2 days ago
More decolonisation may be necessary to fully liberate us from the reveries of Empire
I was recently reminded of a former colleague who, in the early 1990s, spoke fondly and frequently about 'Lord Robin' and, I recall, he referred to 'Sir Robin' (as fondly and as frequently) – with reference to Robin Renwick, the British Ambassador to South Africa in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
The mnemonic was an obituary of Dick Foxton, in which the writer reminisced, with the pride of a pubescent schoolboy, about the thrill of wearing a Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) bowtie.
This took me to the way that the decolonisation of public spaces and institutions movement, that peaked during the #feesmustfall and #rhodesmustfall movements, has dissolved into the background of South African politics; how the ' decolonisation of the mind ' never quite made a measurable change to the way we frame discussions in the mainstream; and how nostalgia for empire (and artefacts like the MCC bowtie) and clinging to colonial practices continue to pervade South African society.
There are three things up for discussion here; the apparent dissolution of the decolonisation movement; stubborn clinging to the former colonial (British) systems of honour and recognition — as if they applied universally; and the nostalgia for (and pride in) the signs, symbols and artefacts of empire, notably in the cricket community.
I should get two things out of the way. One is that people can support any sports team or club or 'nation' they wish. The other is that I come from a family with a deep history in coloured, Malay and Indian cricket (in the former Transvaal). In terms of both, I don't care for South Africa's cricket or rugby teams.
The decolonisation movement and docile bodies
The decolonisation movement, such as it may have been, was part of the #rhodesmustfall and #feesmustfall protests that peaked in about 2015/2016. This overall movement seems to have gone quiet.
This quietening may be ascribed to the docility of the activists that drove the protests. The idea of docile bodies, or of student activists becoming docile is part of the way that institutions and apparatuses of state tend to discipline and punish, or simply 'pull deviants into line', and reorient citizens to fit into behaviour that is acceptable for ruling elites.
Whereas this may be construed as a broader social movement, so to speak, and seems to ignore individual agency, individuals tend to become docile when the demands and expectations of life beyond university force compliance.
In this respect, we have seen how, say, the 'Woodstock generation', with its love and peace, communal harmony, and utopian vision, seems to have lost its energy, and most of the revellers at Max Yasgur's farm simply became docile and compliant 'establishment' folk.
The Occupy Wall Street movement seems to have followed the same route back to blue-blazer middle-class complacency.
In both cases the revellers at Max Yasgur's farm and the occupiers of Wall Street kind of accepted their social position as inevitable, and went on to shore up existing power structures.
The #rhodesmustfall and #feesmustfall individuals seem to have gone the same way.
One reason students abandon their activist zeal after graduation is the urgency of having to repay exorbitant student loans. Nothing disciplines more than does debt.
Knighthoods and honours apply to societies that issue them
In an essay on maritime trade routes and global political economy I wrote a year or so ago, I referred to 'Walter Raleigh'. The editor of the essay left the reference at that, as did the sub-editors. I had dropped the 'Sir'. I did so because knighthoods bestowed by the English monarchy do not apply to the rest of the world. It is relevant only if you believe that the English monarchy has the right to tell the world whom to call 'Sir' or 'Lord' or 'Dame', and you curry favour with references to 'Lord Robin' or 'Sir Robin'…
We do not, for instance, use the Japanese equivalent of knighthood (Samurai) or the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum when we refer to Japanese people of that stature.
I can't imagine reference, among South Africans, to The Most Illustrious Order of Tri Shakti Patta when addressing a Nepalese recipient conferred with that order. Nor, for that matter, do we refer to the Malaysian Prime Minister as Dato Sri Anwar Ebrahim; the (rotating) King of Malaysia confers the title 'Dato Sri' to individuals who have made significant and exceptional contributions to that country.
But we will refer to 'Sirs' or 'Dames' when we talk about British citizens who have received the honours.
Whether we like it or not, knighthoods are not recognised — or should not be honoured — by people beyond the borders of the UK. There are, to be sure, some of us who would insist on using these honorifics derived from the Middle Ages in Europe, yet pay scant attention to The Order of Mapungubwe.
This, I believe, is what happens when we cling to colonial beliefs, values, artefacts and practices. Which brings me to cricket, the pride of the MCC, and the nostalgiacs.
The MCC, cricket and empire
One of the very few conservative streaks that I have is a love for Test cricket, and an intense dislike of the Indian Premier League. The latter is too noisy, too crass in its iconography and imagery; I have never liked the idea of dancing girls at sporting events, or anywhere else for that matter.
The cynosure of these dancing girls at sporting events is cheerleading, which began with the elite male privilege and masculinities of Americans in the 19th century. Cheerleading in the USA is a sordid affair.
While that's a whole different story, the dancing girls at IPL matches make it difficult to watch that spectacle with its riotous colours, sights and sounds. As much as I enjoy cricket, I am also aware of its colonial heritage and (especially) how (like the English language) we in the countries that were once part of the British empire have adopted the game and redeployed it, so to speak.
Cricket in particular has played a 'civilising' role in maintaining British rule in its colonial possessions as well as defining a quintessentially British identity. Cricket in particular was more than a leisurely sport. It served as a vector for carrying British imperial beliefs, values and practices to its colonial territories.
From the writings of the Trinidadian historian, CLR James, we understand the way that cricket became the symbol of imperial solidarity and superiority, and epitomised a set of consolidatory moral imperatives that both exemplified and explained imperial ambition and achievement. Cricket became a political metaphor as much as an imperial game. (See here, and here).
There are, nonetheless, those good people who cling to the pride and privilege, and schoolboy thrills of the MCC bowtie — and they're all innocents, mind you. I remember interviewing Ali Bacher (about the Mike Gatting Rebel Tour in 1989/90) many years ago, and he was quite oblivious of the old coloured Transvaal Cricket team that my uncles were part of in the 1940s and 1950s.
The late Vishnu Padayachee reminded us, when he explained that 'Ali Bacher did very well under apartheid. He has done even better in the 15 years since Nelson Mandela's release from Robben Island. … What is also very evident is that Dr Bacher appears to have slid from operating under one regime to the next seamlessly. There is no epiphanous moment here, no expression of regret, no apology for the various and highly controversial roles he played in propping up white cricket both as a player and administrator [and insisted that white cricket in South Africa] 'had to continue to find its own way along the rebel road'.'
About Bacher, sports historian Goolam Vahed wrote 'there needs to be greater accountability among those who now cloak their past collaboration with apartheid. The same applies to the process that led to unity… There will be twists in the story of how Ali Bacher, who tried so hard to destroy non-racial cricket through rebel tours and clandestine tactics in apartheid South Africa, came to lead post-apartheid cricket.'
It is in this post-apartheid era that the nostalgiacs hide their empire masks behind smiles and platitudes. It shows up, every so often, with reminiscences about the MCC and how warm and fuzzy our compatriots feel.
