ?compulsory? features to it: The religious and civil affairs were very closely connected. ? Attendance of the Burgers46 at the Sunday services was compulsory on pain of forfeiture of six days? wine ration for the first offence, one month?s pay for the second, and the penalty of working in chains for a year for the third offence (Malherbe, 1925, p. 31). The Dutch concept of compulsory religious education was declared by the commandership of Jan van Riebeek (Governor of the Cape) in 1652 and 1659. In contrast, unlike in Britain where compulsory schooling was used to instil self- discipline and social control in the urban youth, the Dutch authorities by law had power and authority to enforce compulsory attendance at Sunday service as a sign of humbleness and obedience to God. In the eyes of the Dutch, compulsory Sunday services and the use of compulsion were generally necessary to get the Burgers to respect official proclamation and attain moral excellence as expected by the church. 45 During the late 1700s and early 1800s, Europe witnessed the beginning of industry and the growth of factories. According to Stephens (1998), by the 1850s, crime, endemic poverty and social unrest appeared to be spiralling, especially in urban areas, spawning fear of social disintegration. Given the social unrest that developed as a result of urbanisation and industrialisation, compulsory schooling was considered to resolve the urban crisis, a similar pattern which developed in South Africa in the 1940s and 1950s. In Chapter 6, I mentioned that British schools produced brave, courageous boys, moulded into conformity and loyalty towards the British Empire. Mack (1938) gave a vivid description of what the British Empire needed then: ?manly, well-adjusted, honourable boys moulded into unthinking conformity and imbued with passionate idealising loyalty towards authority, whether school or nation? (p. 125). In sum, British compulsory schooling served a dual purpose: First, as a tool for ?taming? or ?civilising? learners, educating them to the disciplines of industrial and urban society; and second it promoted obedient citizens who were loyal to the British Empire. 46 The ancestors of the present day Afrikaners, these free citizens of the Boer republic occupied the top rungs of the social hierarchy with Khoikhoi and slaves at the bottom. 174 The Dutch colonists? conception of themselves as civilised Christians enabled them to accept compulsory religious education as the ?natural order of things?. This coercive power of the Dutch Reformed Church translated into a substantial denial of Burghers? ? civil rights of citizenship. In other words, instead of civic liberties invoked to limit interference by Dutch authorities, individual rights were interpreted to include the obligations to obey the law and behave in a morally acceptable way. The first formal school for the Dutch East Indian Company?s slaves was opened in the Cape on 17 April 1658. In 1652 a colonial decree made school attendance compulsory for all slave children under the age of 12 and twice weekly attendance for older slave children. Van Riebeeck put into words the aim of compulsion in slaves? schools when he wrote in his diary: ?to stimulate the slaves to attention while at school and to induce them to learn the Christian prayers? (Horrell, 1970, p. 3). For example, slaves were promised each a glass of brandy and two inches of tobacco, for finishing their education tasks. According to Molteno (1991), the student-slaves resisted colonial Christian compulsory schooling that prepared them for subordinate positions, by flight and hiding in caves. Resistance to the Dutch and British colonial form of compulsory schooling will receive attention at the end of this section. Slaves? co-operation was hard to secure and they continued to reject imposed compulsory schooling under the British authority. In 1815 the British took over the Cape from the Dutch, and black schools became places of religious instruction, as well as of manual industry. Under British rule, some 35, 745 slaves were freed at the Cape and equal rights were extended to the Khoi and other persons of colour. According to Horrell (1970), schooling became important in that ?free? slaves ?became vagrants, squatting on government or private land, while numbers went to the outskirts or beyond the frontiers of the colony ... the need for more schools to instil discipline became acute? (p. 11). In the same way that the British Empire attempted to quell social unrest in the 1850s, compulsory schooling 175 was to be used to subdue the vagabonds, educating them in the disciplines of industry. In 1855 Sir George Grey, Governor of the Cape, said to Parliament: If we leave the natives beyond our border ignorant barbarians, they will remain a race of troublesome marauders. We should try to make them part of ourselves, with a common faith and common interests, useful servants, consumers of our goods, contributors to our revenue. Therefore, I propose that we make unremitting efforts to raise the natives in Christianity and civilisation, by establishing among them missions concerned with industrial schools (Rose and Tunmer, 1975, p. 205). This utterance gives us an idea of what the British colonialists hoped to achieve by schooling the children of the indigenous people. In a nutshell, the British colonial government saw ?compulsory? schooling as a device to ?domesticate? the natives, to instruct them in the Christian religion, and to train them to meet the economic needs of the British Empire. Grey?s ?civilised educational policy? (1855 to 1863) with its segregation and supremacist ideologies reflects the Dutch and British missionaries? belief in the value of hard work. As claimed by Hunt (1974), Grey?s policy intended to produce ?a docile and efficient labour force which would accept European religious and political authority and social superiority? (p. 6). This shared emphasis on ?teaching to work? by all and sundry, the close connections between missionaries, merchants and manufacturers was wrapped up in a whole set of white colonists? attitudes and values. In the words of John Philip, people schooled in the settlers? religion ?will be more productive, there will be an increase in consumption of British manufactures, taxes will be paid and farmers will have no cause to complain of a lack of labour? (quoted in Majeke, 1952, p. 66). Van den Berg (1987), for example, though writing about the South African history of education, noted that [T]he history of South Africa[n] [education policy] since the middle of the 17th century is the history of the consolidation of the dominance of the European colonists and their ancestors over the broad mass of the South African people ? the role of [compulsory] schooling in this process is so 176 clearly visible from the official pronouncements of the rulers and the enactments ? of the authorities over the centuries ? the message is the same: [compulsory] schooling is there to serve the perceived wishes, hopes, interests and fears of those who rule the country, and to serve the creation and maintenance of a particular economic order (Van den Berg, 1987 p. 4, addition mine). Van den Berg claims that European colonists set up formal schools to convert the original inhabitants from heathendom to the doctrines of Christian faith, but also in their being trained in the disciplines of industry. Or put differently, the establishment of compulsory schooling was intended to domesticate the black South African population in order to expedite the Dutch religious crusade, and to serve the British economic interests. In brief, compulsory schooling was established to promote Dutch religious instruction and the British industrial needs and values. On the whole, the British colonial version of compulsory schooling was to set the scheme for a South African education system differentiated along the lines of colour. The notion of uniting South Africa?s white states took hold after the British confirmed the independence of the Boer republics. Starting with the Orange Free State and Transvaal proclaimed in 1854 and 1859 respectively, let us take a look at how statutory compulsory schooling developed in the former province. According to Malherbe (1925), in the Volksraad (?People?s Council?, a legislative body) Session of 30 May 1893, the following views were expressed: Children belong not only to the parents but also to the State, and it is the duty of the State to provide the education when the parents cannot or will not provide it themselves. ? A father who cannot give his child an education must be assisted, and he who does not want to do so must be compelled. ? Compulsory Education does not detract from the freedom of the citizen at all. ? The Volksraad must make Education compulsory in order to protect the State itself (Malherbe, 1925, pp. 373-374). The Orange Free State?s view of compulsory schooling points to some significant developments: 1) it places compulsory schooling almost entirely in the hands of the state; 2) where applicable, a parent is to be compelled to guarantee a child?s right to 177 education and 3) compulsion is justified on the basis that it promotes individual freedoms in the medium ? to long-term. From a policy development perspective, the Volksraad Session signified a shift from the colonists? emphasis on compulsory Christian education and manual labour towards an education aimed at fostering free individuals able to manage the affairs of the Boer republic. In Chapter 4 I mentioned that the Afrikaners struggled to free ?white? South Africa in general and the Boer republics in particular, from all the confines of the colonial past. The Volksraad Session provides insight to the contradictory conceptions of citizenship education programmes both in colonial and apartheid South Africa in ensuing years. In other words, the right to education of white children is emphasised, ruling out non-citizens of the Boer republics. The Orange Free State province compulsory schooling was given a statutory status by the Cape School Boards Act of 1905.47 Similar to the Boer republics, the British colonies (Cape Colony and Natal) also made strides in providing compulsory schooling for European children. In the Cape the Education Commission of 1909 recommended to the federation of South Africa?s white states to support those children whose parents were unable to pay for fees. This view aided the Volksraad Session?s proposal that provinces should assist parents to provide compulsory schooling envisioned and required in the Boer republics. To ensure the full application of the provincial education policies, aids to enforcement became important elements of the white system of primary and secondary schooling. These measures included, among other things: 47 Two factors underlay the Cape School Board Act of 1905. The first was the institution of a more equitable system of local finance by means of taxing powers; the second was the voluntary introduction of compulsory education in provincial schools so as to enable governing authorities to deal with the large numbers of white children not yet at school. The Act made white schooling free and compulsory for all primary school children between the ages of 7 and 15 within a radius of three miles from the nearest school. In the Orange Free State province, the Hertzog School Act of 1908 institutionalised racial separation in education further, by placing white children on a fundamentally different footing from that of non-European children. In addition to the existing School Board Act, the Smuts Education Act of 1907 also made primary schools free and compulsory between the ages of 7 and 14 in the Transvaal province. 178 Regulations in all four provinces making education compulsory, their scope being steadily extended to higher ages and grades; the provision of free education and such prerequisites as free clothing, text-books and supplementary meals, the establishment of hostel facilities in central towns for children from remoter rural areas or from poor families; the injection of large sums of money into the educational system, not only for increased salaries to teachers, but for the building of schools, and school infrastructures, such as libraries, sporting facilities and transport systems; and the rapid expansion of facilities for teacher training (Shingler, 1974, p. 60). In a way, a centralised state education policy put the search for a free, compulsory schooling that sought to educate for white South African citizenship well on course. For the first time in the history of South Africa, because of government?s support initiatives schooling became free and compulsory for white children. The word ?free? focuses attention on the difficulties of enforcing and implementing compulsory schooling. These can range over geographic, economic, social and educational factors. With regard to aids to enforcement, the South African government was committed to: 1) help white children who had great distances to cover to get to school, and address issues of hunger and disability; 2) deal with the shortage of school buildings and shortage of teachers; and 3) address lack of parental guidance, homelessness, joblessness, and inability to pay for uniforms, let alone daily sustenance. At this point, the notion of a free, compulsory schooling articulated by the Boer republics and the British colonies firmly established itself in South African education discourse. Thus far, I have been concerned with the influence of the Dutch and British colonialists? notion of compulsory schooling in South Africa. At this point, a description of British, Dutch and South African education policies points to certain common characteristics. Firstly, a concept of compulsory schooling originated as a response to a much needed literacy during the Industrial Revolution and rapid 179 urbanisation in Britain and South Africa48, respectively. Secondly, while the colonial British concept of compulsory schooling served a dual purpose: First, as a tool for ?taming? or ?civilising? learners, educating them to the disciplines of industrial and urban society49; and second, promoting obedient citizens who were loyal to the Empire, in South Africa the idea was first introduced as a way to encourage (Dutch) religious instruction. Thirdly, at the same time in the colonial Britain and the dominion South Africa compulsory schooling served to further widen class distinctions, in the latter a segregationist and supremacist ideology also characterised black education in mission schools. A formal compulsory education developed fairly early in South Africa. Although compulsory schooling remained limited in scope, provincial authorities? support (namely aids to towards enforcement) gave impetus to its later realisation under the Union of South Africa. The path towards realising a free, compulsory, non-racial democratic schooling in South Africa had to steer through many decades of imposition of Christian civilisation, racial segregation and education for menial labour. The attention of this chapter now turns to the resistance to colonial-apartheid education policies, and the demand for a free, compulsory schooling that aims to prepare people for democratic participation in all spheres of South African society. 48 South Africa experienced rapid urbanisation and the expansion of secondary industrialisation in the 1940s and 1950s. Similar to the crime, endemic poverty and social unrest in British urban areas in the 1850s; the slaves emancipation that paved the way for vagrancy and squatting on government (1830s); and 3) the discovery of diamonds (1867) and gold (1886) that gave rise poor white? and working class, South Africa once more was to resort to schooling for solutions. 49 It was reported to the Interdepartmental Committee on Native Education of 1935-1936 that juvenile delinquency among Africans had assumed alarming proportions, especially in the urban areas. It was argued that if African youth of school age could be compelled to attend school, ?they would be usefully occupied during part of the day, and so acquire habits of orderliness and industry and hence become amenable to discipline? (Behr and Macmillan, 1971, p. 395). In his 1946-1947 presidential address to the South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR), Edgar Brookes called for compulsory education as a ?preventative against delinquency and crime? (quoted in Hyslop, 1999 p. 3). By the end of the Smuts government?s tenure of office in 1948, such ideas had penetrated the thinking of significant sections of government and administration. The Secretary for Social Welfare on top of that, aired the view that compulsory education could overcome the ?skollie? (juvenile delinquent) problem. The 1952 Van Schalkwijk Committee, furthermore, warned that the ?absence of compulsory education in towns results in greater freedom from supervision of non-European juveniles? (Hyslop, 1999, p. 4). 180 7.3 Compulsory schooling and citizenship: resistance and struggle The resistance to colonial compulsory schooling has a long history, beginning with the slaves? rejection of the Dutch Christian education system. Early opposition to compulsion, understood as interference with individual freedoms and socio-economic systems, in colonial schools took three forms: First, the student-slaves? response was flight and to hide in caves; second, the Khoi hunters, San herders and Bantu-speaking agriculturalists and herders often refused to send their children to school; or third at times they sent their children only for long enough to obtain specific benefits like clothes and food. After the promulgation of the Cape 1905 School Board Act, a plea for a free, compulsory schooling for black people swept across the four provinces. In 1909, the African People?s Organisation (APO) urged, through the columns of its official organ that [f]urther attention [be] paid to, and fuller provision [be] made for, the education of the coloured children of the (Cape) colony ? justice demands it. The coloured ratepayers bear their share of the burden of government, and are justly entitled to fuller facilities for education; and we are convinced that the only solution of the education problem will be found in making primary education free, secular, and compulsory for coloureds as for whites (quoted in Molteno, 1991, p. 86). A concept of a free, compulsory schooling as understood by the organisation was to be extended to a South African society as a whole, that is, Europeans, Coloureds, Africans and Indians. The organisation sought integration in the state-controlled schooling system for whites as a means of extricating blacks in general, and Coloureds in particular, from the non-citizenship status conferred on them. Regrettably, the Union government remained deaf to the Cape Coloureds? appeal to a free and compulsory schooling. The African People?s Organisation?s notion of a free, non-racial compulsory schooling was echoed in the Freedom Charter ? as well as the anti-apartheid movement, both with roots in the Athenian prototype, as the next section will show. 181 To the advocates of the prototypical Athenian democracy and, its notion of citizenship, the use of compulsion is necessary only if the school in which it takes place is both educative ? ?improves? the citizens and manages to ?conduct? its educational function in a participatory way. However, ?to the critics of compulsory schooling it is precisely this coercive intrusion into the life and mind of the individual that represents the most damnable feature of compulsory schooling? (Chamberlin, 1989, p. 91). Davie (2005) must have the Dutch and British mission schools in colonial South Africa in mind when she writes: Compulsory schooling is incompatible with a humane society, and primitive in its reliance on coercion and force. The pursuit of knowledge and understanding requires, above all, an environment that is free of such ancient and discredited instruments (Davie, 2005, p. xviii). There are two points worth noting about the Chamberlin and Davie quotations. First, the authors affirm Holt?s (1973) claim that schools have a dual purpose, ?the prime, legitimate humane mission or function of the schools ? to promote the growth of the children in them and the custodial or jail function and indoctrination ? the power to cause children mental and physical pain, to threaten, frighten, and humiliate them, and to destroy their lives? (p. 264). In other words, schools have always been located in two extreme and diametrically opposed positions: as liberating acceptable practices on the one hand, and as tools of oppression, on the other. In support of the former, Davie proclaims the value of the educative mission of compulsory schooling, namely, to ?improve? the citizens and build a humane society. This section of the chapter will show that the anti-apartheid struggle for a free and compulsory schooling ? the educative mission of the schools that is linked to the Freedom Charter ? is neither coercive nor repressive. One of the earliest and most influential formulations of the anti-apartheid struggle?s demand for a free, compulsory schooling that aims to promote democratic citizenship in South Africa is contained in the Freedom Charter, adopted at The Congress of the People in 1995 (see Chapter 4). The Charter famously declared that ?The doors of 182 learning and culture shall be opened ... education shall be free, compulsory, universal and equal for all children? (The Freedom Charter, 1955). This is a very brief but significant statement, considering that the Freedom Charter, as I mentioned in Chapter 4, makes reference to ?the will of the people? that is strongly reminiscent of the prototype of democracy sketched by Pericles (Thucydides, 1972). Second, the document affirms the basic assumptions, that is, collective self-rule, equality and freedom. In other words, this prototypical, maximal concept of democratic citizenship education is incompatible firstly with the Dutch and British colonialists central features of compulsory schooling, that placed emphasis on ?taming? or ?civilising? not only the Dutch, British, but also South African learners; and secondly the introduction of free, compulsory schooling for children whose parents were of European descent in the federation of South Africa?s white states, an educational incentive intended to encourage white citizenship, not inclusive of Coloured, Indian and African groups. The Charter shows that education for citizenship and democracy based on ?the will of the people? is likely to bring prosperity and secure individual liberties. As stated in Chapter 4, the Freedom Charter continued to be a guiding document to both young and old in the anti-apartheid movement in later years. The mood began to take focus when student organisations like the SSRC, COSAS, AZASO and others started calling for free and compulsory schooling for all South African children. The school student organisations like COSAS, AZASO and the National Union of South African Students (NUSAS)50 launched the Education Charter Campaign (ECC) in 1984. The ECC affirmed the right to free and compulsory schooling set out in the Freedom Charter, when it called for a Campaign for an Education Charter that will embody the short-term, medium- term and long-term demands for a non-racial, free and compulsory education 50 The National Union of South African Students was formed in 1924 to unite all white university students. In 1936 Afrikaans speaking white students left NUSAS. In 1967, disillusionment with (white led, multi-racial) NUSAS?s inability to reflect specific concerns of African students, South African Student Organisation (SASO) was formed in 1968. Even so, the NUSAS continued to have links with the black university student organisation AZASO. 183 for all in a united and democratic South Africa based on the will of the people (The National Co-ordinating Committee, Education Charter Campaign, 1986). Interestingly, the struggle for a non-racial, free and compulsory education based on ?the will of the people? bears the language inherited from the Charter tradition. The link between free and compulsory schooling and the anti-apartheid struggle for democracy is also telling. The objectives of the Charter Campaign were inter alia: to reach out to and consult all students in all corners of the country together with their communities and to receive contributions from them so that the document arises out of the principle of democracy; and to create a document around which students can organise and rally in striving for a democratic and relevant system of education for all (see Christie, 1988, p. 251). In a nutshell, the ECC was part of the anti-apartheid struggle, and reflected its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? embodying the Athenian notion of people?s power. The demand for a free, compulsory education based on the prototypical Athenian democracy was aptly captured by Sisulu in his address to the first conference of the NECC in Durban in 1986: The NECC has opened the way for people?s power to be developed in our struggle for a free, democratic, compulsory and non-racial education. The crisis committees have brought all sectors of the community together in the pursuit of this noble goal. ? The demand for free, democratic people?s education, we have said, is part of, indeed inextricably tied, to the struggle for a free, democratic, people?s South Africa (Sisulu, 1986, pp. 107-111). Hartshorne (1986) described the NECC?s struggle for free, democratic ?People?s Education? in South Africa as follows: ?In the wider context of the NECC movement, People?s Education can be regarded as the working out of the educational consequences of the Freedom Charter? an expression of the will of the people? (quoted in Van den Heever, 1987, p. 2). There are three points worth noting about the NECC?s struggle for free, compulsory education in apartheid South Africa. First, in 184 contrast to the Dutch missionaries, British colonialists and the Union of South Africa?s concept of compulsion, the NECC?s vision of state regulated compulsory education resembles democracy based on mass participation. Secondly, compulsion as a ?noble goal? is tied to the struggle for equality, freedom and democracy for all the people of South Africa. Thirdly, it also shows that compulsion can be bound up with the ?will of the people? in a democratic society. I do not embrace a pre-colonial concept of ?People?s Education?, the Dutch missionaries and British colonial notions of compulsory citizenship education, but rather, a prototypical, maximal concept of democratic citizenship sought to promote not only individual autonomy, but also to build a free, equal and democratic South African society. Soon after the advent of democracy in 1994, the Government of National Unity also introduced compulsory school attendance for all South African pupils. The anti- apartheid vision was given legal status in the new South African Constitution of 1996, which declared that ?everyone shall have the right: a) to basic education, including adult education; and b) to further education, which the state, through reasonable measures, must make progressively available and accessible (Republic of South Africa, 1996, p, 14). There can be little doubt that the Freedom Charter endorsed a modified version of the Athenian prototype, one that was envisioned in the anti-apartheid struggle and echoed in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). In the context of this chapter a question might arise, why the anti-apartheid vision of a free, democratic, compulsory and non- racial education in post-apartheid South Africa was so hard to put into practice? In Chapter 4, I showed that in principle the Constitution embraces an updated version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, and its notion of citizenship. On the other hand, in pursuit of democratic participation and active citizenry, there are a number of elements in the document which indicate a minimalist interpretation of citizenship education. To recall from Chapter 4: 185 ? A post-apartheid South African citizenship and by implication citizenship education is torn between ?transformative? goals on the one hand and ?democratic? goals, on the other; consequently ? the democratic elements are tentatively expressed and outweighed by the general transformative orientation of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996), thus rendering sets of post-apartheid citizenship education policy instruments conceptually incoherent; ? South Africa does not have a settled concept of citizenship to draw on, and by implication education for democratic citizenship too is still in a formative stage; ? as such there is a tension in the 1996 Constitution between ?transformative? and ?substantive? conceptions of citizenship, and by implication, of citizenship education; therefore ? in theory, the Constitution embraces an updated version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, and its notion of citizenship. In practice, South Africa?s emergent conception of citizenship education in post-1994 is ?transformative? rather than ?preservative? of the Athenian concept of democratic citizenship. Against this background, Chapter 5 maintained that the discontinuity between the anti-apartheid struggle vision of participatory democracy and active citizenship, on the one hand, and policy development after the transition, on the other, can be attributed to a lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency in post-apartheid South African educational policy. Furthermore, Chapter 6 argued that state policy documents undermine democratic participation and active citizenry. In fact, policy development after the transition reflects a minimalist conception of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education. In the next section, I examine the United Nations instruments that support the Athenian prototype of compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education as part of the educational entitlement of all children in modern-day societies. 186 7.4 Universal primary education and state regulated compulsory citizenship education The United Nations global policies on education espouse a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship applicable in any given democratic national context. As I discussed in Chapter 3, citizenship as a ?social contract? between the state and the individual is closely related to the notion of rights. Furthermore, the concept of compulsion is also understood in relation to state regulated compulsory schooling, an entitlement that is central to the idea of democratic citizenship. Article 26 of the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights (UNDHR) claimed that ?everyone has a right to education? followed by the prescription that ?elementary education shall be compulsory? setting a universal standard (United Nations, 1948). From a global (i.e. extra-national) perspective, the provision of compulsory schooling stems from the recognition that schools have a key role to play in educating learners for democratic citizenship. Citizenship grounded on rights and democratic principles, as pointed out in the UN global policies, will be considered below. In part, the principle of universal compulsory schooling promises to give impetus to education for citizenship and democracy at national school level. In other words, schooling, compulsion and citizenship have become indivisible and mutually reinforcing parts of democratic education policies worldwide. According to Christie (2008), various theories view the role of schooling as part of a pattern which needs to be maintained, or modified, or broken altogether (p. 15). To many advocates of Athenian democracy and its notion of citizenship, the use of compulsion is necessary because it improves the quality of life both for individuals and societies as a whole. In contrast to this view, Marxist theories see compulsory schooling as a reproductive tool that is schools have become part of structural inequalities, both in well-established and those in transition to democracy, including South Africa. A strong response, proposed by Holt (1974) is that ?aside from being boring, the school is almost always ugly, cold, and inhuman? (p. 40). Some of the 187 school-critics, like Goodman (1971); Illich (1974) and Lister (1974) have even gone as far as comparing schools to prisons: The headmaster is the prison governor; teachers are warders; the prisoners are the pupils, in the obvious instance, but the teachers are prisoners too. ? The school as a hospital tends to individual and social problems. Pupils have to attend by law. ? The deprivations of school include being deprived of the company of human beings other than members of the pupil?s peer group (Lister, 1974, pp. 85-86). Some critics have suggested an end to compulsory schooling, ?Since I became convinced of the case for ? deschooling, I now recognise that this was a dangerous reformism which detracts from the necessary struggle for the abolition of compulsory schooling? (Botford, 1993, p. 4). For Davie (2005), universal compulsion has to go; it cannot be reformed (p. 113). Even though internationally compulsory schooling remains a contested educational topic, its support and enforcement is considered by many as the most elementary sign of human progress with regard to individual and social dimensions of citizenship rights. In Chapter 3 I mentioned that Marshall?s (1950) classic definition of citizenship includes the social element, implying the state?s obligation to guarantee the right to education to its national citizens. In this regard, social rights include the unconditional right to universal primary education. In this fashion, nation states are encouraged by the global community to pursue active participatory citizenship as a goal for their learners. By upholding pupils? entitlement or the right to education, a nation state should prepare its youth for taking part in the political, economic, social and cultural responsibilities of adult society: The education of children has a direct bearing on citizenship, and, when the State guarantees that all children shall be educated, it has the requirements and the nature of citizenship definitely in mind. It is trying to stimulate the growth of citizens in the making. The right to education is a genuine social right of citizenship, because the aim of education during childhood is to shape the future adult (Marshall, 1950, p. 172). 188 In the context of globalisation, Osler and Starkey (2005) argue that civil and political rights and social, economic and cultural rights are interdependent. To elaborate, citizenship is defined in terms of practice, namely ?as an awareness of oneself as an individual living in relationship with others, participating freely in society and combining with others for political, social, cultural or economic purposes? (2005, p. 14). I am arguing then ? as global trends in liberal democracies reveal ? that ?education for human rights and democracy in the last analysis means the empowerment of each individual to participate with an active sense of responsibility in all aspects of ? life? (Spencer, 2006, p. 28). This is to say, a democratic society prepares its youth through the formal and informal processes of socialisation that make up its educational system. In this regard, the adage ?think globally, act locally?, is certainly pertinent to modern-day societies, including post-apartheid South Africa. The state aims to create a nation of able, informed and empowered citizens who understand that optimal personal fulfilment is likely to be achieved by active involvement in their society. In this respect, facilitation of the development of the child?s personality, talents and mental and physical abilities to their fullest potential requires the enforcement of compulsory schooling. In South Africa 1) state-regulated schooling that was compulsory only for whites was a direct contravention of the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights; and 2) consequently, the country became the battleground for the struggle for citizens? rights and human rights during the latter half of the 20th century. Unsurprisingly, the notion of state schooling remains crucial in universally recognised and accepted guidelines for establishing education for citizenship in schools. The UNDHR and its subsequent global commitments, in the form of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (1989), Education for All (2000) and the United Nations Millennium Development Goals (2001), will be discussed in detail shortly. These are models of education for citizenship that are grounded in human rights principles, and I use them as significant global education policies and practices that resemble a democracy based on mass participation. 189 The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) is an international agreement that came into being in 1989 ? although the drafting process began ten years earlier, in response to a formal proposal by Poland. The UNCRC has been ratified by 192 states, an important indicator of its global acceptance. Effectively, the UNCRC has put children?s rights on national and international policy agendas. The document is of special relevance to children?s rights, together with compulsory citizenship education. For instance, in article 28 signatories to the Convention pledged to provide, as well as enforce, free and compulsory schooling for all children in their respective countries: a) Make primary education compulsory and available free to all; b) .? and take appropriate measures such as the introduction of free education and offering financial assistance in case of need (United Nations, 1989, pp. 190-191). The UNCRC is groundbreaking in many ways: firstly, it points to the lack of progress in the implementation of universal elementary education since the 19th century when the idea established itself; secondly, it affirms the right to free, compulsory schooling of all children of the world regardless of race, class or ethnicity; and thirdly most importantly, states? parties are duty-bound to ensure that the enforcement is aided by free books, feeding schemes, transport or boarding, and family allowance and so forth. By implication, entitlement to free, compulsory schooling for all is likely to enhance pupils? ability to contribute to the progress of their respective nations. In the case of South Africa, schools are expected by the CRC to heed the imperative of education for participation in democratic governance. The most progressive part of the UNCRC is found among the articles addressing participation rights (Articles 12- 16). As it were, the UNCRC ?participation rights recognise children as meaning makers and acknowledge their citizenship? (Verhellen, 2006, p. 35). For example, article 15 states: ?no restrictions may be placed on the exercise of these rights ? which are necessary in a democratic society? (United Nations, 1989, p. 186). On this point, the right to education remains a cornerstone of a global social order, a 190 prerequisite for the overall, active, participatory citizenship in democratic countries like South Africa. The UNCRC?s notion of compulsory citizenship education is backed by article 29 that demands that states? parties agree to ?the development of the child?s personality, talents and mental and physical abilities to their fullest potential? (1989, p. 191). Embodied in the concept of education for citizenship is the principle that, as actors in political space, children are citizens. This means that adult-centric construct ?that defined children as not yet knowing, not yet competent, and not yet being? is being questioned (Verhellen, 2006, p. 35) Children are neither seen as consumers of citizenship education nor excluded from citizenship, on the basis of their being portrayed as threatening or apathetic. Against this backdrop, Chapter 6 defended the Student Representative Councils? tradition on the grounds of its emphasis on the educative potential of learner participation. It would appear, then, that education for citizenship is, therefore, the education of citizens, not the education of citizens-in- waiting. According to Osler and Starkey (2005), ?through recognising children as citizens and engaging with student voices, educators, policy-makers and researchers can increase their understanding of learning and teaching processes and of what constitutes a successful learning community? (p. 39). Given that participation rights in schools provide an opportunity for education, children are able to exercise their right to citizenship education. Hence, children?s rights to education, ?as covered in the CRC, have been categorised as the three Ps: those of protection, provision (services, material benefits) and participation? (Osler and Starkey, 2005, p. 43). In support of the UNCRC, the Education for All (EFA) movement was launched at the World Conference on Education for All in 1990, when representatives of the international community agreed to universalise primary education and massively reduce illiteracy by the end of the decade. 191 Much the same as the CRC, the Education for All movement is a global commitment to provide quality basic education for all children of the globe. There are six EFA goals directly linked to youth and adults, but just one of them provides a succinct summary: ?universal access to and completion of primary education by year 2000? (United Nations, 2000, p. 2). As a global movement, EFA is likely to bring popular organisations ranging from parents? bodies, teachers unions and student formations-, behind this noble idea of achieving universal elementary education worldwide. Its achievement of universal participation in education requires a push for more inclusive and meaningful forms of direct and participatory democracy at local, national and international levels. In this context, the right to education becomes critical in the struggle for citizenship. If the EFA global commitment is anything to go by, education for citizenship and teaching of democracy in schools is consistent with a modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy. In support of the Athenian prototype, Mill (1975) argued that it is only within a context of popular participatory institutions or large-scale society that one sees an active type of character being fostered. In South Africa, the anti-apartheid struggle and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? were both a political and an educational strategy based on mass participation. The Student Representative Councils tradition emphasised the educative potential of learner participation. The Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) are drawn from the actions and targets contained in the Millennium Declaration that was adopted by 189 nations and signed by 147 heads of state and governments during the UN Millenium Summit in September 2000. MDG 2 seeks to achieve universal primary education by 2015, by ensuring that ?children everywhere, boys and girls alike, will be able to complete a full course of primary schooling? (United Nations, 2001). The UNDHR and its subsequent global commitments in the form of Education for All, the United Nations? MDG arguably takes us a step closer to the realisation of every child?s right to compulsory citizenship education by 2015. The present, global policies will enable every child to form generative relationships and to know his/her rights and responsibilities, two 192 critical components that constitute citizenship. Compulsory schooling is likely to give them the chance later on to become active participating citizens able to contribute in the development of their nation states. Current state regulated compulsory schooling involves a conception of education as a means of effecting positive changes and promoting development in their own countries. While schooling in the history of South Africa has until recently been neither democratic nor compulsory for all, there is a need for some form of compulsion that is compatible with liberal democracies that favour a maximal conception of democracy and citizenship. Compulsion as the anti-apartheid struggle discussion indicated does not rely, to use Davie (2005) words, on coercion and force. On the contrary, this infringement of rights (if it is that) is compatible with the prototypical concept of democracy and citizenship at school level. 7.5 Compulsory, participatory citizenship education: rights ? not coercion In Chapter 3, I mentioned that the British government?s decision to introduce compulsory citizenship education in schools as a matter of national policy (in May 1999) speaks directly to the argument that state compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education, can be justified as an essential component of the curriculum in South African schools. In England, the Advisory Group?s report recommended that citizenship education be a statutory entitlement in the national curriculum at secondary level for students at Key Stage 3 (11-14 years of age) and Key Stage 4 (14-16 years of age). This view of compulsory citizenship education based on democratic participation and active citizenry was expressed in the Crick Report when its authors wrote: We unanimously advise the Secretary of State that citizenship and the teaching of democracy, construed in a broad sense that we will define, is so important both for schools to ensure that it is part of the entitlement of all pupils? It can no longer sensibly be left as uncoordinated local initiatives which vary greatly in number, content and method. This is an inadequate basis for animating the idea of a common citizenship with democratic values 193 (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 7). The Group emphasised both universal compulsory education and a broad conception of citizenship and citizenship education when it made ?a case for citizenship education being a vital and distinct statutory part of the curriculum, an entitlement for all pupils in its own right? (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998, p. 13). In its final report, it argued ?citizenship education to be a statutory entitlement in the curriculum and [that] all schools should be required to show they are fulfilling the obligation that this places upon them? (p. 22). The Group believed that citizenship education is important and distinct enough to warrant a separate specification within the national framework (p. 18). In May 1999, the British government decided that citizenship education must indeed be compulsory and that the curriculum should address issues as democracy, community, society and citizenship. In the light of the British experience, this chapter asserts that compulsion is not necessarily coercion. Contrary to the critics of compulsory schooling, compulsory citizenship education is not necessarily indoctrination or teaching by duress. It is the state?s responsibility to formally introduce citizenship education as a statutory entitlement in South Africa. By introducing citizenship education formally into schools as a matter of national policy, we rediscover the original Curriculum 2005 that made provision for citizenship education through the Human and Social Sciences Learning Area, which comprised four components: History, Geography, Archaeology and Citizenship/Civics. I also mentioned in Chapter 5 that Curriculum 2005 affirmed the democratic ideals of the Greek city-state of Athens. I contend that post-apartheid South Africa needs a revised approach to citizenship and citizenship education. This appeal for state regulated ?compulsory? entitlement for citizenship education, I will argue, is consistent with the Freedom Charter, the anti-apartheid struggle and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power?; as well as global policies that reflect a prototypical concept of democracy based on mass participation. 194 This section reiterates that within the theoretical framework of the Athenian version of democratic citizenship, compulsion in post-apartheid South Africa schools can also be justified on the grounds that: 1) it promotes individual autonomy, a citizen?s ability and inclination to act for him-/herself; 2) it builds social cohesion?the political goal or common good in post-apartheid South Africa, and 3) unlike the state compulsory schooling that relies on coercion and force, the Athenian version of citizenship education guarantees South African learners the freedom to opt out of ?official? school democracy projects. I argue that in post-apartheid South Africa, these are three necessary, and seemingly paradoxical, reasons with different purposes and different teaching approaches. The initial process of pursuing individual freedoms, I maintain, is concerned with fostering an active type of citizenry, whereas the second process of social cohesion involves initiating learners into the body of received ideas and practices appropriate for the South African context in which they are educated. The last process, the right to opt out of the ?official? compulsory citizenship education, assumes that a learner is or will be capable of making decisions with regard to participation in programmes and/or projects in the area of education for democratic citizenship. Significantly, this form of education that compels pupils? attendance in pursuit of citizenship is in keeping with: firstly an updated/modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, especially its democratic zeal for participation; secondly McLaughlin?s (1992) maximalist conception of citizenship, and of citizenship education; thirdly the model of democratic citizenship developed envisioned in the Freedom Charter and reflected in the anti-apartheid movement; and fourthly global policies that support the Athenian prototype of compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education as the duty of nation states or governments. To emphasise the points made in Chapter 2, a major function of participation in the theory of democracy is an educative one. It was Pericles (Thucydides, 1972) who proclaimed the value of individual autonomy, a central feature of democratic theory. 195 Pateman (1970) alerted us to the interrelationship between popular participatory institutions and their educative potential of citizen participation. Mill (1975) argued that participation of citizens in government develops an active character. Furthermore, Benhabib (1996) and Cohen (1989) claimed that deliberative democratic procedures impart information, promote good reason, and generally heighten moral, social and political awareness of individual citizens. If one follows these claims, one is likely to embrace a theory of democracy as an enterprising goal, that is, the education of the entire learners? intellectual, moral and practical capacities. In the context of the individual right to education, compulsion is likely to be acceptable, provided participation in the life of the school offers a chance for the development of active, participatory learners in South African schools. What this means, clearly, is that any defence of compulsory schooling that intends to ?improve? the citizens requires that schools are managed in a participatory and democratic way. In South Africa, the anti-apartheid struggle concept of democratic citizenship strove to liberate and put students in command of their lives, rejecting the British colonial Girl Guide system and the nationalist Youth Preparedness Programme designed to control and produce a subservient, passive type of character. In addition, the anti- apartheid struggle and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? prepared learners for ?total human liberation; one which helped them to be creative, to develop critical minds? (cited in Nkomo, 1990, p. 300). It follows that government public schools are to be judged by their effects on pupils, whether they ?improve? them, and/or by their efficiency help build a democratic South African society. The right to education justifies some compulsory schooling, although it is tempting in a society like South Africa, with its activist tradition of political struggle, to treat individual freedom as part of a more liberatory approach to citizenship education in our schools. In a democratic South Africa, compulsion that violates the right to autonomy is inconsistent with theories of participatory democracy, such as Mill (1975), Budge (1993), and Benhabib?s (1996), that have argued for a notion of citizenship which can imbue in citizens the virtue of practising a rational, consensus- 196 oriented deliberative discourse in a free, unconstrained and reflexive way. As free and equal citizens, pupils? sense of collective obligation to uphold individual rights is likely to enhance South Africa?s fledgling conception of citizenship and citizenship education. Advocates of maximal conception of education for citizenship are likely to force pupils to be free, to use Rousseau?s (1968) paradox, as a way of preventing them from missing out on education for citizenship and democracy which they are entitled to. A pre-political or personal contract between persons specifies the terms upon which they are prepared to enter society or submit to political authority: ? in order that the social pact shall not be an empty formula, it is tacitly implied in that commitment ? which alone can give force to all others ? that whoever refuses to obey the general will shall be constrained to do so by the whole body, which means nothing other than that he shall be forced to be free; for this is the necessary condition which, by giving each citizen to the nation, secures him against all personal dependence, it is the condition which shapes both the design and the working of the political machine, and which alone bestows justice on civil contracts ? without it, such contracts would be absurd, tyrannical and liable to grossest abuse (Rousseau, 1968, p. 64). Rousseau?s social contract theory is based on the ideal society, comprising two mutually reciprocal strands, namely the pre-political or personal and the political strand. The personal element binds or favours all citizens equally, rather than the rulers? orders targeting at particular individuals or groups. On the education front, Rousseau?s citizens are to be trained ?to will nothing contrary to the will? postulated by a democratic society. A democratic South Africa will place a premium on obligatory schooling to bring pupils to the spirit of citizenship and the teaching of democracy. This is essential for the wellbeing and preservation of a democratic system of government. On the present line of argument, I reiterate Pericles?s (Thucydides, 1972) praise of the Athenian prototype of democracy, as comprising two reciprocal dimensions, namely the personal (autonomy) and the public (political) dimension. In post-apartheid South Africa, a right to citizenship education aims to 197 prepare the youth for active participation in civil and political responsibilities of adult society. In contrast to the colonial-apartheid education system, compulsion based on participatory concept of democracy is not binding to the mind and body of the child. In ?Educating for active citizenship? (2000), Kreibig cautions against making the assumption that all students want to engage as active citizens, as well as against raising too high expectations of participation. In the words of Kreibig, ?I would hope that the way we teach and promote civic and citizenship education allows students the freedom to opt out of substantive participation with dignity ? treating citizens disdainfully builds resentment and alienation; further it is exclusive? (p. 99). Two issues bear on the question of student participation: interest and opportunity. Since children can and do have interests, it is generally held that their vital interests or needs be taken into account. The South African government cannot avoid passing on ideas to their children, but it is possible to teach them to treat ideas critically, and compulsion may be the only way to ensure that all children have the opportunity to do this. Therefore, education for citizenship and the teaching of democracy in schools must come to terms with, and attempt to strike a balance between, the individual and the political dimensions of citizenship rights. Any degree of compulsory citizenship education made available to students who are uninterested will improve their ability to engage with government and politics, should they choose to do so later. As mentioned in Chapter 2, the pursuit of individuals? rights does not stand in contrast to the quest for the common good: the promotion and consolidation of democracy in South African schools. Therefore, a maximal conception of compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education entails recognition of the learner?s right to optional education, at least in so far as it does not stifle the development of active, participatory citizenry and being guided, in case of conflicting claims, by a sense of duty to the public good. When ?catching? citizenship, to quote Rathbone (1971), ?each child is his own agent ? a self-reliant, independent, self-actualizing individual who is capable, on his own, of learning? (p. 104). At the very least, we 198 should attempt to bring compulsion within the confines of participatory democracy in order to foster public-spirited citizens responsive to the wellbeing of the public. These layers justify compulsory schooling as a means to an end which, in view of the individual?s rights, must be pursued. If educators, policy-makers and researchers are seriously committed to extending ?compulsory? citizenship education, then the Athenian concepts of democratic participation and active citizenry yield a notion of education for citizenship that arguably should underpin post-apartheid education policy in South Africa. In this way, education for citizenship and teaching for democracy in schools become a way of life and not merely a substrand or a subject in the school curriculum. 7.6 Conclusion In South Africa, the concept of compulsory schooling was established to promote Dutch religious instruction and British industrial needs and values. The difficulty of enforcing and implementing the Dutch and British colonial compulsory schooling directed at taming, as opposed to liberating, its citizens is bound to be resisted and rejected by the populace. It took educational pressure combined with political struggle, to achieve compulsory attendance, which was not freely available to all young South African citizens. A number of education policies by the United Nations world body indicate that the right to education, often associated with compulsory attendance, and the notion of citizenship education are not in conflict with one other. A state-regulated compulsion that embraces a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship education is neither exclusive nor repressive, but promotes enthusiastic individuals who bring their particular will into harmony with the general will. Even so, interference with the life and mind of the individual outside the realm of the Athenian prototype of democracy and its notion of citizenship cannot be justified, as it underpins a revised post-apartheid citizenship education policy in South Africa. The next chapter looks at the recent proposals for compulsory citizenship education in South African schools. 199 CHAPTER 8 THE FUTURE OF CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION IN SOUTH AFRICAN SCHOOLS The right to citizenship expects that each of us will be good and loyal South African citizens. This means that were are responsible for: obeying the laws of our country, ensuring that others do so as well, and contributing in every possible way to making South Africa a great country. ? I accept the call of this Bill of Responsibilities51, and commit to taking my rightful place as an active, responsible citizen of South Africa. By assuming these responsibilities I will contribute to building the kind of society which will make me proud to be a South African (Department of Education, 2008, pp. 4-5). 8.1 Introduction In Chapter 4 I showed how the concept of South African citizenship has undergone a transition from colonialism via apartheid to democracy. I did so by examining three contradictory conceptions of citizenship education programmes in South Africa: the British colonialists? Girl Guide Movement, the National Party?s Youth Preparedness and Veld Schools Programmes and the democratic citizenship education of the ?People? Education? movement. I argued that the first two conceptions of citizenship set out to train both black and white children to be obedient and loyal citizens of the Union of South Africa and Republic of South Africa, respectively. This chapter maintains that although the Bill claims to promote an ?active, responsible citizen?, in the final analysis it sets out to foster inactive, obedient and passive South African learners. The Bill is not to be confused with the new national Schools Pledge (2008) 51 In February 2008, the national Department of Education (DoE) introduced the Bill of Responsibilities as part of the national curriculum. The aim of the bill is to teach youngsters to be ?good? and ?loyal? South African citizens. 200 that has been proposed for daily recitation at assemblies and memorisation in classrooms. Similar to the 2000 Pledge, the new vow is intended to nurture ?patriotism?, or loyalty to the Republic of South Africa. The purpose of this chapter is two-fold: 1) it shows that the proposed compulsory citizenship education programmes recede from the model of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement rooted in the Freedom Charter tradition; 2) it maintains that their concept of compulsory citizenship education is in conflict with individual autonomy, a central feature of democratic theory ? namely it is unlikely to promote active, critical and inquiring individuals able to build, strengthen and consolidate democracy in South African schools. In post-apartheid South Africa, the promotion of social honour in the absence of a national dialogue and robust debate on government policies which should ?articulate the practice of a substantial form of education for citizenship? (McLaughlin, 1992, p. 245) is not consistent with deliberative democracy as a variant of the Athenian version of democracy. This chapter is divided into five sections. Section 1 gives a brief background on the proposed Bill of Responsibilities and the new national Schools Pledge. Section 2 shows that the language of the Bill of Responsibilities is prescriptive and dictatorial.52 Section 3 maintains that the patriotic School Pledge enforces obedience, if not blind loyalty, to the state. Section 4 argues that the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge do not offer possible strategies for getting from where we are to where we ought to be. Section 5 concludes that these citizenship education initiatives do not embrace cosmopolitan ideals, namely they place allegiance to South Africa ahead of universal humanity. Currently, there is a tension in post-apartheid South African educational policy and subsequent curriculum development between minimal and 52 In the introduction to this thesis I mentioned that the term ?dictatorial? is synonymous with the rise of totalitarian states based on mass participation ? namely with the collusion of the masses. The spectre of totalitarianism explains the concern with stability in a democratic polity, including South Africa. This chapter will argue that the Bill appears to echo the apocalyptic stereotype of the youth who are dangerous, irresponsible, uncaring, reckless and ungovernable, a conception criticised already by Seekings (1993). Unsurprisingly, the authors of the document are preoccupied with stability and ?normality? in South African schools. I contend that the Bill of Responsibilities might be seen as demanding and indeed dictating unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools. 201 maximal conceptions of education for citizenship. The Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge reinforce, rather than improve on, existing state policy instruments that undermine democratic participation and active citizenry. 8.2 The origin of the Bill of Responsibilities and the national Schools Pledge The previous chapters have raised a number of common issues that pertain to democratic participation and active citizenry in pre-and post-apartheid South Africa. The argument can be summed up briefly as follows: ? Participatory democracy, as understood in the Athenian city-state, namely as both an idea and a practice, is relevant in South African schools. ? The notion of citizenship that also emanated from the Greek city-state of Athens is regarded by the maximal theorists as the most fitting model for a successful citizenship education in schools, which offers a noteworthy prospect for a revised post-apartheid citizenship education policy in South Africa. ? This prototypical, maximal concept of democratic citizenship was reflected in the anti-apartheid struggle, echoed in the Freedom Charter as well as in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). It was against this background that the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996) declared that: There is a common South African citizenship. ? All citizens [including learners, both in public and independent South African schools] are ? equally entitled to the rights, privileges and benefits of citizenship; and equally subject to the duties and responsibilities of citizenship (Republic of South Africa, 1996, p. 3, addition mine). In terms of section 184 (2) of the Constitution (1996), the South African Human Rights Commission (SAHRC) has a mandate to investigate and report on the observance of human rights, including the right to education (for citizenship). 202 Following a number of publicised incidents of violence in schools, the Commission decided to convene public hearings on school-based violence. The SAHRC ?Report of the Public Hearing on School-based Violence? (2006) has found that ?bullying, gender-based violence, accidental violence, discrimination and violence, sexual assault or harassment, physical violence and psychological violence? (p. v) interfere with learners? Constitutional right to education. In short, the SAHRC identified citizens? rights and responsibilities as a key area that needed attention. The SAHRC?s report (2006) recommended that schools, through their curriculum, be entrusted with promoting rights and responsibilities of citizenship in South African schools: A rights-based life skills programme should be nationally implemented within the existing DoE curriculum that includes peace education, citizenship education, anti-bullying, human rights education, anger management, conflict resolution and mediation. ? Life skills training should have an emphasis on child rights and responsibilities that go with them and positive values (South African Human Rights Commission, 2006, p. 37). The Bill of Responsibilities has come to be considered part of Life Orientation, one of the compulsory subjects of the national curriculum. The Bill was mainly the work of the National Religious Leaders? Forum (NRLF)53, which began drafting it in June 2007. Speaking on behalf of the NRLF, Chief Rabbi Warren Goldstein said the idea behind the Bill was ?to nurture a culture of giving, care, compassion, duty and responsibility in our youths? (The Teacher: ?From rights to responsibilities?. 2008, p. 4). As a result, a joint initiative between the NRLF and the DoE introduced the Bill of Responsibilities in South African schools with a focus on the 1996 Constitution and Bill of Rights. In short, the DoE hopes to convey to the youth that they have a 53 In 1997 the then-President of the Republic of South Africa, Nelson Mandela, called upon the religious communities to have their leaders constitute a national forum in which all would work together towards changing the moral climate of the South African society. This forum became known as the National Religious Leaders? Forum. It consists of and is represented by the majority of faiths and religions practised in South Africa. The NRLF Executive consists of a seven-person group of high profile religious leaders who encourage, among others, the promotion of moral education in South African schools and the wider society (see Just, 16 May 2008). 203 responsibility to respect the right to equality, human dignity, life, family or parental care, education, work, freedom and security of the person, property, freedom of religion, belief and opinion, a safe environment, citizenship and freedom of expression. What is interesting for the purpose of this chapter is the inclusion of ?right to citizenship?, and by implication education for citizenship. The assumption from the DoE is that through its curriculum, the Bill will ensure that there is common understanding of the rights and obligations of citizenship in South African schools. In the second section of this chapter, I will argue that the prescriptive and dictatorial nature of the Bill (which is supposed to act as a supplement to the 1996 Constitution and Bill of Rights) undermines its attempt to educate for citizenship in South African schools. I now turn to the genesis of the national Schools Pledge. The national Schools Pledge is not a new phenomenon in South Africa. The idea of the School Pledge was introduced by the Working Group on Values in Education (2000)54 as a starting point for a national debate on ?the appropriate values South Africa ought to embrace in its primary and secondary educational institutions? (Department of Education, 2000, p. 1). In other words, the 2000 pledge was supposed to be part of a wide ranging national debate that should pronounce on the appropriate practice of education for citizenship and democracy in South African schools. The proposed pledge did not see the light of day for the following reasons: 1) the prevailing opinion was that it enforced unquestioning obedience and loyalty to the Republic of South Africa; and 2) it was not considered a priority by the national Department of Education. The matter of a new national School Pledge was first raised 54 In Chapter 5, I hinted at two essential documents that conceptualise values in education for a post- apartheid South Africa ? the ?Values, Education and Democracy: Report of the Working Group on Values in Education? (Department of Education, 2000) and the ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy? (Department of Education, 2001). The Manifesto sought ?to distil the good things of South Africa?s past and give them definition, for the education of future generations of South Africa? (Asmal, Foreword, p. 2). Equally, the working group stated that ?the definition it gives to values today is an avenue to imagining the future character of the South African people? (James, Executive Summary, p. 1). Against this backdrop, the working group proposed the promotion of social honour, the value which South African school children should regard as desirable. At the heart of teaching honour in schools was a pledge of allegiance at weekly school assemblies with a focus on the values and principles of the Constitution and Bill of Rights of 1996. 204 by former President Thabo Mbeki in his state of the nation address in February 2008. Mbeki said that the government ?should develop an oath that will be recited by all learners in their morning school assemblies? (State of the Nation Address, 08 February 2008). Of note is that the idea of a School Pledge is no longer part of a national debate, but rather a significant policy statement. Similar to what undergirded the 2000 version, the national DoE seeks to require all schoolchildren to recite the pledge of allegiance to the Constitution and the Republic of South Africa. This chapter holds that the proposed national School Pledge is not consistent with individual autonomy, a central feature of democratic theory. I will show that the pledge is premised on educating the youth for an ?uncritical? and ?passive? role in South Africa?s democracy. Of note in the present conjuncture is that South African education policy and curriculum development is taken over by religious leaders and the state instead of being used to open up national dialogue and debate on the nature and practices of learners? duties and responsibilities in a democratic society. I argued in Chapter 5 that in a democracy a wide ranging debate and greater involvement should guide policy formulation and curriculum development. The Bill of Responsibilities and the national Schools Pledge add to the narrowing of the educational policy agenda of ?People?s Education? that supported a prototypical, maximal conception of education for citizenship in South African schools. In the process, the Bill and the Pledge undermine the promise of democratic participation that is rooted in the anti-apartheid tradition. The DoE only invited public input regarding the content, but not the aim of the pledge. In fact, there was no debate (and certainly no evidence of a general agreement) about whether the proposed documents constitute part of appropriate policies to educate for citizenship and democracy in South African schools. Instead, members of the public had one month to comment, though the Bill was already distributed to schools in February of the same year. Similarly, although the School Pledge was announced in February 2008, it had already been published, and 205 the public was given a month to give input. In general, the Ministry of Education did not allow South Africans sufficient time and space for consultation. This form of purported participation, which has been referred to by Arnstein?s (1969) as exhibiting a ?degree of tokenism?, is not genuine participation. In their current form the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge are not likely to be endorsed by a significant proportion of the South African public, particularly learners. In the course of this chapter, I will argue that to make the Bill and the new Pledge compelling instruments of citizenship will require a national debate that is not confined to religious and political leaders alone. It is the ramifications of the maximal concept of democracy, with regard to education for citizenship that is likely to get South African learners from where they are to where they ought to be. I now turn to a discussion on the Bill as part of the state regulated compulsory entitlement to compulsory citizenship education for all South African learners in secondary schools. 8.3 The Bill of Responsibilities and democratic citizenship education In Chapter 6, I discussed how the ?Guides for Representative Councils of Learners? (1999) perceived South African learners as essentially hostile, identifying them with violence and destruction. The Bill, similarly, embodies the apocalyptic stereotype (see Hyslop, 1988 and Seekings, 1993) of a youth who are dangerous, irresponsible, uncaring, reckless and ungovernable. To wit, the Bill?s emphasis on socially and morally responsible behaviour towards one another is manifest in the following: ? Not to endanger the lives of others by carrying dangerous weapons or by acting recklessly or disobeying our rules and laws (p. 2) ? ? To live a healthy life, by exercising, eating correctly by not smoking, abusing alcohol, or taking drugs, or indulging in irresponsible behaviour that may result in my being infected or infecting others with communicable diseases such as HIV and AIDS (p. 2) ? ? To be kind, compassionate and sensitive to every human being, including greeting them warmly and speaking to them courteously (p. 2) ? 206 ? Not to hurt, bully, or intimidate others, or allow others to do so (p. 3) ? ? To adhere to the rules and the Code of Conduct (Department of Education, 2008, p. 2). The Bill needs to be commended for striving to instil a sense of rights and responsibilities that flow from the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996). Most laudable is its attempt to address, treat and prevent all forms of violence in South African schools. As the Bill tries to make its mark, however, the fundamental difficulties in making schools functional that have been with us since the transition in 1994, are arguably yet to be alleviated. Similar to the Guides, the authors of the Bill are preoccupied with stability and normality in South African schools. By promoting order and discipline, the Bill hopes to develop ?national character?, which the DoE regards as desirable. Unfortunately, the emphasis on students? discipline and order is likely to undermine learners? active engagement with the values considered ?core? by the DoE. If Constitutional values are merely imposed on learners, there is the danger of insufficiently engaging, indeed of circumventing, learners? intellectual abilities and critical faculties that must surely constitute the cornerstone of South Africa?s democracy. Explicit in the Bill is the DoE?s endorsement of compulsion to bring the South African learners to respect official pronouncements and to develop moral excellence, as expected by the state. It follows that the Bill of Responsibilities is inclined to demand, if not dictate, unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools. In the last section of this chapter a distinction is made between compulsory citizenship education that develops active, self-helping type of character and promotes democratic citizenship, on the one hand, and the proposed compulsory citizenship education initiatives that undermine democratic citizenship in South African schools, on the other. I mentioned earlier in this chapter that the term ?dictatorial? is synonymous with the rise of totalitarian states based on mass participation ? that is with the collusion of the masses. 207 A review of literature on violence in urban schools in South Africa (Independent Projects Trust, 1990) talks of a culture of violence existing in South African schools ? a systematic cycle of violence that had its origin in the apartheid years when authoritarian institutions stressed obedience, conformity and passivity. A white educationist in Christie?s (1988) research expressed his opinion about authoritarianism in apartheid South African schools: In my opinion, African schools, around Johannesburg anyway, are more rigidly authoritarian. ? Some African schools are known for their strict headmasters, who enforce rules by corporal punishment and even expulsion. Children in these schools are strictly disciplined ? even regimented (Christie, 1988, p. 133). According to Christie, the authority structures in apartheid South African schools taught learners that they were expected to be obedient, to conform to the rules ? and that they would learn what happened if they did abide. In white schools, as discussed in Chapter 4, we saw the influence of the apartheid South African Defence Force (SADF) in the Youth Preparedness Programme. Kotze?s speech (1972) brought to light the ?physical dangers? facing white schools: You have already seen the sirens which are to sound the warning when the bombs start falling. Would you know what to do with your pupils if this should happen during school-time? Would you know how to extinguish fires, how to save people from under the ruins and how to nurse them? (cited in Christie, 1988, p. 167). Kotze?s speech is significant for two reasons: Firstly, it demonstrates the extent of the National Party?s authoritarianism in white South African schools; and Secondly, it indicates how government control influences the authoritarian hierarchical structures to teach a whole range of attitudes, values and assumptions that presumably prepare pupils for the wider society. In Chapter 6, I examined the autocratic ?boy- government? and undemocratic School Representative Councils as part of school authority structures. I also showed how the ?prefect system?, both in the British colonial era and apartheid South Africa, yielded discontent and undemocratic 208 practices like division and exclusion, excessive power and authority, harsh and sadistic punishment, cruelty and bullying. It would appear, then, that the Bill of Responsibilities needs to be seen in the context of a colonial-apartheid social system as a whole ? and its authoritarian schooling system that spans across two centuries. The language of the Bill is both prescriptive and dictatorial, as exemplified by the following responsibilities placed on school children: The right to citizenship expects that each of us will be good and loyal South African citizens. This means that we are responsible for: obeying the laws of our country, ensuring that others do so as well, and contributing in every possible way to making South Africa a great country. ? I accept the call of this Bill of Responsibilities, and commit to taking my rightful place as an active, responsible citizen of South Africa. By assuming these responsibilities I will contribute to building the kind of society which will make me proud to be a South African (Department of Education, 2008, pp. 4-5). Just like Schumpeter?s apathetic and passive citizens, the Bill assumes that school learners have a reduced knowledge and understanding of their rights and duties as South African citizens. In addition, the Bill?s concept of ?good? and ?loyal? citizenship paints the picture of a school learner who, in the absence of explicit exhortation, is incapable of acting in a socially and morally responsible manner. The language of ?obedience? is highly revealing given that the words ?good? and ?loyal? are not defined or elaborated upon. Furthermore, learners are urged to accept and commit themselves to what is, in effect, an impoverished sense of citizenship. On the whole, the language of ?expectation?, ?acceptance? and ?commitment? manifest in these prescriptions is not appropriate for a democratic South Africa. The Bill does not embrace a maximal concept of citizenship, that is, of active, critical and inquiring citizens who are able to take part in the democratisation of South Africa. The Bill is likely to make schools the instruments of slavish obedience to the state and the wishes of religious leaders. There is also a noticeable move, to use Dieltiens?s (2005) words, away ?from ? developing autonomous citizens [learners] who are able to freely express themselves? (p. 189). 209 In his article, ?Schools are bad places for kids?, Holt (1974) asks whether schools ?are trying to raise sheep ? timid, docile, easily driven or led ? or free men?? (p. 43). With regard to South Africa, too, my take is that the Bill is intended to make learners ?a flock of sheep innocently nibbling the grass side by side? (Mill, 1975, p. 345). If what the DoE desires is sheep, namely docile and unquestioning dependents, the Bill as part of a compulsory curriculum subject would be the appropriate way of preparing South African learners for citizenship. If the South African democratic state yearns for active, critical citizens, however, then the Bill?s recommendations are flawed and ambiguous, as I will show below. A good citizen is not only an informed individual, but a critical and independent subject with an open and inquiring mind. In other words, at the heart of state citizenship programmes lies the promotion of individual autonomy, the development of intellectual, moral and practical capacities of citizens. By contrast, the Bill?s conception of ?good? and ?loyal? citizenship is likely to develop learners who can engage actively with values which the DoE has proclaimed to be an unquenchable aspiration in South African schools. The Bill runs roughshod over the idea of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition. The state stranglehold over its learners has no place in post-apartheid South African schools. Education for democratic citizenship is incompatible with such a dictatorial tone. The Bill?s concept of citizenship is presented as if it were unproblematic. Yet, there clearly is a tension in the Bill between minimal and maximal conceptions of education for citizenship. On the one hand, the Bill aims to prepare learners for ?good? and ?loyal? citizenship while, on the other, it hopes to promote active, responsible citizens in schools (this is the core of its ambiguity). Given the Bill?s essentially undemocratic make-up, the notion of active, responsible citizenship gives rise to ambiguities and tensions inherent in the post-apartheid citizenship education policy. I mentioned, earlier in this chapter, that the term ?dictatorial? is indicative of authoritarian institutions that stressed obedience, conformity and passivity in apartheid South African schools. As a result, the Bill?s minimalist view of citizenship 210 in South African schools reflects substantial doubts and reservations with regard to the School Student Movement?s concept of participatory democracy based on mass participation: learners are being seen by the authors of the Bill as posing a threat to the culture of learning and teaching in South African schools. On the whole, the Bill echoes both the colonialists? prefect system and Nationalists? Youth Preparedness Programme that are incompatible with the maximal concept of democracy that reflects the model of democracy developed in the Charter tradition ? envisioned in the anti-apartheid struggle movement ? enshrined in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). I noted in Chapter 6 and 4 that neither the tradition of prefectship nor the YPP have much to contribute to the development of citizenship education in South African schools. The Bill seems to replicate three possible viewpoints identified by Sithole (1998) that students? participation in democratic projects that enhance citizenship education in schools is absurd, abnormal, and therefore should be circumscribed. It does so against the background of the assumption that students should passively receive instructions and behave themselves in accordance with the Constitutional values that South African society deems vital for a new order. By seducing or worse, coercing children to be ?good? and ?loyal?, the Bill undermines the defence of compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education in South African schools, based on democratic participation and active citizenry, mounted in the previous chapter. First, the Bill is incompatible with individual autonomy, a citizen?s ability and will to act for himself or herself. Second, it is not appropriate in terms of building, strengthening and consolidating South Africa?s democracy. As the next section will illustrate, the School Pledge reinforces the Bill?s prescriptive and dictatorial tone by seeking to promote ?passive? rather than ?active? critical learners in South African schools. 211 8.4 The national Schools Pledge and democratic citizenship education The Working Group on Values in Education identified ?nurturing the new patriotism? as one of the sixteen key strategies for instilling the values of the Constitution in South African schools. As mentioned earlier, the group made the argument for a School Pledge, writing ?We believe that the ritual of declaring a pledge of allegiance or vow at weekly school assemblies will serve as a reminder of the fundamental values to which South Africans in a democracy aspire? (Department of Education, 2000). The 2000 version of the School Pledge reads: I promise to be loyal to my country, South Africa, and to do my best to promote its welfare and the well-being of all of its citizens. I promise to respect all of my fellow citizens and all of our various traditions. Let us work for peace, friendship and reconciliation and heal the scars left by past conflicts, and let us build a common destiny together (Department of Education, 2000). Similar to the Bill, the School Pledge?s concept of ?good? and ?loyal? citizenship paints a picture of a school learner who, in the absence of explicit exhortation, is incapable of acting in a socially and morally responsible manner. From the old Pledge also stem the values of peace, friendship and reconciliation that the DoE regarded as necessary in building a common South African citizenship. Alongside the vow of allegiance, the group recommended that the national anthem be taught and sung at schools. In a democratic society, imposed uniformity (daily recitation and singing) does not encourage young people to be informed and critical citizens. This concept of learning is susceptible to unthinking compliance, if not uncritical patriotism. In the first section of this chapter I stated that the 2000 School Pledge did not make it from paper to practical reality partly because it sought to enforce obedience to the state. Perhaps not unsurprisingly, the 2000 Pledge was resented and rejected in many quarters. 212 Given the history of student struggle against autocratic ?boy-government?, one might have thought that enforced obedience would be seen as undesirable in a democratic South Africa. The 2008 version reads: We, the youth of South Africa, recognising the injustices of our past, honour those who suffered and sacrificed for justice and freedom. We will respect and protect the dignity of each person and stand up for justice. We sincerely declare that we shall uphold the rights and values of our Constitution and promise to act in accordance with the duties and responsibilities that flow from these rights. !ke e: / xarra // ke [written in the language of the /Xam San people, which literally means, diverse people unite] Nkosi Sikelel? iAfrika [God bless Africa] (Department of Education, 2008, addition mine). The School Pledge is noble and inspirational in that firstly, it calls on the youth to acknowledge the injustices of the past; and secondly, honour the heroes and heroines who endured suffering and sacrifice for justice, democracy and citizens? rights in South Africa. Against this background, the words of the Pledge are meant to evoke national pride and promote nation-building and common South African citizenship. In terms of citizenship, it might be said that the document is crafted with the aim of producing informed and thoughtful South African citizens. Unfortunately, the concept of education for citizenship informing the Pledge is based on an assumption of the state?s supreme wisdom as ?political? parent of all South African citizens. The new School Pledge echoes Plato?s (1994) theory of the family state that places educational authority exclusively in the hands of a centralised state. According to Plato, the state uses its political authority to educate the young to desire not only what is good for themselves, but for their society ? to pursue the good of all people. In The Republic (1994), Plato writes that it is one of the state?s chief responsibilities to inculcate in learners loyalty to the values of the state, and indeed these very values, so that children ?hear only morally sound stories, which will help them gain the appropriate social attitudes, such as respect for their parents, the desire for political unity?, and so on (p. 70). In the case of South Africa, the DoE at the direct request of President Thabo Mbeki as head of state has proclaimed social honour as a public 213 value to be absorbed and lived, by young South African citizens. The state as the ?political? parent of all its citizens hopes to educate young people for good citizenship, to what Mbeki calls ?the new patriotism? (Department of Education, 2001, p. 15). When the state School Pledge works explicitly with the values enshrined in the Constitution it speaks to learners of their duty to obey, and claims also its right to rule them. The School Pledge creates the conditions under which its children are bound to honour and obey the state. The state claims its right to rule South African learners. This parental imagery and its idea of education for citizenship are open to a number of objections. It would seem that we have not learned from the past, particularly the dangers of legislating a value system and turning it into an ideology. The most notable objection is that school children will have to recite and memorise the pledge. It would appear, then, that the mere recitation of the pledge?s words undermines a central tenet of the prototypical view of citizenship and citizenship education, that is, the value of individual freedom. Although he does not write about the South African pledge, obviously the School Pledge infringement with individual autonomy is succinctly summed by Gatto (1993) when he writes: Our system of government school destroys both mind and character. It prevents the formation of the most precious resource of all ? a self. To have a self you can trust it must be singular, it must be bold, it must be brave, resourceful, strong, self-reliant, unfettered. Does anyone ? think government schools teach such things? (cited in Davie, 2005, p. 18). In Chapter 7, I mentioned that the pursuit of individual freedom does not stand in contrast to the quest for the common good, that is, building, strengthening and consolidating South Africa?s democracy. Gatto?s quotation alerts us to a system of government that lacks a wholistic approach to educate its democratic citizens. In South Africa, as elsewhere, a government?s wholistic approach would include an education for citizenship that seeks to develop active characters who contribute to the common welfare of society. The well-rounded South African citizen of the future is not merely a historically aware learner, but an active, informed and critical individual. 214 On the contrary, the pledge is likely to lead to unreflective socialisation through the teaching of social honour in South African schools. A more damaging outcome would be the reinforcement of an unquestioning and uncritical attitude to the values that guide South African social interaction. Similar to the Youth Preparedness Programme, South African learners would be socialised into unthinking compliance, if not unreflective patriotism. The national School Pledge is a ritual that elevates a notion of patriotism that is not open to critical inquiry in South African schools. This is especially pertinent in a situation like the recent one where ?patriotism? in South Africa gave rise to rampant xenophobia and brutality towards foreigners. In the process individual autonomy is sacrificed in favour of group observance and uncritical obedience. I contend that the values which South Africans in general and school students in particular, have desired for generations ? freedom, independence and critical thinking ? are not consistent with children repeating lines in an habitual manner. This conception of learning endorses rote compliance to the detriment of a free, independent and critical society towards which South African people aspire. Gutmann?s (1987) critique of Plato?s family state provides a tool to evaluate the draft pledge for schools in South Africa. According to Gutmann, a concept that locates educational authority squarely with the state has its particular problem: the most obvious one being the difficulty to determine the best Constitution for any society and the correct concept of the common good of any person. Let us take a look at how Gutmann?s view is reflected in the South African state?s value-based documents. The opening lines of the Constitution (1996) and School Pledge?s wording ? in particular the first two lines ? read, respectively: We the people of South Africa, believe that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, united in our diversity (Republic of South Africa, 1996, p. 1). We the youth of South Africa, recognising the injustices of our past, honour those who suffered and sacrificed for justice and freedom. We will respect and 215 protect the dignity of each person and stand up for justice (Department of Education, 2008, p. 6). These two quotations point to the vision of a common South African citizenship, of a nation united in diversity and working to build a just society. The School Pledge serves as a reminder of the core values towards which South Africans in a Constitutional democracy aspire. Importantly, the Constitution and the School Pledge support the claim made in Chapter 4 that South Africa?s developing conception of citizenship is still very much in the making. In this context, the state?s attempt to determine, among other things, how ?the Constitution is to be taught, as part of the curriculum, and brought to life in the classroom, as well as applied practically in programmes? (Department of Education, 2000, p. 1), presents challenges for the way future South African citizens will be educated. Clearly, the constituents of a common South African citizenship and what constitutes the (sole) good life are yet to be discovered. Unless we can establish what determines a common South African citizenship, we shall lack a substantial argument to compel school children to swear rote allegiance to the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa and the School Pledge. An argument based solely on nurturing the new patriotism or affirming our common citizenship is not only inadequate but dangerous, because patriotism, historically, has been linked to the diminution of intellectual abilities and critical faculties of learners in schools, as well as the rise of violent xenophobia. The National Religious Forum and the then-President Thabo Mbeki have sought to convince the rest of the South African public that they have discovered the values to guide social interaction in schools. It is generally held that the Bill of Responsibilities and the patriotic School Pledge provide practical frameworks for instilling and reinforcing values that will lead South Africa into its desired future. The message from the Bill and the Pledge is the same: 1) there is a need to enforce citizenship education programmes that inculcate obedience and loyalty to the Republic of South Africa; and 2) these coercive state controlled Constitutional value systems are to be given expression in South African schools. As opposed to citizenship itself informing 216 values, the Bill and the Pledge stipulate a common South African citizenship that is defined by values. It would appear, however, that a joint venture between the National Religious Forum and the government would contravene the spirit of ?People?s Education? and its vision that resembled a prototypical Athenian democracy based on mass participation. Firstly, the religious leaders seem to assume that teaching values in schools does not require a process of democratic participation in order to ?articulate the practice of a substantial form of education for citizenship? in South African schools. Secondly, the government is equally wrong in deciding that the best way of inculcating fundamental values that underlie our Constitutional democracy is through the daily recitation of a patriotic pledge. In this way, the documents are unlikely to be able to forge ?the citizenship of tomorrow, the common destiny of the South Africa to be? (Department of Education, 2001). In the main, the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge?s undemocratic nature is incompatible with a maximal interpretation of education for citizenship and democracy. Most disturbing is the coercive intrusion of the doctrine of state supremacy, to use Paterson?s phrase (cited in Davie, 2005, p. 33), into the lives and minds of burgeoning South African citizens, as quoted in Chapter 7. Both documents constitute a set back to the South African citizenship educational policy development to date. Nonetheless, the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge are useful in attempting to probe deeper into a vexed question like, who should share the authority to influence the way future citizens are educated? 8.5 The Bill of Responsibilities and the Schools Pledge: dialogue and debate In Chapter 2, I argued that education for citizenship is likely to be effective in a democracy, where ?the people? are encouraged to participate actively in the discourses of educational policy development. This prototypical, maximal concept of democracy implies genuine engagement and robust debate on government policies 217 with regard to citizenship education in schools. In South Africa, participatory democracy with roots in the Charter tradition was a value that was once cherished: ? The NECC slogan ?People?s Education for People?s Power? (1985) encouraged collective input and active participation by students, teachers, parents and the community in the initiation and management of people?s education in all its forms. ? The National Education Conference (1992) developed a vision of post- apartheid education policy that was governed by the principle of democracy: active participation of various interest groups, in particular teachers, parents, workers and students. ? The White Paper on Education and Training (1995) was concerned with the concept of popular participation, where active participation of all parents, teachers and other educators, students, community leaders, religious bodies, NGOs, academic institutions, workers, business, the media, and development agencies was needed to reconstruct and develop the national education and training system so that it was able to build a democratic society. ? Finally, the ?Values, Education and Democracy: Report of the Working Group on Values in Education? (2000) was a starting point in what ought to become a national debate on the appropriate values and mores South Africa ought to embrace for its primary and high schools. These are strategic objectives and practical policies that span across different periods: the anti-apartheid struggle, the transition and post-apartheid South Africa. The anti- apartheid struggle vision of national debate, and of agreement (at least as far as possible) about education policy in post-apartheid South Africa, though upheld in early policy documents, has diminished in importance. The Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge do not represent the collective input of the South African people that has been arrived at by general consensus [this may have worked in traditional African communities ? but it hardly constitutes a principle worth 218 pursuing in a modern democracy]. In this section, I point to the importance of a general agreement about public virtues and the common good, and about how citizenship and education for citizenship themselves are to be understood. If Gutmann?s (1987) criticism of the family state theory is correct, then the national DoE-proposed Bill and the Pledge are morally and educationally suspect. As discussed in Chapter 7 it is important to emphasise that states have an important role to play in educating for citizenship and democracy. However, a democratic state of education recognises that educational authority is distributed among communities: parents, teachers, students and professional educators. According to Gutmann: A democratic state is therefore committed to allocating educational authority in such a way as to provide its members with an education adequate to participating in democratic politics, to choosing among a range of good lives, and to sharing in the several sub-communities, such as families, that impart identity to the lives of its citizens (Gutmann, 1987, p. 42). Unfortunately, citizenship education in South Africa since 1994, as reflected in key educational instruments, has been shown to rest on fairly minimalist assumptions, with restricted emphasis on political involvement and participation that is seen as required by citizenship. Chapters 5 and 6, respectively, dealt with the broad distribution of educational authority among citizens: Firstly the ?progressive? parent- teacher-student structures were built on educational relationships based on participatory democracy; secondly, and which is why the right to a free and compulsory education system was linked to the struggle for a united, non-racial and democratic citizenship in South Africa; and thirdly consequently, a defence of compulsory citizenship education within the framework of theories of participatory democracy was used as a basis for policy recommendations and the implementation of future programmes and/or projects in the area of education for democratic citizenship in South African schools. 219 However, the state-proposed Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge?s (2008) do not offer possible strategies for getting from where we are to where we ought to be. It is evident that both documents fall short of the proposed official compulsory citizenship education in South African schools as shown in the previous chapter. When compulsory citizenship education is given a more ?maximal? or ?active? definition, schools ensure that burgeoning citizens? characters are developed through critical and creative thinking and reasoning, while at the same time contributing to the democratic project that seeks the common good in South Africa?s democracy. In other words, this is an account of citizenship education that values individual autonomy and consolidates democracy in South African schools. By contrast, as we have seen, the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge present a forceful case for resting educational authority exclusively with a centralised state, especially if schools ? as they are often caricatured ? are mere instruments of the ideological apparatus of state. McLaughlin (1992) acknowledged the complexity contained within the concept of education for citizenship: It is the absence of agreement about ? public virtues and the common good, which gives rise to the various disputes about ?citizenship? and ?education for citizenship? which have been alluded to. With regard to the educational task, this lack of agreement constitutes a challenge to those seeking to justify a ?maximalist? approach, to specify the concrete shape it should take, to defend it against accusations of exercising illicitly centripetal influences and to provide confident answers to questions such as whether education for citizenship can transmit a particular way of life (McLaughlin, (1992, p. 243). In Chapter 4, I mentioned that Ramphele (2001) explored the complexities of defining citizenship and challenges the tendency to assume that there is one form of citizenship in post-1994 South Africa. Furthermore, I examined competing concepts of citizenship, which show the challenges posed for democratic education in post- apartheid South African schools. In post-apartheid South African education policy, there is also a need for a wide ranging national debate about the most appropriate 220 education for citizenship that should guide the values proclaimed as appropriate for a democratic society. South Africa needs a programme of action that secures the commitment of a significant proportion of the population: students, teachers, parents and the wider community. The debate about ?forms? of education for citizenship will arguably never be closed and, indeed, ought to remain alive at this time and in the future. If we are to live our Constitution and our Bill of Rights rather than just hear it interpreted for school learners, the DoE?s responsibility will be to teach South African youth to think, and not to impose rote compliance or to indoctrinate them. The values prescribed and enforced in the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge run the risk of closing down, rather than opening up, a meaningful debate about values that South Africans have desired for generations, and still aspire to. 8.6 Citizenship education in South African schools: ?the new patriotism? or cosmopolitanism In the absence of the adage ?think globally, act locally?, patriotism, that is, blind identification or pride for the uniqueness of one?s country, arguably makes sense. However, the discussion in the previous chapters of the ?classical theory?, especially its emphasis on participation and its concept of citizenship has shown that ? norms of universal moral respect and reciprocal recognition imply that citizens can be taught to put themselves in the place of others in making both moral and political judgements (Benhabib, 2002); ? the basic principles of democratic citizenship education are neither western nor (South) African but apply to any part of the globe (Enslin and Horsthemke, 2004); ? the Advisory Group?s notion of a ?successful? citizenship education in schools is one that teaches participatory democracy and active citizenship not only in the context of the United Kingdom or the European Union but, indeed, in a global context (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority, 1998); 221 ? the United Nations? global policies on compulsory citizenship education enable every child to form generative relationships and to know his/her rights and responsibilities at any level, local, national, regional or global. In contemporary debates, the term ?cosmopolitanism? is often used to refer to the community of human beings, i.e. moral and political ties that bind citizens of nation states like South Africa to the rest of the world. A cosmopolitan vision, for example, underpins the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948). The Preamble of the Declaration proclaims: ?recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family? a common standard of achievement for all peoples and all nations? (United Nations, 1948). Put differently, cosmopolitanism yields ethical norms that ought to govern relations of the human family. With regard to this conception of cosmopolitanism, there are three reasons for being particularly reluctant to teach patriotism or national pride in post-apartheid South African schools as a component of citizenship education. First, the conception of patriotism as a citizenship education programme brings to mind an ideology characterising South Africa?s fairly recent past that I have not yet discussed in this thesis: the ideology of Christian Nationalism. Second, the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge are likely to exhibit elements of democratic nationalism.55 Third, cosmopolitanism as a philosophical project implies that education for 55 According to Crick (1964) the meaning of democratic nationalism is found in the coincidence of its two parent terms, ?democracy? and ?nationalism?. As a national project, democratic nationalism has three main features. First, ?it maintains that an identified population has a unique set of characteristics, which identify it as a nation? (Cashmore, 1994, p. 224). Second, it embraces the notion of national sentiment which refers to loyalties of the people towards the nation rather than the world. Third, and consequently, it asserts the primacy of national identity over the claims of globalisation, universalism or cosmopolitanism. In South Africa, the 1996 Constitution maintains that South Africa is a democratic state committed, at least in theory, to ?government [being] based on the will of the people? (p. 1, addition mine), on the one hand, and the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge promote national pride and nation-building, and a sense of common citizenship, on the other. In brief, the notion of democratic nationalism is applicable in post-apartheid South Africa, given that nationalism can also be found in locations that have the appearance of being rigorously democratic. In support of this claim alongside the vow of allegiance, the national anthem is taught and sung in South African schools. Furthermore, in a democratic society, imposed uniformity (daily recitation and singing) does not encourage young people to be cosmopolitan in their outlook. 222 citizenship and democracy in South Africa should recognise that learners have a common humanity and a sense of solidarity with others on the globe. In this section, I will examine CNE, its history and its basic beliefs. I will not discuss specific programmes in apartheid South Africa which were designed to promote Christian National beliefs, that is, the Nationalist Youth Preparedness Programme and the Veld Schools. I have already discussed these citizenship education programmes in Chapter 4. During the 1930s and 1940s Afrikaner nationalism grew, and CNE constituted a substantial part of this growth. In 1948 the Institute for CNE published a well-known pamphlet setting out Christian education policy. The introduction of the pamphlet stated that Afrikaans-speaking children should have a Christian-Nationalist education, for the Christian and Nationalist spirit of the Afrikaner nation must be preserved and developed. ? By Christian, in this context, we mean according to the creeds of the three Afrikaner churches; by Nationalist we mean imbued with the love of one?s own, especially one?s own language, history, and culture. ? Nationalism must be rooted in Christianity (Federasie van Afrikaanse Kultuurvereenigings, 1948, p. 1). A Study Project on Christianity in Apartheid Society (SPRO-CAS) describes these schools as follows: At these schools, Dutch was the medium of instruction for most subjects at the primary level, although in the CNE high schools in towns English continued to be the main medium of instruction. ? In all CNE schools there was a strong emphasis on Christian teaching according to the Calvinist doctrine. ? The majority of Dutch-Afrikaner children were sent to these schools (SPRO- CAS, 1971, p. 72). There are a number of points to make about the Christian National Education as a dominant ideology under the National Party government. First, CNE points out that white education had a specific political goal ? Afrikaner nationalist struggle or nationalism, ?to fight the perceived challenges of British imperialism and a black majority in South Africa? (Leatt et al, 1986, p. 72). Second, Afrikaner nationalism 223 was imprinted through language and cultural heritage, history and traditions, so as to inculcate a spirit of patriotism in white schools. Third, as a policy for white Afrikaans-speaking children, the CNE notion of citizenship education invariably reinforced the apartheid race-based understanding of citizenship. Lastly, Christian National Education was, in effect, a set of national political projects disguised as ?patriotic? education projects. The National Education Policy Act (39) of 1967 also reflected the Afrikaner ideology of Christian-Nationalism: education in schools maintained, managed and controlled by a department of State (including a provincial administration) shall have a Christian character, but that the religious conviction of the parents and pupils shall be respected in regard to religious instruction and ceremonies ? education shall have a broad national character (Republic of South Africa, 1967, p. 376). According to Malherbe (1977), in 1971 the Minister of Education defined Christian National Education in the following way: Christian Education in schools shall have a Christian character founded on the Bible and imprinted ? through religious instruction as a compulsory non- examination subject. National Education in schools shall have a broad national character which shall be imprinted ? through the conscious expansion of every pupil?s knowledge of the fatherland, embracing language and cultural heritage, history and traditions, national symbols ? participation of pupils in national festivals, and their regular honouring of the national symbols, so as to inculcate a spirit of patriotism, founded on loyalty and responsibility towards the fatherland, its soil and its natural resources (see Malherbe, 1977, pp. 147-148). The above discussion of CNE contributes to the discussion of patriotism, nationalism and cosmopolitanism in many ways. First, its shows that teaching patriotism has been the force behind the development of Christian National character in the apartheid South African schools. Secondly, reminiscent of the CNE, through the Bill and the School Pledge the National Religious Forum and the democratic government 224 emphasise the importance of national loyalties above that of humanity in general. Thirdly, given the influence of Christian-Nationalist government conception of citizenship in post-apartheid South Africa, there is arguably a tension between the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa?s (1996) ?cosmopolitan? goals and the Bill and the Pledge?s ?democratic national? goals. Fourthly, against the backdrop of apartheid Christian-National based citizenship; it will be argued that a blend of patriotism and cosmopolitanism is appropriate for a successful education for citizenship and democracy in post-apartheid South Africa.56 Lastly, the erstwhile institution of CNE alerts policy-makers of the dangers of unintended functions of the school, that is, the ?development of compliance and submissiveness?, even from citizenship education initiatives that claim to speak to democratic national audience (Hamm, 1989, p. 56). In Chapter 4, I mentioned that the rejection of the volk?s ?ethnic nationalism? gave rise to the emergence of a popular notion of democratic citizenship associated with the Charter tradition in the 1950s. This analysis and discussion of citizenship education programmes point to the contested notions of citizenship in South Africa that have also affected post-apartheid citizenship education policy, as well as the conditions under which it has to be implemented. Although the Bill of Responsibilities and the patriotically-tinged School Pledge are built on the democratic concept of citizenship echoed in the Constitution of South Africa (1996), section 2 and 3 of this chapter have shown that the documents are prescriptive and promote national pride, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the state. Furthermore, the Bill of 56 This ?balanced? approach for teaching citizenship education requires that patriotism and cosmopolitanism be treated as controversial issues. This help to mitigate negative effects of patriotism, such as the prescriptive and dictatorial tone and dictating or demanding unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools. I would like to reiterate three features that underpin the defence of compulsory citizenship education in post-apartheid South Africa. In Chapter 7 I argued that compulsory citizenship education can be justified on the grounds that ? it promotes individual freedom, the pursuit of the general enlightenment; ? it builds social cohesion?the political goal or common good in post-apartheid South Africa; ? it guarantees South African learners the freedom to opt out of ?official? compulsory citizenship education initiatives like the Bill of Responsibilities and the patriotic Schools Pledge. 225 Responsibilities and the national School Pledge do not embrace cosmopolitan ideals, i.e. they place allegiance to South Africa ahead of universal humanity. What, if anything, might be said in favour of teaching patriotism in post-apartheid South African schools? In his chapter ?Should Schools Teach Patriotism? (2008), Brighouse identified four reasons for seeking to promote patriotism in present-day societies, reasons that provide a useful framework for further analysis in post- apartheid South African schools: ? Obligation: People do, in fact have special obligations to put their compatriots first, and they will be more likely to discharge these obligations if they are taught a sense of national identification. ? Solidarity: Patriotic identification helps to underpin the sense of social solidarity we need to achieve in order for people to be willing to make the sacrifices necessary to achieve and maintain a just distribution of liberties, opportunities and resources in society. ? Citizenship: People who have come to identify with their compatriots will find it easier to develop and exercise the traits of the good citizen. In particular, it will be easier for them to modify their demands with reason if they acknowledge those they are arguing with as people with whom they identify. ? Flourishing: Identification with a particular place and the people in it is an important component of human flourishing. Being connected to other people makes a vital contribution to most people?s sense of well-being, and by encouraging patriotic sentiment helps to feel that sense of connection with the people in their immediate vicinity (see Brighouse, 2008, p. 102). It is important to note that Brighouse?s four cornerstones strongly resemble the centre of teaching patriotism in the Bill of Responsibilities. Firstly, the Bill?s preamble reminds South African learners of their obligation, namely duties and responsibilities 226 to themselves and their fellow learners. Secondly, the Bill conveys to the youth that they have a responsibility to build solidarity, that is, ?a common sense of belonging and national pride? (Department of Education, 2008, p. 1). Thirdly, ?the right to citizenship expects [learners] to be good and loyal South African citizens? (Department of Education, 2008, p. 4). Lastly, in order for a democratic state to flourish, that is, to bring prosperity and secure individual liberties, learners are urged to ?accept the call of th[e] Bill of Responsibilities, and commit themselves to take their rightful places as active, responsible citizens of South Africa? (Department of Education, 2008, p. 5). The discussion of Brighouse contributes to the proposed compulsory citizenship education initiatives in South African schools in two ways. First, the concept and criteria of patriotism inculcate norms of social behavior exclusively focused on promoting national obligation, solidarity and citizenship. Secondly, Osler and Starkey?s (2005) argument, that our lives and those of others are linked globally as well as locally, renders Brighouse?s notion of human flourishment or fulfillment questionable, at least in post-apartheid South African schools. There are two difficulties with teaching patriotism in South African schools. First, at the core of patriotism is a sense of obligation, solidarity and identification with one?s nation, South Africa ? the very opposite of Benhabib?s (2002) norms of universal moral respect and reciprocal recognition envisioned in the Advisory Group on Education for Citizenship and the Teaching of Democracy in Schools in Britain and the United Nations global policies on compulsory citizenship education, as discussed in Chapters 3 and 7, respectively. Second, the South African Constitution of 1996 seeks to: ?build a united and democratic South Africa able to take its rightful place as a sovereign state in the family of nations? (Republic of South Africa, p. 1). However, a tension between South Africa?s pledge to democratic universalism claim, on the one hand, and the Bill and the national School Pledge?s conceptions of patriotism, on the other, is likely to undermine cosmopolitan citizenship and, by implication, learning for cosmopolitan citizenship. It is for the reasons listed above that post-apartheid citizenship education policy should allow for the problematisation of teaching 227 patriotism; namely, it should allow a place in the curriculum for teaching patriotism in South African schools, but that it should be taught as a controversial issue. In the discussion that follows, I argue that the recent citizenship education initiatives, especially the School Pledge, exhibit features of what Crick (1964) term democratic nationalism. According to McLean (1995), nationalism is related to patriotism since the term nationalism ?contains a different dimension to mere patriotism, which can be a devotion to one?s country or nation devoid of any project for political action? (p. 334). In other words, patriotism stimulates and informs nationalism, although the term is not always nationalistic as interpreted by the National Party during apartheid South Africa. In the context of this chapter, the concept democratic nationalism refers to a democratic nation built on national ?shared values, habits and practices that assure respect for one another?s rights and regular fulfilment of personal, civic and collective responsibilities? (Etzioni, 1995, p. 155). In South Africa, democratic nationalism describes patriotism, i.e. love of country ?that the citizens feel as their own business? love coupled with self-interest and pride ? political love translate[d] ? into the practices of participatory democracy? (Viroli, 1995, p. 181). The fact that nationalism emerges at the time that South African education policy claims to promote and consolidate democracy in schools is of significance. The two terms, ?democracy? and ?nationalism?, imply that even long-established democracies or those in transition to democracy require of its citizens to think and act locally. In other words, cosmopolitanism is likely to be presented as unpatriotic and in opposition to the endeavour of forging a democratic national character. This portrayal, I will argue, is unlikely to contribute to the ?build[ing of] a united and democratic South Africa ... as a sovereign state in the family of nations? (Republic of South Africa, p. 1). The chapter will now present a case against democratic nationalism, dangers of nationalism, even from initiatives that purport to democratic universalism in South African schools. In short, patriotism stimulates and informs nationalism in South Africa?s democracy. 228 In post-apartheid South Africa, the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge have several commonalities with Afrikaner nationalism. These are the common features between Afrikaner nationalism and democratic nationalism: ? they both aim to forge a national character based on forced obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the Republic of South Africa; ? national citizenship education programmes are not neutral, open education initiatives; rather they have a particular political purpose ? that is, to spread a particular nationalist worldview; ? they lack genuine engagement and robust debate on government policies with regard to citizenship education in South African schools; ? in the final analysis, both conceptions of education for citizenship lack the strength and impetus to cross national boundaries and be truly cosmopolitan in practice. In Chapter 5, I mentioned that what is emerging in post-apartheid education policy in South Africa is a concept of citizenship education consisting of complex and contradictory elements that provide both continuity and discontinuity with what preceded the historic 1994 democratic elections. In brief, South Africa does not have a settled concept of citizenship to draw on, and by implication education for citizenship and democracy too, is still at a formative stage.57 I think there are some dangers inherent in these ?patriotic? educational projects in post-apartheid South African schools. According to Crick (1964), democratic nationalism is problematic because it reflects at once the two greatest weaknesses in the claims for nationalism: ?the assumption that there are objective characteristics by which nations are known, 57 In post-apartheid citizenship education policy, with the restoration of equal citizenship and the establishment of a non-racial democracy, one might have thought that the idea of citizenship education, explicitly built on the tradition of democratic participation, would be seen as vital in order to bring together those previously divided. In theory, the Constitution (1996) embraces an updated version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, and its notion of citizenship. In practice, however, South Africa?s emergent, post-1994 conception of citizenship tends toward a ?transformed? citizen able to overcome the apartheid divide, i.e. race and ethnicity-based contested notions of citizenship in South Africa, without committing to the provision of the tools necessary for such transformation (both internal/personal and external/political), in pursuit of a modified version of the prototypical concept of democratic citizenship envisioned in the Freedom Charter. 229 and the assumption that there can be any single criterion of the proper unit of population to enjoy its own government? (Crick, 1964, p. 75). This chapter is critical of the concept of compulsory citizenship education that underpins the post-apartheid South African schools. To recall from Chapter 7, I argued that within the theoretical framework of the Athenian version of democratic citizenship, compulsion in post-apartheid South Africa schools can be justified on the grounds that: ? it promotes individual autonomy, a citizen?s ability and inclination to act for him-/herself; ? it builds social cohesion?the political goal or common good in post-apartheid South Africa; ? it does ?not infringe upon the wittingness and voluntariness on the part of the learner? (Hamm, 1989, p. 38); ? education policies by the United Nations world body indicate that the right to education, often associated with compulsory attendance, and the notion of citizenship education are not in conflict with one other. In contrast, the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge undermine compulsory citizenship education by: ? nurturing ?patriotism?, or blind loyalty to the Republic of South Africa; ? dictating or demanding unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools; ? infringing on individual freedom to opt out of ?official? school compulsory citizenship education namely all schoolchildren are required to recite the pledge of allegiance to the Constitution and the Republic of South Africa; ? not embracing cosmopolitan ideals, that is, they place allegiance to South Africa ahead of universal humanity. 230 Given the two contending conceptions of compulsory schooling, I contend that the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge have no educational significance in post-apartheid South African schools. By contrast, cosmopolitan norms, to use Benhabib?s (2006) words, are ?a promising emergence of new political configurations and new forms of agency, inspired by the interdependence citizenship ? never frictionless but ever promising ? of the local, the national, and the global? (p. 74). In the discussion that follows, I argue that citizenship education initiatives, such as the School Pledge, are unlikely to educate for cosmopolitan citizenship. In her essay ?Patriotism and Cosmopolitanism? (1994), Nussbaum argues that ?emphasis on patriotic pride is both morally dangerous and, ultimately, subversive to the goal of national unity in devotion to worthy moral ideals of justice and equality? (p. 1). The concern I have with the conceptions of citizenship in the Bill and the Pledge is that co-nationals are not the only ?justice-oriented citizens?, in Westheimer and Kahne?s (2004) words. Put differently, ?the demos is not an ethnos, and those living in our midst and who do not belong to the ethnos are not strangers either; they are rather cohabitants ? our co-citizens of foreign origin (Benhabib, 2006, p. 66). As demonstrated by the recent xenophobic attacks in South Africa, ?a policy of encouraging identification with co-nationals for the purposes of getting them to treat each other better may risk making it harder for them to treat foreigners justly as an unintended side-effect? (Brighouse, 2008, p. 104). Therefore, promoting patriotism on citizenship grounds may also cause learners to abandon their duties to non-South Africans, or foreigners, to be precise. Though the forces of democracy gave birth to the Bill of Responsibilities and the national Schools Pledge, this should not blind South Africans to the need for critical engagement with them both at a theoretical and practical level. South Africa is a democratic state ?in the family of nations?. Clearly, South Africa ought not just to pay lip service to this cosmopolitan norm of democracy. 231 What are cosmopolitan citizenship and cosmopolitan citizenship education? Cosmopolitan citizenship: is based on a feeling of belonging and recognition of diversity across a range of communities from the local to the global. ? Cosmopolitan citizenship requires consideration of the meaning and implications of belonging to a world community and an appreciation of the nature and scope of common human values. ? Learning for cosmopolitan citizenship therefore requires the development of a global awareness, an understanding of and commitment to human rights, and opportunities to act with others to make a difference (Osler and Starkey, 2005, p. 78). There are two points worth noting about Osler and Starkey?s (2005) examination of cosmopolitan citizenship and education. First, education for cosmopolitan citizenship is likely to give South African learners a sense of belonging and recognition of their common humanity. Second, the examination is useful in distinguishing a universal compulsory schooling, and compulsory citizenship education that promotes democratic universalism in South African schools, on the one hand, and the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge that place allegiance to South Africa ahead of universal humanity, on the other. In other words, a cosmopolitan notion of compulsory schooling that combines a commitment to humanistic principles and universal democratic norms challenges the Bill of Responsibilities and the national School Pledge?s nationalistic conceptions of compulsion that emphasise the primacy of the nation state. Although she is not writing about South Africa, Nussbaum (1994) also recommends education for cosmopolitan citizenship on the grounds that ? universal humanity is valuable for self-knowledge; ? global problems require international cooperation; and ? cosmopolitan citizenship accommodates both local loyalties and ethical recognition of the whole of humanity (Nussbaum, 1994, pp. 5-7). 232 In the case of South Africa, in particular, education for cosmopolitan citizenship has a lot to offer in terms of filling the gaps identified in the criteria used to analyse and judge post-apartheid citizenship education policy: 1. a cosmopolitan democracy is useful in showing that a lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency in citizenship and citizenship education is not a South African phenomenon; that is, citizenship (and by implication citizenship education) as an idea and a practice, is constantly subject to contestation, changes and redefinition worldwide; 2. unlike a post-apartheid South African education for citizenship that does not guide the practice in terms accessible to the school?s democratic community, a cosmopolitan citizenship education appeals to universal moral norms; that is, citizenship education is likely to be a status, a feeling and a practice that is enjoyed by a significant proportion of its democratic audience in schools and beyond; 3. contrary to a post-apartheid education for citizenship that is unable to articulate the practice of a substantial form of student representative democracy, cosmopolitan education provides opportunities for South African learners to influence decisions made outside of the republic by questioning regional, continental and global democratic institutions; 4. in a sense, active, critical and enquiring cosmopolitan learners are able to respond to a changing world, a world in which South Africa is closely intertwined with the rest of the globe; and 5. a cosmopolitan education is significant because it alerts South African learners of the existence of an ethic that transcends blinkered patriotism or loyalty to one?s nation state. So, as we saw in the above defense of cosmopolitan education, it is a discussion of the negotiation between universal and particular, between status (to be a citizen) and practice (to act as a citizen), between the ?taught? and the ?caught? notions of citizenship. Learners will understand that human problems experienced in South 233 Africa are trans-national and trans-cultural in scope. Furthermore, they will realise that cosmopolitan citizenship does not deny the importance of national obligation, solidarity and identification; rather, it recognises universal human values as its standard to educate for citizenship and teach democracy in South African schools. In brief, to borrow from Osler and Vincent (2002), ?education for cosmopolitanism is about enabling [South African] learners to make connections between their immediate contexts and the global context; it encompasses citizenship as a whole? (p. 124; addition mine). In this context, education for cosmopolitan citizenship is not in tension with citizenship education in South Africa. On the contrary, as the 1996 Constitution claims, cosmopolitanism allows learners to practice citizenship within and between nations. In their current form the Bill and the School Pledge do not give support to cosmopolitan ideals that require South Africa learners to learn, cooperate and interact with fellow pupils in other parts of the world. It is evident, then, that citizenship education in South African schools vacillates between the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa?s (1996) ?cosmopolitan? goals and the Bill and the Pledge?s ?democratic national? goals. The tension between the Bill claims ?to extend out friendship and warmth to all nations and all the peoples of the world in our endeavour to build a better world? (Department of Education, 2008, p. 1), on the one hand, and the national School Pledge calls on learners to ?declare that we shall uphold the rights and values of our Constitution and promise to act in accordance with the duties and responsibilities that flow from these rights? (Department of Education, 2008), on the other, is not helpful either. It would appear, then, that ?the requirement that children recite the Pledge of Allegiance ? a ?daily act of patriotic observance?? (Brighouse, 2008, p. 95) is likely to render post- apartheid compulsory citizenship education policy instruments conceptually incoherent. As it were, the documents do not rearticulate the meaning of democratic universalism as espoused in the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996). 234 8.7 Conclusion This chapter began by describing the Bill of Responsibilities and the new National School Pledge?s approach to citizenship education for a post-apartheid South Africa. The national Department of Education?s Bill of Responsibilities and the national Schools Pledge stem from the desire to respond to the constant threat of school-based violence in South African schools. There are profound problems with the Bill and the Pledge?s implicit notions of citizenship and citizenship education. The Bill is likely to produce obedient and loyal citizens, not active, critical and inquiring South African citizens. Similar to the 2000 Pledge, the new vow is intended to nurture ?patriotism?, or loyalty to the Republic of South Africa. There is a lack of genuine engagement and robust debate on public values, which should undergird the practice of a substantial form of compulsory citizenship education in South African schools. Instead, the Bill and the Pledge yield another form of compulsion, one that enforces compliance and passivity in South African schools. Unless post-apartheid citizenship education policy ceases to be confined to vertical relations between individuals and power/state and recognises that South African learners should have a common humanity and a sense of solidarity with others on the globe, the future of citizenship education in South African schools does not hold much promise. Indeed, I think if we have to come to the point where education policy makers, if they are at all serious about the future of citizenship education in South African schools, must find a way of putting differing interpretations of education for citizenship on the table for debate and synthesis. 235 CHAPTER 9 CONCLUSION What are the conceptions of education that enable the creation of democratic citizens? In a democratic polity, citizenship education can be said to have one aim only: to foster active, critical and inquiring individuals able to contribute to the common welfare of society. It is this prototypical concept of active citizenry, with regard to education for democratic citizenship that I find still relevant in post-apartheid South African schools. This maximal concept of citizenship sees schools as inseparable from community engagement, i.e. citizenship education in relation to democracy requires a range of forms of learning both ?taught? and ?caught?, or ?inside? and ?outside? schools. Where are we in terms of citizenship education in a democratic South African society? Are the South African education policy and subsequent curriculum development conceptually coherent? Does the concept of education for citizenship speak to its intended democratic audience? What about the concept of student participation and representation? Does it embrace a representative model of democracy? Does it cover opportunities for teaching about citizenship in schools and beyond? Is it able to foster active, critical and inquiring individuals capable of building, strengthening and consolidating South Africa?s democracy? Are compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education based on participatory democracy or on forced obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the state? Does education policy offer possible strategies for getting from where we are to where we ought to be? The anti-apartheid struggle, and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? that embodies the Athenian notion of people?s power, sheds light on these questions. 236 Since its origin, both the classical and revisionist writers have pointed to the problem of practice, of the realisation of the democratic ideal. Fundamental to the attack of ?the classical theory of democracy? is that democracy is both unfeasible and undesirable ? indeed, an illusion. However, a substantial body of philosophical work constituting variations on the Athenian prototype of democracy, deliberative democracy and participatory forms of representation, indicate the relevance, effectiveness and practicability of the Athenian concept of citizenship, and correlated notion of education in modern democratic societies. Looking back to the discussion of democracy in the times of the Greek city-state of Athens in Chapter 2, we find that theories of democracy (re)affirmed and (re)established a defensible theory of participation as a viable model of democracy. In the classical canon of democratic theory, Pericles (Thucydides, 1972) saluted a maximal Athenian prototype as the best possible regime. Later theorists of the prototypical, maximal concept of democracy, such as Rousseau (1968) and Mill (1975), showed that citizens? active participation in a democracy is likely to be educational, that is, to contribute to the education of the people?s intellectual, moral and practical capacities. In the face of extant scepticism, contemporary theorists of deliberative democracy, such as Budge (1993), Benhabib (1996) and Cohen (1989), have also shown that participation and the decision-making role of ?the people? furnish realistic, feasible principles. The discussion of Pericles (Thucydides, 1972), Marshall (1950) and McLaughlin (1992) in Chapter 3 resulted in endorsing a maximal concept of citizenship and citizenship education that is both democratic and active/ participative in its orientation. However, post-apartheid South African education policy does not embrace an updated version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship as a foundation for citizenship education in schools. I have demonstrated that a set of state policy instruments that include the White Paper on Education and Training, the South African Schools Act, Curriculum 2005 (in its original and revised versions), the 237 ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy?, the Guides for Representative Councils of Learners, and the proposed Bill of Responsibilities and the new national Schools Pledge, lack an adequate conception of participatory democracy and active citizenship in a number of arguments which will now be summarised. One of the central points made here is that South African education policy documents undermine democratic participation and active citizenry, conceptions first developed and put into practice in the Greek city-state of Athens. This argument is pursued in Chapter 4 which shows the tension in the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996) between ?symbolic? and ?substantive? conceptions of citizenship and, by implication, of citizenship education. Unfortunately, post-apartheid South African citizenship and citizenship education put more emphasis on the ?transformative? goals, as compared to the ?democratic? project. Consequently, the democratic elements are tentatively expressed and outweighed by the general transformative orientation of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996). In the final analysis, post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency can be attributed to the conflicting forms and conceptions of citizenship in South Africa. What is the significance for my enterprise of the arguments in Chapters 5, 6 and 8? As far as Chapter 5 is concerned, the significance is that policy on citizenship education has become more minimal and less participatory than that envisioned in the anti-apartheid struggle and originally enshrined in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). Against this background, the South African education policy?s conception of education for citizenship does not guide the practice in terms accessible to the school?s democratic community, namely parents, teachers and students, non-teaching staff, the principal and co-opted members. Put differently, post-apartheid citizenship education policy does not speak to its intended democratic audience. As it stands, South African education policy does not pursue active community engagement with sufficient rigour and consistency. 238 To elaborate, the White Paper on Education and Training (1995) reflects a conception of popular participation, which appeals to the collective strength of the community with respect to policy formulation and curriculum development, on the one hand, and relies on the national Department of Education experts to give advice on matters relating to democratic participation and representation in South African schools, on the other. At the heart of the South African Schools Act (1996) lies the idea of democratic governance and partnership, but the Act fails to assign more than a minimal and conditional role to the School Governing Body members. Curriculum 2005 (1997) embraces an updated/modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, and its notion of citizenship, but this prototypical, maximal concept is given a subsidiary status in South African schools. The ?Manifesto on Values, Education and Democracy? does not encourage a maximalist interpretation of citizenship education. The document?s concept of citizenship education mirrors that of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (1996), which vacillates between ?transformative? goals and democratic goals. The expunging of Citizenship or Civics education from the Revised National Curriculum Statement (2002) suggests that the minimalist conceptions of education for citizenship, as reflected in the original Curriculum 2005 documents, still persist. In brief, educational policy developments during the period of ?consensus seeking? exhibit a trend towards ?retreat?, i.e. the centering and narrowing of the educational policy agenda of the anti-apartheid struggle and its concept of ?People?s Education for People?s Power? that embodies a prototypical, maximal conception of education for citizenship in South African schools. The post-apartheid South African education policy approach favoured by the government ? a top down, vertical logic ? tampered with the radical ideas of the anti-apartheid movement. The discontinuities between the vision of the anti-apartheid struggle of participatory democracy, on the one hand, and policy development after the transition, on the other, can also be attributed to a lack of conceptual clarity, coherence and consistency in post-apartheid South African educational policy. 239 A key point that is made in Chapter 6 is that the Guides represent in significant respects retrieval of the earlier, less democratic forms of student representation in South African schools, thus reinforcing post-apartheid citizenship education policy?s conceptual incoherence. Many black school students viewed the elite prefect system as part of the overall apartheid education system. Within the national educational struggle orbit, prefectship was resented and rejected in predominately black schools. Alternatively, black students found space in democratic SRCs for self-definition, for organising, and participating in a microcosm of democratic self-governance. The Guides? selection of democratic citizenship education, namely its attempt to provide a ?third way? between the competing prefect system and SRCs? traditions, has also to be understood in the context of a negotiated transition from apartheid to democracy, a compromise that ultimately led to the Government of National Unity (GNU) in 1994. Its apparent commitment to democratic student representation does not articulate the practice of a substantial form of student representative democracy. It does not envisage citizenship education that is enjoyed by a significant proportion of the South African learners. Consequently, state policy does not cover opportunities for teaching citizenship in schools and beyond, that is, there is no longer a mass democratic movement that brings together a number of students, political and organisational strands. On the contrary, the Guides provide a minimal and conditional role for student representation. The Guides seems to suggest that 1) without MECs? guidance, support and control, ?student government? is neither feasible nor desirable in post-apartheid South African schools; 2) student participation and representation in school governance requires judgement, skill and rational commitment, essential attributes that only the TLOs possess; and 3) ultimately, the post-apartheid South African education policy?s selection of citizenship education ? following a top down, vertical logic ? dilutes the Student Representative tradition. The SRCs? concept of democratic student representation in schools has been diluted in the Guides for Representative Councils of Learners. In short, the Guides do not encourage learners to promote and 240 deepen democracy in South African schools, namely democracy as understood in the tradition of the Greek city-state of Athens. Neither the tradition of prefectship nor the RCLs have much to contribute to the development of citizenship education in South Africa. This is arguably better achieved if we rediscover the SRCs? rich traditional voice and give learners once again the power to speak. The argument that concludes Chapter 7 is that state-regulated compulsion that embraces a modified version of the Athenian prototype of citizenship education is neither exclusive nor repressive, but promotes enthusiastic individuals who bring their particular will into harmony with the general will. Underlying this claim is the consideration that within the framework of the Athenian concept of democracy, and its emphasis on the educative potential of learner participation, state regulated compulsory schooling can be justified as an essential component of the curriculum in post-apartheid South African schools. Drawing on the discussions in Chapter 2 and 3, Chapter 7 maintained that compulsory schooling and compulsory citizenship education promotes individual autonomy, a citizen?s ability and inclination to act for him-/herself, on the one hand; and builds social cohesion ? the political goal or common good in post-apartheid South Africa, on the other. Importantly, unlike state compulsory schooling that relies on coercion and force, the modified version of Athenian democratic citizenship guarantees South African learners the freedom to opt out of ?official? school democracy projects. In Chapter 8, I argued that although the Bill of Responsibilities claims to promote an ?active, responsible citizen?, it ultimately sets out to foster obedient and loyal South African learners. Similar to the 2000 Pledge, the new vow is intended to nurture ?patriotism?, or loyalty to the Republic of South Africa. The Bill appears to echo the apocalyptic stereotype of the youth who are dangerous, irresponsible, uncaring, reckless and ungovernable, a conception criticised already by Seekings (1993). Unsurprisingly, the authors of the document are preoccupied with stability and ?normality? in South African schools. I contend that the Bill of Responsibilities might 241 be seen as demanding and indeed dictating unquestioning obedience from learners in South African schools. On the whole, the Bill is reminiscent of the British colonialists? prefect system and the Christian National Education programmes that are incompatible with the maximal concept of democracy reflected in the model of democracy developed in the Charter tradition ? envisioned in the anti-apartheid struggle movement ? and enshrined in the Constitution of South Africa (1996). The proposed Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge do not promote active, critical and inquiring individuals able to build, strengthen and consolidate democracy in South African schools. On the contrary, compulsory citizenship education is based on forced obedience, if not unquestioning loyalty, to the Republic of South Africa. Citizenship education in post-apartheid South Africa do not offer possible strategies for getting from where we are to where we ought to be. Instead, the Bill of Responsibilities and the School Pledge reinforce, rather than improve on, existing state policy instruments that undermine democratic participation and active citizenry. The goals of citizenship education in South Africa would be better served by cosmopolitan ideals, that is, preparing South African learners to act in a local, national and global scale. In conclusion, current South African education policy and subsequent curriculum development do not meet the criteria which I suggested in Chapter 1 should be used to analyse and judge post-apartheid citizenship education policy. Post-apartheid citizenship education policy is not consistent with 1) an updated/ modified version of the Athenian prototype of democracy, especially its democratic zeal for participation; 2) McLaughlin?s (1992) maximalist conception of citizenship, and of citizenship education; 3) the model of democratic citizenship developed in the anti-apartheid movement, with roots in the Freedom Charter tradition; and 4) global trends in liberal democracies that support the claim that learning democratic citizenship is not limited to formal school curriculum, but also requires active community engagement. All of these, I have argued, are essential parts of a successful citizenship education for and 242 in a democratic South African society. 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