In much activist and academic discussion, the National Question tends to be dominated by matters of race, nationality, ethnicity and identity – not least in South Africa, and for obvious reasons. These emphases are not misplaced. ‘Race’ and especially racism, along with related issues like ethnic rivalries and xenophobia, continue to be burning concerns in contemporary South Africa. However, an overemphasis on race (that is, on one or another form of identity politics) coupled with the second word in the term ‘National Question’ might further suggest that essentially we are dealing here with a puzzle, the persistence perhaps of backward prejudices, resurgent and problematic ethnic identities, or ‘race relations’ that require delicate management. Several recent African National Congress (ANC) Strategy and Tactics documents travel in this direction.

All this might then encourage us to conceptualise the National Question as a matter of ‘false consciousness’ as is the case with a colour-blind, liberal humanism which states that ‘there is no such thing as race’ – which in bio-genetic terms is of course true. This in turn grounds other contemporary arguments about ‘irrational’ voter behaviour based on ‘identity’. The association of the National Question with false consciousness also occurs in various more left-leaning perspectives, one of which could be summarised thus: ‘Nationalism is inherently and ultimately a bourgeois trick to obscure class exploitation’. Or, as Benedict Anderson (1991) asserts, nations are ‘imagined communities’.

We do not intend to engage directly and in detail with the substantial South African and international literature that has dealt with these important issues of race, ethnicity, nationality, the concept of the nation, and the like. Rather, we hope to shift somewhat the central focus of the discussion on the National Question. In doing this we are not entering into an old South African debate that surfaced in activist circles in the 1980s: ‘class versus race’. On the contrary, we are seeking to illustrate how the configuration of both class realities and racial/national identities have been shaped by the manner in which the capitalist political economy of South Africa has been (and remains) inserted within the global circuit of capitalist accumulation and reproduction.

Buthelezi: As a Christian, I think that when it comes to blueprints – whether it's a political blueprint, economic blueprint – the important thing is to ask whether that particular blueprint serves the purpose of enriching the lives of the people and how they relate to one another.

Will the document or blueprint enable people to live harmoniously together and improve race relations which is an issue in our country? Will it serve as an alternative to the blueprint of the unacceptable policy of separate development? These are some of the criteria in reading the document. There is nothing in it that is inconsistent with the Christian faith. Of course it is not a Christian document and doesn't claim to be one. But that's not the issue. The issue is that when you talk about how to run the economy of the country there is nothing unchristian about it.

Q: Some people say the clause “The people shall share in the country's wealth” represents an atheistic doctrine?

Buthelezi: No, that's not a problem from a Christian standpoint. It's rather from an economic standpoint. Some people subscribe to certain economic principles regarding how to structure the economy of the country. There is nothing Christian about that – whether you opt for socialism or capitalism. The question is whether the chosen system provides an equitable sharing of wealth.

Q: Sharing – is there a Biblical basis for that?

Buthelezi: Sharing is a Biblical principle. God's gifts must be distributed amongst God's children: “The land shall be shared amongst those who work it.” Of course there is nothing inconsistent with the Christian faith in that. Far from being that, it's what we preach. If you work you must enjoy the fruits of your work.

“All shall be equal before the law” speaks for itself. We are all brothers and sisters in Christ. “There shall be work and security.” Yes, we have a Christian ethic of work. It's Christian to work.

Q: Do you feel that the Charter furthers the preaching of the gospel?

Langeveld: The Freedom Charter, for me, is a very big challenge to the Church. Here we have the most looked at democratic and most widely canvassed expression of what the people really feel about their situation. It is not only a denunciation of what exists but it announces a project for their liberation in their own language expressing their own interests.

The Church, together with the dominant forces in society, has for a long time looked at history from the top, in other words, from the position of people with privilege and power. Now, I think, is the time to look at history from the bottom, from the perspective of those who suffer under that system.

This is not to say that the Church has sided with the people at the top but rather the perspective the people have had of the Church has largely been from the top. Even when the Church has made good statements on behalf of those who are struggling

against their oppression, it has always been on behalf of the people and now is the time for the Church to speak with the people.

What do I mean when I say ‘speak with’? You see, 80 percent of the Christian Church in South Africa is made up of people who come from the exploited and oppressed masses. Therefore that voice should carry a lot more weight in the Church and their experience should be reflected in its structure and functioning.

When people come to Church on Sundays they come with their experience of oppression, they come with their language, their race, they come with their memories of struggle. How has the Church accepted that reality? How has the Church interpreted and allowed the people to interpret their faith and their practice of faith in the light of their experience ? I think very little has been done. But there have been very good signs recently that the Church is more open to allowing this experience to challenge them.

The early 1960s saw a fierce onslaught against the mass organisations.

Thousands who had taken part in the Congress of the People campaign and in the wider activities of the Congress Alliance went to jail. Many, in fact most of those we interviewed for this book, were imprisoned at this time. Some went to jail for extremely long spells, 15, 17, 20 years.

But the Freedom Charter was not erased from the minds of oppressed and democratic South Africans. As the following story confirms, it remains part of the lives of all who suffer under apartheid, wherever they are, whether they live in the towns or bantustans.

Christmas Tinto remembers:

Tinto: In 1965, when I came from Robben Island to the Transkei I found my house demolished by Matanzima and Vorster's bulldozers. Anyway. There was an opposition chap to the Transkeian thing, he was an old member of the ANC. Ja. Now when I arrived there he said: “Thanks comrade that you are here. We have got a meeting in another area. Matanzima is going to address those people about the Trust scheme. He is going to tell them to accept the Trust. Now I want you to lead the people in asking questions to Matanzima and his ministers.”

And I said: “Okay. But organise a broken overall and a broken hat.”

He organised it.

There was another comrade who was from Johannesburg. We both wore overalls. We came very early in the morning. In those meetings people are sitting on the ground outside. They call it, that meeting, imbizo, ja, it's a tribal gathering.

Now, I said: “First of all, okay, this sun is going to be hot. Let's sabotage Matanzima and his crew, my comrade. Now we must put the chairs on that side. Matanzima must look to the sun. The people must be on this side .”

He said: “Okay!”

When the charter was drawn,

A vision of a true society was born.

A dark cloud giving way to the blue sky.

The freedom wagon moved with direction.

Yes, the people's agenda was adopted.

On this 30th anniversary of the Freedom Charter, cultural workers should also take stock of their presence in the struggle. On the same wavelength one must submit that the type of opposition cultural workers are facing, like other democrats, is formidable although not indestructible. Facing the same oppressions (passes, poverty, the risk of jail) cultural workers also have a special duty to struggle in the field of ideas.

On television, on the radio, in the press, in the church and in the classroom the people are bombarded with a massive proliferation of ideas that seek to harmonise them with subjugation. It is for this reason that the progressive movement inside the country must mobilise the fraternity of cultural workers to counter this threat. In doing this we can build upon the heritage of struggle and resistance culture.

Racial, colonial and imperialist domination all involve cultural oppression and attempt, either directly or indirectly, to do away with the most militant and vital elements of culture of the subjected people. But our people have been able to keep their culture alive despite continual and organised repression of their cultural life, and because they continued to resist cultural oppression even when their early politico-military resistance was destroyed.

Culture is a fundamental element of history in any given society. It is a product of history just like the flower is the product of a plant.

For us culture must be a weapon that we use effectively to raise the awareness of the people about their living conditions and the reasons for their sufferings. Through it we can engage a wide spectrum in the political process, and develop active workers for the liberation movement.

Culture permeates all aspects of our national struggle, be it workers demanding better conditions and fair wages, students demanding that the doors of learning be flung wide open, or community organisations fighting high rents.

WE CALL THE PEOPLE OF SOUTH AFRICA BLACK AND WHITE – LET US SPEAK TOGETHER OF FREEDOM!

WE CALL THE FARMERS OF THE RESERVES AND TRUST LANDS.

Let us speak of the wide land, and the narrow strips on which we toil.

Let us speak of brothers without land, and of children without schooling.

Let us speak of taxes and of cattle, and of famine.

LET US SPEAK OF FREEDOM.

WE CALL THE MINERS OF COAL, GOLD AND DIAMONDS.

Let us speak of the dark shafts, and the cold compounds far from our families.

Let us speak of heavy labour and long hours, and of men sent home to die.

Let us speak of rich masters and poor wages.

LET US SPEAK OF FREEDOM.

WE CALL THE WORKERS OF FARMS AND FORESTS.

Let us speak of the rich foods we grow, and the laws that keep us poor.

Let us speak of harsh treatment and of children and women forced to work.

Let us speak of private prisons, and beatings and of passes.

LET US SPEAK OF FREEDOM.

WE CALL THE WORKERS OF FACTORIES AND SHOPS.

Let us speak of the good things we make, and the bad conditions of our work.

Let us speak of the many passes and the few jobs.

Let us speak of foremen and of transport and of trade unions; of holidays and of houses.

LET US SPEAK OF FREEDOM.

WE CALL THE TEACHERS, STUDENTS AND THE PREACHERS.

Let us speak of the light that comes with learning, and the ways we are kept in darkness.

Let us speak of great services we can render, and of the narrow ways that are open to us.

Let us speak of laws, and government, and rights.

LET US SPEAK OF FREEDOM.

WE CALL THE HOUSEWIVES AND THE MOTHERS.

Let us speak of the fine children we bear, and of their stunted lives.

Let us speak of the many illnesses and deaths, and of the few clinics and schools.

Let us speak of high prices and of shanty towns.

LET US SPEAK OF FREEDOM.

LET US SPEAK TOGETHER

ALL OF US TOGETHER – African and European, Indian and Coloured. Voter and voteless. Privileged and rightless.

Q: Could you begin by telling us a bit about your background?

Carolus: Okay, ja, I was born in 1957. Since then I’ve been living in Silvertown. My parents had both grown up in Retreat. Then, just after they were married, their families were forced out; Retreat was declared a white Group Area. The families had to move in all together. I remember, in my childhood, we had my parents, my granny, her sister, my grandpa and four of us, the kids, in this selfsame two-bedroomed house here in Silvertown.

My father was, still is, what is known as a printer's assistant. It's somebody who wipes off the ink and that sort of thing. A semiskilled labourer. My mother used to be a nurse, but she became ill and stopped working when we were very young.

Q: Do you have memories of hard times?

Carolus: Ja. Quite a lot. Ja, I don't want to go into too much detail. The one problematic thing, and where probably I got a lot of my early politicisation, was my father's incredibly overdeveloped sense of justice. He was always standing up for some old toppie, say, whom the bosses had been messing around at work. He’d lose jobs because of standing up. That would mean hard times for all of us. Times when there was very little food in the house.

Q: And the women in your family?

Carolus: My mother is quite a strong person, not in the same vociferously articulate way as my father. More the kind of strength of having to cope with what I now (given a more sophisticated understanding) call the triple oppression of black women – oppressed by capitalism, oppressed by racism, and oppressed by sexism. She’d sit us down and explain what was happening. Always explaining the difficult situations to us – be it the fact that there wasn't food in the house, or explaining my father's feeling depressed.

Ten thousand volunteers carried the Freedom Charter campaign into homes, factories, compounds, farms and villages of South Africa.

“Whenever we went to people's houses, and they were in trouble, or had problems, we should become mothers of that family, and men volunteers should be fathers.” – Mrs Sibanda, an old Congress of the People volunteer in Cradock.

The idea of a Congress of the People to draw up a document of people's demands had been discussed, off and on, for some years in Congress circles. In August 1953, at the annual Congress of the African National Congress (ANC) (Cape), Prof Z. K. Matthews formally suggested convening a Congress of the People to draw up a Freedom Charter. The idea was soon adopted by the ANC and welcomed by its allies, the South African Indian Congress, the South African Coloured People's Organisation and the South African Congress of Democrats.

The Congress of the People was not a single event but a series of campaigns held in huge rallies, small houses, flats, street and factory meetings, gatherings in kraals and on farms. No doubt the degree of success attained was uneven, yet South Africa has never had any other similar process of democratic discussion and participation.

In March 1954 a National Action Council was established to carry out the campaign. Its job was to gather the people's demands from branches of the various organisations and from communities where there were no branches, and finally, to convene a mass assembly.

The National Action Council called for Freedom Volunteers to serve as “shock brigades” to give impetus to the campaign. In reply to this call men and women all over South Africa offered their services. The task of these volunteers was to collect the people's demands for the Freedom Charter. How were volunteers to conduct themselves? Were they trained for their tasks? What difficulties did they experience?

We asked many people all over South Africa who were volunteers in the campaign. They gave us a very rich picture. In Port Elizabeth, particularly, the volunteer corps was well organised. We spoke to an old man in Kwazakele township.