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George M. Fredrickson
Continents Apart
Black Liberation in South Africa and
the United States
See, Stanford Today
Edition: March/April, 1996
The victory of Nelson Mandela and the African National
Congress in the 1994 elections was the culmination of a remarkable series of
events, beginning with Mandela’s release from prison in 1990, that has brought an
end to legalized white domination in South Africa. After this enormous
breakthrough, what useful comparisons can be made between the current situation
and future prospects of blacks in the two societies?
One possible assessment would celebrate the victory over apartheid in the 1990s
as roughly equivalent to the triumph of the American civil rights movement over
legalized segregation and de facto disfranchisement 30 years earlier, the
operative assumption being that the American precedent was similarly successful.
The result in both cases, according to this optimistic evaluation, was an end to
official racism and the removal of the principal barriers to the achievement of a
color-blind democratic society. From this vantage point, the essential struggles
are over, and white racism is, if not quite dead, at least deprived of most of
its power.
It would be difficult, however, to sell this triumphalist analogy to some of the
most acute observers of black-white relations in the United States in the 1990s.
A pessimistic view of black progress since the ’50s has taken hold, not only
among black intellectuals, but also among some of the most respected white
students of American race relations. The eminent sociologist Andrew Hacker
concluded his bleak portrayal of the condition of African-Americans in 1992 by
noting that “legal slavery may be in the past, but segregation and subordination
have been allowed to persist.” He concludes his horrendous account of black
deprivation and disillusionment without offering even a glimmer of hope that the
situation will improve: “A huge racial chasm remains, and there are few signs
that the coming century will see it closed.”
In the light of this growing pessimism about the prospects for racial equality in
the United States, a quite different comparative analysis suggests itself. South
African blacks, it could be argued, have achieved something that has eluded
African-Americans and will probably continue to elude them. Despite the problems
that remain, black South Africans have thrown off the shackles of white
domination and have achieved genuine self-determination, while African-Americans
remain at the mercy of a white majority that remains racist - not in the
old-fashioned sense of openly advocating the legal subordination of blacks, but
in the new sense of denying the palpable fact that blacks as a group suffer from
disadvantages in American society and will continue to do so unless radical
action is taken.
When Nelson Mandela celebrated his electoral victory, he consciously echoed
Martin Luther King Jr. by exclaiming “Free at last!” But King never used this
cry, as Mandela did, to celebrate a victory already won. On the contrary, it was
what he hoped blacks would be able to shout when, at some time in the near or
distant future, they actually realized their dream of freedom and equality. If in
fact this dream has permanently faded, a contrast between black South African
winners and African-American losers can be made that would justify the
disillusionment of many blacks with their prospects for equality in American
society and encourage racial separatism and polarization.
This reversal of the comparative perspective of a few years ago - when it was
possible to argue that African-Americans’ progress might be a model for black
South Africans, but one that would be very difficult for them to emulate - may
turn out to be valid. Yet there is a third way of making the comparison that,
like the first, stresses similitude more than stark contrast while acknowledging
that racism is not dead. Perhaps the two liberation struggles are at a similar
stage - significant progress has been made but major challenges still remain.
Consequently, they can learn important lessons from each other about how to
proceed in the future.
There are a number of similarities between post-Jim Crow black America and
post-apartheid black South Africa. Legalized segregation has been abolished for
all time, just as racial slavery was in the previous century. The right of blacks
to vote and hold office has been assured. But in both cases whites retain
sufficient power to prevent either society from moving decisively and quickly
beyond legal and political rights for all to the achievement of social and
economic equality.
This lack of substantive equality is most obvious in the case of the United
States, where whites dominate the electorate, as well as the economy, and “the
politics of race” is a fact of life pushing government social policy in a
conservative direction. But it is also true in South Africa, despite the
black-majority electorate. The negotiated settlement that led to the end of
apartheid and the white monopoly on political power has left Europeans in control
of the economy and has deprived the government of the constitutional authority to
redistribute wealth in a radical or thoroughgoing way. “Growing the economy”
through free-market mechanisms and the attraction of international investment may
improve the average living standards of blacks to some extent, but it is unlikely
to lead to a significant closing of the gap between an affluent white minority
and a relatively impoverished African majority.
South Africa can learn from the experience of the United States since the 1960s
that formal citizenship rights are not enough to overcome the effects of 300
years of white supremacy. Some kind of crash program to compensate for inherited
disadvantages is clearly required. Despite built-in constraints, a
black-dominated government at least has the capacity to initiate compensatory
educational programs and new policies to encourage self-help and entrepreneurship
among blacks that might narrow the economic gap. Rather than being a
manifestation of state socialism, the substantial land redistribution that would
be necessary to give blacks a real stake in the economy would be simply a
restoration of the original African property rights that have been flagrantly
denied under the Natives’ Land Act of 1913 and subsequent discriminatory
legislation. If the African National Congress fails to adopt policies that
improve the economic situation of blacks relative to whites within a few years,
it will probably be replaced in some future election by another black party with
a bolder program.
The lessons that the African-American freedom struggle might learn from recent
developments in South Africa are less tangible and clear cut but may be equally
compelling. First of all, there is the message of hope. The “miracle” of
apartheid’s overthrow could serve as an antidote to the “nihilism” that observers
have attributed to some segments of the African-American population. If black
South Africans, with all the oppression to which they have been subjected, could
keep alive the hope of liberation and finally see it fulfilled to an extent that
few detached observers would have thought possible a few years ago, then perhaps
a “Third Reconstruction” (to use historian Manning Marable’s phrase) is possible.
Nelson Mandela’s unconquerable spirit during his 27 years of imprisonment
shows the value, in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, of faith in
ultimate freedom. White anti-racists looking for a role to play might also take
inspiration from the career of those Europeans in the ANC who suffered
imprisonment, exile and the loss of family members or even their own extremities
from letter bombs sent by government assassins, but never gave up the struggle
and are now part of the government. What would have to be accomplished by a Third
Reconstruction would not be entirely dissimilar from the challenge faced by the
new government in South Africa. Some creative combination of affirmative action,
government anti-poverty programs and the encouragement of black self-help would
be needed if a significant narrowing of the economic gap between whites and
blacks is to be achieved in the United States.
The black struggle in the United States might also learn something from the
ideological and tactical flexibility that the African National Congress has
demonstrated. “All-in” movements that incorporate as many shades of black opinion
as possible can involve more people and exert more pressure than divisive,
sectarian movements. But, as the experience of the ANC also demonstrates, there
is a difficult choice that sometimes has to be made between accommodating the
full range of black opinion and cooperating with anti-racist whites.
Some principled anti-racists have recently accused the NAACP of putting black
solidarity ahead of the struggle against all forms of bigotry and discrimination
in the United States. Inviting Louis Farrakhan of the black racialist and
anti-Semitic Nation of Islam to a summit meeting of black leaders in 1994 was not
the same as endorsing his views, but it did give him a measure of legitimacy and
was deeply troubling to many of the association’s white and integration-minded
supporters.
The invitation to Farrakhan might be contrasted with the decision made during the
1980s by the ANC and its domestic surrogate, the United Democratic Front, to give
interracialism or “nonracialism” a higher priority than black unity. Besides
welcoming the participation of anti-apartheid whites, the African leadership
reached out to the Indian and Colored communities but made no concessions to
Pan-Africanist and Black Consciousness hardliners who categorically rejected
cooperation and reconciliation with whites. The mainstream liberation movement
proclaimed that South Africa was a multi-racial and multi-ethnic society that
could be fused into a single nation on the basis of shared democratic values.
Martin Luther King Jr. articulated a similar vision of American nationality
as the fulfillment of the democratic ideals expressed in principle by Jefferson
and Lincoln but, more often than not, flagrantly denied when African-Americans
laid claim to equal rights. King’s dream of a future United States as “a beloved
community” from which racism and racial exclusiveness had been banished is in
danger of being lost in an era of identity politics when a “go-it-alone”
mentality characterizes the thinking of status groups based on race, ethnicity,
gender and sexual orientation - to say nothing of the class-based interest groups
that are self-seeking almost by definition.
If the black freedom movement could regain or reemphasize a broadly inclusive and
humane vision of a society that is multi-cultural but nonetheless unified in its
basic commitment to democracy and human rights - the “nonracist, nonsexist” South
African Bill of Rights with its prohibition of discrimination based on gender and
sexual orientation as well as race could serve as a guide - it might serve as the
catalyst for a new political majority composed of Americans who have been
historically disadvantaged along with those from advantaged backgrounds who can
be persuaded to sacrifice their own privileged status in order to live in a just
and harmonious society. Such a majority could turn the American dream of “liberty
and equality for all” into a reality. Then we would all
be “free at last.” ST
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