Apartheid No More : Case Studies of Southern African Universities in the Process of Transformation 9780313002731, 9780897897136

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Apartheid No More

APARTHEID NO MORE Case Studies of Southern African Universities in the Process of Transformation Edited by REITUMETSE OBAKENG MABOKELA and KIMBERLY LENEASE KING Foreword by Robert F. Arnove

Bergin & Garvey Westport, Connecticut • London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Apartheid no more : case studies of Southern African universities in the process of transformation / edited by Reitumetse Obakeng Mabokela and Kimberly Lenease King; foreword by Robert F. Arnove. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 0–89789–713–7 (alk. paper) 1. Discrimination in higher education—South Africa—History—Case studies. 2. Discrimination in higher education—Namibia—History—Case studies. 3. Universities and colleges—South Africa—Sociological aspects—Case studies. 4. Universities and colleges—Namibia—Sociological aspects—Case studies. I. Mabokela, Reitumetse Obakeng. II. King, Kimberly Lenease. LC212.43.S6A53 2001 378.68—dc21 00–041446 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright  2001 by Reitumetse Obakeng Mabokela and Kimberly Lenease King All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 00–041446 ISBN: 0–89789–713–7 First published in 2001 Bergin & Garvey, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.greenwood.com Printed in the United States of America TM

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984). 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Contents

Foreword Robert F. Arnove Introduction Reitumetse Obakeng Mabokela and Kimberly Lenease King 1

2

3

4

5

6

Transformation through Negotiation: The University of Port Elizabeth’s Experiences, Challenges, and Progress Ann E. Austin

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1

Crossing the Divide: Black Academics at the Rand Afrikaans University Doria Daniels

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Selective Inclusion: Transformation and Language Policy at the University of Stellenbosch Reitumetse Obakeng Mabokela

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Stumbling toward Racial Inclusion: The Story of Transformation at the University of Witwatersrand Kimberly Lenease King

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“Oh Sorry, I’m a Racist”: Black Student Experiences at the University of Witwatersrand Rochelle L. Woods

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Transformation and Pedagogy: Expressions from Vista and the University of Zululand Nicole Norfles

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7

8

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Higher Education Transformation in Namibia: Road to Reform and Reconciliation or Rock of Sisyphus? Rodney K. Hopson Historically Disadvantaged Technikons in an Era of Transformation: Answering the Call, Confronting the Challenges Sonjai Amar Reynolds

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Conclusion: Implications for Policy and Practice Kimberly Lenease King

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Index

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About the Editors and Contributors

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Foreword ROBERT F. ARNOVE

The apt title of this book begins declaring Apartheid No More and follows with a substantive subtitle that describes its focus on the role of South African universities in the process of educational and social transformation. Education was a central ideological apparatus of the colonial state in Namibia, prior to independence in 1990, and the internal colonial state in South Africa, preceding democratic elections in 1994. It was an instrument of both exclusion and social control. Inferior education was provided to Namibians and South Africans of color to the extent that it legitimized the repressive regimes in those countries and provided the minimal knowledge and skills necessary for an exploitable work force. With the ending of colonialism and apartheid in the two countries, educational policy makers as well as practitioners faced the challenges of reconstituting their education systems to provide more equitable access and funding to the formerly dispossessed, to effect more democratic and accountable governance structures, and to redesign curricula to be more relevant to national change processes— all with the goal of equipping youth as well as adults with the competencies to exercise their citizenship rights and bring about more egalitarian and just societies. As the various case studies in this informative and insightful volume indicate, higher education for Black South Africans mirrored the inequitable relations of racialist, nondemocratic states. With the revolutionary changes that have occurred in political regimes, higher education in postcolonial and postapartheid South Africa has a particularly important role to play in preparing the high-level human resources and creating the scientific and technological knowledge to

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contribute to economic growth and to reintegrate the two countries into the global economy on a more equitable basis. Qualitative as well as quantitative improvements in higher education are significantly related to the possibilities of reforming all levels of education, for it is in the universities and other tertiary-level institutions that teachers are prepared and the knowledge base of new curricula is likely to be created. Challenges, tasks, and transformations—these words sum up the substance of Apartheid No More. These themes are captured in the analogy to the “rock of Sisyphus” in the title of chapter 7 by Rodney K. Hopson on reform and reconciliation of higher education in Namibia. The resistance to change is further denoted in the title of Rochelle L. Woods’s chapter on the experiences of Black students at the University of Witwatersrand—“Oh Sorry, I’m a Racist”—the response of a White male student to his discovery that a female student with whom he has been corresponding over e-mail and whom he asked for a date is Black. Not only must higher education structures and campus environments (academic, social, and cultural) change, but, most essentially, transformations in the attitudes and behaviors of individuals as they are manifested in administrative and pedagogical practices and interpersonal relations have to occur. Without substantial changes at the structural, cultural, and personal levels, it is unlikely that Historically Advantaged [read White] Institutions (HAIs) will successfully integrate students and faculty of color and significantly overcome a history of racial segregation. Similar challenges face leaders seeking to integrate female faculty and students at both HAIs and Historically Disadvantaged [read Black] Institutions (HDIs). Furthermore, access does not necessarily translate into inclusion, especially when residential and social segregation not only persists but deepens, as is documented in the two chapters on the University of Witwatersrand, historically considered to be a more liberal institution. Moreover, to what extent will adequate resources be channeled to the HDIs, and will HAIs cooperate in the process to create overall equitable and excellent higher education institutions in the two countries? Country and institutional case studies contribute to advances in knowledge by illustrating the extent to which current theories apply to particular historical, sociocultural contexts and in what ways they need to be refined. The wealth of data generated by case studies also leads to theory building and possibly to better informed policies and practices that are more attuned to existing realities. The book co-edited by Reitumetse Obakeng Mabokela of South Africa and Kimberly Lenease King of the United States skillfully focuses not only on two important national case studies, illustrating the wrenching transitions involved in the creation of more democratic and just societies, but also on sig-

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nificant institutional cases that indeed challenge common sense notions of where and how change is most likely to occur. Contrary to the expectation that change would be most intractable at the traditionally conservative University of Port Elizabeth, chapter 1 by Ann E. Austin indicates that a process of “negotiated transformation” has laid the groundwork for important advances in inclusion and democratic participation by major university constituencies. By contrast, as described in chapter 4 by Kimberly Lenease King on “Stumbling toward Racial Inclusion,” the University of Witwatersrand, with a history of apparent opposition to apartheid and early efforts to admit Black students and faculty, has experienced upheavals, including Black student sit-ins and occupations of administrative offices to protest what people of color on campus consider to be continuing exclusionary policies. The thick description of everyday experiences of Black students and faculty documents the problems to overcome but also points to policies, practices, and pedagogies that might lead to transformations. As Reitumetse Obakeng Mabokela highlights in chapter 3 on the University of Stellenbosch and Doria Daniels points up in chapter 2 on black academics at the Rand Afrikaans University, language policies are a key issue in determining the extent to which both Black faculty and students are accommodated by historically White institutions. Pedagogies that are liberating, rather than stultifying, also are central to change efforts, as argued by Nicole Norfles (chapter 6) in her application of Paulo Freire’s theories of a “people’s education for people’s power,” to the University of Zululand and Vista (a multicampus, mixed-mode university). Chapter 8 by Sonjai Amar Reynolds explores the emergence of a new type of higher education institution, Technikons (tertiary technological institutions), which are designed to meet human resource needs not being met by the universities. Her study includes an international component—an institutional linkage program that involves a consortium consisting of the South African Technikons and a group of U.S. institutions, for the most part historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs). This case study, as is true of the other chapters in this volume, illuminates the intended as well as unintended consequences (e.g., greater collaboration among previously isolated Black institutions) that otherwise would not be revealed in macro-level studies that usually do not achieve the richness of detail associated with qualitative case studies. A great strength of Apartheid No More is the long-term acquaintance of the authors with South Africa and Namibia. The chapters represent insiders’ views of the lived realities and everyday interplay of forces involved in the struggle to transform institutions and the larger society. The aspirations, frustrations, achievements, and setbacks of the principal actors in this drama are convincingly conveyed, as are, in a more

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general sense, the potential and limitations of higher education institutions to effect social change. As a comparative educator, I have found this book to be enormously informative and inspirational. It will be an invaluable resource for me and I believe other educators of an international bent who are concerned with the struggle for educational equity and social justice not only in their own countries but in other societies that have suffered under various forms of colonialism for so long.

Introduction REITUMETSE OBAKENG MABOKELA AND KIMBERLY LENEASE KING

Oppressive is the term that would accurately describe the social, cultural, economic, and political history of many societies, whether it is the story of Native Americans in the United States, women in Saudi Arabia, African immigrants in France, the Maori people in Australia, caste groups in India, or apartheid in South Africa. In each case, one group systematically limited the opportunities of another group. As a consequence, advantages accrued to the oppressor while disadvantages accumulated for the oppressed. As we enter the new millennium, the world has witnessed the demise of the most oppressive system of governance—South Africa’s system of racial apartheid. Although scholars of South African history discovered the existence of racially discriminatory policies prior to the 1948 election of the Afrikaner government, what emerged after 1948 was a racial apartheid system that was implemented and protected by all levels of government. This system was established, entrenched and protected with a series of legislative acts passed by the national government. The most notable of these laws included the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act, 1949; the Population Registration Act, 1950; the Group Areas Act, 1950; the Immorality Act, 1950; the Reservation of Separate Amenities Act, 1950; the Bantu Education Act, 1953; and the Extension of University Education Act, 1959. These laws governed every domain of life, from the private to the public. Among other things, the acts prohibited relationships and marriages across racial lines; required groups to register and carry documentation attesting to their racial classification; established racially segregated residential communities; and prohibited cross-racial interactions in public spaces, including restaurants,

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schools, and the tertiary sector. These laws also governed the lives of people in Namibia, then known as South West Africa, when it was under the trusteeship of the South African government. Namibia finally gained its independence in 1990. Consequently, what is most remarkable about South African apartheid is that it met its demise in the last decade of the twentieth century. The more interesting chapter in the South Africa saga is the tenacity with which South Africans were able to bid legalized oppression a much overdue goodbye and the manner in which the nation seeks to transcend this legacy of oppression. After all the thoroughness with which the National Party government established apartheid, it could take twice as long to dismantle. This process, however, is the story that holds lessons for the part of the world that is anxious to shed the remnants of its oppressive past. More specifically, characteristics of South Africa suggest that lessons might be unveiled that can inform the policies, practices, and programs of other countries with similar histories. Emerging from South Africa’s legacy of apartheid, Apartheid No More examines universities in South Africa and Namibia as they struggle to transform their institutional structures from those marred by racial and gender inequities, to more inclusive and equitable institutions. The book includes case studies on historically White as well as historically Black institutions of higher education in South Africa and Namibia. The case studies examine how institutions from such diverse historical contexts confront the challenge to create new identities. The case studies probe a number of issues. First, we seek to provide an understanding of the historical positions of English-language and Afrikaans-language universities in the education of Black South Africans. This historical inquiry is essential in order to reach an understanding of how these positions have influenced and continue to influence current policies relating to transformation efforts at the respective universities. Second, we identify key issues as they emerged at historically White universities when responding to increasing Black enrollments and as they attempt to reconcile policies, practices, and programs that impede the academic progress of traditionally excluded students. Third, we seek to elucidate policies aimed at transforming the institutional structures of historically White universities in order to promote the meaningful participation of Black students in higher education. Fourth, we hope to gain a better understanding of the critical role historically Black universities play in the production of Black South African graduates, and the breadth of efforts to demarginalize these institutions. Last, we draw lessons from the experience of these institutions that can be useful in guiding other governments and countries in their attempts to integrate a previously excluded, historically disadvantaged population into the educational mainstream.

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THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SOUTH AFRICA’S STORY The South African story involved the oppression of the Black majority by a White minority. Ironically, the demise of apartheid gave rise to a government led and predominated by those who had experienced oppression. Franz Fanon (1963) contends that when oppressed people ascend to power, they tend to assume the behaviors of their oppressors. After all, what other role models have the oppressed had from which to model themselves? However, South Africa is in a unique position to lead the continent and the world in this era of postcolonialism. As the last country on the African continent to gain independence, South Africans witnessed and now can learn from the experiences of other African countries struggling to move beyond colonial legacies. Additionally, the country has access to resources that surpass those of other African countries. These circumstances, coupled with the recent rule by a democratically elected government, suggest that South Africans can take cues from other countries and their experiences of oppression to bring about a truly egalitarian society. Education is pivotal to the establishment of such a society. As mentioned previously, the National Party relied on legislation to institutionalize a racial hierarchy of social, economic, and political opportunities. While the government could mandate the activities of the citizens’ day-to-day lives, education was the tool used to institutionalize racial oppression. Specifically, people in different racial categories received different subsidies for educational expenditures. The level of educational funding in the primary and secondary sectors for Black South Africans has always been almost half that of the next closest ethnic group—Coloreds—and more than four times less than that allocated for Whites. The extraordinary disparities in funding resulted in very different educational experiences for South Africans because of race. Class sizes, teaching resources, and conditions of schools were all impacted by these funding inequities. HIGHER EDUCATION IN HISTORICAL CONTEXT The higher education sector was similarly plagued with deeply entrenched racial and gender disparities. The passage of the Extension of University Act in 1959 codified these inequalities into law by creating separate universities for Africans, Coloreds, Indians/Asians and Whites. These institutions of higher education were designed to support the ideals of the then-ruling National Party government; their ideals centered around the superiority of Whites and the subjugation of all other racial groups. The twenty-two South African universities were

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created along the socially constructed ethnic and linguistic lines of the population in this country. The ten universities created for White students were developed along the cultural and linguistic duality of the South African settler population. The six Afrikaans-language universities of Stellenbosch, Pretoria, Port Elizabeth, Orange Free State, Potchefstroom, and Rand Afrikaans University (RAU) became the nucleus of Afrikaner nationalism and cultural consciousness (Gwala, 1988; Marcum, 1982). These Afrikaanslanguage universities implemented stringent polices against the admission of Blacks. The four English-language universities of Cape Town, Witwatersrand, Rhodes, and Natal admitted a very small number of Blacks. Although the English-language universities professed principles of “academic freedom and non-segregation” in their admission policies, they failed to grant Black students equality. According to Murray (1990), the official policies at these universities allowed for limited academic integration while maintaining social segregation. The universities classified as historically Black were similarly divided along racial and ethnic lines. The University of the Western Cape was created for Coloreds and the University of Durban-Westville for Indians. The University of the North was established for Sotho-, Venda-, and Tsonga-speaking Africans; the University of Zululand for Zulus; and the University of Fort Hare, the oldest Black university, was designated for Xhosa-speaking Africans. In the early 1980s, three more universities were established for African students in the homelands of Transkei, Bophuthatswana, and Venda (Muller, 1991; Bunting, 1994). Two specialist universities were created to serve the needs of the Black population—the Medical University of South Africa (MEDUNSA), established in 1978, and Vista University, founded in 1982. MEDUNSA was established in response to the medical needs of the Black population, while Vista was established as an urban Black university with satellite campuses throughout the country. It was intended primarily to serve Blacks in the urban areas (townships), and its academic programs focused on teacher education and the improvement of teacher qualifications (Muller, 1991; Subotzky, 1997). Over time, the correspondence University of South Africa (UNISA), became a historically Black university. Although UNISA was not created as a historically Black university, it serves the largest population of Black students in South Africa. DIVERGENT EXPERIENCES The preceding description and classification of South African universities is not intended to paint a picture of uniform and monolithic institutions. In fact, what is striking about these institutions is the degree

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of diversity that exists between the two broad categories (that is, the historically Black vs. the historically White universities), and within each category of universities. Furthermore, among the historically White universities, the English-language universities (especially the Universities of Cape Town and the Witwatersrand) were historically perceived as liberal and open, while the Afrikaans-language universities were viewed as conservative crucibles of Afrikaner nationalism (Booysen, 1989). However, among the Afrikaans-language universities, the University of Stellenbosch was viewed as the most progressive and verligte (enlightened), while the Universities of Pretoria and Potchefstroom were viewed as verkrampte (most conservative). The historically Black universities were different not only from the historically White universities, but also from each other. This group of universities varied based on their geographic location and the population groups they were intended to serve. All the historically Black universities were established as teaching institutions intended to prepare graduates for entrance into the work force. Consequently, research activities were never integrated into the mission of these universities. Rural universities constitute the first category of historically Black universities. Frequently referred to as “bush colleges,” they were geographically located in remote areas. This category includes the University of the North and the University of Zululand, both established in 1960, as well as five other institutions created in the former homelands of Bophuthatswana, Ciskei, Transkei, Venda, and Qwa-Qwa (Muller, 1991). The second group of historically Black universities were identified as urban universities. There were two universities in this group—the University of Western Cape for Colored students and the University of Durban-Westville for Indian students (Ashley, 1971; Muller, 1991). In keeping with the National Party’s policy of racial segregation and ethnic divisions, the urban institutions serving the so-called “Colored” and Indian populations received better funding and had better facilities when compared to those institutions serving the Black South African population. In fact, after 1983, the status of the two urban universities was elevated to that of the historically White universities. This meant that they could be admitted to and were represented on the Committee of University Principals (an officially recognized statutory body) and the University Advisory Council. Both organizations were responsible for advising the Minister of Education (Divided Campus, 1986). The third group of historically Black universities were the two specialist universities. MEDUNSA provided medical training to Black students, and Vista’s purpose was to allow in-service teachers to upgrade their teaching credentials. The historically Black universities and their White counterparts differed along a number of critical dimensions, including function of the

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institution, composition of the student body and faculty, and funding and resource allocation. As mentioned previously, historically Black universities were established to train Black people as civil servants in an effort to maintain order in the homelands. Unlike their historically White counterparts, these institutions were not designed to sustain academic research efforts. Funding The allocation of resources in the tertiary sector mirrored the racial hierarchy of opportunities entrenched in other sectors of South African society. This was accomplished with a funding formula designed to the advantage of historically White institutions and to the disadvantage of institutions serving South Africans of color. In particular, South African universities obtained funding through a combination of government subsidies, tuition and fees, government research grants, private donations, and income from investments. Government subsidies accounted for the largest proportion (50%) of university funds, followed by tuition and fees, resulting in approximately 20% of the institutional operating expenses (Sehoole & Wolpe, 1994). However, prior to 1984, the subsidy formula used criteria that disadvantaged historically Black institutions in the allocation of resources. These criteria included the number of students enrolled, the “success rate” of students at each institution, student enrollment in the natural sciences as opposed to the humanities, graduate student enrollment, research output, and publications (Sehoole & Wolpe, 1994). Because of the mission of historically Black institutions, this formula favored the historically White universities. For example, in the 1992–1993 financial allocation, the University of Cape Town (a historically White university) received 71% of its total budget from the government, while the neighboring University of Western Cape (a historically Black university) received only 46% of its total budget from the government. This disparate allocation occurred even though the University of the Western Cape had an enrollment of 14,398 compared to UCT’s 13,000 students. University of Cape Town’s advantage resulted from the limited degree to which postbaccalaureate programs were offered at historically Black institutions like the University of the Western Cape. In addition to obvious disparities in funding, the historically Black universities were plagued by poor infrastructures and physical facilities when compared to the historically White institutions. The majority of these institutions (with the exception of the University of the Western Cape and the University of Durban-Westville) were established in isolated parts of the country. These areas lacked adequate schooling, medical services, transportation, and accommodations for both stu-

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dents and staff. This restricted their active participation in the core of South African academic life (Gwala, 1988). These circumstances continue to plague these institutions, making it difficult to compete with the historically white institutions. The financial burden of historically Black universities was further exacerbated by the fact that the majority of their students were (and still are) from disadvantaged economic backgrounds. Because the country did not have a system to provide student loans, historically Black universities had to allocate a significant proportion of their own budgets for student loans. Using this system to provide for student financial need has resulted in the nonpayment of substantial amounts in student loans. This problem continues to plague many of these institutions (Naidu, 1997; Yoganathan & Lee, 1996). The inability of historically Black universities to procure alternative funding made it difficult for them to compete effectively for highly qualified faculty. This was particularly the case because these institutions were not designed to sustain research activities. Consequently, the credentials of faculty members at South Africa’s historically white and historically Black universities differed. Furthermore, the demographic characteristics of the faculty at South African institutions reflected the racial and gender disparities promoted by the National Party government. According to the National Commission on Higher Education (NCHE) Report (1996), 68% of the total research and teaching staffs in 1993 were male compared to 32% female. The distribution of women by rank highlights additional disparities, since the majority of female academics were employed as junior lecturers or lecturers1 (NCHE, 1996). White males constituted the majority of the permanent faculty at historically Black universities from their inception and throughout the 1980s. However, since the early 1990s the proportion of African, socalled “Colored,” and Indian faculty has increased considerably; at some historically Black universities Whites no longer represent the majority. According to Subotzky (1997), Whites comprised, on average, 52% of all full-time faculty at the eleven historically Black universities in 1992, while Africans made up 32%, Indians 9%, and Coloreds 7%. While the racial composition of the faculties at historically Black universities typically reflects the inequities in opportunities for South Africans of color when compared to Whites, additional concerns have been raised about the quality of education provided at these institutions. There is a pervasive notion that the academic standards and the credentials of the faculty at historically Black universities are not comparable to those at historically White universities. Faculty at historically Black universities (and at other South African universities) typically are required to hold a Ph.D. or an equivalent terminal degree in their field in order to gain tenure (Subotzky, 1997). In 1990, 30% of

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faculty members at historically Black universities held doctorate degrees, 36% master’s degrees, and 34% had honors or other postbaccalaureate degrees. This is compared to 45% of faculty at historically White universities possessing doctorates, 31% with master’s degrees, and 24% with honors or other postbaccalaureate qualification (Bunting, 1994; Subotzky, 1997). The perceived underqualification of faculty at historically Black universities, coupled with the persistent perception of these institutions as second-rate universities, presents challenges as these universities struggle to create a new identity and rid themselves of their historically marginal position. Such an image also influences the degree to which the historically Black institutions can compete with the historically White institutions for resources, students, and faculty. RECENT DEVELOPMENTS Emerging from this legacy of inequality and differences, how do universities in South Africa transform their identity? The passage of the Universities Amendment Act in 1983 legally terminated racial segregation in the tertiary sector. This act repealed laws prohibiting the admission of South Africans of color at historically White universities. Since the passage of this legislation, there has been a notable increase in the enrollment of Black students at historically White universities, albeit at varying rates. Some of the English-language universities, proclaiming themselves “open” to all students regardless of race during the apartheid era (Vale, 1987; Keenan, 1981), witnessed a steady increase in their Black student enrollments throughout the 1980s. Enrollments rose from less than 10% in the mid-1980s (SAIRR, 1985) to approximately 46% by 1993 (SAIRR, 1994). The rate of Black student enrollments was much slower at the Afrikaans-language universities, with significant enrollment increases noted in the 1990s. Although there are variations in the responses of Afrikaans universities, their general pattern of response to Black enrollments was initially slower than that observed at the English-language universities. The 1990s ushered in the beginning of a new era in the politics of South Africa. During this period, major political parties were unbanned; political prisoners were released; South Africans voted in their first democratic elections; the African National Congress was elected to governance; and Nelson Mandela became the first democratically elected president in South Africa. The new ANC government committed itself to dismantling the apartheid system and creating a new nonracist, nonsexist South Africa. This new vision requires reconstituting all spheres of South African society. This includes the education sector. While there is a general consensus that the current system of education

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is inherently discriminatory, there are fervent debates concerning how to create a new system of education. The National Party government’s apartheid policies influenced every aspect of South Africa’s educational endeavors. As such, the challenge to bring equitable educational opportunities to every citizen involves a multiplicity of tasks. Most notable has been the struggle to desegregate schools. New school admissions policies were adopted in 1995 alongside constitutional antidiscrimination provisions. These policies made it necessary for schools to accept any students in their area. However, the degree of residential segregation established during the apartheid era means that many of the schools remains racially segregated and that the quality of the students’ educational experiences remains racially or socioeconomically interrelated. In particular, in 1995 the Weekly Mail & Guardian characterized many of the former Department of Education and Training schools2 in the following manner: “overcrowded, under-equipped, run-down and understaffed” (December 13, 1995). These policies also account for major transformations in the racial composition of formerly all-White or Colored schools. Because of the new admission policies, several schools that previously catered to all-White students and faculty now have an all or predominantly Black student body. In contrast, the faculties have remained all White, creating cultural gaps between students and staff (Weekly Mail & Guardian, December 13, 1995). Additionally, since formerly Colored schools are geographically more accessible to other South Africans of color, these schools have witnessed the largest influx of African students as their parents attempt to access quality education. Augmenting concerns about admissions and the overall quality of South African education have been disputes over the curricula. While much of the controversy surrounds the content of textbooks that, as of 1995, had not been revised since the reign of the National Party, the nature of teacher training has also emerged as a critical issue. In particular, the textbooks reflect the National Party’s political and racial ideology. Additionally, at colleges previously responsible for training teachers, the mode of instruction had been and remains rote memorization. Consequently, preservice teachers are required to memorize National Party ideologies, without question, as part of their collegiate experience. The challenges facing South African education at the primary and secondary levels are exacerbated by the need to administratively reorganize and find additional financial resources. As part of the National Party regime, separate administrative structures were established for each racial group. Furthermore, as mentioned previously, the funding that schools received was contingent on the racial group they served.

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The current challenge is to downsize the administrative entities while equalizing the quality of resources afforded schools disadvantaged under the apartheid policies. Without doing so, the past patterns of educational discrimination will remain intact. With respect to the tertiary sector, significant efforts have been undertaken to reorganize and redress the needs of all South Africans. In acknowledgment of the massive deficiencies in the system of higher education inherited from the apartheid era, President Mandela appointed a National Commission on Higher Education (NCHE) in 1995 to investigate this sector and, on the basis of its findings, make policy recommendations for its restructuring. The NCHE Report offered recommendations for change in key areas, including the structure of the new system, its governance, and funding. The report formed the foundation for the Green and White Papers in higher education and, subsequently, the Higher Education Act that was passed at the end of 1997. The following chapters explore the most significant challenges facing South Africa’s tertiary sector. In particular, the greatest challenge appears to be equalizing the educational opportunities provided by institutions that have historically been advantaged or disadvantaged in the midst of diminishing allocations to higher education. The impetus to do so rests on the prevailing notion that tertiary education is a tool for redistributing wealth in a way that does not reflect or perpetuate prior policies of racial, gender, or geographical inequities. Pivotal to this discussion are issues of access: • To what degree are the previously excluded given access to institutions with the greatest resources? • Once the previously excluded have been given access, what factors influence the quality of their educational experiences? • How should transformation be managed? • Most notably, what constituencies should be included in the transformation to enhance the likelihood that previously excluded students will succeed? • To what degree will the institutional culture and structure change in order to facilitate these students’ success? • With respect to institutions disadvantaged under the prior political regime, what efforts must be adopted in order for them to compete with historically advantaged institutions in an environment of diminishing national resources? • Finally, to what degree can the South African experience shed light on experiences in other countries?

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ORGANIZATION OF THE BOOK The chapters in this volume explore the diversity of transformation initiatives that have been implemented at various universities and technikons in South Africa and Namibia. What is notable about the cases addressed here is the broad range of responses and initiatives to facilitate the process of institutional transformation. While some universities have worked hard to embrace the principles of equality, nonracism, and nonsexism espoused by the new government, others have continued with business as usual or tacitly resisted efforts to bring about meaningful change. The first three chapters examine transformation initiatives at Afrikaanslanguage universities. While these universities were historically labeled as “conservative,” the cases discussed clearly demonstrate that these institutions are not monolithic. Their responses to recent political changes in South Africa are varied as each institution attempts to create a unique identity. Chapters 4 and 5 examine transformation initiatives at Englishlanguage universities. In chapter 4, Kimberly Lenease King provides a broad overview of administrative efforts and challenges to include historically excluded groups at this university. In chapter 5, Rochelle L. Woods’s discussion focuses on the experiences of Black students. Chapter 6 explores transformation initiatives at two historically Black universities. The University of Namibia, discussed in chapter 7, is different from the other institutions in this volume in that it is located in the now independent country of Namibia. Until 1990, Namibia was under trusteeship of the South African government. Therefore, the people of Namibia were subjected to many of the maladies of the apartheid system, and their system of education was equally afflicted with disparities and inequities. As Hopson’s discussion demonstrates, the University of Namibia faces challenges like those of South Africa’s universities. Chapter 8 examines technikons, a sector of postsecondary education that has been neglected in discussions of South African higher education. The author explores challenges that confront these institutions and for the most part have been relegated to the fringes of the higher education sector. The volume concludes with a discussion of policy implications. NOTES 1. In the South African academic system, the rank of faculty members is as follows: Professor, Associate Professor, Senior Lecturer, Lecturer, and Junior Lecturer.

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2. The Department of Education and Training, or DET, was administratively responsible for “Bantu” schools. More specifically, these were the schools designated for Black South Africans or Africans. REFERENCES Ashley, M. J. (1971). The education of white elites in South Africa. Comparative Education, 7 (1), 32–45. Booysen, S. (1989). Afrikaans universities and the control of political consciousness: A case study. Paper presented at the Congress of the Association of Sociologists of South Africa, University of Witwatersrand, Johannesburg. Bunting, I. (1994). Legacy of inequality: Higher education in South Africa. Rondebosch: UCT Press. Divided campus: Universities in South Africa. (1986). London: World University Service. Fanon, F. (1963). Wretched of the earth. New York: Grove Weidenfeld. Gwala, N. (1988). State control, student politics and the crisis in Black universities. In W. Cobbett & R. Cohen (Eds.), Popular Struggles in South Africa. Trenton, NJ: African World Press. Keenan, J. H. (1981). Open minds and closed systems: Comments on the function and future of the “urban English-speaking” university in South Africa. Social Dynamics, 6 (2), 36–47. Marcum, J. A. (1982). Education, race, and social change in South Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press. Muller, J. (1991). South Africa. In P. G. Altbach (Ed.), International higher education: An Encyclopedia (Vol. 1). New York: Garland Publishing. Murray, B. K. (1990). Wits as an “open” university 1939–1959: Black admissions at the University of Witwatersrand. Journal of Southern African Studies, 16 (4), 649–676. Naidu, E. (1997). Universities furious at “apartheid perpetuating cuts.” Higher Education Review: New Nation (March 14), 21. National Commission on Higher Education. (1996). A framework for transformation. Pretoria: NCHE. Sehoole, V., & Wolpe, H. (1994). The financing of post-secondary education. In Draft Policy Proposals for the Reconstruction and Transformation of Post-secondary Education in South Africa. Bellville, South Africa: Educational Policy Unit, University of Western Cape. South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR). (1994). Race relations survey 1993/1994. Johannesburg: Author. South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR). (1985). Race relations survey 1985. Johannesburg: Author.

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Subotzky, G. (1997). Final research report: The enhancement of graduate programmes and research capacity at the historically Black universities. Bellville, South Africa: Education Policy Unit, University of Western Cape. Vale, P. (1987). Between a rock and a hard place. Reality, 19, 11–15. Weekly Mail & Guardian. (December 13, 1995). http://www.mg.co.za. Yoganathan, V., & Lee, P. (1996). Campuses countrywide in crisis. Higher Education Review: New Nation (May 17), 13.

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Transformation through Negotiation: The University of Port Elizabeth’s Experiences, Challenges, and Progress ANN E. AUSTIN

INTRODUCTION Situated in the Eastern Province along the coast of the Indian Ocean, the University of Port Elizabeth (UPE) is gaining a respected reputation for its steady, innovative process of negotiated transformation. Founded in 1964 as a dual language (English and Afrikaans) institution, designed primarily to serve the Afrikaner population in the area as an alternative to the more liberal environment attributed to the English-speaking Rhodes University, UPE has been described by some as having a “classic apartheid institution” history. Out of this historically advantaged past has emerged an institution deeply engaged in transforming and recreating itself to serve the diverse constituencies of its region with a focus on teaching and development, as well as highquality research. Prior to the formal political change in South Africa in 1994, the University of Port Elizabeth began a proactive approach to transformation, using a process called “negotiated transformation” that involves relevant institutional and societal stakeholders. With almost 7,000 students on campus (“contact students”), 20% of whom are postgraduate, and almost 70,000 more partaking in the institution’s distance-education offerings, UPE is experiencing steady growth and is a very different institution today than it was five or six years ago. The university is located on the edge of the city of Port Elizabeth in the center of a wildlife preserve, with a well-maintained physical plant and grounds, including a new classroom building situated close to the main fourteen-story building that dominates the campus. The majority of the 6,000 or so students are commuters, with a small

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on-campus student population living in four residence halls. In the early 1990s, the student population was virtually all White. Now more than 60% of the students are Black1; 41% of the contact students are African, 12% Colored, 4% Indian, and 43% White. Changes in demographics are taking place across all faculties (colleges) in the university, where in the past, changes occurred in mostly arts and education. The percentage of African students in graduate programs increased from 16% in 1994 to 36% in 1999. Approximately 94% of the distanceeducation students are African. However, while broadened access and a shift from a homogeneous to a heterogeneous environment are central to the transformation process under way at UPE, other aspects of UPE are also critical to the meaning and process of transformation. This chapter first examines what transformation means at UPE and how it is occurring, and then analyzes the issues and challenges accompanying the process. My analyses and understandings of transformation are shaped by a theoretical understanding of organizations as complex systems and cultures. As complex systems, organizations must be understood as situated in environments with which they are constantly interacting (Birnbaum, 1991; Dolence & Norris, 1995); furthermore, within an organization, multiple system elements interact and must be taken into account (Alpert, 1985; Checkland & Scholes, 1987; Sterman, 1994). A university exists in a fluid and influential societal environment and consists of multiple organizational levels (e.g., the institution as a whole, the colleges or faculties, the departments or units, the individual faculty2 members) and multiple system elements (e.g., the mission, structures, policies and processes, and the people) (Austin, 1998a, 1998b). A very important system element of an organization is its culture—that is, the beliefs, values, and assumptions embedded in organizational life and expressed through symbols, rituals, and daily interactions and events (Austin, 1990, 1994; Clark, 1970; Deal & Kennedy, 1982; Geertz, 1973). According to Kuh and Whitt (1998), culture can be defined as “the collective, mutually shaping patterns of norms, values, practices, beliefs, and assumptions that guide the behavior of individuals and groups” (pp. 12–13). Thus, in seeking to understand transformation at UPE, I have tried to understand the extent to which transformation has affected and is reflected in the elements of the various systems that comprise the institution, including the extent to which transformation goals and values are embedded in the organizational culture and thus in the lives of the staff and students of the institution. This chapter is organized into three parts. In the first section, I begin by describing how UPE publicly presents itself today in terms of its mission, core values, and priorities. Then I move to a discussion of its

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philosophy of transformation and conclude this section with a historical accounting of the steps and events that have brought about transformation. In the second section, I turn from discussion of the public assertions about transformation to a deeper-level analysis of what transformation implies for various system elements of the institution. The section examines successes and gains in various parts of the institution, as well as challenges and concerns expressed by various stakeholders. Readers will find that the tone of the first two sections of the chapter differ from one another; while document analysis and observation lead to the descriptions and insights of the first section, the second section draws primarily from extensive interviews as well as a year of observations to explore more deeply what transformation at UPE, beyond the rhetorical assertions, really means in participants’ lives. In the final section, I provide an overall assessment of transformation at UPE, describing debates among various stakeholders and offering thoughts on the lessons and questions raised by this case. OVERVIEW OF THE TRANSFORMATION OF UPE The University of Port Elizabeth has a clearly stated mission and set of core values on which it is building its future. This mission and accompanying values have been forged through a process of negotiated transformation. This section discusses the public description of the university, its overall strategy for transformation, and the series of events that paved the way for the restructuring of UPE into an institution different in significant ways from the UPE of the past. Mission, Core Values, and Priorities Consistent themes appear in the public statements that have been issued in the past few years to explain UPE as a transforming institution, though the details in these statements have become clearer with time. Key terms and phrases include development, learnercenteredness, participation, and diversity. The mission statement highlights several of these themes: The University of Port Elizabeth is a learning community with a clear focus on development. Our programmes and services are informed by our societal context and reflect our commitment to be a major provider of cutting-edge knowledge and well-equipped leaders. (Strategic Master Plan, 1998) Frequently mentioned by institutional leaders are the core values associated with this mission statement: academic excellence, academic

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freedom, equity, democracy, institutional integrity, accountability, development, and organizational effectiveness. The Strategic Direction Statement and the Statement of Management Philosophy and Strategic Priorities (Strategic Master Plan, 1998) further explicate the values on which the institution is committed to doing its work and the goals toward which it aspires. In these statements, the university’s commitment to “development” is defined as “releasing the potential and improving the quality of life of all people, particularly those who have been most disadvantaged.” The Strategic Priorities call for empowering students through attention to development and wellness as well as through a democratic student governance system. Closely related to development is the institution’s commitment to a “learner-centered approach.” Paralleling priorities in the national higher education system, learner-centeredness involves the creation of career-oriented programs and flexible delivery modes. Another aspect of the Strategic Direction is “high-quality research,” defined as both responsiveness to specific needs in South Africa and involvement in the global research community. UPE also publicly states its commitment to “socially engaged teaching, learning, and research,” an approach that integrates community service into all aspects of the university’s work, emphasizes the institution’s commitment to improving society, and contrasts with UPE’s isolation from important parts of its surrounding society during the apartheid period. Other key strategic directions include commitment “to promote democracy in the foundation of empowered local communities,” “to establish mutually beneficial partnerships with local and international organizations,” and to value diversity as “a key principle in enhancing the quality of all our endeavors.” Specific areas targeted for growth are the natural, economic, and health sciences, and professional fields. Priorities in the last two years have been the development of a Student Placement Test (which is under way in consultation with the Educational Testing Service in the United States) and a student recruitment plan, the establishment of a University Advancement Program for students not fully prepared for university academic demands, and the establishment of distance-program offerings and international partnerships. UPE’s stated Management Philosophy supports a “democratic,” “creative,” and “effective” organization. In terms of democracy, the university’s philosophy calls for a flat structure in which authority and responsibility devolve to appropriate levels, staff are empowered, and information and decision making are shared. Regarding creativity, the philosophy calls for a culture of “commitment” (based on involvement, development, and widely shared information and decision making) in contrast to a culture of “control” (characterized by compliance and supervision). In terms of effectiveness, UPE is to be characterized by flex-

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ibility, cooperation, networking, and shared goals. Current priorities for management include the development of a quality assurance system; investigation of technologies to enhance information management; continued commitment to the careful fiscal management that has characterized the institution for years and now will involve a programbased cost center model and attention to collection of fees; the development of fund-raising, communication, and alumni plans; and training of managers (administrators) throughout the institution to monitor the implementation of strategic priorities. Summarizing these commitments, the Management Philosophy states: At UPE there is a preference for a post-bureaucratic organisation, i.e., an interactive type of organisation where consensus is reached not through acquiescence to authority, rules or tradition, but through institutional dialogue, where dialogue is defined by the use of expert influence rather than through status power in permanent offices. (Strategic Master Plan, 1998, p. 3) UPE’S PHILOSOPHY AND PROCESS OF TRANSFORMATION The University of Port Elizabeth calls the process in which it has been and is engaged as “negotiated transformation.” Using the term “idealtype” to describe a way “to portray a vision of what is being strived for in the process of transformation” (Strategic Master Plan, 1998, p. 4), the Master Plan defines negotiated transformation as “a process in which the systemic features of the institution are modified” (p. 4). Professor Deon Pretorius, one of the institutional leaders who has been deeply involved in the transformation process since the start, explains it “as a relatively rapid but incremental process of change conducted according to the rules of multi-stakeholder negotiation” (Pretorius, 1996, p. 6). All documents discussing this process note that negotiated transformation moves the institution from being closed and homogeneous, as the apartheid system required, to being a more open and dynamic system appropriate for a diverse postapartheid society. Negotiated transformation at UPE includes “structural,” “cultural,” and “interactional” dimensions (Strategic Master Plan, 1998, p. 4). Structural transformation refers to change in demographics as well as in ownership, power, and control patterns. Specifically, the institution is diversifying its student and staff profile with the goal of paralleling local and national demographics. Additionally, structural transformation also involves a shift from monopolistic power to broad ownership in which multiple stakeholders participate in decision making, the governing Council and Senate are restructured to ensure greater democ-

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racy and representation, leaders are elected, academic staff and students are more empowered, and all members of the community have the right to contribute. The cultural dimension of transformation refers to “changes on the level of knowledge, ideas, ideologies, values, purpose, beliefs, etc.” (Strategic Master Plan, 1998, p. 4). This transformation process means shifting from a “homogenous, mono-cultural” environment to a “heterogeneous, multi-cultural environment” (Strategic Master Plan, 1998, p. 4). Such a transformation involves commitment to nation building, blurring of boundaries rather than separation between kinds of knowledge, and creating a culture that goes beyond simply increasing the numbers of underrepresented people to one where diversity and difference are highly valued (Pretorius, 1996, p. 10). The interactional goals of negotiated transformation refer to the patterns in the ways in which individuals and groups within the institution interrelate. The institution is committed to moving from hierarchical, authoritarian, domineering relationships to ones characterized by negotiation, participation, dialogue, and egalitarianism. This shift implies a greater institutional focus on service and outreach in the form of mutually useful relationships between the university and the community; new roles for administrators and managers, as well as for academic staff who are now expected to participate as valued participants in decision-making processes; and new social norms among all stakeholders (Pretorius, 1996, pp. 10–11). At UPE, negotiated transformation is contrasted with revolutionary transformation and with evolutionary change. While revolutionary transformation involves deep, fundamental, and immediate interventions, evolutionary transformation is based on change over time that may be superficial in nature. Situated between these positions, negotiated transformation is described as incremental, participatory, and comprehensive. Interventions are planned and require adversaries to talk, listen, reason, bargain, and interact when it comes to voicing their perspectives and interests (Strategic Master Plan, 1998; Pretorius, 1996). The results are often compromises, and therefore “not perfect” to all; however, many stakeholders find a way to “buy in” through the process of negotiated transformation (Pretorius, 1996, p. 11). The leaders who have developed the negotiated transformation process at UPE see it as responding to and appropriate in the context of the national agenda for the transformation of South Africa, in which “processes of redress and sustainable development must be linked to the long term pursuit of qualitative growth and national prosperity” (Strategic Master Plan, 1998, p. 5). The philosophy of negotiated transformation has emerged out of the events, discussed below, that initiated transformation at UPE. As the chronology of events indicates, engaging in negotiated transformation in real life involves bumps and challenges

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perhaps not articulated in the statement of negotiated transformation as an idealtype. Nevertheless, UPE has persisted and seen exciting results generated by the commitment of the institution as a whole, and of the individual players, to the process of negotiated transformation and the vision it advances. The new mission statement, core values, and strategic priorities of the institution are the result of negotiated transformation processes; at the same time, the institution’s mission, values, and priorities have come to guide the continuing process of negotiated transformation at UPE. CHRONOLOGY OF TRANSFORMATION AT UPE The transformation process now under way and its achievements to date are the outcomes of serious commitment and efforts by a number of people. The university began a strategic planning process in the late 1980s as institutional tensions with the community were growing, and, by 1990, when it became apparent that the apartheid system was reaching an end, university leaders could see that new interactions with the community had to be cultivated. An important stimulus came from a February 1990 symposium “The Challenge of Change in South Africa,” scheduled as part of the institution’s twenty-five-year celebration. An initially tentative relationship began forming between university management (the term for the institution’s senior leaders) and the Broad Democratic Movement, which linked and represented a number of organizations working for change, including the National Education Coordinating Committee (NECC), the African National Congress (ANC) Education Desk, and various union and community groups such as the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU), the Union of Democratic University Staff Association (UDUSA), the South African Communist Party (SACP), the South African Democratic Teachers’ Union (SADTU), and various nongovernment organizations (NGOs). Many staff at UPE recall the important stimulus provided in 1992 by a conference held on campus on the theme of “Tertiary Education in a Changing South Africa,” organized jointly by the university and the National Education Coordinating Committee (NECC). Major antiapartheid leaders participated, and conference statements paved the way for future transformation. The discussions at the conference, as well as at additional meetings between representatives of the university management and national and regional representatives of the ANC Education Desk, were instrumental in revealing that planning for the future—transformation—must necessarily involve the participation of a wide range of constituencies from the community who had been excluded under the apartheid system. Jan Kirsten, then dean of the Faculty of Arts and professor of philosophy, delivered one of the two closing

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comments in a talk titled “The Way Forward.” After calling for institutional change, social responsibility, and interinstitutional cooperation, Professor Kirsten concluded by stating: After this conference there can no longer be any illusions about the daunting task awaiting us. For many, and let’s be quite frank, especially for historically White universities of a conservative nature, like the University of Port Elizabeth, the road ahead will be a long and difficult haul. . . . If, without memory, we have no future, then, by the same token, without idealism and “pro-active audacity” with regard to the future, we will not escape from the suction power of the past. From outside our institutions there should be genuine understanding for the difficulties involved in charting “the Way Forward”; from the inside there must be a real sense of urgency to get moving. For UPE to have been involved in a public debate about the future of tertiary education in a changing South Africa, is an awakening, a learning experience, a solid starting point. By co-hosting this conference with the NECC it has, I believe, demonstrated its commitment and good faith. For us, “the Way Forward” has just begun. (Kirsten, 1992) As a group representing various community constituents, the Broad Democratic Movement (BDM) became a logical and legitimate stakeholder with whom university representatives could develop links with the community. Thus, a Joint Advisory Forum (JAF) was formed in 1993, with representatives from both the BDM and the university management. As an advisory group, JAF had only limited power, however, and was not able to deal with the crisis that ensued when Eugene Terre’Blanche, widely known as a highly conservative political leader and defender of apartheid, was scheduled to speak on campus on a date that turned out to be one week after the assassination of Chris Hani, a prominent anti-apartheid leader. Tensions erupted on campus and, when the vice chancellor (in South Africa, the title for the most senior campus leader) would not listen to SASCO’s (the student association) concerns about the scheduled visit, the vice chancellor’s offices were occupied by SASCO, UDUSA members, and the service staff of the university. Furthermore, the dean of the Faculty of Arts, Professor Jan Kirsten, and others did not support the vice chancellor’s position, which revealed a divided position among management officers. In the wake of these events, JAF could not function, tensions were high, and formal relationships between the university and the BDM stalled. The occupation of the vice chancellor’s office also led the BDM to recognize how the media could be used to pressure university management to resume discussions and move forward (Pretorius, 1997).

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Facing the pressure of a media campaign, the university management held an important strategic planning meeting in May 1993 and “resolved to recommend to Council and Senate that the principle of a negotiated transformation of the University be accepted” (quoted on the UPE Web site). Informal discussion continued, with the BDM committing itself to engaging in negotiated transformation, rather than revolution, and management agreeing to proceed in a collaborative way with the BDM. When the vice chancellor resigned, citing health reasons, an acting principal, who had been vice rector under the previous vice chancellor, was appointed. In the meantime, Professor Kirsten and several other faculty were working to cultivate and improve the relationship between university management and the BDM, which led to a meeting in a historic downtown hotel in which four senior academics and several representatives of the BDM came to agreement about key issues to ask the UPE Council (the institutional governing board) to approve: formalization of negotiation, a democratic election of the vice chancellor, and a democratic restructuring of the University Council. On August 9, 1993, the Council meeting approved these proposals, and then UPE and BDM representatives met to establish three joint working groups (Negotiated Transformation, 1997; Pretorius, 1997). UPE was the first historically White university to elect a vice chancellor in a completely democratic way (Pretorius, 1997). The process involved an evaluation panel with two representatives from each of a wide group of constituencies, including representatives from the University Council, the Senate, UDUSA, the Staff Association, the Lecturers’ Association, the Student Representative Council (SRC), the ANC, NECC, and various unions. In recollecting this process, staff at UPE reflect that it was the first time that members of the university’s maintenance and service staff had had the opportunity to pose questions to candidates for such a position. The process resulted in a near unanimous decision in October 1993 for the appointment of Professor Jan Kirsten, then dean of the Faculty of Arts. Professor Kirsten was widely respected and perceived as willing to engage in a process of participatory negotiation and committed to a new vision of the university (Pretorius, 1997). His inauguration took place in April 1994. After the election of the new vice chancellor, negotiations continued intensely, but were permeated by “an atmosphere of suspicion and distrust”; thus, “negotiations tended to be adversarial and overly political” (Negotiated Transformation, 1997, p. 3). With representatives of both UPE and the BDM uncertain of each other’s motives and agendas, and with the necessity to create new relationships and modes of interaction, the process was slow and frustrating. However, the major political change at the national level in 1994—resulting in the establishment of the government of National Unity and a national program emphasizing

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reconstruction and development—provided a fruitful environment for linking discussions at UPE with the massive transformation under way throughout the country. In this new context and as involved parties learned how to work together, the negotiations at UPE moved forward productively. An Executive Summary produced in 1994 by the institution’s Centre for Organisational and Academic Development described the negotiation process in this way: “The emphasis shifted away from positions to issues and policies which are reconstructive and developmental in their nature and implication. The shift was away from power to information and from contestation to communicative problemsolving” (Negotiated Transformation, 1997, p. 3). With the election of Professor Kirsten as principal and vice chancellor, the transformation process moved to a new stage, focused on establishing a formal negotiation forum and restructuring the council. In June 1994, a formal agreement was signed to establish the Broad Transformation Forum (BTF), which consists of representatives of the university, the BDM (whose name changed to the Democratic Education Forum in 1996), and various other parties called Other Interested Groups (including the Student Representative Council, the UPE Staff Association, the UPE Teachers’ Association, and the Azanian Students’ Convention). The agreement stipulated that, as the process progressed, legitimate new stakeholders could participate but they must not slow down or reverse the process. The BTF consists of three entities: a Broad Negotiating Plenary to meet four times a year (equivalent to the Broad Transformation Forum at other institutions); a Negotiating Action Committee to oversee and manage the negotiating process; and a number of Working Groups to focus on negotiation around particular issues. A full-time Secretariat was also appointed. With definitions settled on legitimate stakeholders, the council was restructured to include new constituencies, including representatives from students, organized labor, organized business, communities, and education-related NGOs. Enlarged from twenty-four to thirty—sometimes thirty-three members (depending on the number elected in various categories), the new council was designed to ensure both representation of legitimate stakeholders within the university and the community, and gender representation. At least 25% of the council must be women, and at least 25% men. The Senate also has been reconstituted and now includes the principal, vice principal, two members of the council, professors of the university, directors of academic and administrative units, two representatives from each faculty who are not Senate members, three students appointed by the SRC, and five other students, each from one of the five faculties. Executive Management, the team of deans and directors who engage in the ongoing work of running the institution, also has undergone some change; the his-

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torically White male Afrikaner group now also includes several African men and a few women. The Management Philosophy, discussed in more detail later in this chapter, has changed significantly to embrace democracy, “innovative thinking,” “involvement,” “open information sharing” and “critical discourse,” and the creation of a “learning organization” (Negotiated Transformation, 1997, p. 11). Various working groups, operating under the purview of the Negotiating Action Committee, have made additional progress. One group has developed a UPE Affirmative Action Policy. The Student Working Group, meanwhile, has focused on restructuring student governance and writing a new Student Constitution, and currently is addressing various issues such as grievance issues, security, fees, and student welfare. A Vision and Mission Working Group finished its work, as did a group negotiating the institution’s core values. Other working groups have been developing a language policy, formulating codes of conduct, and addressing religious observance issues. Working groups have developed policies on racial discrimination, gender discrimination, disability, culture and religion, HIV/AIDS, sexual harassment, and language. Policies in these areas are subsumed under the institution’s policy on the promotion of equality, diversity, and elimination of unfair discrimination. This policy also includes an Employment Equity Plan (a requirement under government legislation), which sets targets for increasing the proportion of previously disadvantaged groups employed by the institution. As the specific events in the chronology of transformation at UPE have unfolded, the university has witnessed a concomitant dramatic increase in the enrollment of Black students since 1993. During the apartheid period, fewer than 10% of the student body were Black students; with major increases over the past five or six years, Black students (the greater majority of whom are African) comprised more than 60% of the student body by 1999. The first section of this chapter has discussed what I call the public facts about UPE’s transformation: the vision, values, and priorities guiding the institution; the philosophy of negotiated transformation; and the chronology of events and changes. In the next section, I probe more deeply into what transformation means in the life of the institution and how staff and students experience and interpret the university and its transformation process. ISSUES IN TRANSFORMATION Transformation is more than a set of historical events. Mindful that a university is a complex system, I examine in this section various aspects of UPE as a transforming university, and explore both the sig-

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nificant progress made and the challenges and issues remaining to be addressed. In particular, this section considers issues associated with access and the student experience, structural and political changes, leadership, communication, the curriculum, academic and administrative staff, and the organizational culture. Professor Andre´ Havenga— one of the key leaders in the transformation process and director of the Centre for Organisational and Academic Development, which facilitates much of the transformation work—has explained that the first stage of transformation at UPE concerned political transformation and restructuring, “aimed to heal the rifts between the institution and its legitimate stakeholders, and to enable the institution to function less hierarchically and less bureaucratically.” The second phase, he indicates, is “educational transformation, which includes the debates around curriculum and access.” He asserts that transformation must go beyond physical access to ensure “access to the curriculum,” and he suggests that the institution must rethink the “Eurocentric models which have suited the White, middle class ‘groups’ in our nation,” but which, he implies, may not be as relevant for all members of the population in a culturally diverse institution (Havenga, 1998, p. 2). Another stage or phase of transformation, I suggest, is deep-level cultural change at the institutional and individual level. Reconstituting structures, broadening access, and changing curricula are all critical parts of institutional transformation. However, the challenge is to make transformation values permeate every aspect of the university and each decision, experience, and interaction in the lives of the people who comprise the university. This level of transformation typically happens slowly, since it involves individuals’ deeply held beliefs; yet it is essential to ensuring that the values and mission UPE articulates become embedded in the institution. Recognizing that transformation is moving through various steps and phases at UPE, the section that follows explores what the various aspects of transformation at UPE entail and how transformation plays out in the lives of the students, academic staff, institutional leaders, and other employees of the university. Broadening Access In the past six years, UPE has been transformed from an almost entirely White institution to a university with a very diverse student body. Taxis run regularly from the Black townships that surround Port Elizabeth to deliver students to the campus. A look around the campus dining room, the gathering area in the center of the campus, and the paths to and from the residence halls confirms that African students are a major constituency group of this formerly White institution.

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Clearly, a key aspect of transformation at UPE is diversity and broadened access. Ensuring access is just one step, however, toward ensuring a welcoming, supportive environment for a diverse group of students. An extensive, qualitative study, conducted by a visiting American who spent much of 1997 at UPE, explored how African students were experiencing UPE (Fish, 1996). Some students reported feeling incongruence between their culture as Africans and the culture they were confronting at UPE. Furthermore, African students experienced differences as they interacted with African students from different language and culture groups (e.g., Xhosa culture as compared to Zulu culture). Participants in the study expressed concern that their prior school experiences had not fully prepared them for what is expected at the university, especially with regard to critical thinking, note taking, and library skills. Many were finding that their lecturers were not fully meeting their needs. While classes at UPE are conducted in English (not Afrikaans), language is a challenge for many African students, since English is not likely to be their first language. Pressure from families and concerns about finances also were reported as issues of concern to a number of students. Overall, males tended to perceive UPE more negatively than females. Students interviewed called for more peer support groups, academic advisors, and student mentors; more orientation to university resources; more centralized student services; more preparatory courses focused on academic skill development; more small group teaching with teaching assistants; and greater sensitivity to students’ needs. Of particular note, African student participants in the study tended to feel that transformation still had far to go to ensure an educational experience that truly met their needs. Greater diversity among institutional staff and the promotion of more intercultural events were additional suggestions to move toward a more transformed environment (Fish, 1996). Many among the university leadership and academic staff recognize how important it is to move beyond access to support for students and greater responsiveness to students’ concerns. An important approach has been to recognize that a major challenge for many African students is poor preparation for university work due to their experiences in resource-starved primary and secondary schools in their communities. While many of the students have significant academic potential, their educational experiences, in many cases, have inadequately prepared them for the challenges of tertiary education. One of the institutional strategies for supporting students’ access to the institution, and their success once they enroll, is the Supplemental Instruction (SI) program. As the campus began to diversify earlier in the 1990s, the director of

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the Center for Organisational and Academic Development, Professor Andre´ Havenga, learned of the success of this program at the University of Missouri–Kansas City in the United States and used a sabbatical leave to gain knowledge about organizing and adapting such a program for UPE. He saw SI as a strategy for change that could create momentum for developing a new culture of learning. Supplemental Instruction involves small groups, led by trained peer (student) facilitators, which meet to supplement course lectures with student discussions and interactions that foster learning. Building on a 1993 pilot program in courses in Sociology and Law, and then in Chemistry and Physics, the SI program has expanded greatly into many departments and is credited for assisting hundreds of students to learn successful approaches to mastering challenging courses. Furthermore, as Professor Havenga had anticipated, the SI program has led to discussions and questions among faculty about how learning processes occur in specific fields. Thus, the SI program has been a key catalyst in transforming the learning culture, as well as a highly significant strategy for ensuring that broadening access means not only admitting students but also providing an environment designed to foster success. For several years, an Extended Curriculum Program provided extra support for some students not fully prepared for university work by spreading the first year work over more semesters and providing specific instruction in academic skills. Then, during 1998, a more extensive UPE Advancement Programme (UPEAP) was designed, with a starting date of the new academic year in January 1999. UPEAP serves students whose high school grades are not high enough to meet the requirements for admission to the natural, health, and economic sciences. A carefully constructed first-year program integrates academic discipline–focused study with attention to building study skills and intellectual habits needed for academic success. The designers of the program spent considerable time in 1998 visiting similar programs at other universities and engaging in extensive planning. This three-year pilot project admitted about 100 students for 1996 (60 of whom passed) and 115 for the 2000 year. With the steady record of broadening access and the commitment of institutional resources and time to establishing several programs to support students from groups previously not served by the institution, UPE can point to broadening access and expanding diversity as evidence of transformation. Yet challenges remain to be addressed. Even while applauding the impressive record of the SI program and the new promise of UPEAP, some academic staff urge more support for the students coming to the institution now that access has been broadened. These staff call for more opportunities for student interaction with faculty, more institutional commitment to listening to the needs expressed

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by students, and more structures to facilitate peer counseling. The residence halls, whose population now reflects the diversity of UPE’s student population, have typically been conceptualized in South Africa more as hostels for sleeping than as planned environments for fostering the educational goals of an institution. Some academic staff at UPE recommend that the residence program should offer more educationally focused activities. Additionally, with large numbers of students commuting to campus, staff and students urge greater attention to the needs of commuting students. At a retreat in late 1998, which brought together students, academic staff, university counselors, and representatives of management, frank, respectful, and creative brainstorming raised numerous ideas for institutional strategies for better including and supporting commuting students. Student leaders are also working together to develop ideas and to enhance the learning environment in the residence halls. Even as the broadening of access is applauded, students and staff raise concerns about the physical location of the campus on a peninsula rather removed from most Black townships. Various departments work hard at establishing links within township communities; the pharmacy department, for example, has students working in township clinics, and the social work department arranges internships in township locations. Continued work on linking university resources, expertise, and students will be part of the continuing transformation process implied by broadening access and diversifying the institution. UPE’s commitment to development as an integral part of teaching and research is central to this ongoing transformation. Structural and Political Changes Institutional transformation is also evident in the restructuring of decision-making bodies and processes. Through the negotiated transformation process, the council has been restructured to ensure representation of key constituencies, including students, staff, and community groups. Executive Management includes all deans and directors, and UPE was the first historically White institution to hold democratic elections to fill the position of vice chancellor. Senate membership has been broadened, and various committees with representatives from constituent groups are carrying out the work as well as the ongoing policy decisions pertaining to transformation. Some departments, such as law, have restructured to ensure shared responsibility across faculty for department decisions, while the Arts Faculty has restructured into schools clustered around vocationally focused interdisciplinary teams. Across the university, institutional leaders and faculty alike agree that UPE is far less hierarchical and far more par-

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ticipatory than it was before the negotiated transformation began. There is wide consensus that responsibility and authority have been shifted to those with immediate responsibility in the relevant areas. While restructuring has been an important, very visible, and celebrated element of the transformation process, members of management and staff whom I interviewed also expressed observations about further progress to be made with regard to restructuring and decision-making processes. Frequently expressed is the concern that the Senate and Executive Management tend to make broad decisions, but, in an effort to avoid being overly prescriptive, sometimes fail to attend to specific details related to those big decisions. Academic staff note that this pattern of decision making (along with other factors, such as forms of resistance to transformation expressed by some academic and administrative staff) sometimes contributes to only superficial changes occurring at the unit level rather than the truly transformational work intended. Another issue emerging from the restructuring aspect of transformation is uncertainty about which decision-making structures are the appropriate areas for serious debate about transformation. Related to this issue is a concern voiced by some academic staff and leaders about how to elevate the intellectual debate on campus dealing with transformation matters. While some are looking for opportunities and appropriate structures for universitywide discussion and debate, others worry that the restructuring process has created “inefficiencies” in institutional offices; as a result, some details are falling through the cracks. Recognition of this concern led to Executive Management’s work over the past two years on the creation and implementation of a data management system, as well as ongoing attention to clarifying domains of responsibility. While increased representation and involvement of diverse constituencies has made the university far more democratic, there are academic staff who are concerned that some participants in decisionmaking bodies, committees, and task groups sometimes are not sufficiently informed or knowledgeable to engage in wise decision making. For example, some scientists are concerned about the role and ability of nonscientists to make informed decisions about such issues as expenditures for science equipment. Similarly, some stakeholders on the council may have insufficient training or background on particular issues to participate fully in debates and decisions. A final concern raised by some faculty and administrative staff is that democracy can be compromised if members of the institutional community find it difficult to raise perspectives or questions different from those favored by university policy. Some staff members with perspectives different from those approved by Executive Management speak

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of their concerns about “political correctness” and the challenge of raising issues that may make them appear resistant to or uncertain about decisions and policies identified as part of the transformation. Leadership A key ingredient in the transformation of UPE is leadership. The democratically elected principal and vice chancellor, Professor Jan Kirsten, is widely appreciated and praised as a highly influential and effective driving force for transformation. Even by those who do not always agree with him, he is commended for his openness, vision, and principles. His ability to articulate a vision for the future that is undergirded by persuasive philosophical argument has been an indispensable ingredient in the transformation successes achieved so far. Similarly, Professor Andre´ Havenga, director of the Center for Organisational and Academic Development, is recognized, even by those with whom he may be at odds at times, as a committed, forward-looking leader who has invested great energy in the institution’s transformation process. Various deans and department chairs also have taken leadership roles in certain aspects of conceptualizing and implementing transformation. Members of the Council from a range of constituencies have worked hard to increase their knowledge of the institution and of the issues requiring decision making. Of equal importance are the members of the academic staff, ranging from some at the professor level to some holding lectureship positions, who are taking leadership responsibilities for planning and implementing new policies and programs at the department or unit level. In many cases, it has been creative and committed junior lecturers who have taken on leadership roles for conceptualizing, designing, and implementing new curricular frameworks. Additionally, hard-working senior faculty, committed to transformation, have been willing to challenge their colleagues and offer new ideas and possibilities. Having observed and participated in the institution for a year, I conclude that UPE has been very fortunate to have the wisdom, energy, and deep commitment to transformation of a number of individuals holding leadership positions at various levels throughout the institution. Without the efforts of these individuals, the transformation that has been achieved at UPE to date would have been impossible. While appreciation for the important role played by senior leaders is widely expressed throughout the institution, a number of academic and administrative staff call for even more attention from the vice chancellor to articulating the institution’s directions, priorities, and values. When mentioning this suggestion, staff discuss the benefits of previous visits the vice chancellor has made to boards of faculties, departments,

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and other units, indicating that such conversations with the senior leader help individual staff understand and grapple more directly with their own roles in the university’s transformation. A second issue centers around the next levels of leadership. Though a key feature of transformation at UPE is transparency and openness, some academic and administrative staff believe that some deans and department heads need to become more open about their decisionmaking processes. Essentially, the transformation process and the values to which the institution has committed itself require new kinds of leadership and new relationships between leaders and staff. Not surprisingly, in an environment that had been characterized by hierarchy and nonparticipatory decision making, some individuals are finding it easier than others to adjust their leadership styles and learn new skills. In recognition of the demanding and changing role that department heads must fulfill, several meetings to discuss the role and responsibilities of department heads were held in 1998. Of considerable concern is the need for more diversity among institutional leaders. With a rapidly diversifying student population and a clearly articulated institutional commitment to inclusion of individuals from all parts of the population, the very small number of women and Black individuals in leadership roles demands attention. By 1998, the council and Executive Management included a handful of women and several Black representatives, and women or Blacks held a few department and program-level leadership roles. Nevertheless, the overall look of senior-level management at UPE remains White, male, and, to a considerable extent, Afrikaans. As UPE continues its transformation work, the diversity of leadership will be a critical issue demanding institutional attention both for symbolic and practical reasons. Communication and Transparency Part of the transformation process at UPE has been strong institutional attention to open communication and transparency, an element of transformation closely connected to the nature of leadership. People throughout the institution acknowledge that much progress has been made in enhancing communication channels in recent years. The university leadership works hard to keep stakeholders, including staff, well-informed about decisions, policies, and issues. Among the institutional strategies to promote widespread communication are widely disseminated minutes from Executive Management meetings and extensive use of e-mail to inform the campus community about policies, developments, and events. In response to requests for improved communication, a retreat was held for academic administrative staff in

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1999 to better connect them with other institutional leaders and staff, and an Institutional Forum and Forum for Academic Managers have been recently established to ensure wide involvement in communication and information exchange. Progress toward an open community has been steady and central to the transformation progress, but there is a strong sense on campus that more work remains to be done in this area. Several specific issues are voiced frequently by academic and administrative staff. A number of staff want more attention from senior leaders and Executive Management to “sketching the big picture” of where the transformation process is going, what is implied in various decisions, and how UPE’s decisions and priorities relate not only to specific directives from the national level but also to wider national and international social contexts. Not only do staff want to hear more about the “big picture” and have opportunities to interact personally with senior leaders in conversations about institutional directions, they also want to hear messages in easily understood, clear, accessible language. Some are requesting that policy decisions be discussed in terms of specific implications related to the day-to-day responsibilities and experiences confronting someone who works in an office serving students or on a team caring for the institution’s physical plant. While much information is conveyed via e-mail, people are busy and may not read such messages. One academic administrator observed: “Empowerment means making use of opportunities [such as reading one’s e-mail].” Of course, those who do not have e-mail, such as maintenance and housekeeping staff, cannot benefit from this technological tool to facilitate communication. Despite explicit commitment to communication and regular efforts from Executive Management to provide minutes and summaries of policy decisions, some academic and administrative staff call for “more consultation” and urge that the flow of communication between Executive Management and the units and departments be opened further. One staff member commented, “The process is not hidden, but it is not advertised,” and another lamented, “One can get information if one asks for it.” Another concern pertains to the direction of information flow. Staff are eager that the information flow go up to EM as well as down from EM. The recently established Administrators’ Forum is designed to help foster such a two-way path between EM and academic administrative staff, and department heads are urged to convey information, questions, and issues to EM via their deans. However, as discussed in the previous section, in many cases academic and administrative leaders (deans, department heads, and unit heads) are learning how to work in transparent ways, and some have indicated

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that they are not always sure what information is important to pass on to whom and what language is best to explain issues to staff and employees. The concerns about communication issues do not diminish the wide recognition that the institutional culture is now characterized by openness, transparency, and effective communication channels at a level dramatically different from the situation during the apartheid period. The concerns expressed indicate the expectation that the institution is committed to a direction that requires even greater levels of openness, involvement, and informed participation. Finding ways to make open communication a deep-seated element in a transformed UPE is an essential, ongoing task. Curriculum With several interacting factors encouraging progress, curriculum transformation is well under way at UPE. First, the institution’s philosophical commitment to support individual and community development and to respond to labor market needs—evidenced in its new mission statements and priorities—is an important factor in opening curriculum discussions and fostering innovation. A second theme in the curriculum transformation process is the question of what it means to be “an African university.” Some scholars at UPE and elsewhere are exploring what features distinguish institutions of higher education on the African continent from their counterparts on other continents. This issue gets right to the heart of the curriculum: What knowledge is valued and whose knowledge is valued through inclusion in the curriculum? While all departments at UPE are not focusing on such questions, a significant number of academic staff are grappling with these issues and examining how their programs can most effectively respond to local and regional needs while simultaneously offering academic preparation parallel to that available in European, American, or Australian universities. A third factor contributing to curricular transformation is the broader diversity of students attending the university. As previously discussed, given the inequitable allocation of educational resources during the apartheid period, many Black students enter UPE without adequate high school preparation for the demands of university work. Thus, curricular transformation work at UPE has involved the establishment of bridging and developmental programs to help strengthen the academic skills of promising students who do not have all the necessary academic strengths at the time of entry. A fourth factor fostering curriculum transformation is the new national government requirement that higher education institutions structure academic programs in line with the National Qualifications Framework (NQF) (national

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policy guidelines to promote access to and articulation among academic programs) and register them with the South African Qualification Authority (SAQA). SAQA requires that every program must ensure that students gain “critical cross-field outcomes” (for example, teamwork, communication, problem-solving, and self-management skills), as well as specific program outcomes. The combination of these factors has “let loose many creative ideas,” in the words of one faculty member. A major part of the response has been in the form of reviewing, revising, adapting, closing, and beginning new academic programs. Dramatic change occurred during 1998 and 1999 in the Faculty of Arts, for example, where cross-disciplinary programs (such as applied linguistics, policy and administration, and developmental studies) were developed to replace the previous departments. Though faculty discussion was intense, once the decision was made to restructure and develop new programs to be directly responsive to national and regional employment needs, faculty teams worked with focused intensity and dispatch. The redesign process began in 1998 in midyear; new programs began in January 1999, with considerable student enrollment at the postgraduate level. In the Faculty of Health Sciences, as another example, a new master’s degree program for practicing professionals has had waiting lists of interested students. In the Faculty of Economic Sciences, curricular innovation has enabled students to study entrepreneurship and management of small businesses. Outcomes-based education features centrally in the national education plan. At UPE, the Department of Psychology in the Faculty of Health Sciences took a leading role in working through an outcomesbased approach for the undergraduate qualifications. By the end of March 2000 all had their programs in the outcomes-based format required by SAQA. Modularization is also encouraged by national policy in order to provide multiple educational entrance and exit points and to increase articulation possibilities across programs and institutions. UPE voted to move to a calendar of seven-week modules, with the new calendar beginning in the 1999 academic year. Distance-education options also have been adopted at UPE, especially by the Faculty of Education which has expanded its student enrollment greatly through teacher-upgrading programs offered in distant locations in South Africa and in other African countries. Some departments are considering ways to ensure cultural breadth and to include forms of indigenous knowledge in the curriculum. For example, the Pharmacy Department, widely known and respected for the strength of its curriculum, now includes an opportunity for students to be exposed to traditional African approaches to healing. A major part of curriculum transformation at UPE is movement away

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from passive learning processes to more learner-centered, active learning approaches. Individual academic staff throughout the faculties have been taking advantage of workshops and consulting available through the Centre for Organisational and Academic Development to learn about strategies that involve students in the learning process in new ways. Some faculties have been working for several years to develop new, more effective course plans and teaching strategies. The Computer Science Department is an exemplar in the institution. For example, through close teamwork, the computer science faculty have engaged in extensive curriculum revision to ensure responsiveness to the needs of all students and to maximize student success. The Pharmacy Department also stands out in this regard. Believing that students need opportunities to derive meaning from and to apply concepts and information that they are learning, faculty teaching second-year pharmacy began in 1997 to incorporate ongoing small group work into the curriculum. Recognizing that most students have had no experience working collaboratively in their primary and secondary educational experiences, the faculty have helped the students develop group skills and have monitored the progress and measured the impact of these new educational approaches. In the Social Work Department, the faculty have integrated portfolio assessment into the educational program, based on their belief that the development of portfolios to document progress works well when students are engaged in learning experiences in the community. In Organizational Psychology, a junior member of the academic staff has been highly creative and energetic in engaging students very actively in the learning process; her class ends with a student-planned and -led conference to which university and community leaders are invited. As these examples suggest, some departments are taking on curriculum revision, exploration, and application of new teaching and learning approaches as a departmental commitment. In other cases, individual members of academic staff take the lead and serve as examples and innovators in their departments. Without doubt, though, transformation in curriculum design and delivery is happening in many forms across the campus. Even as curriculum transformation is under way, questions and issues arise. Many faculty members find these efforts both exciting and daunting. Some staff are asking whether the pace of change is just too fast. Could expediency be overshadowing good choices? In the Faculty of Arts, where the department structure was replaced with crossdisciplinary schools, some academic staff worry about the future of disciplinary expertise, and individuals in some specialities are concerned about the security of their own places in a reconfigured curriculum. In contrast to staff who worry that the changes now under way are too radical, some at the forefront of these changes are concerned about

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whether their colleagues have “really bought into” the deep-level values and implications of new program development, responsiveness to local and regional needs, outcomes-based learning, and modularization. These are the people who applaud the “pockets of change,” but remind their colleagues that it is not enough, that there is still too much allegiance to the “empty vessel approach” to teaching (that is, teaching based on students as passive recipients of teachers’ expertise). Transformation is under way, with strong and creative individuals in positions of leadership at the institutional, college, and departmental levels and serving as spokespeople and exemplars of transformation in curriculum and teaching; yet, as these leaders strongly assert, much remains to be done. Academic and Administrative Staff Transformation in higher education requires the involvement and commitment of the institutional staff and should be reflected in the composition of the staff. At UPE, as in the other historically White higher education institutions in South Africa, diversity of academic and administrative staff is slow in coming. Women are fairly well represented among the academic staff, especially at the lower position of lecturer, but very few women hold senior leadership roles of department chair or higher. While the majority of the student body is now Black, very few academic staff and relatively few administrative staff are Black. At the Executive Management level in 1998, only the director of Student Affairs and the director of Community Relations were African men. The lack of diversity in faculty and administrative roles in historically advantaged institutions engaged in transformation has been explained in various ways by observers and participants in South Africa. Those holding differing points of view are often in serious dispute with each other. Some argue that relatively few Black individuals with appropriate qualifications are available, and that those qualified for academic posts are often offered positions in the government and business sectors for more competitive salaries than are available in tertiary education. Others assert that the cultural environment at historically White institutions is often insufficiently welcoming and supportive to attract and retain Black staff. A third argument is that those involved in some search processes at historically advantaged institutions do not work diligently to identify and then select Black candidates. After visiting more than a dozen higher education institutions in South Africa in 1998, I believe that each of these arguments holds some truth, and that proponents of each are accurate in some instances and not accurate in others. At UPE, those few African staff in fairly senior positions appear to

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interact with ease with their White colleagues, but they also must “help” (to use the word of one African staff member) some of their White colleagues to recognize alternative points of view and to rethink longheld positions. This kind of effort can be lonely and tiring. While transformation in the composition of the staff has far to go, promising signs are evident. In public statements as well as actions, key leaders in senior management make very clear their deep commitment to diversity. When I was asked to offer an analysis of the culture of the institution and its efforts at transformation, after I had worked at the institution for a year, part of my report drew attention to the subtle but disturbing ways in which aspects of the culture convey less than welcoming and respectful messages to Black academic and administrative staff, as well as students. The vice chancellor and director of the Centre for Organisational and Academic Development were very concerned about this component of my report and, within a short time, the vice chancellor had invited African colleagues on campus to meet with him to discuss how the culture could be improved. While cultural change requires long-term efforts on the part of many, the serious, committed attention of senior leaders has a major impact. The university has enacted an affirmative action policy, in line with national policy, which is to be implemented in filling all appointments. Even in advance of this policy, for several years, UPE has used a “growyour-own” strategy to diversify the faculty. Each year, several promising young African scholars are identified in the university’s undergraduate or master’s degree programs. These individuals are then sent overseas at university expense, typically to the United States, to pursue graduate degrees. While these individuals are not required to return to UPE, this is the hope and intention of the program. Professor Havenga, director of COAD, which manages the program, reports that the university believes that, even if these young people do not take posts at UPE, they will build the national intellectual capital as long as they return to the country. Several have returned and successfully taken on academic posts at UPE. This strategy does take time, but it supports young African scholars who have already studied at the university and feel that it is an environment in which they can work successfully. For some White faculty, institutional commitment to diversifying the faculty raises personal concerns. While acknowledging that their personal commitment to affirmative action or awareness of “political correctness” makes their concerns hard to express openly, some White staff do voice feelings of concern, anxiety, and fear about the future. Possible retrenchment, pressures for early retirement, and lack of career routes are on their minds. In discussing the institution’s commitment to affirmative action and diversifying the staff, one long-time

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White staff member asked, “Is the university losing sight of individual needs?” While diversifying the composition of the staff is a major challenge in UPE’s transformation agenda, other issues pertaining to academic and administrative staff also deserve mention. All staff—White and Black—are feeling the effects of working in a rapidly changing environment. Workloads are heavy. The regular daily work of running a university office or one’s classes and programs must get done along with the added tasks—often under very tight timelines—of changing curricula, attending task-group or committee meetings to make major transformation-related policy decisions, and exploring and implementing new approaches to teaching. The rapid change in the composition of the student body means that many long-time faculty and administrative staff are learning about the customs, viewpoints, and learning backgrounds of students very different from themselves. Budget constraints mean that as individuals and offices take on new or different tasks, additional resources cannot necessarily be added. In this context, virtually all staff feel stressed, stretched, and pulled in many different directions. Not surprisingly, sickness and weariness are reported by many. Most of the translation of transformation rhetoric and policy into daily actions must occur through the academic and administrative staff. As one academic administrator explained, “We are at the [place] . . . where theory meets practice and we have to make practice work.” Senior-level leaders need to recognize staff members’ contributions, to explain to and remind them about how their work fits into the overall university agenda, and to consult with them about institutional directions and changing practices. Staff development through the Centre for Organisational and Academic Development has served as a key institutional strategy for nurturing transformation and supporting academic staff. This office provides a range of services and uses various strategies to foster transformation: an Induction Course to introduce new academic staff to the institution and its resources and to help them develop a range of teaching strategies, regular lunchtime seminars on teaching and learning topics, consultation for academic staff about their teaching and support for departments engaged in curriculum work, and action research projects in which faculty engage in inquiry about their teaching and their students’ learning. Committed to UPE’s transformation and to ensuring its academic excellence, Professor Havenga, director of the Centre, has developed relationships with several American universities and arranges a regular schedule of visitors to UPE from higher education institutions in other countries who stay anywhere from a few weeks to a year. These visitors interact with UPE faculty, simultaneously learning about the transformation process and sharing their areas of exper-

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tise. The Supplemental Instruction program, discussed previously, was established in 1993 and links student and staff development. As students engage in intensive learning about a subject, their questions and expectations bring new ideas to the faculty for ways to enhance the learning experience. A central goal of the staff development program in recent years has been to cultivate a community of academic staff engaged in innovation and transformation in the learning environment, especially at the classroom level. Through example, these faculty influence and urge their colleagues to move forward, and share information, ideas, and enthusiasm that, over time, can transform the learning and instructional environment. Support for lecturers (teaching staff) has probably been more extensive than support for department heads and mid-level staff in administrative roles. My interviews indicate that individuals in these roles are concerned about how to do their jobs effectively in an environment of rapid change, how to communicate institutional priorities to the staff whom they lead, and how to fulfill some of the new tasks associated with transformation (such as, for example, planning and budgeting, leading curriculum development, completing formal governmentmandated planning documents, and training new staff drawn from previously disenfranchised groups). Explaining that “transformation must come from the bottom up as well as the top down,” one administrator asserted that more professional development for mid-level administrators is essential for successful transformation. Organizational Culture The culture of an organization is often defined as “a kind of ‘organizational glue’ ” (Peterson and Spencer, 1990, p. 7) or “the way things are done around here.” More formally, an organization’s culture involves “webs of significance” (Geertz, 1973, p. 5), that is, the interpretations, assumptions, norms, beliefs, and values that are reflected in symbols, stories, and behavioral patterns (Austin, 1990, 1994; Clark, 1970; Deal and Kennedy, 1982; Peterson and Spencer, 1990; Schein, 1985). Much of what has been discussed in previous sections pertains to the culture of UPE, but this section explores the notion of culture and transformation more explicitly. By wide agreement of faculty, administrative staff, and community members external to the university, UPE’s culture has changed in significant ways over the past six or seven years. A closed, formal, authoritarian, hierarchical culture has been replaced by a much more participatory, friendly, relaxed, informal, open culture. Across many interviews, I heard long-time academic and administrative staff explain that they now feel free to offer their views, even if different from others’, and to initiate ideas or projects.

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A quick walk around campus reveals a very mixed group of students sitting on the grassy slopes in the midst of the campus or eating in the dining area. A closer look shows that White students tend to sit or walk with White students, and African students with African students. Not unlike on many campuses in the United States, integration in friendship groups is slow. The residence halls on campus are increasingly filled with African students; while some White students still reside in them, there has been a steady shift of White students out of the residence halls as increasing numbers of African students move in. In 1999, the president of the Student Representative Council (SRC) was an African man. In the daily life of the campus, the UPE choir is perhaps the best symbol of the institution’s transformation. The choir has won awards both in South Africa and abroad for its multicultural membership and repertoire. Concerts include songs in various languages of the country: African languages, English, and Afrikaans. In a typical concert, half is sung with all members—Black and White—in long formal dresses and pants and the other half with all members in colorful traditional African dress. The White woman who directs the choir shares conducting responsibilities with an African student. For me, the exquisitely beautiful, lively, and moving concerts offered on various occasions throughout the year by the choir came to symbolize the full transformation to which UPE aspires. Aspects of the cultural transformation are evident in other activities and events on campus as well. Through the Human Services Office, regular weekly Diversity Seminars are offered. These have focused on such topics as the coming-of-age initiation rites of the Xhosa culture and the meaning of names in Xhosa tradition. A number of faculty (Black and White) make a point to attend such seminars; these are often faculty who appear most committed to the transformation of UPE, most eager to learn and change, and who indicate that they take opportunities to talk with their students about life at home, how their life at the university is going, and what problems they are facing. During 1998, when I was on campus, several events took place at which Black students and staff were the primary attendees. A talk by a prominent and somewhat controversial African scholar from the University of Witswatersrand commanded a large attendance; however, I was one of only a handful of White faculty, staff, or students attending. The university’s celebration assembly for one of the new national holidays, an afternoon event involving African musical groups and presentations from various student leaders, was attended by a relatively small audience. While the university administrative leaders and a number of academic and administrative staff were present, the student attendance was small, and predominantly consisted of African students. The institution and its

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leaders are working hard to present cultural celebrations and events consistent with the commitment to transformation; however, the involvement and commitment of the full student body—Black and White—to these cultural expressions of transformation is not always evident. One significant feature in the cultural environment at UPE is the commuter nature of the greater proportion of the student body. Since the university is located in a historically White part of the city, White students tend to live in some proximity to the campus, using their cars to get from home or apartment to campus. Most African students, by contrast, reside in the outlying townships, and commute to campus via taxis (“combis” or vans used as taxis). The living environment and lives of White and Black students, and the resources that support their university attendance (including daily transport) are, in most cases, dramatically different. Thus, the culture is divided and experienced in different ways depending on what racial group one belongs to. A number of students and staff whom I interviewed expressed concern that the institution is characterized by an insufficient “sense of belonging.” Addressing the question of how to nurture a diverse learning environment, a group of about one hundred students and staff met in late 1998, convened by an energetic and committed group of lecturers, to identify specific strategies to implement. Attendees were deeply engaged, very respectful of each other’s views, and very eager to consider the needs of the full range of students attending the university. My observation was that the meeting concluded with strong feelings of positive movement and joint commitment to UPE. Among the ideas were suggestions for expanded orientation activities that would respond both to commuter and residential students, and implementation of this idea was under way as my research concluded. One aspect of the culture that directly relates to the institution’s commitment to transformation pertains to race and gender. Access is available to members of all cultural and race groups within the community, and explicit racism and sexism are prohibited both by national law and institutional policy. However, more subtle forms of racism and sexism persist. Some African faculty recounted to me how frustrating and humiliating it is when some White staff assume, prior to introductions, that any Black person is likely to be a student or a member of the cleaning or physical plant staff. Some White support staff have been heard to make subtle comments about the “needs of Black students” or to observe that Black students are “not good students” or “don’t understand university rules and policies.” Such comments suggest some insensitivity to the challenges confronting students new to an environment which, until recent years, was not welcoming to those who were not White. According to some African faculty and administrative

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leaders, White members of the support staff sometimes fail to be fully supportive of the Black staff members. Other concerns have already been mentioned. The number of African and other Black faculty members is very low. Few women or African people hold department chair, dean, or other senior-level positions. There is little awareness of what one woman leader called “alternative leadership styles,” thus creating a difficult environment for a woman leader who chooses a more nurturing approach to leadership than most of the male colleagues in leadership positions. Black and White students typically do not affiliate in friendship groups. Not surprisingly, assumptions and behaviors pertaining to race and gender are not easy to change. Undoubtedly, for many people among the staff and students, these assumptions are deeply held. However, what is noteworthy at UPE is the commitment of the senior-level leaders as well as many members of the academic and administrative support staff to bring about deep-level cultural transformation. As mentioned, the vice chancellor moved very quickly to learn more about the experiences of Black academic staff when concerns were brought to his attention. Numerous examples can be offered of professors and lecturers who make daily efforts to learn about the traditions and lives of students different from themselves and who express genuine friendship toward, interest in, and support for all their students. Several of the African lecturers who are relatively new to the institution indicated in interviews that White colleagues have made significant efforts to make them feel welcome. While transformation efforts must move from structures and policies to deep-level culture change if UPE is to fully achieve its transformation aspirations, there is much evidence that the efforts to change the culture are proceeding apace. CHALLENGES OF TRANSFORMATION There is wide agreement that UPE has made major strides in transforming itself into an institution that serves the people and needs of the region and country. Access has been broadened, the diversity of the student body has expanded exponentially in the last few years, the importance of public accountability is understood and acknowledged, and the culture is far more participatory, open, and friendly than prior to the start of the transformation process. Yet those who applaud the transformation or have been deeply involved in bringing it about are also quick to assert that much remains to be done and the path forward is long. Interviews I conducted in 1998 with administrative, academic, and support staff, as well as with some students, suggest some important challenges pertaining to the transformation process. Resistance to the institution’s goals and transformation takes vari-

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ous forms. While undoubtedly there are some who simply wish the old system was still in place, my observation is that those who could be called “resisters” are likely to have more specific concerns. Some faculty who are committed to their disciplines publicly claimed to me that, while they applaud the widening of access and the growing transparency of decision making, they worry about how changes in teaching and learning approaches (toward more learner-centered rather than teacher-centered approaches) will affect discipline and departmental quality and excellence. “If traditions of academic excellence are eroded,” the argument goes, “we may lose the essence of the university.” More specifically, faculty in the sciences especially worry about what some perceive as the “emerging conflict” for academic staff between spending time to support a diverse student body with a range of learning needs, and spending time and resources to conduct research and maintain a tradition of research excellence. In addition to those who want to ensure that transformation does not mean a diminishing of research commitment are those who say they are “not worried about transformation itself” but rather about “the implications and structures” implied by transformation. In interviews, those in this group profess to agree with the goals of transformation (i.e., redressing the wrongs of the past and creating an institution based on principles of democracy, development, and the other core values). However, as White members of the institution, they worry about the implications of transformation goals and values for their own jobs and career possibilities. As reported in research conducted by the Centre for Organisational and Academic Development (Koch, 1997) as well as in interviews I conducted, some White staff worry about whether affirmative action policies at the national and institutional levels leave room for their own career development, or whether they will be “stuck.” Thus, a significant challenge for those leading UPE’s transformation is to help various staff members who have historically been part of the privileged group grapple with the personal and individual outcomes implied in the institution’s transformation process. Individuals in various roles across campus who are deeply committed to UPE’s continued transformation see another challenge: Continued transformation may be stalled by the tendency to “get on with business as usual.” Now that new governance structures are in place, access is broadened, and a number of policies have been negotiated, “people will just get on with their lives” and settle into their “usual comfort zones,” assert some of the key faculty leaders involved in the transformation process. A related concern is that some staff just give “lip service” to the values and process of transformation, meeting only the “external criteria” of transformation rather than grappling with the deep questions implied by the goals and values of transformation; others are “not

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resistant to change” but, merely, “oblivious.” Those raising these concerns note that the transformation values “are not yet part of everyone’s life,” and that there is not yet “a culture of debate” and “intellectual scrutinizing” about the deeper implications of transformation values and priorities. In fact, they observe, there is an overall lack of interest in debate about the deep meaning of transformation, and some issues and events are seen as “Black issues” (e.g., language-policy discussions and seminars on questions related to the “Africanization” of the curriculum) rather than as significant issues of concern to all in an institution engaged in transformation. There are “pockets of change,” explained one respondent, but transformation and the associated values are not yet embedded in the daily lives of students and staff. Those leaders and staff concerned about this challenge see a need “to change hearts” and “to develop a culture of transformation” and “a culture of excellence” in which intellectual inquiry, debate, and scholarly expertise are brought to bear on transformation issues. Some of the most articulate voices addressing this concern are faculty members, who urge Executive Management to recognize that real transformation must go beyond structural, policy, and rhetorical changes—as important and necessary as they are—to deep-level intellectual debate and inquiry. Transformation must become part of the culture, including the intellectual life, experienced daily by students and staff of the institution. Yet another challenge pertains to time, energy, and sustaining commitment. As explained by one African faculty member who believes that much progress has been made and even more remains to be made, “Transformation is not an event; it is a process.” In order to continue and deepen the understanding, debate, and discussion about transformation, those committed to the continuing transformation of UPE must find ways to keep up their energy, involve more people in the leadership of the process, and improve the leadership skills of individuals at all levels who are highly committed to transformation. All administrative and academic staff at UPE are stretched and stressed by the combination of the daily demands of running an institution and its programs, while simultaneously making massive changes in the student body, decision-making processes, curriculum, and teaching and learning strategies. Both in South Africa and the United States, I have heard this process likened to driving a bus on a curving road at high speed while leaning out the window to change the tires and replace the motor. The leaders of transformation at UPE include both people in key institutional senior-level positions and individual academic staff members ranging from junior lecturers to senior professors. If transformation at UPE is to continue into the deeper levels of cultural change, the institution must find ways to sustain the energy and creativity of these individuals who carry the banner of transformation. Deans and de-

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partment chairs, as well as academic staff members who are experimenting with innovative approaches in the classroom or assuming leadership roles in developing curricula, new programs, admission processes, and other activities, need to be recognized and supported. Some are finding that they need help in developing new skills, such as team building, communicating, and conflict resolution. UPE needs to support these individuals at the forefront of the transformation, while simultaneously helping less involved members of the institutional community to understand more about where the institution is going. At the institutional level, UPE needs to celebrate the progress it has made, even as it maintains its commitment to continued movement forward in implementing deep-level cultural transformation. LESSONS AND REFLECTIONS Considering the University of Port Elizabeth as a case study offers several useful insights about institutional transformation in the context of South Africa. First, UPE stands as an example that major institutional transformation is possible, despite a history that, many would argue, would never have predicted such a different future. The ability of UPE to engage seriously in transformation may, however, be partly the result of its conservative past. Pretorius (1997), a long-time leader in the institutional transformation process at UPE, makes this case: The willingness of the emerging leadership to admit that the past was wrong makes UPE different from some of the liberal institutions in South Africa. There was, in any case, no way in which UPE’s old or new leadership could argue, like their counterparts at Wits or Rhodes, that they were part of the struggle against apartheid in the 1970s and 1980s and “already transformed.” (p. 56) Given its history, UPE would either have had to resist strongly the transformation under way across the country by the early 1990s or choose to pursue, as it did, a significantly new path. Due to both the external stakeholders pressuring the institution to change and the new institutional leaders who emerged, the university turned from its conservative past and chose to engage in the difficult task of recreating itself. The decision of UPE to take that path and the progress that has been made challenge assumptions that a previously conservative, apartheid-oriented institution cannot change. This case also highlights “negotiated transformation” as a viable model for institutions seeking to initiate major redirection. In many

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ways, negotiated transformation can be seen as embodying the principles of democracy, openness, equity, and redress that have been integral to the changes in government and the broader society in the new South Africa. Central to successful negotiated transformation is the willingness of stakeholders to listen, debate, manage uncertainty, and then move forward together. As explained by Stacey (1992), new solutions and ideas emerge from such a process: “People spark new ideas off each other when they argue and disagree—when they are conflicting, confused, and searching for new meaning—yet remain willing to discuss and listen to each other” (p. 120). Negotiated transformation may have worked particularly well at UPE since positions of relevant stakeholders were so different at the start. That is, the positions of the various participants could be articulated and involved discernable differences from which negotiation could proceed. Negotiated transformation worked very well as the framework within which groups with significantly differing points of view could find mutual positions from which to move forward. Now that significant transformation has been achieved with regard to access, restructuring, and, to some extent, the curriculum, the challenge will be to maintain the momentum of change. Negotiated transformation has proven to be highly effective in the early years of transformation at UPE; it will be instructive to observe what strategies are used and which succeed in the continuing challenge of what one UPE faculty member calls “changing hearts.” As a case, UPE also illustrates the importance of what Fullan (1993) calls “top-down and bottom-up strategies” (p. 37). The progress UPE has achieved could not have been accomplished without the strong, committed leadership of the new vice chancellor as well as several other senior- and mid-level officers of the institution. Their commitment to the institution, their high integrity, and their willingness to learn and use negotiating strategies enabled the transformation to gain momentum. The vision of what UPE could be that emerged from the early part of the transformation process, and especially the articulation by the elected vice chancellor of what the future of the institution could be, have helped other members of the institution and stakeholders in the community understand what is under way. Even as the efforts of senior leaders have been critically important, so too have been the pressure, vision, and participation of stakeholders both internal and external to the university. Of equal importance are the daily efforts of those faculty members, administrative staff, physical plant staff, students, and other university community members who are committed to transformation and who find ways as they go about their responsibilities to put into practice what is called for by the rhetoric of transformation. What has been accomplished so far in the transformation of UPE is the result of both “top-down and the bottom-up strategies,” that is, the efforts of

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institutional leaders and stakeholders, as well as particular individuals going about the business of the university. Finally, I note that transformation is a very complex process. Full institutional transformation must go beyond broadening access, restructuring governance bodies, revising policies to ensure equity, and changing curricula. These are each very important aspects of the transformation process and aspects in which UPE has made commendable progress. Yet, the continuing challenge for the University of Port Elizabeth is to ensure that all aspects of the institution exemplify its mission and transformation goals; that is, the challenge is to continue to transform the deep-seated values, assumptions, and daily practices that comprise the culture of UPE. This challenge will require the continued commitment of senior-level leaders, stakeholders internal and external to the institution, and those individuals in the university who are striving to make the transformation a living reality. “Changing hearts” takes time, energy, and dedication, but is essential if UPE is to ultimately become the transformed institution its leaders envision. NOTES 1. In South Africa, the term “Black” is used in reference to individuals who are not White. Blacks may be African (indigenous) people, Indians, and so-called Colored people (individuals of mixed heritage). 2. In South Africa, the term “academic staff” is used in the same way that “faculty member” is used in the United States. I use both terms interchangeably in this chapter. REFERENCES Ackoff, R. L. (1974). Redesigning the future: A systems approach to societal problems. New York: John Wiley and Sons. Alpert, D. (1985). Performance and paralysis: The organizational context of the American research university. Journal of Higher Education (May/June), 241–281. Austin, A. E. (1990). Faculty cultures, faculty values. In W. G. Tierney (Ed.), Assessing Academic Climates and Cultures. New Directions for Institutional Research, No. 68 (pp. 61–74). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. ———. (1994). Understanding and assessing faculty cultures and climates. In M. K. Kinnick (Ed.), Proving Useful Information for Deans and Department Chairs. New Directions for Institutional Research, No. 84 (pp. 47–63). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. ———. (1998a). A systems approach to institutional change and transformation: Strategies and lessons from American and South

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African universities. Paper presented at the meeting of the World Congress of Comparative Education Societies (July), Cape Town, South Africa. ———. (1998b). The role of senior leaders, deans and department heads, and academic staff in institutional transformation. Paper presented at the meeting of the South African Association for Research and Development in Higher Education (September), Bloemfontein, South Africa. Birnbaum, R. (1991). How colleges work. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Blunt, R. J. S. (1998). Generating capacity for academic transformation: A case study. South African Journal of Higher Education, 12 (3), 102–110. Checkland, P., & Scholes, J. (1987). Systems thinking, systems practice. New York: John Wiley and Sons. Clark, B. R. (1970). The distinctive college: Antioch, Reed, Swarthmore. Chicago: Aldine. Deal, T. E., & Kennedy, A. A. (1982). Corporate cultures: The rites and rituals of corporate life. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Dolence, M. G., & Norris, D. M. (1995). Transforming higher education: A vision of learning in the twenty-first century. Ann Arbor, MI: Society for College and University Planning. Finnemore, M. (1998). UPE students and staff have their say about unfair discrimination (June/September). Port Elizabeth, South Africa: University of Port Elizabeth, Labour Relations Unit. Fish, J. (1996). The African student experience. Port Elizabeth, South Africa: University of Port Elizabeth, Centre for Organisational and Academic Development. Fullan, M. (1993). Change forces: Probing the depths of educational reform. New York: Falmer. Geertz, C. (1973). The interpretation of cultures. New York: Basic Books. Hattle, J. (1997). The negotiated transformation process at the University of Port Elizabeth. Port Elizabeth, South Africa: University of Port Elizabeth, Centre for Organisational and Academic Development. Havenga, A. J. (1997). Strategic management of a university: Ensuring success through lessons learnt from what went wrong. Paper presented at the Annual Forum of the European Association of Institutional Research, Warwick, UK. ———. (1998). Transformation at UPE, Where are we now? Illumine, A publication of the Centre for Organisational and Academic Development, University of Port Elizabeth, 2, 24. Kirsten, J. (1992). The way forward—II. Closing comments from conference proceedings: Tertiary education in a changing South Af-

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rica. The negotiated transformation process at the University of Port Elizabeth (pp. 17–22). Port Elizabeth, South Africa: University of Port Elizabeth, Centre for Organisational and Academic Development. Koch, E. August. (1997). Lecturing between hope and despair: Lecturers’ perceptions of academic development needs of students and lecturers at the University of Port Elizabeth: A qualitative assessment. Port Elizabeth, South Africa: University of Port Elizabeth, Centre for Organisational and Academic Development. Kuh, G. D., & Whitt, E. J. (1988). The invisible tapestry: Culture in American colleges and universities. ASHE-ERIC Higher Education report No. 1. Washington, DC: Association for the Study of Higher Education. The negotiated transformation process at the University of Port Elizabeth. (1997). Port Elizabeth, South Africa: University of Port Elizabeth, Centre for Organisational and Academic Development. Peterson, M. W., & Spencer, M. G. (1990). Understanding academic culture and climate. In W. G. Tierney (Ed.), Assessing academic climates and cultures. New Directions for Institutional Research, No. 68. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Pretorius, D. (1997). An insider’s view on the transformation of the University of Port Elizabeth. Iliso. Port Elizabeth, South Africa: Institute for Development Planning and Research, University of Port Elizabeth 1(4), 40–58. ———. (1996). Negotiated institutional transformation—An idealtype. Iliso. Port Elizabeth, South Africa: Institute for Development Planning and Research, University of Port Elizabeth 1(1), 12– 18. Schein, E. H. (1985). Organizational culture and leadership: A dynamic view. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Stacey, R. (1992). Managing the unknowable. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Sterman, J. D. (1994). Learning in and about complex systems. Systems Dynamic Review, 10, 291–330. Strategic master plan, 1998–2000. (1998). Port Elizabeth, South Africa: University of Port Elizabeth, Centre for Organisational and Academic Development. (July). University of Port Elizabeth Web Site—http://www.upe.ac.za/trans.htm.

2

Crossing the Divide: Black Academics at the Rand Afrikaans University DORIA DANIELS

INTRODUCTION The transformation process at South African universities over the past decade has been induced by the democratization of the broader South African society. Institutional transformation is being facilitated and advanced by commissions, Green papers, White papers, and legislation. The South African constitution and the Higher Education Act (101 of 1997), together with the Labour Relations Act (66 of 1995) and the Employment Equity Bill (1998), have all contributed to initiatives on university campuses to promote racial equality and to redress past inequities. When on April 21, 1995, the minister of education, Professor Sibusiso Bengu, requested that South African universities take up the challenge to institute transformation forums on their campuses, the previously racially exclusive Rand Afrikaans University (RAU) responded. This chapter examines the experiences of Black1 academics at RAU, a historically White, Afrikaans university that is currently undergoing massive transformation. The primary aim is to present awareness of the everyday work world experiences of RAU’s Indian, Colored, and African academics whose cultural, ethnic, and/or religious worlds are traditionally different from those of the mainstream White university culture. My central argument is that the workplace experiences of these academics reflect how successful the university has been thus far in its efforts to transform. My reflections are limited to an examination of the experiences of teaching faculty (also referred to as academics) only. The chapter begins with a brief institutional profile of this university.

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This overview aims to provide a context within which to evaluate the experiences of the Black academics. The remainder of the chapter is devoted to a discussion of these academics’ experiences, particularly in how their lived worlds as Black South Africans impacts their daily interactions on the university campus. These accounts are based on indepth interviews with ten out of the sixteen Black academics employed at RAU. The interviewee profile was overwhelmingly female, with two to three years’ teaching experience at RAU. Many of the interviewees are faculty members recently hired in response to the university’s new policy to adjust its personnel composition to better reflect the broader South African community. This employment policy, initiated in the mid-1990s, was prompted by the new constitution of South Africa (1996) and other legislation. Although the Department of African Languages has been appointing Black academics since the 1970s, the appointment of Black academics in other faculties is a 1990s development. INSTITUTIONAL PROFILE OF RAU RAU is a high-tech, multifunctional university close to the central business district of Johannesburg, the capital of the Province of Gauteng. The university was established in 1967 as the academic home of Afrikaans-speaking students of the Witwatersrand. Like other Afrikaans universities, RAU served to enrich the culture and quests of the Afrikaner nation. Professor Johannes van der Walt, the fourth and present rector of RAU, has been in office since 1995. The university is actively involved in community development and its social consciousness finds expression in academic upgrading, law and drug-abuse clinics, a primary-health and eye-care train that traverses the country, youth programs, community education programs, language-improvement classes, and other academic and practical projects both inside and outside Gauteng. RAU is currently the only university in South Africa that manages its own secondary school—a high school for gifted children from historically disadvantaged communities (RAU website, 1999). In the early 1990s, RAU’s profile as an exclusively Afrikaans university changed to that of a university housing a diverse student and language community. The statute of the Rand Afrikaans University, as published in the December 1998 edition of the Government Gazette (1998), lists the transformed composition of the RAU student body, the viewpoints of various professional councils regarding English as medium of instruction, together with the stipulations in the constitution, as factors that necessitated a new university language policy. In 1998 the university amended its class timetable to accommodate a parallel medium of instruction. The full-time undergraduate and postgraduate

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tuition programs, up to the doctoral level, are presented in both Afrikaans and English. In 1999, RAU had approximately 21,000 enrolled full- and part-time students, of which an estimated 51% were Black. TRANSFORMATION INITIATIVES AT RAU RAU, through its earlier proactive responses to transformation, holds a respected and legitimate position in South Africa’s multicultural society. The university leadership has set out to advance the democratic values of academic freedom, autonomy, freedom of speech, openness, and transparency, in concert with its mission as a university. At RAU, a transformation committee was formed after a working document, titled Die Proses van Transformasie aan die RAU (November 23, 1995) (The process of transformation at the RAU), was accepted and approved by the university board. The university, at its board meeting on April 21, 1997, dismantled this committee and in its place instituted the Broader Transformation Forum (BTF). This second transformational phase provided for representation of both external and internal groups (BTF report, 1999). As the university documentation reflects, the RAU leadership sees transformation as a lengthy process that requires the wisdom to make balanced decisions and perform actions that are in the interest of the university (Rand Afrikaans University Website). Transformation is defined in these documents and reports as a human phenomenon characterized by a reorientation of attitudes of individuals as well as groups of people working at the institution. Consequently, the success of transformation at RAU depends on and is subject to acceptance by its student and worker populations, and their willingness to aid and adjust to the new demands and values of the changing environment. The Broader Transformation Forum views changes in attitude among these individuals and groups as a prerequisite for transformation at RAU. The BTF Report and a report submitted to the South African Department of Education, known as the RAU Three-Year Rolling Plan, clearly spell out RAU’s goals and vision concerning the process of transformation at the university. One of the reports’ significant recommendations is to have mechanisms put in place to establish a racially and culturally representative faculty body. This staff diversification effort would provide equal employment opportunities for competent people from all racial and gender groups. Therefore, the university has committed itself to address imbalances that currently exist in the racial composition of the staff, and to empower new appointees as well as existing personnel from historically underrepresented groups. The Rand Afrikaans University has made significant progress over the past few years in recruiting and admitting students from diverse

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racial and cultural backgrounds. The same cannot be said about the diversity of its staff. While the student population has changed dramatically to become more racially inclusive, the composition of the academic staff has remained static. As the data in Tables 2.1 and 2.2 indicate, the academic staff at this university is still predominantly White and male. This imbalance in academic staff employment persists despite stipulations in the new South African constitution (adopted in 1996), which requires public administrative bodies such as RAU to adjust their personnel composition to mirror the broader South African society. The university’s leadership is the first to acknowledge that the number of Black academic staff (sixteen) is minuscule. Senior university administrators have identified a number of factors that are interfering with the process of staff diversification. These factors include a low personnel turnover rate, limited governmental funding, competition from the private sector, and the lack of strong academic candidates for faculty positions. The academics who participated in this study identified a number of issues that are central to their professional experiences at RAU. The discussion to which I now turn explores some of the concerns that the academics shared. In particular, the discussion focuses on four areas of concern that emerged consistently throughout our conversations: (1) perceptions of Black faculty as affirmative action appointees; (2) power differences in decision-making processes; (3) issues of transformation in the classroom; and (4) interactions with the broader academic environment. AFFIRMATIVE ACTION APPOINTEES According to university documents, RAU’s employment policy is to advertise vacancies and to appoint people from any population group based on merit. However, the new South African constitution requires that the development and progress of individuals or groups who were adversely affected by discriminatory practices under the former government should enjoy priority in hiring and promotion decision. As a result of this constitutional stipulation, there is a pervasive sense that Black academics who have been recently hired are “affirmative action appointees” and may not possess the requisite credentials. This perception colors how these individuals are perceived by existing employees and how they perceive themselves and their worth in their new workplace. My conversations with the participants started with an exploration of the affirmative action issue, specifically where and how these academics situate themselves within this debate. I asked each participant how they classified and characterized their appointment, and whether

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Table 2.1 Distribution of Academic Staff by Gender

Source: BTF Report, 1999.

this classification was influenced by the perceptions of their White colleagues. Every interviewee reported that they fulfilled the requirements of the job they applied for; however, they could not rule out the possibility that they were affirmative action appointees because of their color. Although some respondents indicated that their competition for the job included other people of color, they were not always sure of the race of all the candidates for the job. As one academic responded: I would be lying if I said that the thought did not cross my mind that I might be recruited because I am Black. After all, that is the tendency lately; it is fashionable. Another concurred: I had the right qualifications and exposure. I said that I don’t want to be considered an affirmative action appointment. I said that I do not want a job because of my color but because I was the best candidate, which I believe I was. They just smiled. And I knew and they knew that they needed a person of color. Most of the Black academics expressed the opinion that many of their White colleagues believed that every Black person appointed to a teaching position at the university was an affirmative action appointee. According to some, this is a mindset that has been cultivated through White South Africans’ “separate but superior” socialization. One colleague said that she could not change the way they (Whites) think. However, she has control over what she can produce based on her abil-

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Table 2.2 Distribution of Academic Staff by Race

Source: BTF Report, 1999.

ities. She said that she does not need to apologize to anyone for having a permanent position at RAU. They might have thought that I got the job because I was the right color. I’d like anyone to tell me that my position is an affirmative action position, and that I got this job because I’m the right color. Then I will say, “Yes, it is.” I am glad I got it because I am this color. Because, for forty years the National Party had affirmative action, and everyone who got their positions as professors got their positions because they were White, and Afrikaner, and male. There was a pervasive perception among White academics that their Black colleagues were hired as affirmative action appointees. The following statement captures the sentiment expressed by some White academics: This is from talking to White people. There is a lot of stigma attached to people who get affirmative action appointments. You got the job because of your skin color and not because of your caliber or your qualifications or the skills you possess. The Black academics said that they felt they were under constant scrutiny and surveillance in their respective work environments. Because of this unyielding spotlight, they felt as if they could not make any mistakes. One colleague said that he fights a constant battle to prove that he is worthy of his appointment.

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And when I look at my work environment, that dynamics are present and tangible. They sit and wait for you to default, because then they can say, “Ah, I thought so, an affirmative appointee.” At the back of my mind I keep on thinking, They are waiting for me to fail. In all our conversations about affirmative action, the Black academics qualified their responses by reporting that they possessed the required skills and qualifications for the job. This was an indicator that they probably find themselves in situations where they feel the need to justify their presence and positions at this university. POWER AND DECISION MAKING All the Black academics who participated in this study are contract junior lecturers and lecturers. Typically, these instructors are employed on a two- to three-year contract with the university in the lowest-ranking academic capacity, a situation that places them in a precarious position. Understandably, they exhibited insecurities about their positions due to the temporary nature of their appointments. This temporary arrangement affected how these academics interacted in their employment environment and the quality of their professional experience within it. As expressed by one academic: You are very much aware that you are not part of the group, that you’re just a contract worker. You have to find a niche for yourself; otherwise, you would be floating around. According to this academic, there was nobody to look after her interests until another colleague offered to take on that role, which she accepted with gratitude. At that time it gave me a sense of security. Someone to give me advice when I needed it. But it also undermines you; you are not a person in your own right. I felt like a stepchild. Initially and even now, I do not think that I have any power in my position. Most of the participants overlooked or sidestepped questions relating to decision making and power. For example, I found that in some cases where the lecturer was both a student and part of the academic staff, academics evinced a tendency to waive their right to make professional decisions. These lecturers would accede their decision-making power to their more senior colleagues, even though they were supposed to function as “equal partners in the program.” They justified this stance by

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indicating that they were not qualified enough. Typical responses were “I look at myself as a junior,” or “I am not as qualified as the others.” Another junior colleague, who was team-teaching in a program where decisions were made in a top-down fashion, indicated that he was relatively new to the university and that his perceptions might change as he became better acquainted with the university. As he reported: I did not have a problem with other [colleagues in the department] having decided and just pulling me in. I felt that they created an opportunity for me. So I went with it. And also I am teaching someone else’s courses. Whether they are doing it as a favor, or using me, or creating a job, I am not ever going to analyze their motives right now. I am not going to allow anyone to sit on my head, or use me for that matter. I can make my way from there. TRANSFORMATION IN THE CLASSROOM Social Identity as a Reflection of Capabilities A theme central to thinking about position as a social construction is the acknowledgment that different social situations of both the lecturer and the students will affect the lecturer’s identity and roles. What is considered appropriate role identity must therefore be interpreted within a particular context. Given the racial and gender legacy of the South African society, I entered this study with the assumption that both White and Black students would hold a variety of perceptions about their lecturers as informed by their social-cultural context and background. Emerging from this assumption, I asked the Black academics to reflect on their interactions with their students and, in particular, how their students responded to them. The responses of these academics indicated that they presented themselves as professionals and strove to project this image from the very first contact they had with their students. They all paid particular attention to how they positioned themselves during their introductory class sessions. For example, one academic mentioned that during her first class meeting she addressed the issue of her being Black as part of the ten minutes she allocated to “loose talk.” She asked her students to share their expectations of her, and reciprocated with her own expectations of them. Together they worked on a code of conduct for the class. This way she provided her students with an opportunity to voice their fears and she had the opportunity to challenge stereotypical views they might hold about Black women in a traditionally White male domain. The perceived difference between White lecturers, as knowledgeable and of good quality, as opposed to lecturers of color, who are seen as

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affirmative action appointments and less knowledgeable, has contributed to some misunderstandings and even mistrust between lecturers and the students they teach. One colleague recalled how, in her first year at RAU, she found some of the White students openly disrespectful. They would lay with their heads on the table, pretending to sleep, or openly yawn or look around, as if they were bored. Her response was to ignore these students and work with those who were interested in her class. She noted a change in their attitude the following semester, when they “were upright and enjoying my lectures.” Another academic recalled one of her first class sessions at RAU: Initially, in the very first course there was one student who had a negative attitude. When he stepped into my class, he saw that I was not the White lecturer that he thought was going to teach the class. I told him that it is not my problem, and that he needed to sort it out, as well as his attitude. I told him that his problem was that he was going to be taught by a Black person and that is probably associated with the stereotypical view that it will be inferior education. At the end of the year he wrote me a letter apologizing for his initial behavior, saying how much he had learned in my course. One of the academics, whose classes contain predominantly White students who are employed as helping professionals, said that they initially could not reconcile themselves with his position as their lecturer. They would continuously ask me whether I was comfortable with what I was doing right now—lecturing. Would I not rather go back to my old job, which was nursing. I see it as them not being able to see Black people in any position other than in service of them. Despite occasional acts of resistance from students, there was a consensus among the academics that their relationships with their students were healthy and that their experiences in the classroom were challenging. They attributed the positive responses of White students to their position as lecturers to the fact that these students were from a different generation and more willing to change than was the case with White colleagues (lecturers). The students are willing to change. If I can do the work, why can’t I teach them? Once they see the quality that I generate, they are happy. Reaching out to me is not a forced response. The process of transformation is easier because it is a different generation that has had wider exposure to Black people.

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Language as Mediator of Relationships The participants concurred that language posed the biggest challenge in the classroom. In their assessment, the few Afrikaansspeaking students who responded negatively did so because they found their comfort zone invaded and their linguistic power base challenged. They saw themselves sitting in classes that were now overwhelmingly Black and English-speaking. The academics I interviewed were very sensitive to these language dynamics and responded to these challenges in proactive ways. I make an effort in the Afrikaans groups to speak Afrikaans. I build up rapport with them by making an effort. I try. White Afrikaans students, once they see you making the effort, they are appreciative. They then take me as I am. I speak their language, and they see me as a lecturer. And this carries over into the broader university community. I suppose it is letting down your defenses. This academic related how she would occasionally run into one of the White male students on campus, and how he would go out of his way to stop and engage in conversation with her. This has also been the experience of some of the other academics as well. Another academic who only teaches in English, even though her students are also Afrikaans speaking, reported that she encourages her Afrikaans-speaking students to write their assignments in Afrikaans. This academic has limited command of the Afrikaans language; therefore, she collaborates with another colleague to grade and evaluate assignments that are written in Afrikaans. This is how she explained her approach: I think the Afrikaans students especially have a problem when they have to write. I encourage them to write in Afrikaans. I respect that. They have to debate and analyze and one can only do that effectively in a language one is comfortable in. When they opt to write in English, I tell them to write Afrikaans words in parentheses if they do not know the English word. I use my dictionary to look up the words. Role Model and Ally There was a constant awareness among the interviewees that they serve as role models to students, particularly the Black students. It was their view that when Black students see them lecturing and appointed in academic disciplines that traditionally have few Blacks or

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women, they are encouraged to believe that the dream is accomplishable for them too. This was a popular remark for lecturers who studied at RAU or who are still pursuing graduate studies at this institution. “I think I identify (with these students) because of being Black—on the margins.” According to the academics, Black students’ responses ranged from expressing that they had found allies at RAU to thinking that they would receive preferential treatment because of their color. One academic reported that she found the attention hard to deal with at first, because the Black students would purposefully seek her out, even though she was team-teaching with White lecturers. As she recalls, It was hard at first. They were knocking my door down. I do not think that the other lecturers were not approachable. But they are different, and that is the bottom line. They come into my office even if there are other doors open too. They come back to my door because they saw a Black face. They probably see me and think you are sitting in an office, you must have some authority, let’s talk to you. Students are not comfortable with many of the White lecturers. Some [White] lecturers make a genuine effort and try very hard to speak to the students without being patronizing. It is a long hard road to travel. As in the case of White students, the Black academics’ stance was to position themselves as academics and professionals in the eyes of their Black students. My initial talk clearly positions me. I tell them that I need some academic distance between myself and them, and that we have to maintain that. I have an open door policy, with time for consultation and a chat. But they cannot call me at home. I will not tolerate that, as they are invading my privacy. I am very strong on that. All the evaluation reports show that they see me as a positive role model. I challenge them on an academic level. Though most of these lecturers have been teaching at this university for less than three years, they take their role as mentor very seriously. They maintain an open door policy and make themselves available for consultation. Black students approach them for advice on issues that go beyond the classroom, such as how to be successful in the academic environment. As one academic reported, Many [Black students] come to me for advice even after I stop teaching them. I make time for them because I know that I am

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the only one they can come to for advice. From experience I know how wonderful it would have been for me to have had a Black lecturer to approach for advice, not to do my work for me but to learn more about my department and my rights as a student within this department. I provide them with advice, not special treatment. EXPERIENCING THE ACADEMIC ENVIRONMENT Support Structures Academics identified social support structures that have been instrumental to their success at this university. They identified people as well as processes that have helped them cope and function effectively in their new environment. Most of the academics described their immediate work environment as supportive and friendly. The majority indicated that they found their heads of department to be supportive. For example, one academic who was in the process of completing her doctoral studies indicated that her departmental chairperson recommended that she take a leave of absence and released her from some of her departmental duties. This enabled her to focus on her doctoral studies and relieve some of the pressure she was experiencing at this time. Another academic reported that despite being a contract worker, her departmental chairperson gave her access to all the perks that permanent academic staff members receive. The Black academics expressed consensus that their heads of departments showed confidence in their abilities as faculty members. Although the Black faculty members had “friendly and helpful” interactions with colleagues in their departments, they described interactions with people from other departments within their own college as “aloof and unfriendly.” For example, some Black faculty reported that they were not acknowledged at meetings outside their department. They ascribed this attitude to the fact that colleagues in their department worked closely with them and got to know their capabilities, while those in other departments held on to perceptions based on their status as junior faculty members or harbored the “Black and inferior” stereotype. Although the Black academics experienced support within their departments, they voiced some dissatisfaction with their work environment. They attributed this dissatisfaction to RAU’s failure to orient everyone, Black and White, to the changing university environment. There is an expectation that Black academics will adjust to the university but the same expectation does not exist for White faculty and administrators. If Black academics were appointed in response to affir-

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mative action (as White faculty widely believe), then the university has failed to provide the necessary support structures to enable these new appointees to succeed, as stipulated by new government legislation. For example, new appointees should have at least one experienced person assigned to them to facilitate their acclimatization into the university culture. Black faculty further reported that their adjustment to the university was made especially difficult because so few of their White colleagues understood their experiences. This results in “always doing it from a White person’s perspective to fit in.” One Black academic indicated that her White colleagues think that because she greets everyone in Afrikaans, makes herself a cup of coffee when she comes to work, and says hello to a few colleagues, that she is well adjusted. They assume that she has no problem because she functions so well in their environment and copies their actions. First of all, I don’t know if it is a racial thing or not, but people would feel more comfortable on their first arrival when they see people of their own color. If there had been someone that I could have identified with. One also needs to be with people you can trust, that you can talk to. One is always counting words because you do not want to be misrepresented. Maybe getting someone to welcome you or be available to you. It helps a lot in adjusting to one’s environment. The Black faculty members unanimously agreed that the university could do a lot more in terms of transformation. They cited as an example a sister university that hosts informal gatherings at faculty members’ homes to initiate new academics into their university. I am not saying bond with each other, but just link up with each other. This group formation and networking become easier because now people can take it from there. It was not purely a social event; it was a highly academic event. This process was seen as one in which the university should take the initiative. The institution could put a structure in place where the attitudes as well as the perceptions of all employees, more specifically the academics, can be explored or challenged. Some interviewees expressed the belief that ignorance about different cultures and religions could be addressed in workshops that all employees would participate in. As expressed by one academic: Maybe they [White colleagues] should educate themselves and learn more about other cultures. I would not say accept it but

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respect the other cultures and the differences of other cultures. It is a steppingstone to better communication. The Black female academics noted that they drew moral support from other women in their departments. They maintained that the other women explained the “rules of the game”—processes within the department and overall expectations of them. However, the Black females were sensitive to the fact that feminism was perceived negatively by some colleagues in their departments; therefore, they took care when eliciting support from these colleagues. For example, due to intense animosity between two of her senior colleagues, one Black academic decided to forfeit the support of a female colleague who was perceived by her male superior as a threat to his authority. This academic and others remarked that they had to maintain a delicate balance so as to not be caught in departmental feuds. Transforming the Institutional Environment The process of institutional transformation has been challenging for many universities, and RAU is no exception. Some on campus assert that the university is not changing fast enough; at the other extreme, people contend that the university is changing too rapidly. Among the Black academics, there were uncomfortable pauses and attempts to offer politically correct responses in their assessment of RAU’s progress on institutional transformation. These academics reported that it was important to commend the university for taking the initiative to pursue transformation, even though this process has not been smooth or rapid. The general perception was that, although RAU is transforming, it is transforming at a very slow pace, particularly with respect to the recruitment and appointment of Black academics. The majority of the Black interviewees cautioned those who are on the outside looking in not to think that Black academics are 100% satisfied. As they asserted, RAU is an environment that is still White and Afrikaans; these factors dictate the culture and the power structure within the institution. There were some Black academics who questioned the sincerity of the transformation process at RAU. One summed it up as follows: I experience this environment as one of forced transformation. I am expected to adjust to this environment but they are not reciprocating by being willing to accommodate me. The cultural dynamics that I bring have to be left at the door. My experiences are insignificant, not worthy of validation. Real transformation will not happen in the next two decades. Presently, it is moving at a snail’s pace because people are not honest. They are getting away

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with window dressing. They are just playing at the ground’s having been leveled. How is that possible when one group has all the power and continues to dominate? I asked this academic how this transformation could be speeded up. According to him, and three other Black academics, an increase in the number of Black faculty is one way of advancing change at RAU. It is refreshing that Professor Redlinghuis has been appointed. When you see somebody of color in a higher echelon, it is comforting to know that somewhere there is a tie you can rely on, refer back to or hold on to. . . . It can only come about when there are more people like us. Growing numbers. Sometimes people toe lines because you have this feeling that you are different, and sometimes that is precisely why you choose to do so. When you grow in number you grow more confident. It is not just I; there are a whole lot of us. Stimulating Critical Thinking and Intellectual Inquisitiveness One of the themes that emerged from my conversations with the academics turned on the issue of intellectual stimulation and critical thinking among them. Many of the Black faculty reported that they were unwilling to share their true feelings about the institution with their White colleagues for fear that their views might be misconstrued as too “political.” The dilemma they face is whether to compromise their honesty, for the sake of keeping their job, or to speak their mind and risk alienation. Their actions might cost them their reputation and affect how others see or label them. From their responses, I deduced that the interviewees perceived RAU as a closed, conservative environment, where they could not freely share their insights. One would be comfortable in an open-minded setup that allows one to speak your mind. An environment that invites that kind of interaction is very influential in how you react. If it is an environment in which you are being judged by what you say, you would be careful what you say. You know you have to toe the line at RAU because it is still a closed one; you can’t always speak your mind. Although the Black academics realized the importance of their participation during staff meetings, they expressed overall discomfort with using these meetings as a medium to voice their opinions. The following two responses are reflective of most opinions:

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In a meeting setup I am not prepared to take that stance. Because . . . when the time comes to actually open your mouth, it is so intimidating because you will find these guys looking at you . . . this little Black meidjie2 (girl) who wants to open her mouth. I won’t, I just won’t. I choose my moments very carefully; more often than not it is on a one-on-one basis. One cannot say things in meetings because of a different power dynamic. I will be a bit wary as to how open I can be. The reason being that you might be afraid that you will be misinterpreted as being something else, when you’re actually not. I think you ought to be able to say what you think, but you might be labeled. When you come across as someone who thinks differently, you are going to come across as someone who is going to be mislabeled. If you can maintain a safe balance it would be good, but it’s difficult. One colleague, who is also pursuing her graduate studies, said that because she offers a student’s perspective, she believes that her colleagues listen to her and value her input. When I changed the scenario and asked her whether her response as lecturer and not as a student would be as valued, she was less certain about how her input would be received. In departments where the academics were the only Black people in their department, their sense of isolation was felt more acutely. This isolation has necessitated a stance of resistance. As one faculty member expressed it: You have to nurture a certain kind of personality; otherwise, you will perish. You tell yourself you have to be strong and have to question. You cannot allow things to go unsaid. Though there are times when one just wants to let it go, you cannot allow yourself to. However, in responding to this isolation, some Black academics have been labeled as provoking arguments or being confrontational. Instead of being classified as outspoken, they acquire a reputation as radicals. It is part of being human. I cannot change the fact that I am Black and as such am sensitized to some responses I perceive as racist. They make themselves believe and send out images of being nonracist. They forget that I also know them from my perspective as a former student of theirs. Some people cannot change even if they pretend to.

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Ghandi or Che´? Some of the interviewees said because of their color, some of the White colleagues in their departments expect them to respond in a radical and outspoken manner. Due to the conservative environment at RAU, and based on discussions with other Black academics, they deliberately choose to deal with matters differently than their White colleagues expect. This response strategy, however, may be perceived by other colleagues as “selling out” when, in fact, it is a strategy to survive in this environment. Said one: In an academic environment, an individual’s input should be heard. I am coping with a situation where I feel that I am completely losing my voice and am shutting down completely. Because I am keeping quiet, or I am nice to people who are conservative, it is perceived as if I agree with the opposition, not that I am making a decision to keep quiet. Three colleagues said that they were less willing to critically analyze actions and challenge decisions of White colleagues who are perceived as more progressive than others in their college. One, for example, reported that he found these “liberal” colleagues to be guilty of disempowering practices such as asking him to make decisions on a lower level after they have taken the main decisions and determined the choices for him. Though he admitted that the actions of these liberals were also discriminatory, he had so few allies that he kept quiet to hold on to them. Another colleague raised a similar point: When she finds some White colleagues trivializing the contributions of other White colleagues, she feels pressure to align herself with one group or the other. On the one hand, those Black faculty who keep quiet and refrain from engaging in dialogue are perceived as trying to curry favor with the conservatives, or as not empowered enough to take a position. On the other hand, those who venture to voice an opinion different from the mainstream viewpoint are tagged as stereotypical, radical, confrontational Blacks. Some of us are Mahatma Ghandis. He believed in passive resistance, and in his own way he changed things. I find one of my colleagues to be clever, because there is a realization that confrontation might be perceived as being hostile. It is a pity that he is being seen as in need of emancipation. If he is satisfied with his way of doing things, then let’s respect his stance.

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“I’m Good Enough to Do the Work, But Not to Lead the Project” None of the Black academic staff who participated in this study held positions higher than that of a lecturer. Although their average tenure at RAU was two years, many had eight or more years of teaching and other related work experience. Despite their many years of experience, the academics felt that their White colleagues did not trust them to take the lead in research and other projects, even when they were doing their fair share of the work. They attributed this lack of trust to the fact that they were Black or occupied lower-level faculty positions, not to their lack of ability and experience. For example, three of the ten interviewees offered significant input on their departments’ program for the South African Qualifications Framework3 registration. Though they were not assigned as the project leaders, they were responsible for most of the input and they served as the liaisons for this project, but never as team leaders. They will assign me to a job, but not wholeheartedly. But, to assure quality assurance, someone is appointed officially to monitor your work. Again, I interpret this action as that I am not to be trusted to complete the task unsupervised. They do not trust that I can take the lead. I think my youthful appearance works against me too. Not all Black academics ascribed this lack of confidence in their leadership ability to age or status. Despite working for only two years at the university, one academic was generally unhappy and disillusioned about the environment at RAU: I was seconded to serve on an advisory board but the dean of our faculty (college) felt that I was not ready. His response was that I was too young. I knew it was a racist decision rather than related to my age. My knowledge and expertise were needed for this position, which is why I was chosen, not because of my age. He is not a transformational leader. He is too rigid in his thinking. “It’s Like Being Stranded on an Island” The Black faculty member quoted above expressed various degrees of frustration with the pervasive use of Afrikaans as the primary language of Afrikaers at RAU. Despite claims that English has been adopted as a second language, the reality is that official university business is conducted in Afrikaans. This unofficial encouragement of monolingualism is one factor interfering with the ability of some Black

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faculty to participate actively in university affairs. Of the ten colleagues interviewed, seven were bilingual or multilingual (competent in English, Afrikaans, and one or more indigenous languages); two could not speak Afrikaans, though they were multilingual; and one was multilingual with a working knowledge of Afrikaans. However, the majority cited their limited participation in meetings as partly due to their not being able to engage in academically acceptable Afrikaans during these meetings. Furthermore, they sensed that conversing in English would be misconstrued as a political response. One of the interviewees who does not speak Afrikaans at all indicated that the university management appointed her knowing that she did not speak the Afrikaans language. She did not realize then how this factor would limit her participation as an academic at RAU: At my previous university I could participate well, and felt proud of myself. I do not like to attend meetings at all where I could not give input that is valued. All meetings are in Afrikaans. You sit like a “pop” [dummy]. You cannot interrupt after every sentence and ask that people explain. It’s like if you hold a meeting in Venda4 and they all have to attend. You feel isolated. You feel neglected. You feel that your presence is not at all valued. And it frustrated me, let me tell you. This academic went further to describe how she would sign up for workshops related to her work, but they would become another useless workshop because of the language barrier. She said that the university’s lack of enforcement of its own policy of bilingualism stifled her professional growth. As far as staff development is concerned, we are suffering. As far as communication is concerned, we are suffering. And as far as knowledge about the institution is concerned, we are suffering. As lecturers, we stay impoverished. I don’t see how we can ever become part of the university that we are working for if we do not know it or are unable to access it. It’s frustrating; we are not developing; we are not growing. Another colleague showed me a memorandum from the dean’s office that was written in one of the only two languages the university has adopted as mediums of communication. I can see this is a very important document, but it is only in Afrikaans. It is coming from the dean’s office, but I feel like throwing it in the bin. I cannot access it, and [so I] stay ignorant about the

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university’s functions. I see it as disrespectful to people like me. The university’s language policy expects me to write tests and exams in both English and Afrikaans. Please show me the same courtesy. We expect to be with the university for a long time, and to stand out there for it. I cannot proudly stand on every platform. When I cannot participate, I stay ignorant and isolated. CONCLUSION The Rand Afrikaans University’s decision to invest in transformation was preceded by a number of fundamental decisions pertaining to these objectives. One of the decisions was to expand its pool of Black academics, who currently total sixteen. This investment has paid off in terms of the quality work that these academics deliver, as reflected by their evaluation reports. However, an investment in the well-being and productive capacity of these academics is needed for the first investment to deliver continuous dividends. Putnam (1993), in Making Democracy Work, investigated the disparity in the well-being of different international communities, and the hesitancy of some to engage in civic activities. I used his theory to help frame and better understand the academics’ experience of the RAU community. It would seem that the main elements of social capital, which Putnam identified as trust and cooperation, were missing in the academics’ work environment. As such, the networks and norms that used to allow them to act together in their previous work environments could not be established. Gittell and Vidal (1998), in their discussion of social capital, consider bonding capital, which is the process of bringing people together who know one another, and bridging capital, the process of bringing together people or groups who previously did not know each other, as necessary processes to facilitate community development. In the development of a sense of community—in this case, the university—social capital has an important function to fulfill. A university lecturer’s capacity to act as a full-fledged university faculty member may be paralyzed by many factors, of which social alienation is a major contributor. First, the Black academics who participated in this study experienced their work environment as a closed, conservative one. It is an environment that silences those who are in the minority or on the margins. Second, communication was hampered by the lack of a common language for dialogue. The participants repeatedly lamented the limitations placed on their participation because of the language barrier. They did not lodge criticism against Afrikaans as a language, but against its exclusive usage as a medium of communication. Even though some Black faculty colleagues do not speak Afrikaans, or have limited command of the language, the university has not taken proac-

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tive steps to ensure that university materials are translated and accessible in a language these academics can understand. Many of these university documents have significant policy implications, and because they are not able to provide input, these individuals are effectively sidelined from making meaningful contributions to the transformation process. It is these discriminatory practices that have contributed to Black academics’ festering mistrust of transformation. The research participants recommended interaction and dialogue within their departments and across campus. These recommendations dovetail with Putnam’s (1993) theory of social capital, which presumes that as people get opportunities to work together more frequently, “the more they will trust each other, and the better off they are individually and collectively, because there is a strong collective aspect to social capital.” As a fundamental prerequisite for transformation, everyone in the university environment should be sensitized to this change and how it will affect existing institutional processes and practices. The burden of adjustment cannot be the sole responsibility of Black academics. The social system, in this case the university, stands a better chance of functioning effectively when the academic staff form meaningful ties with their colleagues. Without the cultivation of bridges to link this new community of Black academics with the established university community, this new group could degenerate into an alienated hostile work force. NOTES 1. Black, as used in this chapter, refers to all non-White groups; that is, Africans, Coloreds, and Indians. 2. Meidjie is the Afrikaans word used by some Whites when referring to a young Black girl. 3. SAQA is the South African Qualifications Authority, a government appointed committee with whom all academic qualifications have to be registered. 4. Venda is one of the nine indigenous South African languages spoken predominantly by Black South Africans. REFERENCES Broader Transformation Forum Report [BTF]. (1999). Auckland Park, South Africa: Rand Afrikaans University. Constitution of the Republic of South Africa. (1996). (Act 108 of 1996). Pretoria: Government Printers. Employment Equity Bill. (1998). Pretoria: Government Printers. Gittell, R., & Vidal, A. (1998). Community organizing: Building social

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capital as a development strategy. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Government Gazette. (1998). Statute of the Rand Afrikaans University, 402 (19629). Pretoria: Government Printers. Higher Education Act 101 of 1997. Pretoria: Government Printers. Labour Relations Act 66 of 1995. Pretoria: Government Printers. Putnam, R. (1993). Making democracy work: Civic traditions in modern Italy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rand Afrikaans University Website. (1999). http://www.rau.ac.za.

3

Selective Inclusion: Transformation and Language Policy at the University of Stellenbosch REITUMETSE OBAKENG MABOKELA

I think Stellenbosch should still remain the center where Afrikaans is used both in teaching and in research. I think Afrikaans has earned itself the status as an academic language. . . . I am not in favor of suddenly changing everything into English. Yes, I agree Stellenbosch should be accessible to Englishspeaking people as well . . . but we have to consider we also have lots of Afrikaans people studying here. All over the country they are transforming into English. Yes, it’s good, it’s fine, but why not find a sort of dual-medium arrangement? Don’t completely eradicate Afrikaans and say that it is the language of the White oppressors. Yes, there are connotations, but it is the past. But now English is the politically correct thing to say. —Second-year student in the Faculty of Science

INTRODUCTION This statement captures one position in the fervent debate that has rankled the University of Stellenbosch regarding its policy to use Afrikaans as the primary language of instruction. Arguments in favor of the policy are voiced by those who view the maintenance of Afrikaans as intricately tied to Afrikaner culture and identity; arguments against it come from those who perceive the use of this language as exclusionary, especially to African students and faculty who have recently joined the university community at the University of Stellenbosch. This chapter explores the policy of using Afrikaans as the primary language of instruction at the University of Stellenbosch and how this language policy affects the academic experience of recently admitted African students at this university. In particular, we will examine how

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this language policy fits in with the broader objective to transform historically White universities and to foster the democratic ideals of a nonracist society. The chapter begins with a historical overview that traces the development of language policy in South Africa since the colonial era. This synopsis provides a context for understanding recent developments in language policy, and the responses of different constituents to these developments. The remainder of the chapter is devoted to an evaluation of student, faculty, and administrator responses to the language policy at the University of Stellenbosch. Historically White universities (HWUs) are faced with the challenging task of transforming their institutions from those marred with racial, gender, and class disparities, to universities that can serve the educational interests of all students, regardless of their ethnic or racial background. Prior to the 1983 passage of the Universities Amendment Act, the legislation that granted HWUs the legal right to admit Black students, the student population at these universities was linguistically and culturally homogeneous. In accordance with apartheid policies implemented by the former Nationalist Party government, the HWUs served the educational interests of the two colonial populations in South Africa: The Afrikaans universities enrolled White South Africans of Dutch ancestry, while the English-language universities served South Africans of British descent. As the proportion of Black students at HWUs increased, particularly since the political changes in the early 1990s, these universities have increasingly admitted students whose first language is neither English nor Afrikaans. The continued use of Afrikaans, in particular, given its political undertones, has raised impassioned debates among Afrikaans speakers on the one hand, who perceive questions about the status of the Afrikaans language as an onslaught on their sense of identity, and Africans on the other hand, who view Afrikaans as the language of the oppressor. The discussion to which I turn now traces the historical roots of these debates. HISTORICAL CONTEXT Since the arrival of the early colonialists in South Africa in 1652, language policies were implemented to advance the interests of those in political power. These early colonial and White minority governments have used language policies in education as an instrument of political, social, economic, and cultural control. Under the governance of the former Nationalist Party, the government used language policies as a mechanism to control Africans, to exclude them from complete participation in economic and political activities, and to reinforce the

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cultural interest of the ruling White minority. English and Afrikaans have been privileged as the official languages of South Africa, while the nine African languages were marginalized, only being granted official status in the bantustans (Desai, 1994). It is only after the African National Congress–led government was elected into office in 1994 that the African languages—isiZulu, isiXhosa, isiNdebele, siSwati, Setswana, Sesotho, Sepedi, Tshivenda, and xiTsonga—were granted official status. The former Nationalist Party government invested massive resources during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries to develop the language of Afrikaans, a new hybrid language that contained elements of Dutch, German, English, Portuguese, Malay, and the southern Nguni languages (Mda, 1997). Most of the language planning during this period was not only aimed at establishing Afrikaans as an independent language from Dutch, but it was also a period of resistance against efforts by the British to anglicize the Afrikaners. For Afrikaners, language was not only used for purposes of communication, it was also viewed as a symbol of Afrikaner nationalism (Mda, 1997; Roberge, 1992). The recognition of Afrikaans as a distinctly different language from Dutch was a struggle that played a critical role in the emergence of Afrikaner nationalism. Reagan (1988) notes that Afrikaans was viewed as “a divinely inspired gift,” a “God-given language” for a “chosen people,” which had to be protected and advanced at all costs. The movement for the Afrikaans language was driven by the demand for the use of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction for Afrikaner children at the turn of the twentieth century. English and high Dutch had been employed as languages of instruction, but Afrikaners made a strong claim that they could not identify with either language. Therefore, when the Union of South Africa was formed in 1910, English and Dutch (Afrikaans was only used after 1925), were accorded equal status and were used equally in all public spheres, and in all government proceedings (Reagan, 1988; Roberge, 1992). During the 1920s, Afrikaner nationalists put increasing pressure for the separation of English- and Afrikaner-speaking children into separate monolingual schools. One of the issues that led to the victory of the National Party in 1948 was the party’s commitment to the creation of separate schools for English and Afrikaner students, and eventually for Africans. The Nationalist Party language policy was focused on two primary objectives: first, the need to establish and maintain the Afrikaners as a separate cultural and linguistic group; and second, the need to establish and maintain the other ethno-linguistic groups in the country (Cluver, 1992). The above-stated objectives clearly illustrate that

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the Afrikaners’ struggle for cultural and language domination was inextricably connected to the various educational and language policies that were directed toward Africans. The passage of the Bantu Education Act of 1953 heralded the beginning of a new style of apartheid education that emphasized complete separation of the educational system into ethnolinguistic groups, especially for Africans (Hartshorne, 1987). Bantu education was based on the philosophy that Africans needed an educational system that would prepare them for their “rightful” place in society. In other words, the education of Africans was now designed to prepare African students to function as semiskilled laborers in the ever-expanding mining and manufacturing industries (Mmusi, 1987). Bantu education was met with fierce disapproval and resistance in the African community, leading to widespread protests, arrests, and dismissal of students and teachers (Mmusi, 1987). The subsequent passage of the National Educational Policy Act of 1967 ordered that the “mother tongue be used as the medium of instruction” in all schools (Hartshorne, 1987). The government successfully managed to segregate Afrikaans- and English-speaking Whites, and thus assured the maintenance of the Afrikaner language and culture. Mother Tongue Language Policy for Africans Prior to the passage of the Bantu Education Act, English had been used as the medium of instruction in African schools, due to the influence of British missionaries (Mawasha, 1987). The mother tongue was used in the first four years of school; beginning at the fifth school year, English was used as the medium of instruction, while the mother tongue was taught as a subject. Instruction in the mother tongue in this case refers to the belief that “a child should receive at least his/her initial schooling and preferably the bulk of schooling in his/her mother tongue” (Reagan, 1986). There were very few African schools that used Afrikaans as the medium of instruction (Mmusi, 1987). After 1953, the minister of Bantu education declared that the mother tongue would be used in African schools for the first eight years of school. Afrikaners felt justified in extending the mother tongue policy to Africans because they were not satisfied with the use of English in Afrikaner schools. Africans were not very receptive to this policy and their sentiments could be summarized by the following statement: Mother tongue instruction would have the effect of reducing horizons of Africans, cramping them intellectually within the narrow bounds of tribal society and diminishing the opportunity of inter-communication between African groups themselves, and

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also with the wider world of which they form part. (Reagan, 1984a, p. 157) Mmusi (1987) points out that the policy was perceived as part of the larger plan of tribal separation, designed to inhibit the feeling of nationalism, that is, of belonging to South Africa among Africans. Language continues to be a contentious issue within the sphere of African education. The foundation of the National Party’s government language policy has been based on the mother tongue issue. The government has favored mother tongue instruction for all the population groups in South Africa; however, different reasons were used to justify this principle for the various groups. While mother tongue was used to enhance and foster the language and culture of Afrikaners, the same policy was implemented to hinder and impede the progress of African students in a society where European languages (English and Afrikaans) were awarded superior status and were also the languages of business and education (Reagan, 1988, 1986; Roberge, 1992). After the passage of the Bantu Education Act, the government systematically coerced African educational institutions to adopt Afrikaans as the medium of instruction. Afrikaans was first introduced as a subject in schools and teacher training colleges. Teachers who were teaching then were given five years to perfect their competence in Afrikaans, and special intensive language courses were established to improve the teachers’ mastery of Afrikaans. The government asserted that these language changes were necessary because the constitution required equal treatment of English and Afrikaans (Hartshorne, 1987). The educational interests of African students were not an issue of paramount concern, and were subordinate to the ideological and political factors involved in maintaining Afrikaner nationalist domination (Hartshorne, 1987). The implementation of mother tongue programs among Africans in South Africa has made a mockery of their benefits because the scope of usage of African languages was limited to the private sphere. Africans could not obtain employment or pursue postsecondary education without mastery of English and/or Afrikaans. Mother tongue programs received vehement opposition from African students and teachers because they served neither the pedagogical interests of students (the development or enhancement of learning), nor the sociopolitical purpose of nation building (Hartshorne, 1987; Reagan, 1986). In the early 1970s it became apparent that African schools were not using Afrikaans as the medium of instruction nor enforcing the “50/50 principle”—a policy that required 50% of the subjects to be taught in English and the remaining 50% in Afrikaans (Mmusi, 1987). The Afrikaners’ struggle to keep Afrikaans on par with English led to the

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government’s enforcement of this “50/50 principle.” Efforts by African scholars and educators to express their dissatisfaction with this principle were completely ignored by the minister of Bantu education. In fact, the minister considered it “unnecessary” to consult with Africans when planning their language policies (Mmusi, 1987). This nonconsultative attitude from the department of Bantu education only served to fuel a storm of anger against the 50/50 language policy, resulting in massive student riots, often referred to as the “June 16” (1976) riots. Cluver’s (1992) analysis of language competence revealed that more than half the Africans in South Africa cannot speak, read, or write English or Afrikaans, and only 10% of Whites, Coloreds and Indians know an African language. For many Africans, economic and educational mobility were and still are directly related to their competence in English and or Afrikaans. Even in the homelands where African languages were declared official in addition to English and Afrikaans, there were few jobs for which the only prerequisite was knowledge of an African language. Although Africans could use their native languages at home, they still had to earn a living in one of the official languages. Given the reality that Africans had to attend school, work, and understand government proceedings in a second language, there was virtually no incentive for Africans to study their mother tongues. Having provided this historical overview, I now turn my attention to how these historical dynamics manifest themselves at the University of Stellenbosch and continue to influence language decisions at this institution. LANGUAGE POLICY AT STELLENBOSCH The University of Stellenbosch, established in 1874, is the oldest Afrikaans-language university in South Africa. Until the mid-1990s, the University of Stellenbosch had a negligible percentage of Black students enrolled. Although this university admitted its first Black student in 1977, there has not been a notable increase in the enrollment of Black students since then. For example, in 1983 when historically White universities were legally permitted to admit Black students, Africans comprised less than 1% of the student body, and Coloreds only 1.42% of the 12,056 full-time students. Twelve years later in 1995, the proportion of African students had increased only slightly to 2.55%, while the percentage of Colored students increased to 9.56% of the total student population (Mabokela, 1998). This increase in the enrollment of Black students, though small, has introduced challenges with which this university never had to previously contend. The students traditionally admitted to Stellenbosch were White, Afrikaans-speaking, and well educated. The recently ad-

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mitted Black students are more likely to be academically underprepared as a direct result of the apartheid policies that allocated a disproportionately large percentage of educational resources to White schools and students. The majority of recently admitted African students do not use Afrikaans as their primary language, although Colored students do. This does not imply that Black students are inherently inferior; however, there is a need to acknowledge the academic disparities that exist among students of different racial backgrounds, inherited from their experiences in a racially segregated system of education. Failure to acknowledge and address this discrimination obstructs the fundamental assessment of academic structures and their ability to serve the academic needs of Black students. The current language policy identifies Afrikaans as the statutory language of instruction at the University of Stellenbosch. At the undergraduate level, a few departments offer some courses in both English and Afrikaans, for example, the Colleges of Forestry and Military Sciences. There appears to be more flexibility at the graduate level because the structure of graduate programs involves more one-on-one interaction between faculty and students and focuses less on lectures. The College of Forestry is the notable exception, where all instruction at the undergraduate level is conducted in English. The reason for this exemption is that Stellenbosch is the only university in South Africa that offers a degree in forestry; therefore, this program attracts a significant proportion of its students from other African countries where Afrikaans is not spoken at all. According to senior university administrators, such accommodations cannot be made in other colleges because students have the option to attend other universities where these programs are offered in English. Further, they argue that duallanguage programs would be too costly for the university. Administrators have made it abundantly clear that Afrikaans will remain the dominant language on campus, as indicated by the following statement by one of the senior administrators: I would put it very clearly that there is no way we would forsake Afrikaans as the language of tuition at the undergraduate level. We would not be doing people of this province [Western Cape], where 80% of our students come from, a favor. So we will stick to Afrikaans as an undergraduate teaching language. A 1994 analysis of Stellenbosch students by home language indicated that 73.62% identified Afrikaans as their dominant home language, 20.25% English, 1.7% both Afrikaans and English, and 4.37% other languages. The majority of Afrikaans speakers—46%—resided in the Western Cape and Northern Cape provinces (van der Merwe & van

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Niekerk, 1994). This distribution of Afrikaans speakers was the reason cited by the rector and other senior university administrators for maintaining Afrikaans as the predominant language on campus. These administrators asserted that they would like to make Stellenbosch an “inclusive Afrikaans university.” They further reiterated their responsibility to the Afrikaans-speaking community given that, in their view, other universities in the country do not make provisions for Afrikaans students. Said one senior administrator at Stellenbosch: There is something that needs to be understood here because this is an Afrikaans university. Just look at the demographics of the Western Cape. I would love to turn it around and look at all the institutions that do not make provisions for Afrikaans-speaking students. Let’s ask them why they don’t make provision for that. Like for example, not allowing students to do assignments in Afrikaans. At the moment, if we do not make provisions in a province that is strongly Afrikaans centered, we would get ten times stronger reaction from pressure groups for Afrikaans than we presently get from groups in favor of English. While administrators argue for the maintenance of Afrikaans in order to serve the interests of the Afrikaans-speaking White and Colored students, the institution has not made a similar commitment to accommodate Africans, the majority of whom do not speak Afrikaans. It is thus unclear how university leaders plan to achieve its goal of inclusiveness when they have not made efforts to accommodate a group of students (Africans) who have been historically marginalized at Stellenbosch. While Stellenbosch has held steadfastly to the Afrikaans-only policy at the undergraduate level, other Afrikaans universities have implemented measures to address and accommodate the linguistic needs of their students by offering dual-medium (English and Afrikaans) instruction. There is no evidence indicating that other Afrikaans universities have abandoned Afrikaans in favor of English. Although administrators would like to divorce the language debate from the race issue, there is no question that the exclusive use of Afrikaans at the undergraduate level will continue to exclude African students. One administrator responded to this issue as follows: We have on the one hand a constituency that has a legitimate need, demand if you wish, for being taught in their home language; and that constituency is fairly large. It is large enough to stop the university in terms of numbers. If we go the [English] route fully, it is going to be perceived as a way of racial exclusion.

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We have to at least accommodate our historical constituency by having all courses in Afrikaans at the undergraduate level. The language debates have focused extensively on protecting the current status of Afrikaans, but little attention and discussion have been devoted to strategies to accommodate those groups—predominantly African students—who will be most adversely affected by the uncompromised use of Afrikaans. A White faculty member in the College of Arts and Humanities summarized the current situation as follows: The big problem is that we don’t have an explicit mission and a vision of where we want to go. We have no forum in which we can jointly develop a mission about this language issue. The problem is not Afrikaans per se. The present environment and circumstances make learning Afrikaans unattractive to Blacks. The Black students know many more languages than most of these Whites. If they really wanted to learn Afrikaans they could, and I think they would want to, but not in the present circumstances. Not if you tell them that “Look, we are Afrikaans by law and sorry, we can’t help you if you don’t know Afrikaans.” Of course they won’t want to learn it. Other faculty members raised concerns about their university’s seeming unwillingness to accommodate students whose primary language is not Afrikaans, and offered possible solutions to this problem. One faculty member from the Department of Political Science called for flexibility in addressing the language problem: Well I think Stellenbosch has to do two things to make it more accessible to African students at the undergraduate level. We have to introduce the parallel-medium approach [English and Afrikaans]. It has been tried at the other Afrikaans universities with some success. Obviously, we would have to be careful not to create a new polarization—African students going to this class and White students going to that class. But I think we can handle that if we mix up the tutorial groups and use both languages. This way, our students can mingle a little bit. This is the first thing that has to be done. The second thing is, we need to take into consideration the needs of our Colored students. We must introduce a strong language program to make the Colored students more fluent in English. This is necessary for their future in South Africa. But then, we also need to do the same for our African students—help them develop their Afrikaans. So, if we have a more flexible lan-

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guage policy at Stellenbosch we can allow various ways of handling our students. We don’t have to change the official policy, just be flexible. Students expressed a diverse range of positions regarding their university’s language dilemma. On the one hand, the Colored and White students supported the maintenance of the current Afrikaans-only policy, while their African counterparts raised serious concerns about the barriers that Afrikaans presents to their academic progress. The following statement by a White second-year student, who belongs to the Student Representative Council, succinctly captures the dominant position of the Afrikaans-speaking students: I am very much in favor of Afrikaans because I come from an Afrikaans environment and I believe this university should stay Afrikaans. But I think some measures should be taken to accommodate people, not only from English-speaking communities, but also from other African languages. We should take measures to accommodate those people. African students expressed great frustration over this issue, particularly with the negative effect it has on their academic performance. A second-year African student noted: This Afrikaans thing is killing us. You know I spent the last two days translating my notes from Afrikaans to English before I could even start studying for my test. My test is tomorrow and I will only start studying today. Another African student, speaking at a SASCO meeting, the Black students’ organization on campus, expressed similar concerns about the language: Sometimes we don’t understand the Afrikaans lectures. When you ask some of the lecturers for help, they think you are stupid. They don’t understand that it’s not because we are stupid; we sometimes can’t follow the language. You can’t really learn Afrikaans in the four-week program we have at the beginning of the year. In addition to concerns about the effect of Afrikaans on their academic life, African students expressed feelings of alienation in their social and cultural life as well. According to a second-year African student at Stellenbosch:

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You know, sometimes I get so angry, so frustrated here. I feel like an outsider . . . not a part of this university. They [the administrators] are not trying to help us in any way. I sometimes think that they wish we [Black students] would leave. . . . I like it better in the res [residence hall] because I don’t have to pretend. Our res only has Colored and African students, and I think it’s better this way. . . . We don’t have a social life here. When they [White students] have dances, they play their boere-musiek. . . . Just look at [the town of] Stellenbosch—it’s White, White, White. Where do I go to socialize? I can’t go to Kyamandi [the local Black township]; those people look at us like we are strangers. While a few White students acknowledged the alienating effects of the Afrikaans culture on other students, especially Africans, this was a position shared only by a minority. The pervasive position expressed by White students was voiced by a second-year White student: There is not a problem at Stellenbosch. At least not as far as we [the White students] are concerned. There’s a lot of stuff in the newspapers that Stellenbosch must change, but I think we are one of the best universities in South Africa. It’s “lekker” [great] here. . . . Last year, SASCO [the Black students’ organization] had a toyi-toyi [protest] because they feel excluded. Nobody excludes them. They do it. They sit in their little groups in Neelsie [the student union]. We are not used to toyi-toyi and things like that here. They should try to be part of this university. Other White students, such as a second-year student in the Faculty of Science quoted below, expressed concerns that the rate of change should not come too rapidly: We should not do away with the Afrikaans culture completely. We should change, yes, but not do away with it completely and just replace it. We should preserve it so that it becomes sort of on an equal footing. Not change completely and take away what has been. This place has character and culture . . . the whole thing has contributed to Stellenbosch being what it is. CONCLUSION The language issue is a source of perpetual tension at the University of Stellenbosch. As the historical overview indicates, the roots of this language debate date back to the early years of colonial conflicts be-

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tween the English and Dutch settlers. During the apartheid era, the former Nationalist Party government invested abundant resources to develop the language. Afrikaners viewed the use of Afrikaans as a direct link to their sense of identity and Afrikaner nationalism. Therefore, any suggestion of the adoption of a language other than Afrikaans—English in particular—is seen as a direct threat to Afrikaner nationalism. For African students, using Afrikaans as a medium of instruction is like pouring salt into an open wound. It is the forcible use of Afrikaans in secondary schools that sparked the 1976 Soweto riots across Black schools in South Africa. For some African students, the continued use of Afrikaans in a democratic South Africa is like an extension of the old order. Although their nine African languages have been elevated to the status of English and Afrikaans as “official languages,” in reality they are still confined to the private sphere. Many African students view knowledge and fluency in the English language as a passport to economic and political mobility. Therefore, there is no incentive to learn Afrikaans. From the preceding discussion, it is evident that the language debate at Stellenbosch constitutes a political struggle between the imminent dominance of the English language and the emergence of the nine African languages on the one hand, and the diminished significance of the Afrikaans language on the other hand. Unfortunately, this struggle is playing out at the expense of African students whose academic achievements have been compromised. REFERENCES Cluver, A. V. D. (1992). Language planning models for a post-apartheid South Africa. Language Problems and Language Planning, 16 (2), 105–133. Desai, Z. (1994). Praat or speak but don’t thetha: On language rights in South Africa. Language and Education, 8 (Vols. 1 & 2), 19– 29. Eastman, C. M. (1990). What is the role of language planning in postapartheid South Africa? TESOL Quarterly, 24 (1), 9–21. Harlech-Jones, B. (1987). Implementing language policy decisions in education: What do we know and what don’t we know? In D. N. Young (Ed.), Language: Planning and Medium in Education. Rondebosch: The Language Education Unit and SAALA. Hartshorne, K. B. (1987). Language policy in African education in South Africa 1910–1985, with particular reference to the issue of medium of instruction. In D. N. Young (Ed.), Language: Plan-

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ning and Medium in Education. Rondebosch: The Language Education Unit and SAALA. Kallaway, P. (Ed.) (1984). Apartheid education: The education of black South Africans. Braamfontein: Ravan Press. Mabokela, R. O. (1998). Black students on white campuses: Responses to increasing black enrollments at two South African universities. Doctoral Dissertation. University of Illinois, UrbanaChampaign. Mawasha, A. L. (1987). The problem of English as a second language as medium of education in black schools. In D. N. Young (Ed.), Language: Planning and Medium in Education. Rondebosch: The Language Education Unit and SAALA. Mda, T. V. (1997). Issues in the making of South Africa’s language in education policy. Journal of Negro Education, 66 (4), 366–375. Meerkotter, D. A. (1987). The struggle for liberation and the position of English in South Africa. In D. N. Young (Ed.), Language: Planning and Medium in Education. Rondebosch: The Language Education Unit and SAALA. Mmusi, S. O. (1987). Language planning policy and its associated problems in black education in South Africa. Master’s thesis. Department of Linguistics, Southern Illinois University at Carbondale. Molteno, F. (1987). 1980 students struggle for their schools. Rondebosch: Centre for African Studies, University of Cape Town. Race relations survey 1993/94. (1994). Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations. Reagan, T. (1984a). Language policy, politics, and ideology: The case of South Africa. Issues in Education, 2 (2), 155–164. ———. (1984b). The “language question” in the history of South African education. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Educational Research Association Division F, History and Historiography New Orleans, LA (April 23–27). ———. (1986). The role of language policy in South Africa. Language Problems and Language Planning, 10 (1), 1–13. ———. (1988). The “language struggle” in South Africa: Emergence and development in educational policy. Storrs: University of Connecticut Press. Roberge, P. T. (1992). Afrikaans and the ontogenetic myth. Language and Communication, 12 (1), 31–52. Van der Merwe, I. J., & van Niekerk, L. O. (1994). Language in South Africa: Distribution and change. Stellenbosch: Department of Geography, University of Stellenbosch. Webb, V. (1993–1994). South Africa’s sociolinguistic complexity. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics 14, 254–271.

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Young, D., & Burns, R. (Eds.) (1987). Education at the crossroads. Rondebosch: School of Education, University of Cape Town. Young, D. N. (1987). Language: Planning and medium in education. Rondebosch: The Language Education Unit and SAALA.

4

Stumbling toward Racial Inclusion: The Story of Transformation at the University of Witwatersrand KIMBERLY LENEASE KING

If you look at the coffee room at Senate House, there are Black students sitting around one table and White students sitting around another table. . . . That is a fairly good litmus test. —An administrator in the Faculty of Arts, August 1995

INTRODUCTION This case study of the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) is intriguing for various reasons. It is considered one of the most prestigious universities in South Africa. Furthermore, during apartheid Wits challenged the National Party government on issues of racial segregation by designating itself an institution “open” to all people who qualified for admission regardless of race (Conference of Representatives, 1957). Having embarked on nonracial admissions in the early 1980s and engaging in critical research designed to undermine the apartheid government, by 1990 Wits appeared to be in a position to set an example for other South African institutions. However, despite an antiapartheid history, Wits’ transformation has been the most tumultuous of the South African tertiary institutions. Since 1990, Wits’ efforts at transformation have been plagued by student and staff unrest. Wits experienced even more unrest than the Afrikaans-medium institutions that tacitly supported the National Party government. Consequently, the story of racial inclusion at the University of the Witwatersrand is rife with contradictions. The racial segregation that currently exists within the institution stands in stark contrast to the reputation of the institution. It is also symbolic of the struggle that the institution cur-

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rently faces, that is, how to racially integrate the institution? Those populations that have been newly included might argue that the second part of the question should read “without substantial changes to the way that things are currently done?” This chapter explores the challenges surrounding transformation at the University of the Witwatersrand. More specifically, the chapter focuses on the administrative efforts and challenges to include a previously excluded population that is both economically and academically disadvantaged. The chapter begins with a discussion of institutional history as it pertains to the contemporary challenges to racial inclusion. It is followed by a discussion of some of the inclusion strategies adopted by administrative units and academic faculties. The remainder of the chapter involves an analysis of the success of these efforts. CAN HISTORY EXPLAIN THE TROUBLE? The University of Witwatersrand, while declaring itself an “open” university—one admitting students regardless of race—actually reflected the range of racial attitudes within the broader South African society. Founded in 1896 as the South African School of Mines and Technology (Pavlich & Orkin, 1993) the University of Witwatersrand is one of the oldest tertiary institutions in South Africa. The Wits, as it is commonly known, has had a checkered history with regard to the enrollment of South Africans of color (SAC).1 Yet, the institution enjoys a liberal reputation stemming from its opposition to apartheid. Despite this reputation, Wits has experienced great difficulty in the transformation process. Recent institutional history—from 1990 to the present—is rife with clashes between students, staff, administrators, and faculty. Unfortunately, these skirmishes have taken on a character of Blacks versus Whites. In 1993, students waged a campus litter campaign to protest the process and pace of transformation, that is, the process of racial inclusion. That conflict resulted in the South African police department being called in to restore order on campus. The fallout from this continued as students were charged with public disorder and property damage both in court and at the institution; some students were expelled for their involvement in the demonstrations. Continued discontent with the process of transformation resulted in similar events occurring in 1994 and 1995. In 1996, the efforts of a group of predominantly White faculty members to remove deputy vice chancellor William Makgoba, the highest-ranking Black administrator in the history of the institution, developed into a heated disagreement between Black South Africans and Whites. While the influence of the “Makgoba Affair” on Wits has not fully played out, the careers of many involved have

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been seriously altered. Dr. Makgoba has since relinquished his appointment as deputy vice chancellor. This examination of Wits’ institutional history suggests that its image of “liberalness” is at odds with reality. As such, the turmoil that plagued the university between 1990 and 1995 is less surprising because the question of racial inclusion has always been one with which the institution has grappled. When Wits declared itself “open” in the late 1950s, for the first time the institution became publicly affiliated with notions of racial equality and fairness that were not an apparent part of its mission beforehand. An “Open University” . . . admit[s] non-White students as well as White students and aim[s], in all academic matters, at treating non-White students on a footing of equality with White students, and without segregation. (Conference of Representatives, 1957: Preface) Ironically, Wits’ self-characterization suggests that it had historically practiced open admissions. In the 1980 Academic Plan, Wits was characterized as one of the institutions that “exercised its autonomy by not taking into account ‘color, creed or race’ in determining who should teach and who should be taught” (p. 20). To the contrary, there were numerous circumstances when race influenced admissions and hiring decisions. Ironically, it was not until the National Party government passed the Extension of University Education Act of 1959,2 that Wits became publicly committed to “open” admissions. Cloete (1990) contends that this liberal attitude “co-existed quite happily with a form of social Darwinism that regarded Blacks as being civilisationally underdeveloped and simply not yet in possession of the requisite culture or intelligence to be judged by civilized criteria” (p. 4). Furthermore, inclusive attitudes and practices did not emerge until the 1970s, when administrative staff worked to increase the numbers of Black students granted ministerial permission to attend Wits—an institution designated for Whites only (Cloete, 1990). Thus, Wits’ early history is rife with examples of racially exclusionary strategies. The first non-White student was admitted at Wits (then the South African School of Mines and Technology) in 1910. Murray (1982) argued that although the university statutes provided for “open” admissions, “Wits very much reflected the prejudices of the society to which it belonged” (p. 298). So, each attempt by a South African of color to gain access to Wits encountered resistance. Ironically, given South African history, in the late 1930s and early 1940s, the government itself requested that Wits begin training “Black medical students . . . [and make available] a number of scholarships . . . for [that] purpose” (Mur-

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ray, 1982, p. 298). This resulted in the first dramatic increase in Black student enrollments. The Black student population “rose from 4 in 1939 to 87 in 1945” (Murray, 1982). Once admitted to the institution, South Africans of color experienced discrimination. For example, once Blacks were admitted to the medical program, Whites refused to be treated by them, making their clinical training very difficult. In addition, residential restrictions prevented Black students from participating in extracurricular activities and living on campus together with White students. An examination of Wits’ early admissions practices suggests that there were attempts to establish the institution for “Europeans” only. In fact, had it not been for Wits’ first principal, J. H. Hofmeyer,3 Wits might have adopted a practice of racial exclusion. Instead, Hofmeyer asserted that Wits would be open to students with the “necessary qualifications” (Murray, 1982, p. 298). As a result of increased applications from South Africans of color during the 1920s, the university lobbied the central government in 1926 to adopt legislation to prevent Blacks from attending the “White universities or to provide them with separate facilities” (Murray, 1982, p. 298). The national government failed to act on either recommendation.4 By 1948 a White minority had elected a National Party government that would eventually establish separate racially identifiable and inferior primary and secondary institutions, thereby preventing South Africans of color from acquiring the qualifications necessary to satisfy admissions requirements to Wits. By the time the nationalist government began to implement racial apartheid, Wits had proclaimed itself an “open university.” Wits’ opposition to the Extension of University Education Act of 1959, coupled with its history of racial exclusion, is paradoxical. In a document prepared in conjunction with the University of Cape Town (UCT), Wits announced its opposition to the government on the following grounds: • It is opposed in principle to legislative enforcement of academic segregation on racial grounds; • In its view the policy of academic non-segregation accords with the highest university ideals and contributes to interracial understanding and harmony in South Africa; • It desires that the University be permitted and enabled to carry on its function under the same conditions as hitherto, and that nothing be done to change or impede the University’s policy of academic non-segregation. (Conference of Representatives, 1957, p. 5)

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As discussed previously, this statement did not reflect Wits’ practices. Essentially, the Wits environment favored White males. Since Wits did not appear to aggressively pursue “academic non-segregation,” the admissions process was restructured to promote the inclusion of Black South African students. In 1983, the university Senate passed a proposal establishing a decentralized admissions process whereby “each faculty [would] have their own admission system and that Deans would have discretionary power [over admissions decisions]” (Cloete, 1990, p. 8). While academic faculties continually pressed for autonomy, the Committee of University Principals in 1982 had recommended changing minimum admissions criteria in response to high failure rates among White students (Cloete, 1990). This debate occurred as efforts were being undertaken to increase the enrollment of Black South African students. Consequently, according to Cloete (1990), the decentralized admissions process was adopted for two reasons: (1) it gave faculties more autonomy and (2) it avoided the inevitable discussion concerning the practice of “positive discrimination” in admissions practices as the numbers of Black South African students enrolled increased. By default, raising standards would unfairly prejudice the process against students graduating from the Department of Education and Training (DET)—the apartheid governance structure instituted to administer Bantu or Black South African education. Ironically, the “standards” discussion emerged just as the apartheid government repealed laws mandating racial segregation at the tertiary level, signaling what university members feared would be an “avalanche of Black applications” (Cloete, 1990). Consequently, this new system of decision making would redress all these issues by improving the success rates of White students, by raising the minimum matriculation pass rates, and by allowing faculties to make their own decisions regarding Black student applicants who did not meet the “new” academic standards. Furthermore, it was thought that the only remaining obstacle to racial integration at Wits was the selection of “ ‘sympathetic’ deans, or the right people on the faculty selection committee” (Cloete, 1990, p. 8). Therein lies the key to the growing Black student numbers. An examination of faculty admissions practices reveals differential levels of success. I contend that the variance is a result of the attitudes of the senior administrators responsible for managing the admissions process. EFFORTS TOWARD STUDENT RACIAL INCLUSION Table 4.1 chronicles the pace of numerical inclusion for students at University of the Witwatersrand. Between 1990 and 1995, the Faculties of Arts, Management, Commerce, Dentistry, Engineering, and Ar-

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Table 4.1 Students’ Racial Composition by Faculty of Affiliation at the University of the Witwatersrand

*Total ⫽ total student body. These statistics do not include statistics for Colored and Indian students, so the figures do not add up to 100%. The data were obtained from the University of Witwatersrand in August 1994 and August 1995.

chitecture doubled the proportion of Black South African students enrolled in their faculties. The Faculty of Arts consistently enrolled the largest number of Black South African students from 1990 to 1995; that number almost doubled, reflecting what a member in the Faculty of Arts characterized as a dramatic change in the racial composition of the student body. Increasingly, the average new student in the faculty was Black and came from an underprivileged background. Other faculties had, to a lesser extent, boosted their Black South African student enrollments. For ex-

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ample, the Faculty of Dentistry increased its enrollment by 31 students from 1990 to 1995. Ironically, the number of Black South Africans enrolled increased by 30 during that same period. Thus, the proportion of Black South African students enrolled in the Faculty of Dentistry remained stable. Subsequently, the Faculties of Arts and Dentistry represented the extreme scenarios at the University of Witwatersrand. Faculties either increased the number of students admitted or they experienced minimal overall growth in the number of students enrolled in the faculty, reflecting the access extended to this previously excluded population. Do Selection Criteria Make a Difference? Some of the academic faculties, conceding the unreliability of national testing instruments in predicting Black South African students’ potential for academic success, developed alternative selection criteria. For example, the Faculties of Arts and Science adopted biographical questionnaires, instruments to gauge critical reasoning, and interviews as methods for selection. These strategies were simultaneously viewed as a way to enhance opportunities for access and to improve the retention rates of academically disadvantaged students; administrators in these faculties believed that the alternative measures identified characteristics that were more reliable in determining a student’s potential for academic success. By contrast, a senior administrator in the Faculty of Architecture said of alternative admissions strategies: When I can get some evidence that all those procedures make any difference, then I might be tempted to pursue one of them. But from my reading and my listening . . . the results are not clearly indicative that you do any better with these [alternative] procedures than having a rather haphazard system. Unlike the Faculties of Arts and Science, the Faculty of Architecture did not experiment with alternative admissions strategies. Not surprisingly, faculties reporting use of alternative selection strategies enrolled higher proportions of Black South African students and tended to retain these students. By contrast, faculties that had not adopted such strategies had a lower percentage of Black South Africans students enrolled and had lower retention rates. In particular, in 1995 23.4% of the students enrolled in the Faculty of Architecture were Black South Africans; this faculty had the third lowest representation of Black South Africans in the university. An administrator in the Faculty of Architecture characterized Black South African students in the following manner:

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The local product is underprepared, is accustomed to rote learning, likes to be spoon-fed and is passive. And, that is very difficult to handle. . . . We have very high failure rates, high dropout rates. By contrast, by 1995 35.4% of the student body in the Faculty of Arts were Black South Africans; the Faculty of Arts had the third highest enrollment of Black South Africans at the University of Witwatersrand. When asked to characterize the retention rate of these students, an administrator in the Faculty of Arts said: The fallout rate or the rate of students who do drop out for one reason or another . . . who don’t complete their courses or indeed fail their courses and in the end don’t emerge with their degrees is quite low . . . 20 percent. He went on to say that, as a result of the Bantu education system, the previously excluded students were academically underprepared and tended to have difficulty “expressing themselves in colloquial English and they [had] difficulty sometimes in understanding colloquial English.” In response to the needs of the newly included students, the way that subjects were being taught and the pace of teaching had to change in order to accommodate the differences in preparation levels of the changing student body. This was necessary in order to improve the likelihood that Black South African students could succeed at the University of Witwatersrand. One such attempt was the creation of the College of Science. The College of Science was created as a mechanism through which the Faculty of Science could extend access to and improve the retention rates of Black South African students. Central to these efforts was the restructuring of the academic curricula; students were able to take two years to complete what would typically be the first year of courses in the Faculty of Science or Engineering. Students were introduced to content matter at a slower pace, provided with tutorials to augment instructors’ efforts in the classroom, and worked on the development of their language and study skills. In an effort to discern the significance of these efforts, the Faculty of Science tracked the success of the students in the College of Science. In the College of Science’s Annual Report for 1993, the activities of the first intake class were chronicled. Beginning with 147 students who entered the College in 1991, 137 or 93.2% took end-of-year examinations and 61% returned for the second year. In 1993, the year that the 1991 intake class should have been mainstreamed into one of the faculties, 52% enrolled in the second year of the regular program, 6% continued taking courses in the College, and 5% pursued academic

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programs in faculties other than Science or Engineering. Consequently, 61.9% of the students who originally entered the College of Science in 1991 continued their studies in the university, while 38.1% were either no longer enrolled in school or continued their studies at other institutions. Although the overall retention figures were unavailable, the projected graduation statistics were similar. Twenty-three percent of the 1991 intake class were projected to graduate in the minimum number of years, or four years, while 41% had the potential to graduate in the minimum time plus one year (1993 College of Science Annual Report, 1994). Administrators in the College of Science felt that the graduation figures for the college compared favorably to the 31% among the faculty’s overall student body who graduated in the minimum time. More specifically, the college’s figures suggested that they had produced a group more likely to graduate in the minimum time period by more than 10% when compared to the norm. While it was unclear whether the existence of the College of Science actually enhanced Black South African students’ likelihood of achieving academic success, what was most significant was that students who would not normally have gained access to the Faculties of Science and Engineering were allowed to do so. Consequently, the College of Science represents a mechanism that mitigates the impact of the apartheid past on the educational future of the academically disadvantaged students. It does so by accepting students who would not normally gain admission and by providing them with academic support to overcome the impact of the lack of educational resources allocated to Black South Africans. Extending access to a previously excluded and economically disadvantaged population required additional changes on the part of the institution if these students were to have an equitable opportunity to succeed. For example, university officials needed to adjust the way they determined financial assistance for needy students and the manner in which residential accommodations were assigned if students from economically disadvantaged backgrounds were to have a chance to succeed. A HOLISTIC APPROACH TO RACIAL INCLUSION Bursaries Increasing enrollments of Black South Africans who were economically disadvantaged resulted in changes in the administration of funds allocated to financially needy students or bursaries. Until 1992, the University of Witwatersrand relied on a bursary scheme to assist students. Nonrepayable scholarships were awarded on the basis of finan-

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cial need and matriculation results for first-year students or course examination results for returning students.5 Students’ increasing reliance on financial support prompted the University of Witwatersrand to redesign the way in which it provided financial assistance to economically disadvantaged students. In 1984, 14.7% of the student population applied for aid while 5.2% or 853 received bursaries (University of Witwatersrand, 1985). During that year, Black South Africans—characterized as Black Africans in documents generated by the university during the 1980s—represented 5.2% of the student population but received 35.2% of the bursaries awarded by the university. However, if you considered bursaries awarded by private donors, it was estimated that between “one-third and one-half of all students at the University at any one time [were] dependent on bursary support” (University of Witwatersrand, 1985). By 1992, the manner used to distribute university funds was altered to accommodate the growth in demand and the academic challenges that Black South Africans experienced. As mentioned previously, Black South African students applied for and received financial assistance at rates disproportionate to their representation in the student body. Therefore, it is not surprising that increased Black South African student enrollments would place a greater demand on the university to provide added financial assistance. In response, in 1992 the university restructured the financial assistance program. No longer relying solely on nonrepayable gifts, financial aid packages were created. According to a financial aid administrator, these packages consisted of 65% bursary, 30% repayable loan, and 5% student contribution and were awarded solely on the basis of need. This new scheme required students to shoulder some of the burden for financing their education by repaying the loan portion. Students were also given the opportunity to work on campus to earn their 5% contribution. Furthermore, time limits were placed on the number of years a student could receive funding; in order to receive financial assistance from the university, students were accorded the minimum time to graduate from their program plus one year. Even with the adoption of the new scheme, statistics from the Financial Aid & Scholarships Office revealed an increased burden on institutional resources. Table 4.2 reflects the growing financial burden associated with including an economically disadvantaged population. From 1984 to 1994, the percentage of Black South African student enrollments increased from 5.3% to 22%, yet Black students represented 72.4% of the financial aid applicants and 68.8% of the awards. Furthermore, an examination of award amounts revealed that of the 1,384 awards made to Black South African students, 875 met the “neediest” criteria, qualifying them for both tuition and residential assistance. Consequently, the university provided them with 100% of tuition

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Table 4.2 Applications and Awards for Bursaries in 1994

Note: Excerpted from a document produced by the Financial Aid and Scholarships Office at the University of Witwatersrand, July 20, 1994.

costs plus residence fees. Thus, extending access to Black South Africans has required the university to increase the amount of funds made available for financial assistance. While financial concerns influence the degree to which numerical inclusion can be pursued, the provision of residential living arrangements is also central to Black South African students’ academic persistence. Accommodations The issue of housing for Black South Africans attending the University of Witwatersrand was shaped by the legacy of apartheid. Through the Group Areas Act, the National Party created racially identifiable residential areas. When necessary, whole families and shop owners were forcibly relocated from their homes and businesses in order to accomplish this goal. As a result, the area surrounding and the neighborhoods immediately adjacent to the university were designated for Whites only. Furthermore, it was illegal for any person who was not White to reside in these areas. After 1980, when the university began to actively recruit South African students of color, the provision of university-owned accommodations emerged as a significant issue. Traditionally, a small percentage of students enrolled at the University of Witwatersrand resided in university-owned accommodations. In part, this was due to large enrollments of students from the Transvaal—the province within which the university is located—and the fact that the majority of students were White. In 1985, 91% of the students

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were from the Transvaal, with only 10.9% residing in university-owned housing (University of Witwatersrand, 1985). In that same year, similar statistics for other historically White institutions were 53% for the University of Rhodes, 40% for Stellenbosch; 31% for Pietermaritzburg; 20% for the University of Cape Town; and 15% for the University of NatalDurban (University of Witwatersrand, 1985). Thus, the University of Witwatersrand historically has provided on-campus accommodations for a smaller percentage of its students than comparable South African tertiary institutions. In addition, the general pattern had been for students to spend one to three years in the residence halls and then to find private accommodations during the latter part of their studies. This trend was possible when the majority of the student population was White and, therefore, encountered little resistance when seeking accommodations in the surrounding community. By contrast, in the mid-1980s, in an effort to provide accommodations for Black South African students while avoiding conflicts with national edicts prohibiting racial integration, the university created the Glyn’ Thomas House. Located within Soweto Township,6 this residence was university-owned, all Black, and required students to travel over an hour to reach the university campus. While this compromise provided accommodations for Black South Africans, it prevented them from fully utilizing university facilities and taking advantage of cultural and social events, and it inhibited crossracial interaction. The demise of apartheid coupled with the construction of additional accommodations facilitated Black South Africans’ inclusion into the residence halls. As Black South African student enrollments increased, the traditional pattern has been altered. These students experience difficulty when attempting to find private housing in areas formerly designated as White, and they tend to come from home environments characterized by administrators as not conducive to university study. Therefore, instead of relying on campus accommodations for one to three years and then looking for “private digs,” Black South African students are more likely to spend their entire academic careers in the residence halls. This leaves fewer available spaces for incoming students. While the desire of Black South Africans to occupy university-owned accommodations has placed a significant burden on university resources, additional factors have influenced the rise in Black South Africans residing in university-owned accommodations as well. In particular, university and private scholarship donors often required financial aid recipients to reside on campus. In large part, this was due to research on Black South African academic retention. In the 1980s, independent researchers established a positive relationship between academic performance and residential accommodations for Black South

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African students. According to Pavlich & Orkin (1993), the academic performance of Black students living in residence was significantly better than that of their counterparts who did not live in residence. On the basis of this research, university and private scholarship donors encouraged or, in some cases, required students to live in on-campus accommodations, thus contributing to the increase in the numbers of Black South African students residing in university accommodations. The increasing enrollments of Black South Africans and the belief in a relationship between their success and campus accommodations resulted in a residential system that has become racially segregated and predominately populated by Black South Africans. This occurred despite growth in the number of students to whom the university could provide accommodations. For instance, in 1994, the University of Witwatersrand had the capacity to house 3,096 students, or 16% of the overall student population; this represented a growth of 1,296 students, or 5.4% of the overall student population, from the 1985 figures. However, the Black South African student population increased from 985 in 1985, to 4,006 in 1994. As Black South African student numbers increased, so did the number of students coming from homes where they needed on-campus accommodations. By 1995, one administrator in the Dean of Students Office estimated that 90 to 99% of the students in the residence halls were Black South Africans. More specifically, the administrator added, “In the catering residences, where meals [were] provided, at least 65% of the students [were] African students and 35% [came] from the other [racial] groups.” Consequently, as the Black South African demand for university-owned accommodations increased, the percentage of White and other racial groups declined significantly, facilitating the transition to a system wherein Black South African students were numerically included, yet racially isolated. Explanations for this transformation varied. One Student Affairs administrator characterized the change as intentional. He likened the transition to social engineering similar to that practiced by the National Party during the apartheid era: The increase [of Black South Africans living in residence halls] had been deliberately designed. It’s social engineering. If we are committed to getting Black students an equal opportunity for success in this kind of university, then we have to be cognizant of the deficiencies that they bring to the university. . . . They come from material homes that are not conducive to studying and learning. Another administrator in Student Affairs provided an alternative explanation for the evolution of racially segregated residential units at the University of Witwatersrand. Instead of social engineering, he sug-

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gested that a number of factors converged, making it difficult to discern the core reasons for the existence of racially segregated living environments. In the mid- to late 1980s, just as the numbers of Black South African students living on campus increased, the residence halls were forced to become self-supporting. For example, they had to operate from the fees collected from students without support from the university. White students, many of whom lived in the area or could find cheaper accommodations in the surrounding communities, may have chosen to do so either because of increasing costs or because of the increase in Black South African students living in the residence halls. Specifically, the social and political climate within the halls of residence changed as a result of the influx of Black South African students. This may have caused White students to feel less comfortable in the residence halls. This administrator said that prior to the influx of Black South African students, “the tendency in the past was for students to look up to wardens or presidents as people of authority.” There had been few student efforts to challenge the practices of the institution. The influx of Black South African students in the mid-1980s brought a population of students who were politically active and willing to challenge apartheid tenets. In fact, after the 1976 Soweto massacre, student activism became central to the apartheid struggle. This administrator contends that this activism carried over into Black South African students’ interactions with the university: They came into the university to also challenge the organization of the university residences. . . . Whereas student governments used to focus on primarily social issues around entertainment and provision of services to students, the focus shifted to ultimately becoming more politically inclined. Taking up issues of racial insensitivity, sexual harassment within residences, of the way policies [were] structured and fees [were] determined for student residences and so forth . . . towards having more say in all aspects that governed their life within residences. Thus, it was argued that a combination of factors converged in the mid1980s to encourage White students to move out of the residence halls, leaving Black South African students in disproportionately high numbers. Regardless of the cause, the residence halls have become racially segregated despite the acknowledged benefits of a racially diverse environment in a country with a legacy of apartheid. There are some very real benefits to the entire university community when those who study together are able to live together in university-controlled accommodations. There are many stu-

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dents who have not been able to benefit from cross-culturalisation until they reach an open university. The residence is an extension of the academic environment but it also encourages students to intermingle socially, in a relaxed domestic setting and on the sports field. . . . As a matter of policy the University wishes to build on its experience in this area which has major potential advantages for the country. (University of Witwatersrand, 1985) Despite its efforts to respond to the needs of an academically and economically disadvantaged population, can the university do so without replicating the type of segregation promoted during the apartheid era? CONTINUING CONTRADICTIONS Just as contradictions riddle Wits’ institutional past, contradictions also cloud the present. In particular, efforts to include a previously excluded population compete with pockets of resistance. Efforts to racially desegregate the institution parallel practices that perpetuate the racial separation reminiscent of the apartheid era. What has propelled the growth of the Black South African student population at the University of Witwatersrand are the institutional attitudes and strategies put in place to extend access. Scholarly examinations of student experiences in South Africa’s historically White institutions reveal very specific challenges to the academic success of the experiences of Black South African students. The Academy for Educational Development (1992) and African National Congress (1994) cited the financial obstacles (rising costs and diminishing sources of financial assistance) that these students faced when seeking entrance to tertiary institutions. This situation was further exacerbated for Black South Africans at historically White institutions because the tuition and fees at these institutions were significantly higher than those at the historically disadvantaged institutions (Academy for Educational Development, 1992). The Academy for Educational Development also cited the “lack of residential space” and institutional “resistance to enrollment of [Black South] African students” as additional obstacles to their success. Successful racial inclusion requires historically White institutions to respond to these challenges. In the case of the University of Witwatersrand, alternative selection criteria have been adopted, schemes for providing financial assistance have been restructured, and accommodations are being provided. However, only those faculties that want to pursue racial inclusion have done so; the fiscal resources available to a growing economically disadvantaged population are insufficient; and, the residence halls remain racially segregated. The challenges that Wits currently faces stem from its inability to

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adopt a broader, systemic approach to change. Instead, the strategies implemented in pursuit of transformation were adopted in a haphazard manner as the institution struggled to reconcile its “liberal” image with its “conservative” reality. In a postapartheid era, it is paramount that Wits adopt an approach to change that encompasses strategies to accomplish its long-term vision while meeting short-term needs. Certainly the experiences of faculties successful at including and retaining Black South African students should be used as models for faculties that have not experienced success. Furthermore, in order to protect faculty autonomy in the midst of transformation, all faculties should be required to submit strategic plans for racial inclusion that integrate these experiences. In response to the growing demand for financial assistance, efforts must be made to develop institutional endowments to subsidize the economically disadvantaged while requiring all others to pay in proportion to their economic advantage. Lastly, Wits must reconceptualize the system of accommodations so that they can encourage racial integration while meeting the needs of the newly included. This may require a growth in the number of students who can be housed, restricting first- and second-year students to the on-campus living arrangements, and developing residential options for all students in the neighborhood surrounding the university. CONCLUSION Certainly, the University of Witwatersrand has undergone a tumultuous period of change. Yet, despite the challenges posed by the goal of comprehensive racial inclusion, the efforts of the faculty of Arts and Science reflect a willingness to transform in order to respond to the needs of the “new” student body. This philosophy has led to dramatic increases in the enrollment of Black South African students and attrition rates comparable to those of the rest of the student body. Furthermore, professors’ willingness to reconceptualize the way they teach in order to make content accessible to an ever-changing student body has profoundly improved retention as compared to previous retention efforts. Consequently, these initial inclusion efforts at the University of Witwatersrand have the potential to serve as a model for comprehensive inclusion. After all, participation in such programs when they are external to academic departments contributes to what Haymes (1995) defines as the “otherness” of culturally subordinate groups. Each program’s focus becomes a transformation of the student, leaving the institutional culture intact and requiring students to abandon their cultural identities to achieve success. Low rates of success are, therefore, perceived as a consequence of the student’s inability to meet the expectations of the environment. However, as Ogbu (1983) noted

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in the case of the United States, populations experiencing conquest, colonization, or the institution of slavery tend to resist adoption of their oppressor’s culture. An examination of the efforts by the Faculty of Arts at the University of Witwatersrand makes apparent the need for institutions to systematically adopt policies, practices, and programs that seek to transform the institution into one that responds to the changing nature of the student body, rather than forcing students to adapt to rigid institutional imperatives. NOTES 1. During apartheid, four racial groups were created. They were African, Colored, Indian, and White. 2. The White minority–elected National Party government passed this act to impose racial segregation at postsecondary institutions. This legislation simultaneously prohibited racial integration at the historically White institutions while creating separate institutions for Black South Africans, Indians, and Coloreds. 3. Hofmeyer served as principal of the School of Mines and Technology (the precursor to Wits) in 1919 and was appointed Wits’ first principal in 1922. He remained at Wits as principal until 1924 when General Smuts asked him to serve as administrator of the Transvaal. 4. The Hertzog government of the 1920s and 1930s thought university admissions policy was not a government matter but one for each institution to decide. 5. Students were required to pass all their examinations in order to qualify for a full bursary. So a student who failed one subject was eligible for partial support, while a student failing more than one examination failed to qualify for any assistance. 6. In response to labor demands of the burgeoning mining industries, between 1942 and 1943 the National Party government suspended pass laws governing the movement of Black South Africans. The result was the creation of squatter townships located outside the city limits. The South-Western Township—the basis for Soweto—was incorporated by Johannesburg in 1944. REFERENCES Academy for Educational Development. (1992). South Africa: Tertiary education sector assessment. Washington, DC: Author. African National Congress. (1994). The reconstruction and development programme. Johannesburg: Umanyano Publications. Booth, W. (1995). University of California ends racial preferences. Washington Post (July 21), p. A1.

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Colorado Commission on Higher Education. (1990). Mind over matter: Moving beyond the myths of recruiting and retaining minority faculty and staff. Denver: Author. (ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED 353 943). Conference of Representatives of the University of Cape Town and the University of Witwatersrand, Johannesburg. (1957). The open universities in South Africa. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Haymes, S. (1995). White culture and the politics of racial difference: Implications for multiculturalism. In C. E. Sleeter and P. L. McLaren (Eds.), Multicultural Education, Critical Pedagogy, and the Politics of Difference (pp. 105–127). Albany: State University of New York Press. Murray, B. K. (1982). Wits: The early years. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. 1993 College of Science Annual Report. (1994). Johannesburg: University of Witwatersrand. Ogbu, J. (1983). Minority status and schooling in plural societies. Comparative Education Review 27 (2), 168–190. Pavlich, G., & Orkin, M. (1993). Diversity and quality: Academic development at South African tertiary institutions. Johannesburg: CASE. University of Witwatersrand. (1985). Providing for the needs of black students in the University. Johannesburg: Author.

5

“Oh Sorry, I’m a Racist”: Black Student Experiences at the University of Witwatersrand ROCHELLE L. WOODS

INTRODUCTION Inequality based on racial status was deeply embedded in the system of apartheid in South Africa. As a result of policies and practices specifically aimed at creating stratification and perpetual inequality among the races, South African society became one in which social, economic, and political power, and access to resources were controlled by Whites and parceled out to other races hierarchically (Marcum, 1982; Nkomo, 1984). Most social, economic, and political measures such as educational attainment, poverty, and political participation indicate that, prior to the end of apartheid, Whites were at the top of the racial hierarchy, followed in descending order by Indians, Coloreds, and Blacks. As with other South African institutions, the educational system has historically been rife with extreme segregation and unequal distribution of resources based on racial status. Most scholars agree that Blacks in South Africa have suffered the most chronic educational disadvantages as a result of apartheid (Bunting, 1994; Christie, 1985; Marcum, 1982; Nkomo, 1984). During apartheid, racial inequality was established and maintained by the official laws and policies governing the educational system and by the practices of the country as a whole. The heavily chronicled demise of apartheid in the early 1990s brought about many changes in the educational system in South Africa. Government officials and educational leaders are in the midst of transforming the educational system. This transformation has been multi-

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faceted and has addressed many important aspects in order to change the way education operated under apartheid policies. For the first time, large numbers of Black students were allowed admittance to what were once designated as White universities. In the period from 1988 to 1993, Black enrollment at all historically White universities in South Africa grew by 104% and enrollment at the University of Witwatersrand increased nearly 250% (University of Witwatersrand, 1995). Opening the doors was an important first step in the transformation process; however, the mere increase in admission of Black students does not mean that racism within the university no longer exists or that it is declining. In order to transform the educational system in a meaningful way, it is important to understand how deeply the constructs of race and racism are imbedded into the institutions, structures, and social practices of South African society and how they play out in the educational environment and in the lives of the individual actors within it. Thus, we must examine the ways in which schools and universities themselves may continue to perpetuate racial inequality and exclusion that was legally sanctioned during apartheid. The history of racial exclusion at the University of Witwatersrand is well documented. The university itself and then later the South African government sought to exclude all non-Whites from the university and they were eventually successful at doing so. Until the mid-1980s, the number of non-Whites remained dismally low, below 5% (see Table 5.1.), even though Blacks have historically comprised at least 70% of the South African population. However, there has been a dramatic increase in the number of non-Whites, especially Blacks, enrolling in historically White universities in recent years since the fall of the apartheid regime. To many, this signals the end of racial exclusion prescribed by apartheid laws and policies. Yet, while attention in South Africa is focused elsewhere, racism against Blacks within White universities persists. In this chapter, I will explore the issues of racial inequality and social transformation in the educational system by analyzing data collected in 1997 and 1998 on Black undergraduate students at University of Witwatersrand in South Africa. I argue that racism and discrimination are alive and well on campus. I further argue that the legally prescribed discrimination and racism in place during the apartheid era have been replaced by the practices of more subtle, everyday racism. HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF WITS The research on which this chapter is based was conducted at the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa. Wits is a large urban university in South Africa located only a few miles from

Table 5.1 Total Graduate and Undergraduate Student Enrollment at the University of Witwatersrand, 1975–1996

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the city center. Wits, an English-medium university, is purported to be the largest university in the Southern Hemisphere and is well regarded on the continent of Africa and abroad. It is known as one of South Africa’s flagship institutions. Many of the important figures in South Africa—Nelson Mandela being the most prominent example—are alumni of Wits. The University of Witwatersrand, commonly referred to as Wits, was originally founded in 1916 as a school of mines for the training of mining engineers. However, the administration of the school fought successfully to gain university status and officially began to operate in 1922 as an “open” university. The University of Cape Town and the University of Witwatersrand are called “open universities” because they admit non-White students as well as White students and aim in all academic matters at treating non-White students on a footing of equality with White students and without segregation (as quoted in Murray, 1982). In the early twentieth century, Wits and the University of Cape Town were the only universities that defined themselves in this way. Other universities excluded non-Whites altogether or taught them in separate classes (Murray, 1997; Shear, 1996). Although these universities proclaimed an official doctrine of “openness,” Wits did not, in fact, allow open admission to non-Whites. Even during the campaign to gain university status, it was promoted as an institution for the education of “Europeans” (Murray, 1982). According to B. K. Murray, who has written extensively on the history of Wits in the 1920s and 1930s, the administration of Wits explicitly considered developing a restrictive admission policy toward non-Whites. “In 1926 Council [of Wits] appointed a committee ‘to ascertain what procedure is necessary to empower the University to exclude students on grounds of color.’ . . . The University proved reluctant to take action itself, and sought instead to encourage the central government . . . to exclude Black students from ‘White’ universities” (Murray, 1982). At that time, the government failed to adopt restrictive racial policies for universities, though there was an official “color bar,” which excluded nonWhites from many industries and prestigious professions such as medicine and law. Although one Colored male was admitted to the medical school of Wits in 1926, it was not until 1935 that Wits made any substantial progress toward admitting non-White students. The first Indians were admitted to the Faculty of Arts and the first non-White academic staff member, a Black African, was appointed as a language assistant in the Department of Bantu Studies. The principal of Wits issued a press statement, saying, “No student would be compelled to avail himself of his assistance; and the language assistant would have no disciplinary authority over students” (Murray, 1982). By 1937, Wits only enrolled

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ten non-White students, five Africans, and five Coloreds and Indians (Murray, 1982). During the World War II period, in the early to mid-1940s, larger numbers of non-Whites were admitted. There were 156 non-Whites enrolled at Wits out of a total population of 3,000. More than half of those non-Whites (87) were enrolled in the medical school, which had previously excluded non-Whites; 33 of those students admitted to the medical school were Black. However, university administrators’ motives for training non-Whites for careers in medicine were far from altruistic: Their main concerns focused on a number of diseases endemic to the non-White population (which could infect whites) and the high infant mortality rate among non-Whites. “Such a condition of things is a double menace to South Africa. First rate, there is immediate danger of the spread of infectious and contagious diseases. . . . Second, there is economic danger of deterioration and eventual failure of the labor supply” (Murray, 1982). Even in the case where non-Whites were admitted to the university, it is important to note that they were barred from living in campus residence halls, they were strongly discouraged from socializing with Whites, and they were not allowed to attend university functions that were not specifically aimed at non-Whites (Murray, 1997; Murray, 1982). Beginning in its early years, Wits maintained an official policy of “academic non-segregation and social segregation” for non-White students (Shear, 1996). The number of Blacks at Wits continued to number well below 100 even before the Extension of University Education Act was passed in 1959. In early 1959, before the legislation had gone into effect, there were still only 74 Black students enrolled, 30 Coloreds, 85 Chinese, and 92 Indians, as opposed to nearly 5,000 Whites (Murray, 1997; Shear, 1996). The number of Black and Colored students fell sharply after that; by 1965 there were only 10 Blacks and 11 Coloreds enrolled at Wits; the number of Asian students (Indians and Chinese) declined marginally in that same period (from 193 in 1959 to 177 in 1965). The university passed several resolutions beginning in 1956 opposing government actions that preceded the passage of the 1959 Act. The university also sought to have the act reversed, mainly on the grounds that it prohibited academic freedom and university’s autonomy. The university argued that it should be exempt from politics and political associations, and that forcing the university to prohibit the admission of non-White students would not allow the university to fulfill its mission. In the three decades that followed the passage of the act, university students, administrators, and academics continued to protest, regularly staging demonstrations on campus and off, as well as marches, boycotts, and referendums. However, Wits complied strictly

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Table 5.2 Racial Composition of Academic Staff at the University of Witwatersrand, 1993–1997*

*Academic staff includes all lecturers, professors at all ranks, deans, department heads, and upper-level administrators.

with the policies that prohibited the admission of non-Whites except those with special ministerial permission. Despite exclusionary government policies, the number of non-White students, especially Blacks, at Wits steadily increased in the 1980s. Whereas prior to the 1980s most protests were organized by Whites, in the 1980s Blacks at Wits began to stage their own protests against apartheid. In the 1980s and early 1990s, there were frequent and sometimes violent clashes between students and academics from Wits and the South African police surrounding apartheid policies. During this period, many students and academics at Wits were arrested and detained by South African police seeking to maintain apartheid. The occurrences at Wits mirrored the turmoil and unrest that pervaded the country as a whole, and it is reasonable to say that the social unrest was no more apparent at Wits than it was in the rest of South Africa (Shear, 1996). By the early 1980s the university had been somewhat successful in convincing the government that it no longer needed to impose quotas on its admission of non-Whites. Wits was allowed to control the admission of non-Whites, except in medicine, dentistry, and (land) surveying, provided that it was able to assure government officials that the racial composition of the student body would not change substantially. When apartheid officially ended in 1990, non-Whites comprised nearly 25% of the student body at Wits (see Table 5.1). The non-White student population at Wits has continued to grow rapidly. In 1996 non-Whites made up 40% of the population at Wits; Blacks alone comprised 30% of the student body, and numbered 5,393 (see Table 5.1). Despite the progress that has been made in the admission of non-White students, the academic staff at Wits remains predominately White (see Table 5.2). In addition, the student population continues de facto segregation on campus. Black students currently comprise the majority of students living in university residence halls, and virtually no Whites reside there (or desire to). As will be demonstrated later in this chapter, Black and White students attend classes

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side by side but they rarely mix socially and there are feelings of alienation among Black students at Wits. EVERYDAY RACISM Essed (1991) developed the concept of everyday racism while studying Black women in the United States and Surinamese women in the Netherlands. Her framework seeks to link individual acts with structural forces by examining everyday life. The crucial criterion distinguishing racism from everyday racism is that the latter involves only systematic, recurrent, familiar practices. The fact that it concerns repetitive practices indicates that everyday racism consists of practices that can be generalized. Because everyday racism is infused into familiar practices, it involves socialized attitudes and behavior. Note that practices are more than just “acts” but also include complex relations of acts and attitudes. (Essed, 1991, p. 3) This definition reveals some important nuances of the concept of everyday racism and the practices in which it is embodied. First, not all racism is everyday racism. Everyday racism refers only to a specific type of racism—that which defines the familiar, routine situations that are repeatedly experienced in daily life. Second, practices of everyday racism are not just explicit behaviors but are based on attitudes or dispositions. Third, everyday racism is systematic and, though it is expressed on a micro level, everyday racism is rooted in larger institutional and societal patterns of race relations. In analyzing these data, I am attempting to draw connections between everyday social practices in educational institutions and the structures of those institutions that shape social interactions occurring on campus. I argue that everyday social practices that have the effect of discriminating against or excluding Black students are not only systematic, but are in fact supported by the actions or inactions of institutions. Traditional sociological examinations of racism have focused either (1) specifically, on individual prejudices, or (2) generally, on institutions/structures, to identify and understand the mechanisms of racism. These perspectives view racism in one of two ways. In the first type of analysis, racism is viewed as a matter of individuals displaying racist attitudes or carrying out individual acts. In the second type of analysis, racism can be seen as embedded within institutions and/or social structures. Usually such arbitrary distinctions lead to the notion that some types of racism are “unimportant” or petty and other types of racism are “important” or serious (Fernandez, 1996). Essed (1991) highlights the obvious problem with dissecting racism in this way:

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It places the individual outside of the institution, thereby severing rules, regulations, and procedures from the people who make and enact them, as if it concerned qualitatively different racism rather than different positions and relations through which racism operates. (p. 36) In South Africa, the particular danger in making these distinctions is that the apartheid era will be viewed as the period when racism was legally institutionalized (and therefore important), and the postapartheid era will be viewed as a time when racism is no longer of any real importance. According to this faulty supposition, the lingering bigotry of individuals can be acknowledged, but these individuals will be seen as “relics of the past” and not representative of current institutions or mainstream society. However, Black students are not merely forced to deal with the “lingering” prejudices of bigoted individuals; rather, they must grapple with systematic discriminatory practices that are supported, either directly or indirectly, by the institutional structure of the university itself and its failure to address the pervasiveness of everyday racism. The result is that the university is often a hostile and alienating place for Black students and this hostile environment seriously hinders their ability to learn and thrive within the university setting. Explorations into practices of everyday racism in South Africa in the postapartheid era are important because they reveal the ways in which racism persists in South African educational institutions in general and at the University of Witwatersrand in particular. By exploring an underdeveloped realm with great potential to increase our understanding of racism in educational institutions, this project casts much-needed light on everyday racism and the role it plays in reproducing racial inequality. The role of everyday racism in universities must be understood and dealt with in order for Black students to receive a truly “open” education, free from racial exclusion and hostility. METHODOLOGY The discussion in this chapter is based on a subset of data collected for a larger qualitative survey on race relations in the university setting in postapartheid South Africa. The sample of 107 respondents was drawn from undergraduate students at University of Witwatersrand. All students were enrolled at the university at the time the research was conducted. The interviews took place in Johannesburg, South Africa, between July 1997 and May 1998. Though I will only be discussing Black respondents in this paper, respondents in the larger study sample were drawn from the Black, Colored, and White racial groups.

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The qualitative interview was designed to capture the respondents’ perceptions of race relations and the racial climate at the university. The interviews were conducted in various settings, including classrooms, sites of extracurricular activities, and residence halls. Black students (N ⫽ 47) were asked to give accounts of their daily lives as students and their interracial contacts on campus, particularly those that took place in the classroom; at sites of extracurricular activities; and in other places on campus. This paper will examine two realms of everyday racism in the experience of Black students: interactions with White lecturers and interactions with White students. I focus on Blacks’ interactions with Whites, as opposed to other racial groups (such as Coloreds and Asians) for three reasons: (1) because of the historical role Whites played in establishing and maintaining racial dominance through apartheid; (2) because Blacks arguably suffered the most disadvantages as a result of apartheid (Bunting, 1994; Gerwel, 1991; Marcum, 1982); and (3) because Blacks interviewed in this study gave more emphasis and focus to their relations with Whites than they did to interactions with any other racial group. FINDINGS “You Don’t Belong Here”: Black Student–White Student Relations on Campus The first key finding is that, based on personal observations as well as student accounts, there is an obvious social segregation between the races at Wits. Black and White students literally exist side by side on campus with very little personal interaction. Overall, Black students’ existence outside the classroom revolves around other Black students; they eat, study, socialize, and live together. This segregated existence is due in part to the fact that the residence halls on campus primarily house Black students. Most White students live off campus or at home and commute to campus. The relatively few White students who live in the residence halls do not tend to associate with Blacks. When asked to describe race relations on campus, one Black student stated: As you should have observed, . . . Indians are sitting in groups of Indians, Whites are sitting in groups of Whites, Blacks are sitting in groups of Blacks, even Coloreds are sitting in groups of Coloreds. We all have our own places on campus to hang out and if you want to find other people of your own race, you know where to go.

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This student expressed the idea that Blacks, Whites, and members of other races each had their own territory on campus. Students often stated that racial groups congregated at certain areas of campus to socialize and people of other races were not welcome there. Based on this information, one could argue that students simply segregate themselves out of personal preference. However, there appear to be deeper issues underlying the separation. Another Black student’s perception of race relations reveals a more complex reality: It’s volatile here. . . . On the surface we all appear to be good friends; in class, we’ll talk or crack a joke. But once we’re outside, there’s this unspoken word like “Stay away from me.” You know in class we’re all cool, we’re buddies. Outside of that, there’s this unspoken rule, you don’t speak to me, I won’t speak to you. This characterization of race relations indicates that there are tensions underlying Black-White relations on campus. As other Black students indicate, the reason for segregation is not necessarily mutual attempts on the part of both groups to stay away from each other. There is a strong sentiment among Black students that Whites have a particular disdain for them that drives the observed segregation. As one noted: Actually I think White students on campus, I wouldn’t really say they’re afraid of us. It’s just like, they don’t want to be close. Once you even accidentally get in their space, they just fear you because of the fact that you’re Black—there’s just this misconception in their minds. For example, if you sit next to a White person in a lecture hall and your [Black] friends come along, the white students will just get up and go sit with other White people. Just because a group of Black students comes to sit with them, they’ll pack their bags. This statement makes it clear that Black students know that White students do not want to associate with them, even by sitting next to them in a relatively anonymous space like a lecture hall. Black students are acutely aware that White students do not want to be near them and that Whites make special attempts to maintain separate social spaces. While this student explains it away, in part, by saying that Whites are “scared” of Blacks, other Black students describe this avoidance as being specifically racist in nature. As another student puts it: They [Whites] they just hate us [Blacks]. Really, I mean it. They truly despise us. Not all, but most look at you like you’re stupid

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and you don’t belong there. I don’t have one White friend—not even one—because they are racist. This student feels marginalized by Whites because she is Black. She is obviously speaking from a multitude of experiences with Whites, which, when taken as a whole, convey the message that Blacks are inferior to Whites and are an unwanted addition to campus life. This type of experience is typical of everyday racism. Though there are no explicitly racist statements voiced or overtly racist intentions made known, it is racist insofar as it is based on practices and patterns of behavior that, by their repetitive nature, send a clear message: Black students do not belong here. In addition to the relatively covert actions described above, Black students also reported several experiences of overt racism by White students, such as this one by a female student: One time this guy sent me a message over on the e-mail and said, “Would you like to talk?” and I said, “Would you like to talk to a Black girl?” and he said, “Are you Black?” and when I said yeah, he said, “Oh, sorry, I’m a racist!” In this particular incident, the other student was rather open about being racist. It is doubtful that this same conversation would have occurred face to face, mainly because of the lack of social interaction that takes place between Blacks and Whites. This White student, who had a dislike for Blacks and openly called himself a “racist” would probably have chosen to avoid Black students altogether. As the following narration demonstrates, though e-mail adds some level of anonymity, it is often possible to discern someone’s race from a last name. Another student reported an incident involving e-mail, where she felt she was treated badly because of her race. I got this chain letter, and I was e-mailing it to everybody, and everybody was like okay with it, but I’d get mail from these White people, saying, “Go stick your chain letter up your ass,” or saying, “I don’t want e-mail, especially not from you.” But how can a person say especially not from me? How do they know me unless they look at my surname and say, “Oh, she’s Black. Who wants e-mail from a stupid Black person?” And I think that’s very racist. In this case, this student was aware that White students read her ethnic last name, assumed she was Black, and therefore gave her e-mail a negative response. She further assumed, most probably because of past negative interactions with Whites, that Whites think all Blacks

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are unintelligent (or that she is unintelligent because she is Black) and that Whites do not desire close contact with her and other Black students, not even over e-mail. This experience is not an isolated one; evidence of Blacks being treated as if they were “stupid” in the manner that this student describes has been demonstrated in other interactions with Whites. Even in situations where Blacks have had positive relations with some Whites, they are still acutely aware that these situations are the anomaly. One student asserts: I get along with everybody, even Whites. I have a few White friends and I get along with them superbly. We talk about this race thing and they never try to show me that I’m lower than them. But you also get a lot of White people here that are still racist. I’ve had good experiences with Whites, but I’ve been called kaffir [derogatory term used to refer to Black people] enough times to know that they [Whites] can’t stand Blacks. Another Black student says: Well, White students are okay with me. The ones I know are fine. They’d never say anything bad to me. Not to my face anyway. But the one time we were all swimming and we were jumping off diving boards and stuff, these White guys shouted at us, “Niggers want to take a bath!” and I couldn’t believe it. These two students clearly demonstrate that some Blacks do consider themselves to have positive relationships with Whites. It is interesting to note that even though they report having satisfactory relationships with at least some White students, they are still keenly aware that other Whites are racist. I would argue that these are more than mere “assumptions” that Whites are racist, but are reasonable inferences bolstered by other negative experiences they have had with Whites. In the literature on Black college students in the United States, other scholars have noted similar findings (Allen, 1986; Fleming, 1984). Despite what is reported in the two descriptions above, there appears to be little contact between the races at the University of Witwatersrand. The responses of White and Black students in the larger sample indicate that students socialize with, study with, and date people of the same race. Even extracurricular activities such as clubs and sports teams are heavily segregated. This should come as no surprise, given South Africa’s long history of legally mandated segregation. What is interesting is the explanations students offer for the segregation that

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exists on campus. One major explanation discussed earlier is the racism White students convey to Black students by their words and actions. A second significant explanation is White intolerance of cultural and linguistic differences between students of different races. Here it is important to note that the vast majority of Black respondents report that a language other than English (usually a traditional African language) is the language that they speak at home and are most comfortable with. Although Wits is an English-medium university, non-White students may have varying levels of comfort in speaking English and varying levels of competency in speaking English. A lot of Whites don’t accept Blacks for who they are. . . . In class, if a Black guy can’t speak well, they laugh and I think that’s bad because they don’t understand where he’s coming from. For most of us [Blacks], English is not our language. In this instance, the student sees that Whites laugh at Blacks who cannot speak English well. This alienates many Black students, and exhibits an intentional insensitivity that has the result of excluding many Blacks from class discussion. Statements from another student support this point: If I’m with a White person, I have to think “White.” Like now I have to talk in a way that they will accept me, I just can’t talk my English in this Xhosa accent. I have to change it for him to accept me. As it is demonstrated by this case, language appears to be one of the major barriers between Black and White students. These cultural and language differences do not explain away the subtle and overt everyday racism experienced by Blacks, but rather make the point that language and culture are inextricably linked to race and help shape the racialized educational experiences of Black students. Overall, the Black students at Wits report many instances when they felt White students treated them poorly because of their race. These instances ranged from social segregation and exclusion to name-calling and other expressions of overt hostility to exhibiting intolerance of cultural differences. These situations, which were routinely experienced by Black students, contributed to an environment where Blacks students felt estranged, not just from Whites, but from college life as a whole. In the next section, it will be shown that the everyday racism Black students report experiencing with White students is also encountered in interactions with White lecturers.

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“Only White Students Can Be Free with the Lecturers”: White Lecturer–Black Student Relations White lecturers helped to maintain a university climate that was alienating, if not outwardly hostile, toward Black students, in part by their constant use of cultural references that seemed to be aimed at the Whites students only. In general, Black students frequently reported feeling as if White lecturers treated White students better than Black students. This student explains that she and other Blacks have negative relationships with White lecturers: I think it’s very poor, especially between Black students and White lecturers. They may not be racist, but that’s how it looks. When they’re giving lectures, they crack these jokes that a regular Black student from a township won’t be able to get. It’s aimed at the White people. So we don’t have that free communicating air between us. Only the White students can be free with the lecturers. The notion expressed by this student is that White lecturers get along better with White students, not because they specifically dislike Black students, but rather because they share a similar knowledge that is acquired through socialization and shared culture. She does not believe that Blacks, at least “regular” Blacks, cannot be a part of this. The fact that she labels it as “racist” indicates that she sees it as an intentional move on the part of the lecturers to exclude Black students from the discussion. You find that most Blacks are not confident to talk in class and it’s only Whites who talk much. And even in class, he [the lecturer] will give examples like about having cars and all this fancy stuff that Black people don’t have, so essentially we can’t participate. While examples such as these are subtle, they are arguably more pernicious than overt racism because they function to exclude Black students from being important contributors to class discussion without “trying” to. This type of everyday racism makes use of subtle cultural clues, sayings, gestures, and other symbols of group status in order to create boundaries and determine who will be identified as “outsiders.” Black students are clearly being treated as outsiders; this is evidenced by the use of jokes and lectures that fail to incorporate a pedagogical style that is accessible to all students. These experiences are important

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because of how these kinds of behaviors negatively impact Black student educational performance and help to maintain racial stratification in the society. A similar belief, expressed by Black students, is that the White lecturers treat them as if they were unintelligent. The following quote illuminates this point: In class you really see, when a Black student asks a question he’ll [the White lecturer] just brush it off like, “Please! Can’t you get it through your head!” But when a White guy asks that same question he’ll take pains to explain. Another student reported a similar experience with a lecturer. When I ask a question, the lecturer will pay so much attention, like “I hope I understand what this dodo is about to say,” and they’ll really concentrate. With White students, they’ll be casual and the question will be okay and intelligent. Interviewer: So do you feel free to ask questions? No. I’d rather go out and find it out on my own than to ask the lecturers. While these experiences differ in fundamental ways—in one case a lecturer is “brushing off” a question by a Black student, and in another case that lecturer is paying too much attention—the overarching theme is that these Black students feel they are being singled out by the White lecturers. Taken alone, these situations may appear to be harmless or the result of oversensitivity on the part of Black students. Taken in context, Black students realize that they are being treated as if they were unintelligent partly because their questions are being marginalized. These students are acutely aware that their treatment is inferior to that accorded to their White counterparts. These unspoken cues given by White lecturers about Blacks’ intelligence can have harmful effects on Black students. The consequences are that Black students consciously limit behaviors in class that would cause them to be openly alienated: They do not speak in class, raise their hands to contribute to the discussion, or ask questions when they have them. In turn, these behaviors might contribute to the impression that Black students are less smart, less aggressive, or deserve lower grades than Whites. In other situations, as in the example that follows, lecturers exhibit racism by making historic/cultural references that are offensive to Black students.

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My finance lecturer always refers to the good old days. Interviewer: What do you mean? He refers to apartheid as the good old days. He complains about the democratic system now. He talks about how much money they made back in the good old days. He doesn’t think we notice it but we do. But he’s my lecturer. I’m not going to confront him. I’m not going to be going up and tell him that I don’t like his tone, or else he’ll flunk me on my next test. That’s the way it works here. This student clearly understands that his lecturer is making positive references to apartheid. For obvious reasons, these references are interpreted as being negative; it is also overtly disrespectful to Black students to refer to apartheid in a positive manner. However, this student does not feel free to express objections because of potential repercussions in terms of grades. His last statement reveals that he does not feel this is an isolated incident but rather that this situation is encountered regularly by Blacks and that he and, presumably, others would suffer negative consequences if they spoke out. The statement “That’s the way it works here” means that such behavior has larger implications in terms of the culture of the university itself and of South Africa as a whole. Overall, the in-class interactions of Black students reveal that their race is clearly important in how they are treated in the classroom. Common sentiments expressed by Black students included being treated as unintelligent, or being ignored by lecturers, and they felt that White students were not treated the same way. The Black students interviewed reported incidents where race had negatively affected interactions with Whites. As could be predicted from those narratives, Black student experiences with lecturers concerning the assigning of grades are also viewed as racially discriminatory: I failed this statistics course. But I was told that if you get between a 40 and a 50, there are still ways you can negotiate to pass the course. The person who was doing it [teaching the course] so happened to be White, and he just told me that there’s nothing he can do. I met this White girl and we were talking about the course, and she had the same problem as me. But I met her a few weeks later and she said she had talked to this same guy [the lecturer] and he had made her pass. And so I was wondering, did he make her pass because she’s White and I’m Black. Deep down, I really think he was being racist. In this case, as in many others, the student seems slightly hesitant to say what she already knows: This White lecturer is treating her differ-

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ently because of her race. Her evidence is the fact that she was treated differently than a White student who was in the same situation. The White student, initially with a failing grade, is allowed to pass the course, while the Black student in the same situation is not allowed to change her failing grade. Another example of this inequitable assignment of grades is a situation reported by another student: Every time we get our essays, most of the Whites will get A’s and we [the Black students] just get D’s! I just don’t think Black people are stupid so I just can’t find a reason why. We just get grades from 50 to 60. It’s just a thing that’s happening in our department and we know it. This student demonstrates yet another instance of racial discrimination on campus, which is being experienced by other Black students and is pervasive in that department. Taking student experiences as a whole, it is clear that the everyday racism faced by Black students is more than just a series of isolated incidents; rather, these incidents are indicative of institutional structures that exclude Black students from many important aspects of campus life at Wits. DISCUSSION OF STUDENTS’ EXPERIENCES The concept of everyday racism used to analyze Black students’ narratives in this chapter is particularly useful for analyzing the routine, familiar experiences that occur in everyday life and linking them to structures within institutions and society as a whole that promote the continuance of racist ideologies and behaviors. The everyday practices of racism experienced by individual Blacks, which might otherwise be presumed to be merely individual “acts,” are of great social importance for two reasons: (1) these acts are repetitive, experienced regularly within this institution, and presumably within other settings as well and (2) they are inextricably connected to and dictated by societal patterns of race relations and racialized thinking. The existence of everyday racism at Wits has been demonstrated by critically examining the experiences of Black students with both White students and White lecturers. Black students’ narratives give examples of avoidance practices. In one case a White student physically moved himself away from Black students in class so that he could avoid sitting next to them. In another case a Black student noted the unspoken rule, “I won’t speak to you, you don’t speak to me” that exists between Black and Whites and on campus. From the examples given, it is clear that the pattern of social segregation, while generally complied with by Black students, is not initiated by Blacks. Black students indicate that

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Whites just did not “want to be close.” But there were also other cases when Whites exhibited overt hostility toward Blacks in the form of name calling and other such behaviors. Even if one were to examine the total range of behavior in terms of Black student–White student relations, students’ experiences indicated that Blacks were at the very least unappealing as friends or acquaintances for White students. Taking the narratives as a whole, Black students get the message that they are not wanted on campus and that they do not belong there. I argue that White students are acting on societal if not institutional norms that fall under the rubric of everyday racism for two reasons: (1) such behaviors are commonly experienced by Black students at Wits, indicating that it is more that just a few “bad apples” perpetuating the racist behaviors and (2) the institution has failed to effectively prevent or eliminate such behaviors, which are foreseeable given South Africa’s history. Black students’ experiences with White lecturers merely reinforce the behavior that is exhibited by White students. It is evident from Black students’ accounts that bad experiences with White lecturers are not isolated but are routinely experienced. White lecturers help to maintain a university climate that is alienating and unpleasant for Black students. Black students’ narratives reveal that Blacks are excluded from class participation, in part by White lecturers’ constant use of cultural references that can only be understood by White students. In still other cases, Black students recount how questions or comments they made in class were either “brushed off” or were paid an inordinate amount of attention. In both these situations, the result was that Black students felt Whites treated them as unintelligent and unimportant. In addition, there was explicit knowledge among Black students that White students were not treated this way. These experiences clearly hinder Black students’ ability to learn and excel in the university. Equally damaging is the belief held by Black students that they are given lower grades than White students on class assignments and tests. Whether or not this is actually true (which we cannot address here, given the limitations of the available data), it is clear that many Black students strongly believe they are being given lower grades than Whites solely because of race. This belief is bolstered by Blacks’ poor treatment by White lecturers in class. Based on knowledge gained from previous negative experiences with Whites, it is only reasonable that Black students would believe they were likely to be being treated unfairly in other areas. Since White lecturers are acting in an official capacity, as employees of the university, and probably have the most contact with students, they further perpetuate the idea that treating Black students poorly is not only acceptable but is condoned by the university. Taking these

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isolated incidents as a whole, this conveys the message that the institutional structure is unaccommodating and, at the very least, admitted Black students without taking into account their particular culture(s) and needs. It is also clear, based on findings reported earlier in this chapter that the university’s failure to directly address foreseeable issues of race and racism has created an environment that is alienating and outwardly hostile toward Black students. The university has also created conditions that necessarily hinder Black students’ ability to be successful. CONCLUSION The barriers that restricted Black students’ admissions to historically White universities during the apartheid era are now legally abolished. However, discrimination at White universities persists, but has been transmuted and is perpetuated by subtle and overt everyday practices of racism, the cumulative impact of which hinders Black students’ ability to function effectively within that environment. Black student performance is negatively affected by racist actions, habits, and gestures that are widespread throughout the university and repetitive in nature. This environment eventually takes its toll on Black students, making the university feel like an isolating and threatening place. Everyday racism makes use of subtle cultural cues, sayings, gestures, and other symbolic markers of group status in order to draw the boundaries around group belonging and to signify entitlement. The hostility and indifference exhibited by White students and lecturers serve to exclude Black students from mainstream campus life, thereby helping to draw boundaries around resources—in this case educational resources—which are now being vied for by both Blacks and Whites. REFERENCES Allen, W. (1986). Gender and campus race differences in black student academic performance, racial attitudes and college satisfaction. Atlanta: Southern Education Foundation. Brook, D. (1996). From exclusion to inclusion: Racial politics and South African reform. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 27 (2), 1– 28. Bunting, I. (1994). A legacy of inequality: Higher education in South Africa. Rondebosch, South Africa: UCT Press. Christie, P. (1985). The right to learn: The struggle for education in South Africa. Johannesburg: Ravan Press. Essed, P. (1990). Everyday racism: Reports from women of two cultures. Alameda, CA: Hunter House Publishers.

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———. (1991). Understanding everyday racism: An interdisciplinary theory. Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications. Feagin, J. R. (1996). Agony of education. New York: Routledge. Fernandez, N. (1996). Race, romance and revolution: Cultural politics of interracial encounters in Cuba. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Fleming, J. (1984). Blacks in college. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers. Gerwel, J. (1991). Transformation and the universities: The experience of the university of the Western Cape. In E. Unterhalter, H. Wolpe, & T. Botha (Eds.), Education in a Future South Africa: Policy Issues for Transformation (pp. 123–135). London: Heinemann. Marcum, J. A. (1982). Education, race, and social change in South Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press. Murray, B. K. (1982). Wits: The early years. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. ———. (1990). Wits as an “open” university 1939–1959: Black admissions at the University of Witwatersrand. Journal of Southern African Studies, 16 (4), 649–676. ———. (1997). WITS: The “open” years. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Nkomo, M. O. (1984). Student culture and activism in Black South African universities. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Penny, A., Appel, S., Gultig, J., Harley, K., & Muir, R. Just a sort of fumbling in the dark: A case study of the advent of racial integration in South African schools. Comparative Education Review, (37), 412–433. Shear, Mervyn. (1996). WITS: A university in the apartheid era. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. University of Witwatersrand. (1995). University of Witwatersrand, Johannesburg Mission Project. Submission to the National Commission on Higher Education. Wolpe, H. (1988). Race, class and the apartheid state. Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press.

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Transformation and Pedagogy: Expressions from Vista and the University of Zululand NICOLE NORFLES

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INTRODUCTION At the Center for the Study of Opportunity in Higher Education, the work increasingly raises questions of how important it is to support access to higher education for low-income, first-generation, disadvantaged students. After all, education not only helps an individual or the student population in question, but society as a whole. The social benefits include increased technology use and home ownership, decreased poverty levels and reliance on government assistance, increased maternal and child health, and a population with increased knowledge of personal health and healthful practices (Mortenson, 1999). Higher education access, retention, and completion are concentric to discussions of opportunity in higher education. Typically, when scholars and institutional researchers examine transformation, they conveniently eliminate the perspective of the most vulnerable constituency on university campuses—the students. This chapter will examine the concerns about transformation raised by Black South African students themselves. In order to accomplish this, in July of 1998 I conducted interviews and focus groups consisting of students and institutional representatives. Two universities were the targets of this study: the University of Zululand and Vista University– East Rand Campus. Before presenting the discussion from these interviews, a brief description of the university settings is in order. Lastly, their concerns are examined to determine how they influence discussions about tertiary transformation in South Africa.

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TWO CAMPUS VIEWS University of Zululand The University of Zululand is located in the KwaZulu/Natal province of South Africa. Though one of the smallest provinces in South Africa, it stretches from the southern borders of Swaziland and Mozambique to the border of the eastern Cape south. Less than a two-hour drive from the cosmopolitan metropolis of Durban, the KwaZulu/Natal province is known for its scenic diversity, its untamed wilderness, its broad beaches, its lush subtropical vegetation, its sugar and banana farms, and its peaks, hills, and quaint towns. The road that winds north of Durban to Zululand takes the driver through endless fields of sugar cane, past private game ranches and game conservation areas, past rural homes and distant schools, and past walking workers and students, before reaching the long road with the wonderful view of the University of Zululand. The University of Zululand is currently a member of the eastern seaboard Association of Tertiary Institutions (esATI), a consortium formed by the universities and technikons of KwaZulu Natal. The consortium organizes joint projects and centrally handles student applications. The Central Applications Office (CAO) was formed in response to this initiative, set up by the universities and technikons in KwaZulu Natal. Essentially with one application and one fee, a student can apply to any of the tertiary institutions in KwaZulu Natal and choose from over 600 different academic programs. Access Programs like that of CAO, which increases higher education applications and access by limiting application expense, are a primary focus in the KwaZulu Natal region. Students’ concerns regarding additional changes needed at the University of Zululand center on increasing educational access and improving completion rates. Though interviews with students attending the University suggest that student funding was a key consideration, the principal concerns of campus constituencies were current and past institutional practices, and how to address the needs of the disadvantaged students. Vista University Vista University (Vista) is a multicampus, mixed-mode university providing tertiary education at seven contact campuses, based in major Black urban areas, and correspondence study through one Distance Education campus in Pretoria. With a total student enrollment of more than 32,000, Vista is the second largest and youngest university in South Africa. Vista was established in 1978 when

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The National Party Government appointed a commission of inquiry to investigate university needs and requirements of urban Blacks in the Republic of South Africa. The commission submitted its report to the Government during 1980, the outcome of which was the decision to establish Vista University . . . in terms of Act 106 of 1981. (http://www.vista.ac.za/vista/history.htm) The East Rand Campus, where my research was conducted, is one of eight university campuses. Vista’s East Rand Campus is situated just outside Daveyton, approximately 9 miles (15 km) from Benoni and Springs. Johannesburg International Airport is approximately 13 miles (20 km) from the campus. The East Rand Campus of Vista University was established in 1989. It draws students from the Mpumalanga Province to as far north as Northern KwaZulu Natal. A large proportion of East Rand students are part-time students, mainly teachers studying in the afternoons to improve their academic qualifications. Though East Rand campus occupied its first permanent building in 1989, the campus is still housed in a number of temporary buildings. The building of a permanent structure started early in 1996. Phase 1 of the building program, which included the library and a study center, was completed in early 1998. The campus employs a total of 125 people—71 academic and 54 nonacademic staff (administrative, professional, and support staff)—and offers degrees and diplomas in three faculties, namely, the Faculties of Economic and Management Sciences, Arts, and Education. Vista places strong emphasis on community development, and East Rand is actively involved in community projects, particularly those aimed at helping schoolchildren to prepare for their final examinations, as well as projects geared toward raising public awareness of health concerns. Local groups also use campus facilities for a nominal fee. Vista students, like those attending the University of Zululand, were concerned about improving educational access and increasing completion rates. In addition, Vista students were also concerned with current and past institutional practices, and how to best meet the needs of disadvantaged students. THROUGH THE VOICES OF THE STUDENTS Higher education access and completion for historically disadvantaged populations are sorely needed to provide South Africa with a skilled and educated population able to implement social change and promote democratic participation. Few research studies have addressed the attitudes of first-generation students and their input about their educational pursuits, persistence, and completion of higher edu-

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cation degrees (Dass, 1997; Reddy, 1991; Soudien, 1996). One explanation for the lack of studies in educational completion and success may be due to the newness of and extensive work on equal access to higher education institutions for South African Blacks (Herman, 1998) and the focus on understanding student “identity” in education (Paasche, 1996; Soudien, 1996). Today, more South African Blacks have access to higher education than ever before. However, they may be lacking student support services at their higher education institutions to make their educational endeavors successful (Herman, 1998). More funding for supportive student services should be obtained for the institutions to facilitate such services (Herman, 1998). Understanding the barriers that disadvantaged students face when it comes to completing their higher education may promote needed changes in the fundamental educational structure, making it one of inclusion and then transformation. Allowing students to voice their concerns not only provides information about these barriers but also sheds light on the hardships students endure as they strive to obtain higher education degrees. For example, some students resort to “squatting” inside the university, residing in the university’s student center or living on the roof of classroom buildings once everyone has left (Davis, 1998). The following comments represent the range of issues that emerged from interviews with students at the University of Zululand: • The suggestions we provide are not accepted by Whites. The administration does not recognize the benefit of the student services center [the student services center provides tutoring, academic counseling, career planning, and counseling among others]. • The administration needs to take a more active role in dealing with students’ problems. • Conflict resolution should not include blaming the students or disregarding students’ input. • Our incentives are jobs!! We want marketability skills. This is our incentive to pass. • The institution needs to make some wholesale changes in its vision, direction, and goals. Administration officials who still harbor hate and fear need to undergo some attitude changes. • Academic support, in the broad sense, is sorely needed. The university needs to help students make it. Students at the East Rand Campus of Vista University expressed similar sentiments and concerns:

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I am here to increase my knowledge, gain more academic knowledge, improve my communication skills, and get a job. Money has about the most impact. I need money to pay for school so I can get a job. The biggest challenge is that Whites [in the workplace] do not recognize [credentials from] Vista. Our credibility is affected. I’ve never worked. We need internships. People have major problems coping and need some kind of firstyear support. We need financial assistance. We need critical knowledge and experiences. They don’t allow us to be critical. Some defining elements of student-defined transformation were raised in the context of higher education in 1995. Greenstein notes that student organizations were in the process of “identifying schools where incompetent Whites will be removed” (1995, p. 10). Though his comments do not reflect student sentiment regarding incompetent Blacks or even what makes for incompetence, there appears to be a need to understand what students identify when defining faculty characteristics as they impact transformation. If opening higher educational access benefits the country by providing all students with the opportunity to acquire higher education degrees, the reasons students fail to continue needs to be recognized, especially in light of the new educational opportunity and the students’ desire to pursue a higher education degree. In a similar light, policy studies and program implementation to address the concerns of disadvantaged students needs to be undertaken. The Department of Education in Education White Paper 3: A Programme for Higher Education Transformation notes three related purposes of higher education in contributing to and supporting societal transformation. However, in promoting equity, the preface states: Increased access must not lead to a “revolving door” syndrome for students, with high failure and drop-out rates. . . . This highlights the need to attend to the articulation gap between the demands of higher education programmes and the preparedness of school leavers for academic study. The effects of Bantu education, the

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chronic underfunding of Black education during the apartheid era, and the effects of repression and resistance on the culture of learning and teaching, have seriously undermined the preparedness of talented Black students for higher education. (1997a, p. 15) Again, according to the citation, the issue may involve more than student funding needs. The low persistence rates may be better understood via direct student inquiry and observation. MacKenzie correctly notes that “almost all countries in Africa, willing or otherwise, are in some sense products of their colonial past” (1993, p. 403). Nkomo, in a similar note, comments that the new postapartheid education in South Africa should not be viewed as “merely offering opportunities for individual upward social mobility,” but in emphasizing transformation of education it should have “the aim of eliminating social inequality, poverty, ignorance and unemployment” and empower the previously dispossessed majority with critical consciousness (Nkomo, 1990, p. 304). Quality differences and needs in higher education for Black South African youth must be addressed (MacKenzie, 1993). Bengu, the former Minister of Education was careful not to overlook the economic plight of the poor student (Campbell, 1998c). The need for early tuition and education support in the English language—something that some schools prefer not to provide—is an additional concern of the disadvantaged student (O’Grady, 1998b). The needed changes in education include open access for all to higher education. Although the desire to provide a free educational system is honorable, it is not possible (Bengu’s efforts, 1998). Due to the former apartheid government’s excessive borrowing, the current government has no money for such endeavors (Campbell, 1998a; Mutume, 1997), even though educational policy shifted from spending more on historically privileged schools to spending more on those that were historically disadvantaged (Business editor, 1997). Funding is noted to be a critical problem in the process of educational change (Dream, 1997). However, if funding were available, would that suffice to raise the completion rates of Black South Africans who have pursued higher education degrees and to significantly assist in education transformation? There appear to be more deep-rooted educational issues of concern to Black South African youth. Though higher education institutions have open enrollments, student protests, toi toi, have been heightened (Davis, 1998; Dlamini, 1997). In personal interviews, students protest against the education conditions, and they protest against taking exams and tests. They protest against the administration and they protest against paying educational fees (Duffy, 1998; Mutume, 1998). When protests abound, institutions cannot maintain their academic

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schedules and cannot meet their deadlines (Dlamini, 1997). Some colleges, in fact, are on the verge of closing (Mutume, 1998). Though dramatic changes have occurred in the areas of education funding and access, Black South Africans are not graduating from universities in numbers reflecting the changes in enrollment rates (Department of Education, 1997b). Feedback from both faculty and administrators supports the need for student input in matters of university transformation. During focus group interviews at both Vista University and Zululand University, educators spoke of the need to empower their students, to “help students understand transformation.” Criticism was leveled at staff for restricting creativity. The major challenge was for everyone on campus to forge a strategy that would help all university constituencies—students, faculty, and administrators. Citing stress on students, one student noted, “The more stress, the worse the results.” In some instances, students and educators concurred, noting that there should be changes in the whole institution. The mindset of everyone at the university needs to be changed because apartheid is no more. One professor commented that “attitudes at private colleges [are] 180 different from these students.” The students at Vista want jobs and marketable skills. They also want to have their input recognized and valued. For students, the problem is that the university does not play the proper mediating role to resolve conflict without constantly blaming the students and helping students make it. Student enrollment and retention are important to the South African government, higher education administrators, educators, and society as a whole. In open access to higher education, we need to address the reasons students fail to graduate, especially in light of the new educational opportunity and the students’ desire to pursue a higher education degree. The low persistence rates may be better understood via direct student inquiry and observation. Education has the power to improve life, and “the future now belongs to societies that organize themselves for learning” (Marshall & Tucker, 1992, p. xiii). This statement best summarizes the relationship of education to national development. Kozol states, “The idea of action, growing out of a period of reflection becomes a great deal more exciting and a whole lot more important when the process leads both class and teacher outside of the school into the world beyond” (1981, p. 66). The pedagogy of Freire, coupled with South African education transformation and consciousness, brings a piece of the outside world into South African education. Once South African education incorporates student contributions, it will make great strides in the areas of both higher education transformation and institutional development. In responding to the “challenge of rebuilding our social institutions” (Marshall &

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Tucker, p. xix), education has a key role to play—one that will have an impact on South African national development. REFERENCES Bengu’s efforts too little too late. (1998). Johannesburg: Mail and Guardian (March 14). Africa News Service, Inc. [On-line: LexisNexis]. Business editor. (1997). Teacher cuts unavoidable, says Manuel. Cape Town: Cape Argus (December 9). Africa News Service, Inc. [Online: Lexis-Nexis]. Campbell, C. (1997). Trevor Manuel is on the right track. Cape Town: Cape Argus (December 5). Africa News Service, Inc. [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. ———. (1998a). It’s time for us to do our homework. Cape Town: Cape Argus (January 8). Africa News Service, Inc. [On-line: LexisNexis]. ———. (1998b). W. Cape looks for lifeline to end education funds crisis. Cape Town: Cape Argus (January 21). Africa News Service, Inc. [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. ———. (1998c). Don’t forget the very poor, Bengu urges varsity chiefs. Cape Town: Cape Argus (February 4). Africa News Service, Inc. [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. Dass, P. P. (1997). The achievement of academic success among disadvantaged black youth in South Africa: An exploratory study in resiliency. Doctoral dissertation, Harvard University, 1997. Dissertation Abstracts International, 58. (05) 249B, (University Microfilms No. AAG97–34789). Davis, J. (1998). Mandela rejects SASCO call to intervene in university fees. South Africa: Business Day (February 6). Times Media Limited [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. Department of Education (1998a). The incorporation of colleges of education into the higher education sector: A framework for implementation. Pretoria: Department of Education. ———. (1998b). Further education and training bill. Pretoria: Department of Education. ———. (1997a). Education White Paper 3 Final: A Programme for Higher Education Transformation. Pretoria: Department of Education. ———. (1997b). Student statistics. Pretoria: Department of Education. Dlamini, J. (1997). Students caused damage of R4M. South Africa: Business Day (November 11). Times Media Limited [On-line: Lexis-Nexis].

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Dream of a new education order falters. (1997). Johannesburg: Mail and Guardian (August 1). Africa News Service, Inc. [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. [Says funding is the critical problem in education change] Duffy, A. (1998). Suspensions cripple free state education. Johannesburg: Mail and Guardian (February 13). Africa News Service, Inc. [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. Greenstein, R. (1995). New policies, old challenges: Reshaping the education system. Quarterly Review of Education and Training in South Africa 3 (1) (September 15). Witwatersrand, South Africa: Education Policy Unit. Herman, H. (1998). Major challenges facing higher education in postapartheid South Africa: Issues of access and equity. Presented at tenth World Congress of Comparative Education Societies, July 13–17, 1998, Cape Town, South Africa. Kozol, J. (1981). On being a teacher. New York: Continuum. MacKenzie, C. G. (1993). Academic standards and progressive university provision in a new South Africa: Prospects for evolution in an African context. African Affairs (92), 403–416. Manzo, K. (1992). Domination, resistance, and social change in South Africa: The local effects of global power. Westport, CT: Praeger. Marshall, R., & Tucker, M. (1992). Thinking for a living. New York: Basic Books. McLean, S. A., & Kluger, R. (1987). US foundation giving to enhance educational opportunities for Black South Africa. New York: Institute for International Education. Mortenson, T. (March 1999). Why college? Private correlates of educational attainment. In T. Motterson (Ed.), Postsecondary Education Opportunity. Oskaloosa, IA. Mutume, G. (1997). South Africa—Politics: Saddled with apartheid’s debt. Johannesburg: Inter Press Service (April 30). [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. ———. (1998). Education—South Africa: Black universities in trouble. Johannesburg: Inter Press Service (February 2). [On-line: LexisNexis]. Nkomo, M. (Ed.). (1990). Pedagogy of domination: Toward a democratic education in South Africa. Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press. O’Grady, K. (1998a). Bengu to focus on quality of education. South Africa: Business Day (January 7). Times Media Limited. [On-line: Lexis-Nexis]. ———. (1998b) Education debt frowns on ethnic chauvinism. South Africa: Business Day (January 23). Times Media Limited. [On-line: Lexis-Nexis].

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Paasche, K. I. (1996). Education in South Africa: Self-definition and definition of the “other.” Doctoral dissertation, Columbia University Teachers College, 1996. Dissertation Abstracts International, 57 (07), 187A. (University Microfilms No. AAG96–36012). Pavlich, G. C. (1993). Developing priorities and strategies to meet the challenge: Educational development in post-apartheid universities. Paper presented at Annual Meeting, Association for the Study of Higher Education, November 4–7, Pittsburgh, PA. Reddy, K. B. (1991). Perceived deterrents to participation in compensatory education by educationally disadvantaged adult South Africans. Doctoral dissertation, Cornell University, 1991. Dissertation Abstracts International, 52 (06), 276A. (University Microfilms No. AAG91–31321). Samuel, J., & Micou, A. M. (1992). Educational initiatives at the tertiary level for black South Africans: Constraints, changes, and challenges. South African Information Exchange. New York: Institute of International Education. Smith, W. (1996). Education reform in South Africa: Preparing for higher education beyond apartheid. Paper presented at “Investing in South Africa,” a conference sponsored by the Coast Community College District, March 19, Costa Mesa, CA. Soudien, C. A. (1996). Apartheid’s children: Student narratives of the relationship between experiences in schools and perceptions of racial identity in South Africa. Doctoral dissertation, State University of New York at Buffalo, 1996. Dissertation Abstracts International 57 (06), 382A. (University Microfilms No. AAG96– 34498). South Africa Higher Education Bill. (1997). Pretoria: Department of Education.

7

Higher Education Transformation in Namibia: Road to Reform and Reconciliation or Rock of Sisyphus? RODNEY K. HOPSON

INTRODUCTION: HIGHER EDUCATION IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES There is a consistent belief that the state of higher education in developing countries is in crisis. The notion that expanding higher education as a key means of furthering modernization and economic growth has lost widespread appeal since the 1960s. One common explanation suggests that the increases in enrollments in higher education institutions in Africa, Asia, and Latin America have not kept pace with the increase in public resources for higher education (Neave & van Vught, 1994; Psacharopoulos, 1991). Whereas enrollment growth in developing countries can be traced to the rise of indigenous civil service, an increase in real incomes, and the type of development model employed, this expansion at the university level sometimes has come at the expense of other sectors that compete for scarce national resources. Oftentimes in the face of broader societal demands, national universities in developing countries have had to make delicate decisions regarding the expansion of universities and other priorities, such as food, shelter, and other basic services. As a result of scarce financial resources filtering down from the national level, universities in developing countries have too often suffered from inadequate teaching and research, insufficient equipment, poor physical facilities, and high dropout rates (Salmi, 1991; World Bank, 1988). African universities have a particularly important role to play in the national development of their respective societies and in the future of the continent. Called on to prepare high-level human resources—peo-

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ple who are needed to assume leadership roles in government, business, and other professions and to produce relevant research and training applicable to the increasing interests of a continent plagued by hunger, disease, poverty, and other handicaps—many universities have failed to live up to their own developmental ideals. Another set of explanations that point to the crisis of higher education in Africa in the early twenty-first century relates to the inability to integrate the university into the very life of the continent due to the institution’s dependency on Western models and culture (Bown, 1992; Mazrui, 1992; Sherman, 1990). Ali Mazrui, for example, highlights the structure of African universities south of the Sahara, the language used as primary medium of instruction, the reliance on books and articles published by Westerners to fill shelves of their own libraries, large numbers of Western instructors and professors, student admission and staff recruitment that put high premium on prior assimilation into Western culture, and the awareness that most prestigious African universities were (or continue to be) extensions of some university in Europe (1992). To Mazrui, these manifestations of academic dependency by African universities are symptomatic of the larger society and efforts to decolonize the African university can go a long way toward diminishing the chain of dependency that continues to tie Africa to the Western world. Created by an act of Parliament in August 1992, as recommended by the Commission of Higher Education, the University of Namibia serves as a beacon of hope for a new democracy in southern Africa following the racial segregation and discriminatory policies of the apartheid legacy. The institutional mandate of the university speaks to the charge of influencing the society’s attitudinal transformation from the racial bigotry of the pre-independence period to genuine reconciliation throughout the southern African country. The confluence of academic freedom, democracy, reconciliation, and nation building form the fundamental principles on which higher education has been modeled in the Republic of Namibia (formerly known as South West Africa). Hailed as the first postapartheid democracy, Namibia is attempting to live up to the hope and predictions that surfaced at independence. In a report released by the Southern African Development Community (SADC), Namibia has been recognized as one of the most democratic countries of seven nation-states evaluated in southern Africa (Menges, 1999). Based on factors such as the supremacy of the rule of law, regular participatory elections, economic growth, external debt, gender empowerment, and other indicators, the report singled out the evidence of democratic progress within the newly independent nation. The reality of the country suggests, however, that the opportunity for democracy and reconciliation may present itself as the rock of Sisyphus, if considerable historical inequities remain throughout the

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country’s sociopolitical and educational infrastructure. The same SADC Regional Human Development Report that ranked Namibia as one of the most democratic countries in the southern African region also identified the country as having the most highly skewed income distribution pattern of all the SADC states. Apparently, the good economic performance in Namibia is failing to reach the majority of the country’s people, as approximately 10% of the population consisting of people of European origin earn over half the total income, while indigenous groups earn less than 50% of total income (Menges, 1999). The recently released draft report, “Towards a Learning Nation,” by the Presidential Commission on Education, Culture and Training, also highlighted this clear and unmistakable fact in its introduction: Namibia has greater disparities in wealth than any other country in the world. At one end of the scale are prosperous people living in fine houses and with all the comforts of modern society. At the other end are people living in abject poverty; they are hungry and diseased, and lack adequate shelter, food and amenities. The children of the first group attend schools which are the equivalent of schools in the capital cities of the most advanced countries, while the children of the latter group attend schools which are totally inadequate for their needs, without toilets, adequate classroom facilities, electricity, telephone communication, textbooks, and writing materials. . . . This lack of equity in the nation is one of the most important problems addressed in this report. (Republic of Namibia, 1999) While higher education development and reform in Namibia is a critical engine of social transformation, educational change without political and socioeconomic change is of little value. Peter Kallaway (1984a) indicates that a prerequisite for investigating the education of Blacks in southern Africa is locating the issues of education within the broader contexts of sociopolitical and economic change in order to grasp the more general and structural significance of educational policy shifts and dynamics. Thus, the prospect of a higher education system in Namibia that contributes to overall social change rests with the extent to which this level of education advances activities and strategies that promote the development of democracy, peace and civility, and diversity throughout the country and region in the twenty-first century. OVERVIEW The purpose of this chapter is twofold. A significant portion of this chapter reflects on the state of higher education in Namibia, pre- and

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postindependence. In exploring the transforming nature of higher education in Namibia, consideration is paid to the history of education in Namibia and the influence of vehicles that have promoted schooling for some, but discouraged its accessibility to the larger society. A second purpose of the chapter is to analyze the environment, functions, and future directions of higher education in Namibia amid a changing southern African region and sociopolitical global scene. Understanding the institutions of higher education in Namibia and the context of change within the country means coming to terms with local and global forces that help dictate and define the transformative nature in the new republic. In this respect, the transformation of higher education is related to the transformation of democracy and national reconciliation in this southern African country. It is worth noting that much of this chapter deliberately focuses on the transformation of the University of Namibia as the pre-eminent higher education institution in the country. Lengthy discussion concerning the full range of higher education institutions (i.e., colleges of education, vocational colleges, etc.) and how they contribute to the development of Namibia is not within the purview of this chapter, though it is certainly worth exploring. The chapter has three following major sections. First, a conceptual framework section highlights a confluence of theories that illustrate the role of schooling in transforming higher education in Namibia. Second, the historical background section paints a larger picture of the state of education that has existed in Namibia from colonial times to the postindependent period. The third and final section analyzes the current postapartheid situation as it relates to education and social transformation in Namibia, with implications for higher education. CONCEPTUALIZING THE HIGHER EDUCATION ARENA IN AFRICA: TOWARD UNDERSTANDING NAMIBIA Analysis of the theories and forces that are manifest within the transforming of higher education in Namibia will occur through the lenses of theories of social reproduction and cultural hegemony. Definitions and applications of social reproduction and cultural hegemony provide a doorway for understanding the context of Namibian higher education and comparative African educational reform. Social reproduction theorists explore how social relations of capitalist societies are replicated in developing nations. Educational arenas, often believed to be a level playing field where lower, working, middle, and upper classes can compete on equal bases, allow social inequalities to abound while pretending to do the opposite. Reproduction theorists suggest that the structure and culture of schooling contribute to addi-

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tional restraints on lower and working classes and prevent members of these classes from attaining higher social class status (Apple, 1996; MacLeod, 1995; McLaren, 1997). In a southern African context, Kallaway describes the duality of Blacks in South Africa who were both colonized and trained as workers in an advanced industrialized state. Furthermore, schools were important cultural, political, and economic agents of socialization in the White, South African state. He writes: The colonised peoples of Southern Africa were not simply conquered in a military sense; did not lose only their political independence; were not simply divorced from an independent economic base; were not just drawn into new systems of social and economic life as urban dwellers or wage labour. Though all these aspects of the process of colonisation have great importance, the key aspect to be noted here is that they also entailed cultural and ideological transformation, in which the schools were major agents. Cultural hegemony refers to the procedure where ruling classes are able—not only by coercion but through acquiescence and conformity— to exert a general predominance over subordinate classes. This concept, influenced by Antonio Gramsci, involves the exercise of a power to frame alternatives, win and shape consent, and constrain opportunities so that the granting of legitimacy to dominant groups and classes appears as natural, normal, and beneficial (Clarke et al., 1975). Clive Harber portrays the political nature of schooling in colonial and postcolonial Africa and suggests that the norm has been for curriculum, syllabi, and textbooks to reflect the dominant ideologies and policy concerns of governments in power at the time (1997). The educational content during the colonial period, as Harber and others contend (wa’Thiongo, 1981), was rife with symbols and activities that fostered European imperial culture and the inferiority of African cultures. During the postcolonial period in many parts of Africa, schooling underwent a change of messages but a continuance of the dominant ideology, in which schools were “largely involved in a process of political indoctrination or political socialisation, that is, they have often been teaching values and beliefs as though they were truths or facts to be absorbed” (Harber, 1997: 8). Harber illustrates how, in Kenya, textbooks tend to reinforce capitalist values, syllabi in Tanzania exude a socialist tone, the political ideology of “Mobutuism” controls education in the former Zaire, and Kamuzu Academy in Malawi is modeled after the British public schools, where classics and English-medium instruction are compulsory and the highly competitive atmosphere effectively educates only a minority of elites.

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That the discussions of cultural hegemony and social reproduction extend to higher education institutions in Africa is significant historically and in preparation for the transformation of these same institutions in the twenty-first century. Post–World War II, for instance, was an important period not only in terms of realigning the relationship between Europe and its African colonies but also in the early formation of higher education on the continent. The war had an immediate and striking impact on the socioeconomic relationship between the North and South. As Britain’s and France’s political control over their colonies weakened, Africa’s cultural and economic dependency on the entire Western world deepened (Marzui, 1992). Higher education was one arena where Western cultural penetration unfolded. An inherent problem with higher education and its role in African development has been the manner in which it has been conceptualized as a manifestation of cultural dependency and hegemony. Preceding the critical mass of independence of African colonies, the Aisquith Report in 1945 by the British Government was designed to be a blueprint for higher education in the English colonies in Africa and beyond—Gold Coast, West Indies, Uganda, Nigeria, Dar-es-Salaam and others—and became the basis of university development in Africa. In a special relationship with London, the commission recommended granting London University degrees to candidates from the colonial colleges. The assumption was that the colonies needed a particular type of indigenous leadership that had acquired Western skills and were modernized in their thinking. The commission believed in the spirit of “educational adaptation,” as international recognition of degrees were granted by the colonial institutions. While some cite clear benefits in the development of higher education during the period prior to independence, others note the impending conflicts inherent in this development model. Asavia Wandira writes: While the University of London generously encouraged adaptation in the content of curricula, it was “uncompromising in resisting any departure from the pattern of the degree.” Only minor adaptations were in fact possible. As a consequence, in some African universities students could graduate without “an objective and scholarly understanding of the society from which they themselves have come” and their education was not always seen by those paying for it “to be relevant to Africa’s needs for high level manpower.” Many Africans pursued courses of study traditional to Oxford or Cambridge and without “visible and obvious relevance” to their future employment. (1977, p. 18) Thus, the universities and thinking that were emerging were not so much designed to help African societies close the technological gap be-

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tween themselves and other more advanced societies; rather, the African universities were suffused with Western culture, philosophy, and an ethos of adaptation that would be an inevitable source of conflict. The Aisquith Commission gave African universities the tools to be the highest transmitters of Western culture in African societies, penetrating and overwhelming extant African perspectives, models of communication, structures of stratification, rules of interaction, standards of evaluation, motives of behavior, and patterns of production and consumption (Mazrui, 1992). HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES ON EDUCATION IN NAMIBIA There are several significant reasons why Namibia was hailed as the first postapartheid African democracy during the early years of its independence. These reasons are important in considering the context for higher education transformation and recognizing that the higher education challenges that face southern Africa constitute variations on a theme first tried in Namibia. The consequences of one hundred years of White minority rule in Namibia and more than forty years of legislative apartheid are obvious and well-documented in terms of creating class and racial inequalities, polarizing the society, and undermining the economy. Colonial education, introduced by German authorities, and missionary education, from the late nineteenth century on, had similar intents. Whereas German authorities introduced organized education for the White settler population in 1909, no education was extended to the Black Namibian population. German colonialists believed that education was unnecessary for Namibians (that is, it would not promote colonial economic development) and it might even foster ideas of democracy and equality (Harber, 1997; Salia-Bao, 1991). The proliferation of missionary schools during the same period was prompted by aims that mirrored those of the German colonialists. That is, concomitant to the desire to spread the gospel of Christianity, the goal of education was to train efficient employees who were orderly, punctual, and diligent (Ellis, 1984). Educating the indigenous population for obedience was preferred to teaching academic learning, and would further contribute to a stunted form and address of education accessible to Blacks in Namibia. The South African administration was given the mandate of trusteeship for Namibia by the League of Nations, so South Africa controlled missionary education until 1948. The territorial administration of Namibia by the Union of South Africa even further limited the education of Black Namibians. Whereas education for Whites was compulsory between the ages of seven and seventeen after 1920, education for Africans was nearly nonexistent. In northern Namibia, where nearly two-

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thirds of the population lived, there was not one state school; two were built between 1921 and 1940, both in central Namibia. White South African settlers, like their White counterparts in Namibia, thought education was dangerous for Africans. Furthermore, the legacy of apartheid has had a profound impact on the education and culture of the predominantly Black population of Namibia. That legacy includes the fragmentation of Black Africans into separate homelands through the policy of bantustanization and the institutionalization of educational inferiority and disadvantage among Black Africans (Leu, 1980). Introduced in 1948, the educational and administrative policies of apartheid education ushered into South Africa and Namibia an era of schooling that would be separate, unequal, and aimed at the ideological management of Africans. The Bantu Education Act of 1953, the core document that governed education for Blacks, did not anticipate preparing Blacks for equal participation in society; rather, the goal was for Blacks to remain in submission to the rules of the established order. The Report of the Commission on Native Education, 1949–51 (also known as the Eiselen Report) preceded the Bantu Education Act with early conceptions of the role and purpose of Bantu education. The report suggested, for instance, that Bantu education should promote qualities, attitudes, and skills that the Black or indigenous population should possess. The report refers to such things as “religious knowledge and attitudes, literacy in a Bantu language both as a means of communication and of calculation, and as a vehicle for the preservation of pride in national traditions, . . . knowledge of hygiene for the preservation of health, social patterns and values which make a man a good member of society, and so on” (Union of South Africa, 1951: 132). The then–minister of native affairs (and later prime minister) Dr. Hendrik F. Verwoerd would echo the beliefs about the role and level of schooling introduced to Blacks in South Africa and Namibia in a June 7, 1954, speech to the South African Senate: More institutions for advanced education in urban areas are not desired. Deliberate attempts will be made to keep institutions for advanced education away from the urban environment and to establish them as far as possible in the Native reserves. It is the policy of my department that education would have its roots entirely in the Native areas and the Native environment and Native community. . . . There is no place for him in the European community above the level of certain forms of labour. (Christie & Collins, 1984, p. 173) It would be Verwoerd’s leadership that would earn him the reputation as the “architect of apartheid” because of his efforts to build a legislative

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infrastructure to both support the racist ideology of apartheid and to suppress antigovernment actions that threatened the enforcement of the laws in the wider society (Kontas, 1997). Based on the philosophy of Christian National Education (CNE), the apartheid system was linked to God’s provision of special calling, tasks, and gifts to the White population. The Afrikaaners’ belief in their special responsibility as trustees of Black education was manifest further in the Van Zyl Commission of 1958. The commission introduced a tripartite plan to (1) expand Black education so that 80% of Black children would have four years of primary education, (2) remove Black educational jurisdiction from missionaries, and (3) restrict education beyond the lower primary level (Harber, 1997). The impact of colonial education and apartheid in Namibia would be more far reaching than the underdevelopment and underfinancing of African schooling in other nations. Brian Harlech-Jones, former dean of the faculty of humanities and social sciences and current director of the University of Namibia Northern Campus in Oshakati, writes that the colonial history of the university had several consequences. From the early years of the University of Namibia, from its establishment as the Academy for Tertiary Education (also known as the Academy) in 1980 until the beginning of the next decade, it has lacked courses relevant to the Namibian sociopolitical context, projected an image as a junior academy in relation to the more senior University of South Africa, placed an overemphasis on teacher training at the expense of degree studies and the academic quality of the institution (Harlech-Jones, 1990). There has been political suspicion of the academy, established by South Africa and the first Interim Government . . . [and] strong associations with conservative academic institutions in South Africa, which are staffed largely by White South Africans. . . . The University, and the academy as a whole, has had to feel its way, in the absence of clear national priorities and development plans. This has led to uncertainties and tensions both inside and outside the institution. (Harber, 1997, p. 6) In addition, the exercise of academic freedom, a linchpin for any university, was particularly suspect, considering the influence of apartheid ideology, which prevented Black Namibian scholars (and other scholars) from studying, receiving fellowships, and teaching. Missionaryeducated Black Namibians had little choice but to seek university education at Black universities in South Africa, the United Nations Institute for Namibia in Zambia, or postsecondary study in other African, European, or American universities. From exile, the SWAPO (South West Africa People’s Organisation)

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Department of Education and Culture built a network of schools and partners in planning education for a soon-to-be independent nation. In addition to the establishment of schools that served the large refugee population in camps in Angola and Zambia by offering basic education, adult education, and literacy, support was garnered via international conferences, study visits, and technical support from the United Nations Institute for Namibia in Lusaka, the Commonwealth Secretariat in London, the Fund for Namibia at the United Nations, various nongovernmental organizations in Europe, North America, and Australia, as well as the governments of Nordic countries, Holland, and former socialist countries (Angula & Lewis, 1997; Graham-Brown, 1991). Following the era of apartheid, one of the major priorities of the new SWAPO government in 1990 was to formulate a widespread sociopolitical postapartheid framework aimed at national reconciliation among Black and White political leaders in Namibia. It was this national reconciliation policy and a democratic political culture that have been the hallmarks of this emerging nation, and, quite obviously, the University of Namibia. The issues that awaited Namibia at independence would be most profound in the educational sector, as the challenge lay in channeling wealth and human development inward. In dismantling apartheid and building a new educational system from one divided along racial and ethnic lines, a number of strategies were employed, including building a series of collaborative and consultative meetings at national, regional, and local levels to strengthen the democratic culture to support the changing nature of schooling. Some of these initiatives, started in exile through the SWAPO Department of Education and Culture and continued following independence through the then–Ministry of Education and Culture, included discussions on curriculum reform, language policy, teacher education, discipline, and basic education (Angula & Lewis, 1997). UNDERSTANDING CURRENT DISCUSSIONS RELATED TO EDUCATION AND SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION: IMPLICATIONS FOR HIGHER EDUCATION Social transformation must be accomplished through multiple struggles on multiple fronts, all linked, but each distinct. As the locus of action shifts from the economy to the polity, the old order must be confronted, and the new order fashioned, in the worldview, in the attitudes and expectations, and in the daily practices of the citizenry. The process of social transformation is thus both heroic and mundane. (Carnoy & Samoff, 1990, pp. 361–362)

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The key to Africa’s sustainable development is its human capacity. The goals of education policy in the twenty-first century will include raising basic education levels among the masses, promoting excellence in research, training in science and technology, and preparing Africans to assume their roles as equal partners in the global community (Toungara, 1998). Amid the conceptual underpinnings and historical context of education in Namibia, some current discussions related to education and social transformation have implications for higher education in the country. This final section will juxtapose some of the larger issues addressed previously with current discussions about the state of education, culture, and training in Namibia, with particular attention paid to discussions that have occurred following the formation and report of the President’s Commission on Education, Culture, and Training. On March 1, 1999, the commission began its work in the office of the undersecretary for culture and lifelong learning of the Ministry of Education. The commission was charged with a number of key responsibilities: (1) to review the performance of all aspects of education, culture, and training in Namibia since 1990; (2) to consider the learning needs of Namibians in the early part of the twenty-first century while addressing the need to reduce poverty, adapt to global changes, and take advantage of technological opportunities; (3) to propose ways in which cross-cultural communication can be enhanced; (4) to make recommendations for the best possible allocation and utilization of human, financial, and other resources; and (5) to propose a national guiding concept, sector goals, and measurable objections for the next five to ten years in a collaborative and integrated manner. Task forces were formed to focus on higher education, early childhood development, sports, and public media and their role in education. The commission relied on an electronic mail listserv with over 120 persons participating, nearly as many written submissions, interviews with more than 60 persons, and nearly 30 countrywide hearings in all regions of Namibia in order for citizens to provide their views (Republic of Namibia, 1999). A number of observations and recommendations were documented in the report’s chapter on university education, among them the lack of coordination between the University of Namibia and the Polytechnic of Namibia, and the cost of higher education. The Polytechnic, a nonuniversity institution with the mission of improving technology within Namibia, focuses on development and applied study of technological subjects. Four years old, the Polytechnic has established activities in a number of disciplines, including languages, legal training, commerce and management, engineering, fishery management, mathematics, and other applied areas. While all these areas are taught at certificate and/ or diploma level, the prospect of establishing degree and other spe-

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cialist programs in cooperation with foreign universities is an emerging possibility. Without joint planning mechanisms at the higher education level, however, there is considerable risk of overlap in certain disciplines. The university’s proposal to establish an engineering program in the science faculty is but one element of overlap that is manifesting itself at the higher education level (Ellis, 1999; Republic of Namibia, 1999). Despite the commission’s recommendation to establish a National Council for Higher Education, which would serve as an umbrella body for all higher educational institutions in the country, and a new University of Applied Science and Techology (in place of the Polytechnic), the lack of coordination at the higher education level between the University of Namibia and the Polytechnic of Namibia has already had farreaching implications. Some have suggested that a weakening of support for the commission’s recommendations within the University of Namibia, tensions between faculty from both institutions, a dearth of math and science graduates at the university level, and a drain on government funds were the result of the separate entities (Ping & Crowley, 1997). The cost of higher education has also become a contentious issue at the turn of the twenty-first century. As the university draws more students from the northern and most populous area of the country, debates between the Higher Education Ministry and the University of Namibia have revealed an emerging conflict over higher education funding allocations (Moyo, 1999a; Moyo, 1999b; Republic of Namibia, 1999). The public spat between the leaders of the respective institutions highlights what could become a larger battle surrounding inequalities in faculty salaries at higher education institutions and other budgetary conflicts. Many would contend that the introduction of a new and democratic philosophy that connects education and democracy in Namibia is an important step in ensuring that equality, access, and equity are achieved. There are some who add that the mere formation of the presidential commission is a necessary first step on the path toward thinking critically about the role of education in Namibia. Harber, for example, lauds the recent policy development brief, Toward Education for All, as representative of the forward-thinking views of the Namibian government in its commitment to educational reform. He refers to the Ministry of Education and Culture document that addresses the link between education and democracy in a postapartheid society, as follows: Becoming independent was in large part a struggle for democracy, a struggle for all Namibians to be citizens in their own society. Democracy must therefore be not simply a set of lessons in our

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schools but rather a central purpose of our education at all levels. . . . Our learners must understand that democracy means more than voting. Malnutrition, economic inequality, and illiteracy can be obstacles to democracy that are far more powerful than barriers to participating in elections. . . . Just as education is a foundation for development, so is it a foundation for democracy. (Ministry of Education and Culture, 1993, pp. 41–42) It may be that Harber’s points are contradictory, as indicated by recent comments in the Presidential Commission on Education, Culture, and Training listerv that point to a lack of societal and educational vision, an increase in blame, and an underfinancing of textbooks and basic learning materials. Joshua Forrest points to the duality and reality of the postindependence struggle in Namibia. He cites a number of activities that attest to the politically pluralistic Namibian civil society leading up to independence and immediately following, such as the manner in which the Namibian government has treated opposition politics and anti-SWAPO ethnic leaders, older traditional chieftains, and headmen, as well as the government’s commitment to an independent judicial system (1994). Forrest attributes the success of the national reconciliation policy to the SWAPO leaders’ cultivation of democratic tolerance and social peace as a means of ensuring economic development, as well as their own activity in international development and development circles. However, he also points up the risks of the governmental policy. For example, he cites issues germane to redistribution of socioeconomic resources as the main risk: One great risk of the government’s policy of national reconciliation is the threat of an eventual backlash from rural Blacks, particularly in the former police zone, where Whites remain in possession of 34.9 million hectares of commercial land. . . . With a Black government in place, those whose families had their land stripped away two or three generations ago—perhaps a quarter of Namibia’s total population of 1.6 million—are rapidly developing high expectations regarding the eventual repossession of at least part of these lands. . . . the government will need to come to terms with the conflict between its commitment to national reconciliation and rural Blacks’ expectations of a redistribution of economic resources. (pp. 98–99) That Namibia is recognized for its official policy of education for democracy is significant in an African context. Tertiary education for Africa’s development is critical in addressing impending social, economic,

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and political crises. Clearly, as others agree (Ajayi, 1973; Castells, 1993), the role of universities in research evaluation, information transfer, and technological development are vital to socioeconomic progress and growth. A fundamental consideration for Namibia in the context of African universities and the legacy of apartheid is the need to address the extent to which institutions of higher learning will transcend external dependency and survive local pressures to prepare the development of intellectual independence in the southern African region. The national summit on Africa’s Education and Culture working paper supports the drive to develop excellent and collaborative regional research centers, which do not make the same mistakes in reinforcing structural inequalities and pedestrian universities. Jeanne Toungara writes that the concept of regional research centers of excellence may be particularly timely “given the renewed interest in revitalization of African universities and the fact that most African states do not have the means to establish and maintain a comprehensive university covering the full range of all academic disciplines” (1998:11). While the promotion of higher learning does occur in Namibia, an inevitably resistant culture and a rigid structure of schooling make it difficult for lower- and working-class individuals to advance into the upper divisions of the social class structure and to actually attain higher education. This is most revealing in the contradictions and disparities that pervade schooling in the lower grades, from boycotts in northern Namibia related to lack of teachers (Shivute, 1999a; Shivute, 1999b), lack of classroom and hostel spaces in the north and in Walvis Bay (Burling, 1999; Shivute, 1999c), to other concerns related to differences between learners’ schooling in urban and rural areas and levels of educational attainment. A report released by the Namibian Labour Force Survey indicates that some 15% of Namibians have no formal education, over half (54%) of Namibians never went beyond primary education, and only 2% had reached the level of higher education (Amupadhi, 1999). It may have been necessary to promote an “education for all” policy at pre-independence, but recent figures suggest that this postindependent African educational policy (and rhetoric) may not be able to afford it and may be contributing to its own disparate contradictions. CONCLUSION Creating education for a newer national culture in the African context requires more than passing colonial tendencies from colonialists to independent Africans. It requires coming to terms with the colonial and hegemonic forms of education that existed heretofore and exam-

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ining the extent to which these forms have contributed to the general and structural inequality of the society. In the Zimbabwe context, wa’Thiongo comments that for the situation in Zimbabawe to discard and dismantle its colonial legacy, a particular education process was needed to counter the dominant cultural hegemony of the British: For a people who entered the highest phase of political struggle against foreign rule and oppression, they laid firm educational foundations for a national patriotic culture. For it’s both an act of education and an educational process to seize back the right and the initiative to make one’s own history and hence culture which is a product and a reflection of that history. Cabral has rightly said that national liberation is necessarily an act of culture, and the liberation movement “the organized political expression of the struggling people’s culture.” (1981, p. 2) Applying wa’Thiongo’s thinking to the Namibian context as we move into the third millennium, it goes without saying that the development of higher education should contribute toward a unique and emerging national culture rather than emulate Eurocentric or postindependent, neocolonialist ones. Furthermore, it ought to prepare university teachers and learners for addressing and resisting global structures of discrimination. Dennis Brutus’s commentary on the perpetual powerlessness of Africa (most recently in South Africa) as a result of World Bank and International Monetary Fund structural adjustment programs highlights recurring symbols of recolonization (1997). Ali Mazrui’s thoughts concerning higher education institutions in Namibia counterpenetrating Western civilization and modernization are worth considering as well. At the university level, he points out that reforms (i.e., in student admission requirements, curricula, faculty recruitment, etc.) must occur alongside a broader structural transformation in the larger society. At the curricular level, for instance, rather than duplicating traditional Western studies, he suggests offering nonconventional, interdisciplinary categories, such as the School of Rural Studies that would encompass agriculture, anthropology, and preventive medicine in rural conditions (1992). Moreover, higher education must contribute to an understanding of its own African cultural foundations as well as an increase of local and global resources that promote its own social, economic, cultural, and academic production. Ultimately, revitalized Namibian (and other African) institutions of higher learning will need to produce creative and technological brainpower to liberate their people from poverty, disease, socioeconomic disparity, and ignorance in order to reap the full benefits of the emerging democratic state.

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REFERENCES Ajayi, J. F. A. (1973). Towards an African academic community. In Yesufu, T. M. (Ed.), Creating the African University: Emerging Issues in the 1970’s. Ibadan, Nigeria: Oxford University Press. Amupadhi, Tangeni. (1999). Spat over UNAM reaches NA. The Namibian (May 10). Angula, Nahas, & Suzanne Grant Lewis. (1997). Promoting democratic processes in educational decision making: Reflections from Namibia’s first 5 years. International Journal for Educational Development, 17 (3), 222–249. Apple, Michael W. (1996). Cultural politics and education. New York: Columbia University Teacher’s College Press. Bown, Lalage. (1992). Higher education and the reality of interdependence. International Journal of Educational Development, 12 (2), 87–94. Brutus, Dennis. (1997). Africa 2000 in the new global context: A commentary. Africa Today, 44 (4), 379–384. Burling, Kate. (1999). Ever-expanding Walvis feels classroom squeeze. The Namibian (January 15). Carnoy, Martin, & Joel Samoff. (1990). Education and social transition in the third world. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Castells, Manuel. (1993). The university system: Engine of development in new world economy. In Ransom, Angela, et al., (Eds.), Improving Higher Education in Developing Countries. Washington, DC: World Bank. Christie, Pam, & Colin Collins. (1984). Bantu education: Apartheid ideology and labour reproduction (pp. 160–183). In P. Kallaway (Ed.), Apartheid and Education. Johnannesburg: Ravan. Clarke, J., Hall, S., Jefferson, T., and Roberts, B. (1975). Subcultures, cultures, and class: A theoretical overview. In S. Hall and T. Jefferson (Eds.), Resistence through Rituals: Youth Subcultures in Postwar Britain. London: Hutchison. Ellis, Hugh. (1999). UNAM leads way. The Namibian (January 27). Ellis, Justin. (1984). Education, repression, and liberation. London: Catholic Institute for International Relations. Forrest, Joshua B. (1994). Namibia—The first post apartheid democracy. Journal of Democracy, 5 (3), 89–100. Graham-Brown, Sarah. (1991). Education in the developing world: Conflict and crisis. New York: Longman. Harber, Clive. (1997). Education, democracy, and political development in Africa. Portland, OR: Sussex Academic Press. Harlech-Jones, Brian. (1990). The university of Namibia 1980–1989: A

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learning experience. Windhoek: Namibia Institute for Social and Economic Research/University of Namibia. Kallaway, Peter (Ed.). (1984a). Apartheid and education. Johannesburg: Ravan. ———. (1984b). An introduction to the study of education for Blacks in South Africa (pp. 1–44). In P. Kallaway (Ed.), Apartheid and Education. Johnannesburg: Ravan. Katjavivi, Peter. (1988). A history of resistance in Namibia. London: James Currey. Kontas, M. (1997). Apartheid and the sociopolitical context of education in South Africa: A narrative account. Teachers College Record, 98 (4), 682–670. Leu, C. (1980). Colonial education and African resistance in Namibia. In A. Mugomba and M. Nyaggah (Eds.), Independence without Freedom. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-Clio. MacLeod, Jay. (1995). Ain’t no making it: Aspirations and attainment in a low-income neighborhood. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Mazrui, Ali A. (1992). Towards diagnosing and treating cultural dependency: The case of the African university. International Journal of Educational Development, 12 (2), 95–111. McLaren, Peter. (1997). Life in schools. New York: Longman. Menges, Werner. (1999). Namibia scores on democracy. The Namibian (July 13). Ministry of Education and Culture. (1993). Toward education for all: A development brief for education, culture, and training. Windoek: Gamsberg Macmillan. Moyo, Tabby. (1999a). Katjavivi hits back over UNAM budget. The Namibian (April 30). ———. (1999b). UNAM finance fight. The Namibian (April 27). Neave, Guy, & van Vught, Frans A. (1994). Government and higher education relationships across three continents: The winds of change. Tarrytown, NY: Elsevier Science. Ping, Charles J., & Bill Crowley. (1997). Educational ideologies and national development needs: The “African university” in Namibia. Higher Education (33), 381–395. Psacharopoulos, G. (1991). Higher education in developing countries: The scenario of the future. Higher Education (21), 3–9. Republic of Namibia. (1999). Towards a learning nation. Draft Report of the Presidential Commission on Education, Culture and Training. http://www.edcom.org.na/edcomchap1.html. Salia-Bao, K. (1991). The Namibian education system under colonialism. Randburg: Hodder and Stoughton. Salmi, J. (1991). The higher education crisis in developing countries:

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Issues, problems, constraints, and reforms. Paper presented at the 1991 Course on Sociology of Science. Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia: Inter-University Center. Sherman, Mary A. B. (1990). The university in modern Africa: Toward the twenty-first century. Journal of Higher Education, 61 (4), 363–385. Shivute, Oswald. (1999a). Teacher problems result in boycotts. The Namibian (February 24). ———. (1999b). Class boycott. The Namibian (February 19). ———. (1999c). Learners in north struggle for space. The Namibian (January 14). Toungara, Jeanne M. (1998). Education and culture: Thematic working paper series of the National Summit on Africa. Washington, DC: National Summit on Africa Thematic Working Paper. Union of South Africa. (1951). Report of the commission on native education, 1949–1951. Pretoria: The Government Printer. Verwoerd, Hendrik F. (1954). Bantu education: Policy for the immediate future with discussion. Statement before the Parliamentary Senate of the Union of South Africa. Pretoria: Department of Native Affairs. Wandira, Asavia. (1977). The African university in development. Johannesburg: Ravan Press. wa’Thiongo, Ngugi. (1981). Education for a national culture. Presentation presented at the Seminar on Education in Zimbabwe— Past, Present, and Future. Harare: University of Zimbabwe. World Bank. (1988). Education in sub-Saharan Africa, policies for adjustment revitalization and expansion: A World Bank policy study. Washington, DC: Author.

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Historically Disadvantaged Technikons in an Era of Transformation: Answering the Call, Confronting the Challenges SONJAI AMAR REYNOLDS

INTRODUCTION As democracy dawned in South Africa, breaking from the discriminatory past became the impetus for systemic educational transformation aimed at reorganizing the administration and structure of the entire education system. The transition from apartheid required that all educational institutions rethink their values and existing practices, and reshape themselves into institutions that better reflect the values and goals of the new democratic era. Higher education has made important contributions to national development and spurred various social and economic changes throughout the African continent (UNESCO, 1998). As stated in South Africa’s higher education White Paper, “Higher education plays a central role in the social, cultural economic development of modern societies” (National Department of Education, 1997a, p. 7).1 “In South Africa, the challenge is to ensure that it [the higher education system] can succeed in stimulating, directing and using the creative and intellectual energies of the entire population” (NDOE). Moreover, higher education has the potential to positively affect the education system as a whole. In particular, its resources must be mobilized to support quality preservice and in-service teacher education and educational management capacity building. As expressed by the newly appointed minister of education, “Our faculties and schools of education have an exceptional opportunity to inform educational policy and practice throughout the education system through research, critical reflection and innovation” (Asmal, 1999). The result of this critical reflection, research, and public vetting of policy options is the Educa-

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tion White Paper number 3, A Programme for the Transformation of Higher Education. This policy blueprint laid the foundation for transforming higher education in South Africa. In turn, the policy framework led to passage of the Higher Education Act of 1997. The goal of the transformation process is the development of a single, co-coordinated higher education system. The 1997 act created the legal mandate to achieve the policy goals. This chapter begins with a statement of the objectives of the 1997 Higher Education Act. An overview of the priorities expressed by the national Department of Education during the first planning phase of implementation is then provided. The manner and extent to which historically disadvantaged technikons (HDTs) have addressed these priorities will suggest to the National Department of Education (NDOE), the niche that they envision for themselves in the new higher education system. The second section of the chapter describes technikon education, its history and evolution in South Africa. This provides the context for understanding the challenges HDTs face. The third section presents important challenges facing them as they participate in the transformation process.2 This section explains their challenges to develop research capacity, to enhance curriculum development, to improve staff development efforts, and to achieve greater gender equity. A later section of the chapter describes a strategy that five HDTs—in collaboration with four U.S. institutions—have utilized to address these challenges.3 The challenges of transformation that are discussed in this chapter and the research on HDTs are drawn largely from ongoing research to examine the implications of university partnerships aimed at strengthening the institutional capacity of five HDTs in South Africa during its transition to democracy. While research on all South African universities is growing in depth and scope, research that examines transformation of the uniquely South African technikon is scanty. Technikons were established to meet the demands and constantly evolving, careerspecific needs of the marketplace. These institutions offer programs in engineering and architecture, life sciences, applied sciences, arts, design, and commerce (Dekker & van Schalkwyk, 1995). According to one South African researcher, “The importance of technikons is likely to grow given that our fast developing economy dearly needs the technicians cum technologist which only technikons can supply” (Veldsman, 1989, p. 131). Overall, between 1993 and 1997, technikon enrollments have grown faster than university enrollments (NDOE, 1999). HDTs currently serving the majority population are well positioned to increase the number of science, engineering, and technology graduates. Many have well-established faculties of engineering, science, and technology. HDTs that can develop a niche to meet national demand for

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trained scientists and technologists may well play a critical role in a transformed higher education system in South Africa.

HIGHER EDUCATION ACT OF 1997: POLICY AND IMPLEMENTATION PRIORITIES The Higher Education Act, signed into law in December 1997, provides for the establishment of a single co-coordinated higher education system with governance and funding structures under the control of the NDOE. The act does not provide for specific funding formulas but places emphasis on accountability. The act makes the provision of public funding for institutions conditional on their ability to prepare strategic plans and report performance in comparison to stated goals. Moreover, “the Minister can withhold funds from any institution determined not to have complied with conditions imposed on the allocation of funds” (South African Institute of Race Relations, 1998, p. 177). The Higher Education Act also gives the minister the authority to close or merge institutions if it is determined to be in the best interest of the system. Implementation of the act began in August 1998. All thirty-six higher education institutions were required to submit three-year rolling plans—documents prepared by each institution containing a distinct mission statement, an academic development plan (including three-year projections of student enrollment and expected graduation by field and level of study), an equity plan, a capital management plan, and a performance improvement plan. The NDOE has begun phasing in incrementally the level of detail and information required in the three-year rolling plans. The NDOE has noted that “it accepts that it is unlikely that the higher education institutions will be able, in the initial phases of the planning framework, to implement all the planning requirements of the White Paper” (NDOE, National and Institutional Planning Framework for Higher Education, 1999, p. 1). Tertiary institutions were required to address the following four priorities in the submission of their first three-year rolling plans: • The size and shape of the higher education system • Equity in the system • Efficiency in the system • Interinstitutional cooperation The three-year rolling plans are aimed at determining (1) institutions’ proposed response to national policy for the period, 1999–2001 and (2) projected enrollments for 1999–2001. The rationale for the planning document is that a transformed education system must be more

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accountable for the expenditure of public funds, more responsive to societal interests and needs, and governed on the basis of cooperation and partnership between the state, civil society, and the institution (NDOE, 1998). These institutional plans are intended to inform the NDOE about how the institutions plan to address the four priorities. HISTORY AND EVOLUTION OF TECHNIKONS IN SOUTH AFRICA Technikons are uniquely South African institutions of higher education that have evolved over time. Transformation and change are not new for these institutions. Technikons were initially established as vocational centers to respond to the need for more technically trained people. By the end of the eighteenth century, technical education had become a matter of importance in South Africa with the development of mines and railways for which technically trained people were essential. By the early 1900s, numerous training centers existed, and by 1910 a reasonable framework of technical education had been established. These centers for vocational education later become known as technical colleges, as the character, breadth, and variety of the courses they offered changed. These institutions were starting to offer education at an advanced level. An important milestone in the evolution of the technical colleges was the adoption of the Advanced Technical Education Act of 1967. This act was adopted in response to the shortage of skilled, high-level personnel to meet the rapidly growing needs of commerce and industry. In terms of the act, the technical colleges of the Cape, Natal, Pretoria, and Witswatersrand were changed to colleges for advanced technical education (CATEs). By the end of 1969, there were a total of six CATEs enrolling over 23,000 students (Committee of Technikon Principals, n.d.). One of the first CATEs serving a historically disadvantaged population was ML Sultan in Durban, established in 1946 (ML Sultan Prospectus, 1999). Another milestone in the evolution of the new CATEs was the passage of the Technical Education Amendment Act of 1979. Although the acronym CATE described the functions of these institutions, it soon became clear that for various reasons the designation “colleges for advanced technical education” was not as widely accepted by the general public. The 1979 act gave CATEs a new designation uniquely South African. The term technikon, derived from the root word techne, referring to ingenuity, dexterity, or skill, was combined with the suffix “kon” to create a noun (Committee of Technikon Principals, n.d., p. 3). Technikons were then viewed as tertiary-level institutions providing vocational education in order to supply the labor market with people possessing particular skills, adequate technological and practical

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knowledge, and the necessary personal qualities to play a leading role in the working community (South African Yearbook, 1998, p. 325). Numerous institutions were established to provide education for the Black, Asian, and Colored populations who were legally prohibited from attending other technikons. Examples include Mangosuthu Technikon (1979), Technikon Northern Transvaal (1980), Peninsula Technikon (1979), Border Technikon (1987), and Eastern Cape Technikon (1991). Currently there are fifteen technikons in South Africa, six of which are classified as HDTs. Finally, the most significant milestone in the history of technikon education was reached in 1993. The passage of the Technikon Act No. 125 made it possible for technikons to provide degree studies and confer technikon degrees. The Certification Council for Technikon Education (Sertec) was established to ensure that all technikons adhered to university-comparable standards of teaching and examination. The Certification Council for Technikon Education Amendment Act 1993 provided that Sertec could accredit instructional courses presented by technikons. Technikons introduced degree programs in certain fields of study in January 1995. The bachelor’s degree in technology (B-Tech) and the related master’s (M-Tech) and doctorate (D-Tech) degrees are offered on both a full- and part-time basis, depending on demand. While the majority of the historically White technikons (HWTs) currently conduct courses leading to degrees at all three levels, the HDTs have not all moved at the same pace.4 ML Sultan, however, does offer degrees at all three levels. History was made at the institution in 1998 when the Faculty of Engineering witnessed the graduation of the first D-Tech candidate (in civil engineering) at its June graduation ceremony (ML Sultan Annual Review, 1998, p. 21). The technikon degrees correspond to the university-level bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorates but are intended to give appropriate recognition to the nature of technikon education and correct the misperception that career-focused courses at technikons are less prestigious than career-focused degree courses at universities. The degrees also satisfy professional bodies, which require a degree for registration purposes. Although the four-year bachelor’s degree is the minimum exit point for a degree candidate, the technikons have retained the three-year national diploma in its revised qualifications framework. The national diploma still requires two years of theoretical study with one year of experiential training. The experiential learning is usually done with a cooperating accredited industrial employer. This underscores the fact that technikons have not changed their basic aim of career-oriented education. There remains a strong cooperative education component, which continues to allow students to benefit from formal education in conjunction with practical on-the-job training. For example, twenty-three electrical

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engineering students from Technikon Northern Gauteng (an HDT) gained practical experience when they were invited to perform all the electrification work as part of a joint project to bring electricity to over 500 homes in the rural Northern Province.5 Central to the mission of the technikons is the desire to remain actively involved at the community level and provide relevant training for a developing South Africa. Many technikon programs of study entail partnerships with commerce and industry. An example of a significant collaboration at Peninsula Technikon is their Center of Excellence in Telecommunications. The national telecommunications company, TELKOM, funded this Center (Peninsula Technikon Annual Report, 1998, pp. 12–13). Inherent in the philosophy of technikon education is the desire to meet particular community needs. To this end, applied research is an important mission of technikon education. CHALLENGES The history and evolution of technikons suggest a system of institutions sufficiently responsive to the demands placed on it. However, despite their ability to respond to change, HDTs are not of comparable quality to HWTs because of the legacy of apartheid. The result is that the HDTs enter the democratic era disadvantaged (Almaine et al., 1997). The challenge to strengthen and build institutional capacity remains great. Strengthening the institutional capacity of HDTs is of special concern because of the past inequities these institutions have experienced. While the extent of past inequities is in no way evenly distributed within the HDT subsector, neither is the need to strengthen institutional capacity among the HDTs. Nonetheless, there are three areas in which all HDTs can be strengthened.6 The next three subsections will define and then describe, some of the challenges to (1) developing research capacity, (2) enhancing staff development, and (3) designing curriculum and courses more reflective of the populations served and consistent with current economic realities. An attempt is also made to illustrate the interrelatedness of the three areas discussed. Developing Research Capacity Research features prominently in the mission statements of four of the five HDTs participating in this study.7 Applied research is deeply engrained in the mission of technikons. Technikons, in general, and HDTs, in particular, have created a niche for themselves by working closely with their local communities and industry to find practical solutions to problems. A common characteristic of HDTs is their rural,

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often difficult-to-reach campuses. Several HDTs are located in rural or remote areas often overlooked, yet in desperate need of assistance. Notwithstanding the lack of funds or other logistical problems, these technikons do an impressive amount of community outreach and applied research activity. Basic research also occurs at technikons; it ensures a lively, inquiring academic community and contributes to the development of staff teaching skills. Research in the South African context has several connotations. Its discussion is not limited to the output of scholarly, refereed journal articles. Research also extends to the ability to write research and grant proposals. Finally, research implies the ability to work with postgraduate students, supervise their work, and design postgraduate education programs. A common perception is that the possession of higher degrees (honors, master’s, and doctorates) is necessary for lecturers to be successful in these areas. A 1997 study of academic involvement and research output in the form of publication supports this contention (Mwamwenda, 1996). Findings indicate that senior academic staff and those holding doctorates produced four times more research than junior staff and those holding BA/MA qualification. Lecturing staff at HDTs, on average, hold fewer advanced degrees than their colleagues at HWTs (Almaine et al., 1997). Two factors can explain why faculty at HDTs have fewer graduate degrees than their colleagues at HWTs. First, at HDTs, teaching has been the prominent mission and, therefore, no research culture exists there. Large class sizes and heavy teaching loads have limited faculty’s time and ability to conduct research related to postgraduate studies. Second, the majority of teaching staff employed at HDTs has come from commerce and industry. These faculty lack formal training in research methods and methodology and are often less interested in conducting research. The perception that problem solving for industry is not research is common.8 Another problem indicated by lecturers at HDTs is that library facilities and other resources necessary for conducting research are limited at their institutions. Access to computers and electronic information systems is limited, and this slows the research process. Compounding the infrastructure problems and a lack of research culture is the lack of available funding for the conduct of research. Historically, HDTs have not allocated sufficient amounts of their budget to research in order to create incentive (Devtech Systems, 1998). As technikons begin to award degrees, the need for academics with advanced degrees to guide postgraduate students becomes essential. These academic “supervisors” play an important role in providing the technical and professional support to students throughout the research process. Without appropriate assistance, many students will not complete their research (Kaunda & Lowe, 1998). Further, judgments

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about the quality of the degree, the institution, and the degree of scholarship are based on the quality of the supervisors (Greenfield, 1996). As stated earlier, while many of the problems mentioned above are typical at HDTs, the degree to which individual institutions experience and respond to these challenges varies widely. Enhancing Academic Staff Development Academic staff constitutes a valuable source of capacity for institutional development.9 In fact, “organizations grow as individuals within the organization grow” (Kapp & Cilliers, 1998, p. 19). Staff development as defined by Harding et al. is “all activities, actions, processes and procedures that an organization uses to enhance the performance and the potential of its human resources” (Harding et al., 1992). Because their mission is to provide tertiary-level technical education, most academic staff at HDTs have technical expertise in specific areas acquired from working in industry. They do not have experience in teaching methodology. The need for and benefit of having betterqualified staff is twofold. First, better teachers and researchers help produce better students and graduates of the institution. Second, better-qualified staff can contribute to strengthening the institution’s reputation both nationally and internationally. Enhancing staff development at HDTs is largely conceived in terms of improving staff qualifications. As a consequence, institutions have committed staff to acquiring master’s degrees. Most HDTs have provision for sabbaticals at full pay and other benefits. However, when budgets are tight and fiscal prudence is necessary, it becomes difficult to release staff to pursue graduate degrees. This is especially challenging when human or financial resources are not available for staff replacement, which results in added teaching responsibilities and administrative tasks passed on to already burdened colleagues. Further, academic staffs that devote time to the pursuit of graduate degrees are rarely able to contribute to the day-to-day mission of the technikon. An academic audit of historically disadvantaged institutions (HDIs) conducted in 1997 revealed a number of challenges to HDTs’ ability to enhance staff development (Devtech Systems, 1998). One challenge is the lack of a stated institutional policy that describes the nature and intent of the limited staff development programs in existence. Opportunities often exist at HDTs for staff to acquire new skills or begin degree programs, yet only a few staff know how to take advantage of the opportunities. In some instances, the level of individual staff initiative alone determines who takes advantage of, or participates in, existing staff development activities. Another factor hampering efforts

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to enhance staff development is the lack of accountability and controls. Individual staff members who benefit from institution-supported staff development programs are not always required to remain at the HDT. When the added qualifications and skills can command a higher salary in another market or institution, the staff member may leave the HDT. Individuals who leave the institution for better opportunities after having completed advanced degrees or skill development training further defeat the institution’s efforts to strengthen its capacity. Yet another challenge to enhancing staff development is the narrow incentive structure. Most staff are motivated to take advantage of professional development opportunities because of the salary and promotion potential. In the absence of these possibilities, staff may not be motivated to invest their time. Incentives such as honors and awards could be designed by HDTs to motivate staff to participate in professional development activities. Finally, staff development programs offered at HDTs are often limited in scope and focus on obtaining more advanced academic training. Short courses that enable staff to acquire much-needed skills and give them the opportunity to participate in national and international conferences are also viable approaches to staff development. Mentoring, job shadowing, and internships are three approaches used in other organizational settings. Better-qualified and skilled staff also lead to the use of more effective teaching methodologies. Ultimately, enhancing staff development means preparing staff to meet the needs of their institution and to teach in a higher education system that is rapidly becoming more complex and demanding. Curriculum Development There are two levels that need to be addressed in order to better understand the challenges HDTs face in their efforts to redesign and shape curriculum content. At a very basic level, curriculum development in the new South Africa involves a paradigm shift. The old system of education catered to passive learners, was exam- and content-driven and depended most heavily on the teacher. The syllabi were rigid (with inflexible time frames) and non-negotiable. Very little crossfertilization occurred. Most important, the curriculum denied and illprepared the majority population of South African learners. The paradigm shift in developing effective curriculum in a democratic South Africa involves creating a new philosophy of education. This philosophy centers on creating a culture of lifelong learning. Changes are aimed at producing more qualified South Africans who are better prepared for the globally competitive society in which they now live. Outcomesbased education (OBE) is the most commonly followed approach in this era of educational transformation.

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The National Department of Education’s policy on OBE, the National Qualifications Framework (NQF), and the South African Qualifications Authority (SAQA) have placed new curriculum-development demands on the system of technikon education.10 One challenging aspect of curriculum/course development for HDTs is the reorganization of course content and assessment methods. The regulations of SAQA define certificates and diplomas in an effort to establish norms for and generate a common understanding of qualifications. This is particularly relevant to HDTs because their current diplomas are considered by government bodies and industry to be equivalent to first degrees. If SAQA definitions are adopted, the technikons will have to alter their current credit structure or omit their first exit level (national diploma) and retain the professional degree (B-Tech). “Developing more culturally relevant curricula is challenging because staff do not fully understand the language and principles of OBE” (Devtech Systems, 1998). Making the curriculum culturally relevant and modularized is yet another challenge. Traditionally, technikon departments that have experience in a specific area were made responsible for curriculum changes.11 Those institutions or departments lacking expertise simply relied on what was handed down from the national governing body, the Certification Council for Technikon Education (Sertec). Few technikon staff have experience designing and developing courses, and staff lack needed background in education and training theory. The majority of technikon staff are recruited from industry. However, due to the Sertec requirement mandating routine curriculum updates, technikons in general (including HDTs) are more acutely aware of the need to review and revise the curriculum regularly. The challenge for HDTs is to become more active players in the curriculum-development process. A second curriculum challenge faced by HDTs is the need to develop more modularized courses. HDTs have many underprepared students who are more likely to fail subjects (especially in science and engineering). At present, the minimal program is three years in duration and courses are structured for a full year. When students fail parts of a course, they must take the entire course again the following year under this structure. This results in considerable inefficiency. A modularized structure allows students to receive credit for discrete learning that they master and repeat only what is necessary. The modularized format also allows greater movement between fields of training and greater recognition for prior learning achieved. Again, HDTs will be charged with preparing and involving more staff in the development of strategies to confront this challenge.

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ANSWERING THE CALL, ASSESSING THE CHALLENGES Early in this chapter, the NDOE’s transformation mandate and plan were outlined. The first phase of the plan requires all institutions to submit three-year rolling plans. In essence, these plans call for the institutions to create a niche. Key questions in the rolling plans are directly linked to making the institutions responsive to the NDOE’s next steps in the transformation planning process. These critical questions include: What contribution does the institution make to the achievement of national targets? (This focuses on size and scope.) Are institutions aiming for national student input and output equity targets? (This deals with equity.) What steps will the institutions take to reduce overhead and average student costs? (This stresses efficiency.) Will the institutions share resources and how? (This targets interinstitutional cooperation.) The priority areas allow the institutions to explain what programs they offer to create their specific niche and to better plan their future growth based on projected student enrollments. The preceding discussion suggests that HDTs have a daunting task ahead as they strive to remain a force in the new higher education system taking shape in South Africa. Challenges, however, inevitably accompany change and transformation. Externally motivated change is an all too familiar occurrence for HDTs.12 By design, HDTs are responsive to national needs (transformation) and their familiarity with change may help them to better understand the challenges to develop research capacity, enhance staff development, implement curriculum improvements, and move toward gender equity goals. Certainly the level of institutional capacity with which these institutions began this process will affect the speed with which they can make the necessary changes. Certain HDTs have made significant progress while others have lagged behind. An effective strategy aimed at enabling a group of HDTs to confront these challenges and strengthen institutional capacity collectively was the establishment of a international linkage. THE HDT–U.S. ENGINEERING CONSORTIA In March 1996, five HDTs and four U.S. institutions initiated a partnership designed to strengthen the institutional capacity of the five technikons. The consortia combined the skills and experience of engineering faculties at three historically Black U.S. universities—Howard University, North Carolina A&T, and Clark-Atlanta—with the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and HDTs in South Africa: Peninsula Technikon, ML Sultan, Mangosutho Technikon, Eastern Cape Technikon, and Technikon Northern Gauteng (TNG). The U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID)/ Tertiary Education

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Linkages Project (TELP) provided funding for the project.13 Aware of the tremendous technical expertise resident in South Africa, yet recognizing the need to include international perspectives, the HDT–U.S. Engineering Consortia developed a unique partnership that combines South African and American expertise. The consortia had a very specific objective: to help the HDTs design and produce eight engineering texts over a four-phase, forty-month period. Materials and curriculum development were the central objectives of the project. HDT lecturers authored and collaborated as moderators in teams of four to develop textbooks that were more relevant to the students. American faculty served as moderators, providing advice and guidance as needed. HDT participants developed specific skills as a result of participating in the project. Since the authors and moderators also teach in the subject area, many began to revise their curricula in line with the NQF (modularized courses). The texts were produced locally and hence were more affordable for students. In July 1998, the first four textbooks were presented at a ceremony recognizing the authors. Most authors felt proud to have written an academic text. The researcher contends that this may inspire lecturers to conduct or collaborate with colleagues to publish future articles. The project has also enabled South African lecturers to establish personal relationships with internationally recognized institutions. Though too early to confirm, this may lead to other research collaborations. HDT staff that participated in the first two phases of the project have already begun to think about next steps, for example, the production of a second edition or an advanced-level textbook. The project supported two complementary objectives that were consistent with other challenges (areas of need) expressed by the HDTs. Staff development and building research capacity were also objectives integral to this project. Howard University provided a graduate fellowship and MIT offered one nationally competitive fellowship for a South African scholar from any discipline. The fellowships will enable the recipient(s) to pursue a graduate-level degree at a U.S. institution. In addition, the U.S. consortia partners are conducting short-term training in relevant areas as mutually agreed upon by their South African HDT partners. Unlike the graduate fellowship aimed at improving individual qualifications, the short seminars are intended to build skills. An additional advantage of the seminars is that more engineering faculty can attend and receive some benefit. Concurrent with developing staff and curriculum, the project was designed to strengthen research capacity. Staff increased their knowledge of, and capacity to, conduct more research as they pursued graduate degrees, participated in short-term training, and collaborated with

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their U.S. partners in the design of curriculum. This underscores the interrelatedness of the different qualities of institutional capacity. In order to achieve these project objectives, the consortia members designed several innovative approaches. To facilitate cost-effective communications plus greater and more efficient sharing of materials, the U.S. partners developed a Project Web Server (PWS).14 Two levels of access are available. The first level includes a Web page and e-mail capability. The second level provides limited access for participants to draft publications, discussions, and archives of the various courses and curricula under development. After conducting extensive personal interviews and observing an evaluation workshop, the researcher has identified numerous intended and unintended outcomes of the partnership.15 The intended outcome was the generation of course materials that were culturally relevant and modular in form. One ML Sultan lecturer said: There are lots of books that deal with certain matters that not everybody can relate [to]. If you use these books in your courses, it creates a problem. There is theory [in our book] but it’s done in a manner that students can identify with. I would recommend it as a standard book to my students for two reasons. One, it’s to the point and, two, it covers exactly what will be covered in those six months of the course, both from a mechanical engineering perspective and a civil perspective. Staff development was another intended outcome of the project. HDT participants have begun to develop specific skills having participated in the project. Moderators and authors have improved their writing skills and developed hands-on experience in the development of Web pages. The information technology revolution has the potential to greatly enhance the ways in which higher education institutions operate. To the extent that the technological infrastructure will permit, there are many benefits to using computers to implement teaching and learning activities. According to a recent World Bank study, “Computers provide for the first time in history a key ingredient that was lacking in all previous tools that raised high expectations when introduced in the educational system” (Olsin, 1998, p. 3). Benefits of instructional technology (e.g., computers) are many. Examples include the ability of students to learn according to their cognitive level and learning speed, independently or with classmates, and the ability of the students to actively explore phenomena and develop the skills of searching for information and creating hypotheses. Furthermore, teachers and students become accustomed to working with tools common in contemporary

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industrial, commercial, and intellectual arenas. Another important benefit is that teachers may expand their repertoire of teaching/pedagogical strategies and recognize the need for improvement in their classroom practices (often with the assistance of individuals beyond their national boundaries). However, in order for these possibilities to materialize, staff must be knowledgeable and comfortable with the latest technological innovations. Training is necessary if staff and administrators are to make informed decisions about appropriate technology and infrastructure development. Recognizing the importance of training in information technology, the American participants conducted a workshop for their South African counterparts that focused on information technology in curriculum development using a hands-on experiential approach. The responses to the evaluation questionnaire completed immediately following the workshop revealed that the “learning-by-doing approach” was most effective in raising the level of general awareness for the potential of instructional technology. “A good beginning point was reached,” said one HDT lecturer, who felt the workshop provided an “overview of a complex subject” and helped him overcome fears he might have felt concerning it (personal communication, June 1998). Another lecturer believed that implementing what was learned could “improve the standard of my students.” The interactive nature of the workshop was also welcome; several lecturers were anxious to begin implementing what they learned by developing personalized Web pages. However, the questionnaire also revealed several areas where the training could be improved. A consistent observation was that a needs analysis should have been conducted prior to the workshop in order to ascertain the availability of the hardware and software necessary to utilize the skills learned during the workshop. Several lecturers stated that tools (computers) are not always available (personal communication, July 1999). The sixteen South African participants were also at varying skill levels; some were able to easily grasp concepts and required more advanced training while others required more basic training in computers and Internet use. This reflected the range of availability and access to technology at the HDTs. In some HDTs, lecturers had access to laptops on a temporary basis; at other HDTs, lecturers shared desktops. In some cases, lecturers were uncertain of their e-mail or Internet access and raised this as an administrative issue for their institutions. Quite a few lecturers began using Internet and e-mail for the first time because of their involvement in the project. Unintended outcomes were both common and significant. The consortia seemed to engender extensive peer partnership between the HDTs lecturers. Collegial conversations occurred regularly. This net-

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working enabled faculty to share similar problems and discuss teaching methodology. This is an important unintended outcome because of the potential to facilitate reflection on teaching practice. In the past, the South African education system did not encourage contact between institutions (Devtech Systems, 1998). As one lecturer observed, “It’s the first time that at this level I’m dealing with people from two other [HDT] technikons and I am assessing myself” (personal communication, July 1999). Lecturers and moderators at various institutions maintained contact and discussed mutual problems experienced at their respective HDTs. As yet another unintended outcome, lecturers reported an increased level of confidence in their ability to author and moderate future projects and work with students: It gives us a bit of encouragement to try and pursue your own writing. When you’ve done it on this level, you feel more confident about tackling it. It even affects the way we approach our study guides for our students. We’ve got this behind us, so articulating your requirements for the students in terms of the study guides, it’s been, I’d say, a confidence boost. CONCLUSION This chapter examined and highlighted challenges faced by South Africa’s HDTs as they participate in the transformation process. Some argue that the role that these previously disadvantaged institutions play will diminish as a unitary system is established. A leading cause of this perception is the weak institutional capacity of some HDTs, especially in the areas discussed in this chapter. However, HDTs have answered the call to transform and are taking advantage of opportunities to strengthen their capacity. Research indicates that linkages and collaboration (when promoted effectively) are essential to maximizing the use of resources and have been a key factor in enhancing capacity (Cross & Sehoole, 1997). Linkages enable participating institutions to make more efficient use of scarce resources. It is for this reason that it becomes critical that HDTs continue to find creative, innovative ways to address the challenges they face in the transformation process. HDTs continue to provide quality tertiary technical education to the nation’s majority disadvantaged population. HDTs that successfully strengthen their institutional capacities will better position themselves to supply the much-needed, technically trained graduates that can meet the demands of today’s South Africa economy. Ultimately, the test for all educational institutions is whether they can create and maintain centers of excellence; attract and develop quality

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faculty, staff, and administrators; and produce quality students who are able to adapt and succeed in an increasingly globally competitive environment. NOTES 1. The [higher] education White Paper is a policy document produced by the government of South Africa outlining a framework for change resulting from wide-ranging investigation and consultation with stakeholders. 2. Historically disadvantaged technikons are technikons that were established to educate and train Blacks, Coloreds or Indians. 3. This chapter focuses exclusively on HDTs. It should be noted, however, that the historically Black universities, historically White universities, and historically White technikons also face the same or similar challenges to varying degrees. 4. Only three (ML Sultan, Peninsula, and TNG) of the five HDTs researched currently offer degrees beyond the national diploma. All envision doing so in the coming years. 5. Personal interview with the Head of Department of Engineering, Technikon Northern Gauteng, June 1999. 6. This list is in no way intended to be exhaustive. Another important challenge not mentioned here is the need to address gender equity. 7. The researcher was unable to obtain a copy of the mission statement from Mangosutho Technikon prior to publication of this chapter. 8. In personal interviews with HDT lecturers, the researcher had to be explicit in the use of the term “applied” in order to ascertain faculty’s true involvement in research. 9. For the purpose of this research, the term staff development refers only to academic staff. 10. For a more detailed description of NQF and SAQA, see South Africa Yearbook (1998) (Pretoria: Government Communication and Information System), pp. 21–32 and South African Journal of Higher Education (1998), 12 (1), pp. 82–83. 11. The technikons that are charged with curriculum change are referred to as “convener” technikons. 12. Between 1959 and 1993, over ten legislative acts altered the way HDTs operated either administratively or operationally. 13. TELP is a U.S.–sponsored $50 million project aimed at strengthening the institutional capacity of HDIs. 14. Though innovative, the Web server has been one of the more contentious aspects of the project. Some HDTs had limited computer access, and others found it too impersonal. 15. Personal interviews with engineering faculty and administrators

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from ML Sultan, Peninsula Technikon, Eastern Cape Technikon, and Technikon Northern Gauteng took place over a twelve-month period (June 1998–May 1999). REFERENCES Almaine, G., Manhire, B., & Atteh, S. (1997). Engineering education at South Africa’s technikons. Paper presented at the 1997 American Society for Engineering Education (ASEE) Annual Conference & Exposition, Milwaukee, WI. Asmal, K. (1999). Call to action: Mobilizing citizens to build a South African education and training system for the 21st century. Speech by K. Asmal, Minister of Education. (July 27). Cross, M., & Sehoole, T. (1997). Rethinking the future of teacher education in South Africa: The role of partnerships. South African Journal of Higher Education, 11 (1), 48–56. Dekker, E., & van Schalkwyk, O. (Eds.). (1995). Modern education systems. Durban: Butterworth Publishers. Devtech Systems, Inc. (1998). Academic audit of historically disadvantaged tertiary institutions. Unpublished report. Committee of Technikon Principals (n.d.). It’s about building a nation of skills. Brochure. Pretoria. Greenfield, T. (1996). A view of research in research methods: Guidance for postgraduates. London: Arnold. Harding, A., Kaewsonthi, S., Row, E., and Stevens, J. (1992). Professional development in higher education. Bangkok: AA Press. Kapp, C., & Cilliers, C. (1998). Continuing personal professional development of university lecturers: A case study. South African Journal of Higher Education, 12 (2), 116–120. Kaunda, L., & Low, T. (1998). Growing our own timber: Students and supervisors perceptions of research at honors level at the University of Cape Town. South African Journal of Higher Education, 12 (3), 130–138. ML Sultan Annual Review. (1998). Durban: ML Sultan Technikon. ML Sultan Technikon Prospectus. (1999). Durban: ML Sultan Technikon. Mwamwenda, T. S. (1996). Research, publication and teaching in the promotion of university academic staff. Psychological Reports, 79, 599–602. National Department of Education (NDOE). (1999). Higher education institutional plans: An overview of the first planning phase 1999/ 2001 (July). ———. (1997a). A programme for the transformation of higher education. 386 (18207). Pretoria: Government Gazette.

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———. (1997b). Draft white paper on higher education 382 (17944). Pretoria: Government Gazette. ———. (1998). National and institutional higher education planning requirements. Pretoria: Author. Olsin, L. (1998). Computers in education in developing countries: Why and how? Education and Technology Series 3 (1). Washington, DC: The World Bank, Human Development Department—Education. Peninsula Technikon Annual Report. (1998). Cape Town: Peninsula Technikon. South Africa Yearbook. (1998). Pretoria: Government Communication and Information System. South African Institute of Race Relations, 1997/98 Survey. (1998). Johannesburg: SAIRR. United Nations Education Science Consortium Organization (UNESCO). (1998). Higher education in Africa: Achievements, challenges and prospects. Dakar, Senegal: Author. Veldsman, D. (1989). Technikons vis-a`-vis universities. South African Journal of Higher Education, 3(1), 130–131.

Conclusion: Implications for Policy and Practice KIMBERLY LENEASE KING

In a democracy, educational institutions are charged with the responsibility of creating a literate citizenry and a trained work force. Such tasks are necessary if the society is to prosper. While primary and secondary schools have been primarily responsible for improving and maintaining literacy rates, tertiary institutions bear the principal burden of developing a trained populace. In countries like South Africa and the United States, such institutional roles are complicated by legacies of racial apartheid. However, various societal characteristics make it crucial for equality of opportunity for all to evolve. South African institutions face added pressures to accomplish racial inclusion in a timely manner both because of the adoption of democratic governance and the majority status of Black South Africans. Furthermore, South Africa’s movement towards democracy heralds the end of colonialism on the African continent. Therefore, the country has the ability to examine the experiences and challenges facing other former colonies on the continent in an effort to avoid some of the problems they have faced upon democratization. Each is faced with the need to find ways to educate citizens despite the legacies of discrimination bequeathed by former European governments. Fanon (1963), in his description of the challenges facing underdeveloped regions of the world, discussed the pressure that they face to reach stages of development similar to those of European nations. However, the absence of infrastructure, the prevalence of poverty, and the lack of doctors, engineers, and administrators make it difficult for underdeveloped countries to progress at similar rates. Fanon points out that their need to compete with the developmental markers of European

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countries is “literally scandalous, for [the development of European countries] has been founded on slavery, it has been nourished with the blood of slaves and it comes directly from the soil and from the subsoil of that underdeveloped world” (p. 96). Additionally, upon independence, the tendency is for the former colonizers to withdraw capital, thereby plunging former colonies into economic despair. Such patterns make it even more challenging for these countries to interact in a competitive global economy. To some degree, South Africa has been able to avoid some of the economic challenges confronting many former colonies on the African continent. South Africa has an infrastructure, educational institutions, and natural resources on which to build its future. Thus the largest challenge facing the country is the greatest tragedy of apartheid—the majority racial group in the country are the most economically and academically disadvantaged. Thus, the immediate need is to extend economic, educational, and political opportunities to those most disadvantaged during the apartheid era. The country has accomplished the extension of political inclusion by embracing democracy. However, the degree to which citizens have equitable economic opportunities is contingent on whether they have access to quality education. Consequently, education is pivotal to the country’s success. EDUCATIONAL CHALLENGES FACING THE SOUTH AFRICAN GOVERNMENT The reign of the National Party created immense racial, ethnic, and gender disparities with respect to education and wealth. As such, the governments of South Africa and Namibia are charged with redressing these disparities at a pace and in a manner that will pacify citizens denied equality for too long. Education stands as the principal means by which the newly elected government can establish a more equitable society. Certainly, providing citizens with a basic level of education is beneficial for a democratic society. However, a government’s commitment to tertiary education is influenced by such factors as diminishing economic resources; the anticipated, long-term returns on higher education; and the degree to which university-trained citizens are necessary and central to the economic prosperity of the country. Tertiary institutions must remake themselves so that their relevance and usefulness are apparent. The challenges to do so are numerous. For the purposes of this discussion, we will separate these challenges into three categories: (1) equalizing the resources between historically advantaged and disadvantaged institutions, (2) improving the conditions at those institutions that have historically served the most disadvantaged sectors of the population so that they can compete for

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students, and (3) increasing the likelihood that Black South African students attending historically advantaged institutions will succeed at rates similar to students from other racial groups. MOVING BEYOND THE APARTHEID DISTINCTIONS In both Namibia and South Africa, the National Party government effectively utilized higher education institutions to further apartheid goals. The legacy of apartheid is a system comprising historically disadvantaged (HDI) and advantaged (HAI) institutions. The principal missions of HDIs were teaching. Furthermore, they were located in remote regions where the Black South African population clustered. After all, if South Africans developed stronger ethnic identities, the minority White population could avoid any cross-ethnic efforts to overthrow the apartheid system. While these efforts were obviously unsuccessful, what has emerged are historically disadvantaged institutions that have difficulty competing with the historically advantaged institutions because of their isolated locations and the conditions caused by disparate levels of funding. As Hopson noted in chapter 7, the Higher Education Act of 1997 established a national coordinating body for the tertiary sector. Concerned primarily with accountability, the act has the potential to equalize resource allocations across institutions. While this will go a long way toward minimizing growing disparities between historically disadvantaged and advantaged institutions, the primary challenge lies in the government’s ability to assist disadvantaged institutions in building the capacity to participate in the new system. More specifically, if institutional funding is contingent on accountability, would it be equitable to hold historically disadvantaged institutions to the same standards as their more advantaged counterparts? For example, disadvantaged students have proven less likely to complete their degrees in the same length of time as students of other racial groups. Since HDIs are populated primarily by economically and academically disadvantaged students, would it be fair to measure them by the same standards as their more advantaged counterparts? If a fair and equitable system is to emerge, when institutions are measured for accountability, it should be done in a way that is sensitive to the institutional contexts and histories. Another measure used to determine funding is the degree to which institutions cooperate with other institutions. Certainly this measure was included in the act to build the administrative and research capacities of HDIs, to spread the resources of HAIs throughout the system, and to strengthen the capacity of HAIs to be more responsive to the needs of all South Africans. However, care should be taken to monitor

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the quality of those relationships. Central to the philosophies of HAIs were White supremacist ideologies rooted in notions of Black inferiority. As such, care must be taken to ensure that collaborative relationships between these institutions are not hierarchical but collaborative and cooperative. Each institution, whether HDI or HAI, needs to cooperate in an effort to effectively maximize use of the country’s expenditures on tertiary education. Without such care, the hierarchy within the sector established during the apartheid era will be perpetuated. While coordination at the national level is paramount in order to eradicate disparities created during the apartheid era, the quality of coordination is most significant. All institutions should be held accountable to the country for its investments. However, given the vast disparities within the system, it is necessary to do so in a way that is sensitive to each institution’s challenges. Additionally, the promotion of cross-institutional cooperation is necessary. Those arrangements should be monitored so that the same patterns of domination and subordination are not perpetuated. IMPROVING CONDITIONS AT THE HISTORICALLY DISADVANTAGED INSTITUTIONS A myriad of challenges face historically disadvantaged institutions. While little can be done concerning the physical location of many of these institutions, a principal concern of the South African government should be to further develop the physical structures on campus. In particular, efforts should be made to develop residential options for students, staff, and faculty. Such deficiencies can discourage talented students and faculty from attending or working at the HDIs. Additionally, it is imperative that historically disadvantaged institutions (HDIs) position themselves so that they can compete with historically advantaged institutions (HAIs). The principal challenge to this goal stems from the roles served by each group of institutions during the apartheid era. In particular, the teaching role of HDIs makes it difficult for these institutions to develop and commit to a research agenda. After all, what distinguishes premier institutions from all others is the degree to which faculty and staff can contribute to intellectual scholarship and, in doing so, generate money from external sources. An additional challenge exists because of disparities created by differential levels of resources available at each institution. The disparities in funding influence the quality of teaching resources made available to students. As such, class sizes are larger at HDIs when compared to HAIs; students are more likely to develop research skills at HAIs as a result of the more extensive library collections and technological resources made available at HAIs; students are more likely to have access to

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comfortable residential accommodations at HAIs when compared to HDIs; and they are more likely to attend schools in areas that afford them greater social and entertainment options. Consequently, if students make choices based on the physical conditions and academic opportunities afforded them by particular institutions, students are more likely to select a historically advantaged institution. The challenges facing historically disadvantaged institutions are overshadowed by the need to develop these institutions’ capacity to manage themselves more efficiently, given the fiscal challenges they face. Furthermore, the curricula must be transformed to reflect the needs of the country’s economy, to better prepare students for the range of employment opportunities open to them, and to eradicate pedagogies predicated on creating passive, noncritical thinkers. THEORIZING RACIAL INCLUSION: NUMERICAL VERSUS COMPREHENSIVE INCLUSION Removing the barriers to inclusion for previously excluded students is the primary challenge facing historically advantaged institutions. Theoretically, progress toward the achievement of racial inclusion should be viewed on a continuum. Numerical inclusion represents the degree to which previously excluded groups have access to social, educational, political and economic arenas. In this case, newly included groups are primarily required to assimilate the cultural norms and values of the dominant group in order to achieve success, while the institution is not required to change. In particular, styles of dress, language, and mannerisms must conform to the expectations of the dominant cultural group. Thus, members of minority cultures are required to “give up their ‘cultural’ individuality and make themselves into that universal, abstract being who participates in natural rights or else be doomed to an existence on the fringe” (Bloom, 1995, p. 11). The response has been what Schlesinger (1995) identifies as separatist impulses leading to the development of racially fragmented university communities. On the other end of the continuum lies comprehensive inclusion. This requires institutions to remove barriers to access, adopt retention strategies to enhance disadvantaged students’ performance, and to structure a welcoming academic and social environment representative of all major cultural groups; Boxill (1995) calls this cultural pluralism. He cites four characteristics of cultural pluralism: (1) Each race has its own distinct and peculiar culture. (2) Different races can accept a common conception of justice and can live together at peace in one nation-state. . . . (3) Individuals must de-

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velop more and closer ties to the other members of their own race in order to preserve and enhance those cultural traits which mark it off from others. (4) . . . [No] particular culture is superior or inferior to any other, [so] . . . members of each race must . . . present [their] culture as a gift to the other races at “the meeting place of conquest,” where all will benefit from and participate as equals in a universal world culture. (pp. 236–237)

The existence of such circumstances allows all opportunities to be decided based on individuals’ unique contributions, not their ascribed racial or ethnic characteristics. Such an environment spurs the evolution of a true meritocracy. Most institutions’ inclusion efforts, if examined, would lie somewhere between numerical and comprehensive inclusion. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 examined the challenges to comprehensive inclusion. These challenges can be grouped into two categories: institutional and individual. More specifically, first, there are institutional policies, practices, and programs that act as barriers to Black South African students’ inclusion and the likelihood that they will be successful. Second, the behaviors of White faculty, staff, and students influence the degree to which the institutional climate is welcoming to previously excluded students. Consequently, successful inclusion of Black South Africans requires a transformation of the institution and the behaviors of individuals. Significant changes are necessary to enhance Black South African students’ chances for success. Given the case studies included in this edition, the following are areas that need to be examined: the manner in which secondary students are informed of tertiary opportunities at advantaged institutions; the strategies used to make admissions decisions, the medium used for instruction; the structure of the curricula, the assumptions that faculty make regarding students’ level of academic preparation and the resulting way that they present academic material; the provision of accommodations; and schemes for meeting the financial needs of students. Additionally, efforts must be made to racially diversify the teaching staff. To do so requires that faculties encourage undergraduate students’ pursuit of higher credentials. Since the institutions primarily capable of producing students with the kinds of credentials necessary for appointment at HAIs are HAIs, the benefit is clear. However, the degree to which HDIs develop the capacity to engage in research activities is also contingent on the ability of HAIs to both produce students with advanced degrees and to encourage faculty currently at HDIs to develop their capacity to engage in research activities.

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CHALLENGES TO COMPREHENSIVE INCLUSION IN SOUTH AFRICAN AND AMERICAN TERTIARY INSTITUTIONS The challenges facing South African higher education are multifaceted. While these challenges can be attributed to the legacy of racial apartheid, these challenges are not peculiar to South Africa. Many of the obstacles to equity that characterize South African higher education institutions also characterize colleges and universities in the United States. Ironically, this continues to be the case despite four decades of efforts to create a more equitable higher education system in the United States. In the case of the United States, the tertiary system comprises historically White institutions (HWI) and historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs). As in South Africa, U.S. HBCUs reflect the inferiority of African Americans, Hispanics, and Native Americans, endemic to the larger culture. Thus, it has been difficult for EuroAmerican students, faculty, and staff members to willingly adopt measures to eradicate barriers to the success of historically excluded populations. For these purposes, affirmative action programs and student support measures were adopted but recently abandoned. Nevertheless, obstacles to the success of racially diverse populations remain. Ironically, South African institutions have more readily embraced affirmative action policies as a strategy to encourage racial inclusion. The difference in responses to such policies can be attributed to the majority status of Blacks in South Africa and the minority status of racially diverse populations in the United States. In the process of transformation, strategic systematic efforts must be adopted. At the very least, incentives and sanctions must be put in place to encourage members of the university community who engage in inclusive activities and to castigate those whose overt behaviors negatively influence other students’ chances for success. Thus, what is required to transform the institution challenges ingrained notions of institutional and faculty autonomy. Yet these efforts are necessary if the needs of all students are ever to be met. The challenges facing South African tertiary institutions are not unique. Efforts to desegregate higher education institutions in the United States have gone on for more than four decades. However, and with too few exceptions, African Americans continue to be underrepresented in the student body and on faculties in America’s predominately White institutions (Altbach, 1991); these students are more likely to enroll in institutions that offer four-year programs (Solomon & Wingard, 1991); when congregating, students tend to do so on university campuses in racially homogeneous groupings; and research suggests

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that African American students attending predominantly White institutions have higher attrition rates, experience states of alienation, have less satisfactory relationships with faculty, and have lower levels of self-esteem than their cohorts at historically Black colleges and universities (Jackson, 1991). Consequently, American institutions have managed to create racially polarized communities wherein African American students, when compared to their European-American counterparts do not enjoy the same opportunities for access or success. For the most part, American institutions have been unable to achieve comprehensive inclusion. Furthermore, these conditions make it less likely that African Americans will pursue advanced degrees that facilitate entrance into academe. To some extent, these circumstances contribute to the absence of African American faculty in the U.S. academy. With respect to the South African context, historically White institutions have the potential to develop similar problems if aggressive efforts are not systematically undertaken. More important, if historically disadvantaged institutions become the best avenue for Black South Africans to pursue tertiary education, it is paramount that the country’s resources be used to improve the quality of HDIs’ academic programs and physical plant. Otherwise, the racial stratification in opportunities pursued during apartheid will persist. The critical difference is that now institutions can blame students for their failure without critiquing the myriad ways in which their own practices hinder student success. Pursuing any degree of racial inclusion is problematic in both the United States and South Africa because historically disadvantaged populations in each country are academically and economically challenged. As such, opponents of policies to racially diversify the student body frequently claim that efforts to open the way to those students compromise institutional standards. However, these claims should be viewed with a jaded eye as simply a means of reproducing the advantage of European descendants while perpetuating the disadvantage of everyone else. After all, in this context, maintaining standards means extending access only to those who have accumulated academic and economic advantages during periods of systemic discrimination. Given the institutionalized nature of discrimination in both South African and American tertiary sectors, voluntary, haphazard, and piecemeal efforts to include the previously excluded are insufficient. Instead, national governments and institutional administrations must firmly commit to transformation; construct entities comprising multiple constituencies to devise, implement, and monitor transformation; erect incentive and sanction structures to encourage participation in transformation activities; and provide frequent opportunities during which all community members can engage in open conversation re-

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garding the pace, process, and progress of change. Anything less will decrease the likelihood that equity of opportunity will ever be accomplished. REFERENCES Altbach, P. G. (1991). The racial dilemma in American higher education. In P. G. Altbach and K. Lomotey (Eds.), The Racial Crisis in American Higher Education (pp. 3–17). Albany State University of New York Press. Bloom, A. (1995). The closing of the American mind. In J. Arthur & A. Shapiro (Eds.), Campus Wars: Multiculturalism and the Politics of Difference (pp. 9–18). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Boxill, B. R. (1995). Separation or assimilation? In J. Arthur & A. Shapiro (Eds.), Campus Wars: Multiculturalism and the Politics of Difference (pp. 235–248). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Fanon, F. (1963). The wretched of the earth. New York: Grove Press. Jackson, K. W. (1991). Black faculty in academia. In P. G. Altbach & K. Lomotey (Eds.), The Racial Crisis in American Higher Education (pp. 135–148). Albany: State University of New York Press. Richardson, R. (1991). Achieving quality and diversity: Universities in a multicultural society. New York: Macmillian Publishing Company. Schlesinger, A. M. (1995). The disuniting of America: Reflections on a multicultural society. In J. Arthur & A. Shapiro (Eds.), Campus Wars: Multiculturalism and the Politics of Difference (pp. 226– 234). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Solomon, L. C., & Wingard, T. L. (1991). The changing demographics: Problems and opportunities. In P. G. Altbach and K. Lomotey (Eds.), The Racial Crisis in American Higher Education (pp. 19– 42). Albany: State University of New York Press.

Index

Academic support: College of Science, 80–81; Extended Curriculum Program, 14; faculty for, 48–50; need for, 13; Supplemental Instruction (SI) program, 13–14, 26; University of Port Elizabeth Advancement Programme (UPEAP), 14 Access, 12–15, 113–114; accommodations, 83; admissions criteria, 79; funding, 81–83 Administrators’ Forum, 19 Affirmative action policy, 11, 24, 39– 40 African languages, 61 African National Congress (ANC), xviii, 7, 9, 87 Afrikaans, 60–61, 67–68; development of, 61–62 Afrikaans-language universities, xiv, 1, 60; Rand Afrikaans University (RAU), xiv, 37–57 University of Port Elizabeth, xiv, 1– 34; University of Potchefstroom, xiv; University of Pretoria, xiv; University of Stellenbosch, xiv, 59– 70; University of the Orange Free State, xiv

Alternative admissions strategies, 79 Alternative assessment, portfolios, 22 Bengu, Sibusiso, 37 Black townships, 15 Broad Democratic Movement (BDM), 8–9 Campus climate, 24, 29, 69 Center for the Study of Opportunity in Higher Education, 111 Centre for Organisational and Academic Development, 11, 14, 24–25 Challenge to Black students’ success, 13, 28–29, 114 Christian National Education (CNE), 129 Communication, 18 Complex systems, 2 Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU), 7 Coordination of higher education, 132, 140–142; legislation for, 141 Cultural hegemony, 125 Culture of organization, 2, 26, 122, 145 Curriculum, 20, 22, 44, 147–148

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Department of Education and Training (DET), 77 Distance education, 1, 21 Diversity: factors influencing diversification, 40; faculty and staff, 18, 23–25, 29, 40; impact of, 25 Eastern seaboard Association of Tertiary Institutions (EAATI), 112 Eiselen Report, 128 Employment Equity Plan, 11 English-language universities (historically advantaged universities), xiv, xviii, 23, 60, 73, 84; Rhodes University, xiv; University of Cape Town, xiv, 94; University of Natal, xiv; University of Witwatersrand, xiv, 73–89, 91–109 Enrollments, changes in, 1–2, 11, 38– 39, 40, 64, 78, 92, 96, 117 Financial assistance for students, 81– 83 Fiscal management, 5, 116 Government of National Unity, impact of, 9–10 Historically black universities, xiv, xv, xvii; funding of, xvi; Medical University of South Africa (MEDUNSA), xiv–xv; University of Durban-Westville, xiv–xv; University of the North, xiv–xv; University of the Western Cape, xiv–xv; University of Zululand, xiv– xv, 112; Vista University (Vista), xiv, 112 Historically White institutions, xiv, 23, 60, 73, 84. See also Afrikaanslanguage universities; Englishlanguage universities (historically advantaged universities) Homeland Universities (historically disadvantaged universities): University of Bophuthatswana, xiv; University of Qwa-Qwa, xv; Uni-

versity of Transkei, xiv; University of Venda, xiv Inclusion: comprehensive, 161–162; numerical, 161–162 Language development, 61 Language policies and practices, 13, 54–55, 60–64, 65, 122; 50/50 policy, 64; language use, 46, 103; mother tongue policy, 62–63; students’ perceptions, 68; University of Stellenbsoch at, 64–69 Learner-centered approach, 3, 22 Legislation, xi–xii, 62, 83, 128; Advanced Technical Education Act of 1967, 142; Bantu Education Act of 1953, xi, 62; Extension of University Education Act of 1959, xi, 75, 76; Group Areas Act, xi, 83; Higher Education Act of 1997, xx, 2, 140– 142, 159; impact of, 13, 65, 91, 127– 128; Labour Relations Act, 37; National Education Policy Act of 1967, 62; Population Registration Act, 1950, xi; Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act, 1949, xi; promote racial equality, 37, 60; Universities Amendment Act, 60 Medical University of South Africa (MEDUNSA), xiv–xv “Mobutuism,” 125 Modularization, 21 National Commission on Higher Education (NCHE), xvii, xx National Education Coordinating Committee (NECC), 7 National Qualifications Framework (NQF), 20–21 Negotiated transformation, 5–6, 16 “Open” university (University of Witwatersrand), 74–75 Organizational culture (institutional culture), 26–29, 50–51 Outcomes-based education, 21

Index Racial inclusion, 77 Racism, 97–98, 100–102; Black students’ perceptions of faculty, 104; everyday racism, 97, 104, 107, 108 Rand Afrikaans University (RAU), xiv, 37–57 Redistribution of resources, 133 Report of the Commission on Native Education, 1949–51, The (Eiselen Report), 128 Residence halls, 15, 27, 83–85, 96, 99; Glyn’ Thomas House, 84 Rhodes University, xiv Segregation, of students, 27–28, 69, 85, 96–97, 99–101, 102 Social identity, 44 Social reproduction, theories of, 124 South African Development Community (SADC), 122–123 South African Qualification Authority (SAQA), 21, 54 Strategic planning, 4, 7, 9, 10 Student activism, 8, 86, 96, 116 Student Relations: with faculty, 104– 107; with other students, 99–104 Student Representative Council (SRC), 9, 27 Technikons: academic staff development at, 146; curriculum development at, 147; degree programs, 143; historically disadvantaged, 142–148; legislation for, 142, 143; partnerships, 149–153; role of, 142 Transformation: Black students’ perceptions of, 13; challenges related to, 29–31; cultural, 27, 29; curriculum, 20–22, 44, 126, 147–148; defined, 39; elections of administrators, 9, 15; forums,

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Broader Transformation Forum (BTF), 39; lack of, 49–50; resistance to, 29; role of leadership, 17– 18, 48, 54, 65–66, 69; social, 130; staff development, 146; theory of, 12; types of, 5–6; cultural, 6, 31, evolutionary, 6; negotiated, 5, 9, 32– 33; revolutionary, 6; structural, 5– 6 Transparency, 18 Union of Democratic University Staff Association (UDUSA), 7, 9 Universities Amendment Act, xviii University of Bophuthatswana, xiv University of Cape Town, xiv, 94 University of Durban-Westville, xiv– xv University of Namibia, 121–135 University of Natal, xiv University of Port Elizabeth, xiv, 1– 34 University of Potchefstroom, xiv University of Pretoria, xiv University of Qwa-Qwa, xv University of South Africa (UNISA), xiv University of Stellenbosch, xiv University of the North, xiv–xv University of the Orange Free State, xiv University of the Western Cape, xiv– xv University of Transkei, xiv University of Venda, xiv University of Witwatersrand, xiv, 73– 89, 91–109 University of Zululand, xiv–xv Vista University (Vista), xiv, 112

About the Editors and Contributors

ANN E. AUSTIN is an Associate Professor in the Higher, Adult, and Lifelong Education (HALE) Program in the Department of Educational Administration at Michigan State University. During 1998, she was a Fulbright fellow in South Africa, located at the University of Port Elizabeth. Professor Austin’s research interests concern organizational change and transformation in higher education; faculty careers, roles, and professional development; the improvement of teaching and learning processes; and issues concerning work and workplaces in academe. Dr. Austin has coauthored several books and monographs, as well as having published chapters and articles in such journals as the Review of Higher Education, Research in Higher Education, the American Behavioral Scientist, the South African Journal of Higher Education, and Change. She serves on the editorial board of the Review of Higher Education and on the Board of Advisors of the South African Journal of Higher Education and the Vanderbilt University Press Issues in Higher Education Series. She is active in several higher education scholarly and professional organizations, where she has held various leadership roles. Professor Austin received the Promising Scholar Award from the Association for the Study of Higher Education in 1989, and, in 1998, she was named as one of Forty Young Leaders of the Academy by Change, in a competition sponsored by the American Association of Higher Education.

DORIA DANIELS holds a Ph.D. in International and Intercultural Education from the University of Southern California, Los Angeles. The

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focus of her research is women and literacy in South Africa and the empowerment of marginal populations through nonformal education. Since 1997 she has been a senior lecturer in the Department of Curriculum Studies at Rand Afrikaans University. She coordinates the M.Ed. Community Education program, and teaches modules in Community Education, Adult Basic Education and Training at the B.Ed. level. Presently she holds a Cyril Houle fellowship in Adult and Continuing Education, which allows her to conduct research on the lives of women in an informal settlement outside Johannesburg in South Africa. RODNEY K. HOPSON is an Assistant Professor in the School of Education, Department of Foundations and Leadership, Duquesne University. In 1997–1998, he completed a year as a postdoctoral research fellow in the Department of Social and Behavioral Sciences at the School of Hygiene and Public Health, Johns Hopkins University. His research interests include social politics and policies, foundations of education, sociolinguistics, and ethnographic evaluation research. Dr. Hopson has recently done consulting for the Baltimore City Health Department HIV/AIDS Prevention Division and two social service agencies in southwestern Pennsylvania that are developing charter school proposals for local school districts. Currently, he is working on manuscripts for publication addressing how language shapes the evaluation of social programs and policies and public health prevention and intervention policy planning for youth criminality in the United States. KIMBERLY LENEASE KING earned a Ph.D. in 1998 in History, Philosophy, and Policy Studies at Indiana University-Bloomington. She is currently an Assistant Professor in Educational Foundations, Leadership and Technology at Auburn University. Dr. King is currently involved in research projects that focus on the process of racial inclusion in South Africa and the United States in both K-12 and postsecondary institutions. REITUMETSE OBAKENG MABOKELA received her Ph.D. in Educational Policy Studies from the University of Illinois at UrbanaChampaign. She is currently an Assistant Professor of Higher, Adult, and Lifelong Learning (HALE) in the Department of Educational Administration at Michigan State University. Dr. Mabokela maintains an active research agenda in South Africa and the United States. Her research interests include race, ethnicity, and gender issues in postsecondary education; leadership issues among female faculty and administrators; and issues of institutional transformation in higher education. Dr. Mabokela is the recipient of several awards and fellowships including the Spencer Dissertation Fellowship and the Oppen-

About the Editors and Contributors

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heimer grant, among others. Her recent book Voices of Conflict: Desegregating South African Universities, examines how academic programs and structures at two South African universities have been affected by, and have responded to, changes in their undergraduate student populations. NICOLE NORFLES is a doctoral candidate in the Higher Education Administration program at George Washington University. She received her B.S. degree in Community Health Education from the California State University at Long Beach, her M.A. in Adult Education from the University of the District of Columbia, and expects to receive her Ed.D. from George Washington University in 2000. Ms. Norfles is currently a Fellow at the Center for the Study of Opportunity in Higher Education. Her academic experiences include design and implementation of the Census Search Service at the Council for Opportunity in Education; computation and analysis of NAEP and NCES data for the Center; data analysis and report preparation for the School, Community, and Alumni Affairs Committee of the George Washington University; organization of the “Violence Has No Borders” antiviolence conference sponsored by the National Council of Negro Women; and educational seminar consultant. SONJAI AMAR REYNOLDS is a doctoral candidate in Educational Leadership & Policy Studies at the Indiana University (Bloomington) School of Education. She has concentrations in higher education administration and public policy. She has worked with the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), the U.S. Peace Corps and several nongovernmental organizations in South Africa, Benin, and Nigeria. Her work has included program management and administration, teaching, and evaluation in primary, secondary, and tertiary education institutions. Her dissertation research explores the higher education policy implications of South Africa’s institutional capacitybuilding processes and international partnerships at historically disadvantaged institutions. ROCHELLE L. WOODS is currently a doctoral candidate in the Department of Sociology at the University of Michigan. She completed her B.A. degree at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. She expects to be awarded her Ph.D. by August 2000.