Guarding against forgetting -- breaking the silence: a story of political awakening and activist archives in South Africa, Iowa City, Iowa, March 1, 2018

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- [Karen Chappell] Welcome everyone, to another program of the Iowa City Foreign Relations Council. I'm Karen Chappell, a board member of ICFRC, and I will be your host for today. Today, we are going to hear from Debora Matthews, whose archivist public affairs research institute, which is PARI at Witwatersrand University, Johannesburg, South Africa, and she will be speaking to us on Guarding Against Forgetting Breaking the Silence: A Story of Political Awakening and Activist Archives in South Africa, and in case any of you are interested, she's here because of this conference that starts today and goes through Saturday. It's called Against Amnesia Archives, Evidence, and Social Justice, and Deborah will be one of the speakers tomorrow I think, right? In this conference, so, there are some folders on the table, and take a look at it if you're interested and go. The Foreign Relations Council hosts community programs to address topics of international interest. We thank our members, volunteers, and interns for making these forums possible since 1983, and here comes the... Since Vanessa Williams became the first African American Miss America in 1983. I want to acknowledge our university and community financial supporters, the University of Iowa's International Programs, the University of Iowa's Honors Programs, the University of Iowa's center for public policy, and the Stanley UI Foundation's support organization, and I want to thank today's special sponsors, Mace and Kay Braverman and Mike Carberry. Thank you also to City Channel Four for professionally recording our programs, for Cablecast on City Channel Four or one one eight dash two, and for the UI library's digital archives. Now, it is my pleasure to introduce Debora Matthews. Debora is an archives consult working for the Public Affairs Research Institute, PARI, developing and implementing a records and research data management system. She is also a contract archivist at GALA, the Gay and Lesbian Memory In Action Archives at the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa. Debora previously worked for seven years as archival coordinator in the Struggles for Justice Program at the South African history archive called SAHA, an independent activist and human rights archive in Johannesburg. SAHA is an independent human rights archive dedicated to documenting, supporting, and promoting greater awareness of past and current struggles for justice through archival practices and outreach. Debora archived the Constitution Hill Collection at SAHA. Debora will discuss the many roads she has traveled as a middle class Afrikaans woman. In this quest she continues to better understand her Afrikaana roots as well as better understand the decades of racial segregation under nationalist government rule. Please join with me in welcoming Debora Matthews. - [Debora Matthews] Thanks. Good day, ladies and gentlemen. I'm delighted to be here today. Not only is this my first visit to Iowa, but it's also my first visit to the United States. The purpose for this trip is to present a paper at tomorrow's starting symposium Against Amnesia Evidence, Archives in Social Justice. I'll be giving a joint presentation with Professor Marie Kruger there, and from the English Department of the University of Iowa, Living Archives: Constitution Hill in Johannesburg, South Africa, and my paper will deal primarily with my work as former archivist of the South African History Archive in organizing the archives of Constitution Hill's Trust, the organization responsible for the conceptualization and the development of Constitution Hill as a heritage site. I want to thank Ed Zastrow of the Iowa City Relations Foreign Relations Council for the invitation to speak here today. It is a great privilege. While I initially though of telling you stories from activist archives in South Africa, I thought I'd rather take you on a journey of the many roads I have traveled as a middle class Afrikaans woman in my quest firstly, to understand my Afrikaana roots, secondly, to comprehend decades of racial segregation under national government rule, and thirdly, to reach my ultimate objective, of coming to terms with my roots, and to explore and grasp, through activist archives, the injustices done to millions of South Africa, South Africans during Apartheid. My talk is as much a personal narrative as it is a glimpse into some of the most exciting and prolific activist archives in South Africa. I will be showing you a selection of images from the South African History Archive's vast collection of struggle posters as a backdrop to my presentation. I've also brought a selection of post cards featuring a lot of these iconic poster images for you to take home. The year was 1986. South Africa was in a state of emergency. A state in turmoil in a state of paranoia, opposing anything or anybody that would threaten decades of Apartheid rule. The time was marked by increased detentions. Death in detentions, killing off political activists, and the banning of political organizations. The security police and the South African Defense Force conducted reign of terror against anyone who dared to take a stand against oppression. Despite the Draconian onslaught on political dissent, many people continued to fight against Apartheid, and it is in this struggle that I would eventually find my calling as archivist in years to come, but in 1986, fresh from the University of Stellenbosch, and amidst increasing emergency regulations country wide, I stepped into my first job as museums researcher at the Natal Museum Services in Pietermaritzburg. While my political awakening had been triggered during my years at university, I was still pretty ignorant of the extent of the trauma caused by Apartheid injustices. I was born into a staunch Afrikaana family. Both my parents descended from so called fort wreckers, the God fearing, yet somewhat notorious Dutch speaking Boer settlers who ventured into spaces unknown to whites from 1835 to 1845 to escape British rule in the cape colony. In search of land where they could establish their own homeland, this mass migration would become known as The Great Trek. I was proud of my heritage, and harbored a deep love for my mother tongue language of Afrikaans. In school, The Great Trek was heralded as an epic adventure. Add the determination and courage of the Boer settlers, a scoop for Afrikaanidom. Inadvertently laying the foundation for the rise of Africanan Nationalism and the coming to power of the Nationalist Party in 1948, the very party that would put Apartheid into effect. At primary school the effects the Apartheid regime had on the majority living in our country was lost on me. In fact, I was totally oblivious of the pain and suffering of blacks at the hands of the oppressive regime. We had no black neighbors. I had no black friends at school. We never really came into contact with blacks, of that the Nationalist government made sure. By law, we were not allowed to live in the same areas, go to the same parks, swim at the same beaches, or eat at the same restaurants. Whites could move around freely, but due to the pass laws, blacks could not. In time, I would come to realize how the white Afrikaanas gained from Apartheid, how I as a child had gained from a better education system than black kids my age. This, it dawned on me, was a heritage to be less proud of. As I learned how my beloved Afrikaans was recorded increasingly as the language of the oppressor after the tragic events of 16 June, 1976. In this year, my conscience was ignited when black school children took to the streets of Soweto to march against the government's language policy forcing black children to accept Afrikaans as language of instruction in their schools. Not that I heard the full story at the time. I was a border at the then prestigious white Afrikaans government school situated in the scenic foothills of Table Mountain in Cape Town, a far cry from Soweto. This was the same high school my father had attended decades before. Was I still living at home, the news of what happened on that fateful day would most probably have been shrouded from me from parents who thought that not knowing would protect me, but in the boarding establishment, rumors started to spread of the violent Soweto uprising. "What could make school children my age so incredibly discontented?" I thought. It would be a while before I learned the honest truth of what happened on that day. That it was the police who turned violent on the school pupils during their peaceful march for a a very legitimate cause. I was totally disillusioned, and a tiny seed was sown. It was at university in the early 80s that my whole outlook started to change. Still, we were a bunch of only white students at an only whites Afrikaans university, but things were starting to change. The exposure to new points of view, and the influence of more progressive friends was in an increasingly politically charged environment. A feeling of unease started to creep up on me that I just couldn't or did not want to shake. I started to question my glorious Afrikaan heritage, and this quest culminated in my embarking on an honesty greeting Afrikaans cultural history. I had hoped to gain an understanding of the glorification of Afrikaanidom, and where on earth this stemmed from, and most of all, how and where Apartheid got its grip. 1985 was a tumultuous year. President P.W. Botha had declared a state of emergency, and within the first six months of emergency hundreds of people were killed in political violence, more than half killed by the police. As emergency regulations escalated, so did my questions around Apartheid and Afrikaana psyche as I tried to master my Afrikaans cultural history studies. Sorry. It was at this time that my boyfriend, a member of the then underground African National Congress, took me to meetings of the United Democratic Front. The UDF, an umbrella body, with over 600 affiliated organizations, aimed at destabilizing Apartheid, enjoyed large support from the ANC, and would be banned two years later. These meetings were an eye opener, and I became slowly, but surely aware of the machinations of the Apartheid government. Of course, security police surveillance was at the order of the day, and attending these meetings meant that one could well be targeted as the opposition. My boyfriend became such a target and was increasingly harassed by the security police. The dark days of Apartheid had indeed, become a stark reality for this white Afrikaana woman, and it was in this climate in 1986 that I embarked on my career in the province of Natal, a former British colony, in the town of Pietermaritzburg, also referred to as the last British outpost. Despite my growing political awareness, I was excited to explore this city where my fort wrecker ancestors, the Retiefs, had settled after The Great Trek in the mid 1800s. In fact, it is believed that my, I'm sorry, it is believed that Pietermaritzburg was named in part, after my ancestor, fort wrecker leader Piet Retief. As part of my work I traveled to far flung corners of Natal to provide assistance to small town museums in the setting up of exhibitions unique to their town and region. My research into a province steeped in history of warfare was diverse from the Battle of Blood River, the Anglo-Zulu War, the South African war, to sand rock art in the Drakensbug to name but a few. However, what was kept way off the radar of my research, partly due to press censorship, was the black on black conflict brewing on our doorstep at the time between two rival political forces of Inkatha, a Zulu political party and the United Democratic Front, The very UDF, whose meetings contributed to my political awakening during my student years. The Natal midlands and the townships around Pietermaritzburg became battlefields where thousands of men, women, and children were killed during the decade long violence in the 80s and 90s while the whites, myself included, went about our days uninterrupted. What was happening in the outskirts of Pietermaritzburg did not touch the lives of those living in the white suburbs. Subsequently, often referred to as a civil war, it would be years before I learned of the true extent of the horrific nature of the political violence of this period when I entered the world of activist archives during the dying days of Apartheid, but I would first enter the realm of the fort wrecker museum before finding my calling as archivist. I was ready, yet again, to interrogate my Afrikaana past in my tireless quest for answers. The church of the Vaal formed the original part of the museum, and at that stage housed exhibitions dealing with a history of the church, the Vaal the fort wreckers made before the Blood River and the life style of fort wreckers. Beautiful original fort wrecker artifacts were on display, but the exhibitions were dull and outdated with no informative text panels inside. While the exhibitions were virtually totally uninspiring, I was left inspired and with a great feeling of responsibility to unlock the history of my ancestors in a meaningful and exciting manner. What strengthened my vision was as shift in the mindset of many young Afrikaanas who felt that Apartheid was no longer their burden to carry. They wanted to break free from the stifling shackles of the past, and some did so in a very audible fashion when a group of brave, young Afrikaana men took a stand and raised their voices of protest to challenge the system and its holy cause. The abiding political and social commentary was belted out to a rock and roll beat, and lo and behold, they did it all in their mother tongue of Afrikaans. Inspired by these young Afrikaana activist, I tackle the fort wrecker museum with an equally activist stance. If they could stir up an Afrikaans music revolution against Apartheid, I could surely rattle the ox wagon rails in support. The music of these young musicians would not have been recorded if it weren't for Shifty Records, an South African record label that become synonymous with South African protest music of the 1980s, in particular, the role they played in recording angry young South African voices. Shifty Records deserves the recognition for creating a platform for young Afrikaanas to forge their own new identity in a country on the brink of transition. Little did I know that exactly 25 years after I started at the fort wrecker museum, which I have the privilege, as archivist of the South African History Archive, to organize the archives of Shifty Records. Back in 1993 South Africa was a country on the verge of democracy. This was an exciting time. By now, I'd exhausted my energies trying to change the fort wrecker museum to what I'd envisioned, and lift the Afrikaana stronghold pretty disillusioned, to move on to the more progressive Alan Paton Centre and Struggle Archives on the Pietermaritzburg campus of the University of Natal. This was not only my entry into the world of archives, but also my initiation into archival activism. Established shortly after the death of Alan Paton in 1988, the aim of the Centre is, and I quote, "Not simply to create a memorial to the dead, but a living instrument for carrying forward the struggle for improved human relations that filled so much of Alan Paton's essentially humane life." Most famous as the author of the world renowned Cry the Beloved Country, Alan Paton was torn between being an author and a politician, and became a founding member of the multiracial Liberal Party of South Africa in 1953. Shortly after his death, his widow donated the contents of his study to the university as well as core donations of manuscripts including his papers, poetry, short story manuscripts, and correspondence. To me, the Paton Centre, after the Fort Wrecker museum, was a place of enlightenment, the place to be at the time of South Africa's first democratic elections. By 1994 the Paton Centre was actively seeking out material relating to the multi-party negotiating forum to political parties and the democratic elections. Local government for as well as individuals and Igneos involved in the struggles against Apartheid especially in the Kwa-Zulu Natal region. It was here, embedded in collections in this archive, that I eventually would begin to find evidence of Apartheid's injustice. Indeed, a breaking of my own silence of not knowing though archival activism. I was so inspired by this that I embarked upon and completed my archival studies during my first years at the Centre. It was also now that a number of collections started to be launched at the Centre containing information on that decade long violence ravaging the midlands region of Kwa-Zulu Natal in the 80s and 90s including the so called seven day war in Pietermaritzburg. I was left eyes wide open and often in tears. I had to catalog a series of video recordings of people who had witnessed and experienced the atrocities occurring at the time in the region. The effects of the conflict were far reaching and devastating, and the stark images of those video recordings ingrained in my memory. It was during my years at he Paton Centre that I came to understand and appreciate the immense power of the archive. The Centre continues to draw researchers from across the globe, especially to consult collections relating to the struggles against Apartheid in that region and the political violence of the 80s and 90s. It was with a sad heart that I had to leave the Alan Paton Centre and Struggle Archives after nine years to relocate to Johannesburg, but while still at the Paton Centre, I was eager to learn of the great working being done by an independent human rights archive, the South African History Archive in Johannesburg. A leader in the fields of archival activism, SAHA was like no other archive in South Africa. I regarded SAHA as cutting edge. Here was an archive pushing archival boundaries and doing things differently. While I never thought of leaving the Paton Centre, for indeed, I thought I'd found my archival niche, what had crossed my mind was that if ever I had to leave the Paton Centre, SAHA would be my number one choice of archive to work for. I stepped into the role of archival coordinator at SAHA in 2009. No doubt, my years of experience in the Paton Centre and Struggle Archive had in part, paved the way for my new venture in another struggles archive. SAHA was established in 1988 by Anti-Apartheid activists closely linked in its formative years to the United Democratic Front and the Congress of Trade Unions. These activists realized the importance of collecting and safekeeping the documents that were being produced by these organizations during a time when such documents were being confiscated and destroyed by security police. In the early years, several of the collections of publications produced by the South African political organizations and activists in the 1980s were sent to the popular history trusts in Harare, Zimbabwe, as Harare was seen as the ideal location for the safekeeping of such material. With the unbanning of political organizations in 1990, it was safe to return the resources so SAHA. Interestingly, years later, this role would be reversed when SAHA became the custodian for the safekeeping of the endangered Zimbabwean Mafala Trust collection. After almost 30 years, SAHA has established itself as a powerhouse of archival activism through a unique approach to archival practice, outreach, and the utilization of access to information laws dedicated to documenting, supporting, and promoting greater awareness of past and contemporary struggles for justice in South Africa. SAHA's activities are structured around two core programs. The Struggles for Justice Program focuses on collecting, preserving, and creating access to archival materials held by SAHA. The innovative Freedom of Information program is dedicated to using South Africa's Promotion of Access to Information Act to extend the boundaries of freedom of information and to build up an archive of materials released under the act for public use. SAHA's collection and documentation strategies extend far beyond the conventional donation of archival materials by individuals and organizations. SAHA proactively identifies and targets endangered or neglected bodies of records. It commissions collections of existing records on topics previously excluded from archives. It collects oral histories to fill in the gaps in the historical record to give voice and visibility, and furthermore, it uses archival materials often collectively to create new collections. Similarly, SAHA's become a driving force in the manner in which the access and use strategies have been developed to make archives as accessible as possible to as many people as possible. SAHA endeavors to bring history out of the archives and into schools, universities, and communities in new and innovative ways, and as such, repackages archival material for history, heritage, and human rights education creating portable exhibition kits using historical artifacts from the archive available for loan to schools, community groups, and heritage site, and using technology to repackage the archive in the form of virtual exhibitions. As archival coordinator in the Struggles for Justice program, I was involved in some of the most exciting archival projects, and I was privileged to delve into and organize and describe many unique archival collections as a result of these strategies. The Zenzo Nkobi Research Project was one such project. Photographs from the Zenzo Nkobi photographic collection were used as a starting point to conduct research and to collect oral histories on Zimbabwean and South African military camps in the 1970s. It was during this project that the Mafala Trust Collection, which I mentioned earlier, was identified as endangered and brought from Zimbabwe to SAHA for safekeeping. Then there was the military intelligence in Apartheid era South Africa project drawing on the Deveg Pottinger collection of materials relating to covert South African defense force operations, South African Police operations and investigations, anti-ANC propaganda, and Apartheid era right wing organizations. This interviews from this collection and a selection of photographs from a related collection were included in the Michigan State University's online repository, African Oral Narratives. The Shifty Archival Project, which I also mentioned earlier, touched a personal chord with me. SAHA's recapturing of the endangered archive of Shifty Records can be seen as an act of parallel activism. Like Shifty identified and acted on the need to record South African protest music at a time when nobody else would, so has SAHA identified the need to preserve the archive of Shifty Records which South Africa risk to lose otherwise. SAHA's longstanding archival activism relating to the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission is derived directly from the recommendations made by the TRC itself. Most recently, SAHA had been particularly engaged in conducting on going truth recovery to uncover further evidence about unknown or unacknowledged aspects of South Africa's past through its Right to Truth project. Where the National Archives of South Africa have failed miserably to make the records of the TRC accessible, SAHA has built up a significant archive of TRC records through its Freedom of Information Program. SAHA further strives to create awareness around the unfinished business of the TRC. With this, I've given you a mere glance into the wonderful and vibrant activist archive SAHA is. Believe me, I can entertain you all day with my SAHA experiences. Despite its amazing and relevant work, SAHA is sadly facing a particularly difficult time in its existence. Being an independent archive does restrict the funding SAHA is able to source, and it has become an ongoing challenge to fund its important work in an increasingly difficult funding environment. However, with SAHA situated at Constitution Hill and as custodian of the Constitution Hill Trust Archive, there is the potential for positive development as new opportunities for more collaborative work are being discussed by the two organizations. After seven years, I had to make a very difficult decision to leave the organization. I needed time to focus on my young son who was diagnosed with learning difficulties. This meant I needed more flexible working hours. I would never dream of leaving the world of archives and decided to keep a foot in the door by becoming an independent archival consultant. While I missed the day to day archival activities and involvement in fascinating archival projects, I've not been disappointed as various opportunities have presented itself. As archival consultant, I've returned to work at SAHA. Most of last year, I've changed direction slightly as I developed and implemented a records management and research data system for the Public Affairs Research Institute. Since the beginning of this month, I'm delighted to be back in the fold of the activist archive, this time the Gay and Lesbian Memory in Action, formally known as the Gay and Lesbian Archives, GALA has its origin in SAHA as it developed out of a SAHA project in 1997. Today, GALA's an independent archive situated at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg. In conclusion, my years in activist archives have shaped, to a large extent, the person I am today. It has opened my eyes and kept me vigilant. Without archival activism, the South African Archival landscape will be barren and many marginalized voices silence. In South Africa, we are not only concerned with breaking the silence around the historical struggles against Apartheid, but also those struggles crippling our country today, many as a result of the legacy of Apartheid. As archivist, we are not merely custodians, but also guardians against forgetting. Thank you. - [Karen Chappell] Well, we'll start with this one. How has your family responded to the direction that your life has taken? - [Debora Matthews] Thank you. My family has always been very supportive with the way my, the direction my life has taken, and yes, for me personally, it was a very, very difficult decision to leave the South African History Archive when I did in 2016 to focus on my son, but it has really proved the best decision in the end, because my son has flourished ever since, and I have managed to carry on being an archivist, and now I have the opportunity to work at many different archives which is really absolutely great. - [Karen Chappell] How's the vocabulary that you used to catalog objects changed or evolved as South Africa becomes more different from Apartheid? - [Debora Matthews] This is quite a tough one. Hm, let me think about this one. Can we maybe, I'll think about this one a bit, if we can carry on to the next one. - [Karen Chappell] Okay, why don't we do this next one then. This is from the same person Okay. What is the most unique item you have collected or worked with in the archive? - [Debora Matthews] Oh, there are so many. I can't even begin to think of one exclusive item. Shoot, that's also a tough one. I mean in the Constitution Hill Collection that I will be talking about comprehensively tomorrow at the symposium there's the prison records of Barbara Hogan, who was the first woman to be arrested in 1982 for treason, and in the collection we have a very comprehensive record from her arrest to her release from prison, and that is quite unique, and part of her collection are these intricately handwritten records of birthday cards, Christmas cards sent and received, of visitors who visited her as well as prison menus. She kept detailed handwritten account of all the menus, and that is a very remarkable collection, and then there's also in the same collection we have the wonderful vibrant paintings and drawings of the very well known Anti-Apartheid activist, Fatima Meer who was incarcerated at Constitution Hill in 1976, and these paintings she did in secrecy, and she managed to get them out of the prison with the help of Winnie Mandela who's the wife of the late Nelson Mandela and a lawyer, and these are beautiful, beautiful, vibrant paintings. You can almost not imagine that they reflect prison conditions because they're all so colorful. That's also very special, but there's many more than that. - [Karen Chappell] How much do you think the Truth and Reconciliation Commission help the archivist work and vice versa? - [Debora Matthews] I think the TRC actually put a lot of burden on archivists because the National Archive of South Africa has been unable to make the archive of the TRC accessible as it should have been according to the recommendations made by the TRC itself. So, in the case of the South African History Archive has gone the extra length to get materials released through its freedom information program around the TRC. The most recent material that was released was all the section 29 in camera hearings that were held during the TRC, and it was almost a 12 year long battle to get those released from the Department of Justice, and yeah, the TRC is an on going battle to get those materials released. - [Karen Chappell] Okay, two words Take Azuma, oh Jake, sorry. Please comment on how this corrupt leader has affected South Africa. What types of archives have you collected to document his reign of leadership? - [Debora Matthews] Jacob Zuma. I will not say too much about Jacob Zuma apart from the fact we are all very happy with the current situation and quietly optimistic with the new acting president in South Africa, and we're all waiting for the elections next year. I cannot speak so much for SAHA at the moment. I'm not sure if they've recently acquired or documented or recorded any of Jacob Zuma's current actions. Although, SAHA is very vigilant in documenting contemporary struggles. So, as part of that the Zuma era would be documented, but what is also interesting is that Jacob Zuma is also documented in his earlier days in the early ANC when he was actually doing quite good work, and that's why when he was, why he became the leader in the end, but, yeah, I prefer not to speak too much about politics at the moment. - [Karen Chappell] Okay, let's try this one then. Talk more about the relationship between SAHA and the South African National Archives. - [Debora Matthews] The National Archives is very problematic. It is not doing what it should be doing. So, for that reason, I think the South African History Archive is fulfilling a very important role in the South African archival landscape at the moment. One specific one is the TRC that I've mentioned. Around 1996, with the coming, with a new archival legislation, as well as the South African Constitution, it was also a time when there was a lot of promise for the national archives, but unfortunately, it has not delivered since, and it hasn't fulfilled in its main objectives, and some of those objectives are actually the missions of SAHA. So SAHA's taken over a lot of the work of the national archives like recording the marginalized voices. That is something the national archives was supposed to do. It didn't do, but SAHA continues as activists. That is, I think the role of SAHA is very important because the national archive fails in its objectives. - [Karen Chappell] Alright, this is the last question, again, political. Based on the divestiture movement of South African Companies to fight Apartheid, the climate change movement, lead by 350 dot org, is advocating a divest from fossil fuel companies. How did this strategy work in South Africa, and will it work for climate change? - [Debora Matthews] I have absolutely no idea. I'm sorry, I cannot answer that one. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. - [Karen Chappell] We now conclude our program, and I want to give a big thank you, not only to Debora, but also our sponsors, the University of Iowa's International Programs, the University of Iowa's Honors Program, the University of Iowa Public Policy Center and the Stanley UI Foundation Support Organization as well as our special sponsors today, Mace and Kay Braverman and Mike Carberry. We also thank City Channel Four for making our programs available, and I also want to thank the Provost Global Forum and the Obermann Center Humanities Symposium for bringing Debora here to the Iowa City and the University of Iowa and allowing us to have her as a speaker. So, Debora, a small token of appreciation for coming here and talking. I want to present you with a coveted Iowa City Foreign Relations Council mug, and thank you for joining us. - [Debora Matthews] Thank you very much. - [Karen Chappell] Thank you all for coming, and we are adjourned.

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