PROFILE FEATURE

The greatest gift to give...It is said that on the

darkest of nights, stars shine their brightest. Were we to compare our

country's past to the latter then indeed there were stars that shone so brightly that they became beacons of inspiration, aspiration and a true setting point for our moral compasses in a time when we needed it most.

Our transition through negotiation and not over the barrel of a gun was made possible by the ethos of reconciliation and the virtue of forgiveness. Sunday Independent was fortunate enough to spend some time with one of those stars, a lady, mother and woman of substance and depth, allow me to present to you; Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela

Q: For the benefit of the possible, yet highly unlikely, 17 people who are not too familiar with you. Kindly share with us, who is Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela ?I grew up in Langa, the oldest township in Cape Town. I often say about those early days of my life that the breathtakingly beautiful Table Mountain is clearly visible from Langa, yet I have no memory of noticing it during those years – or experiencing it. It was never part of the township “scenery.” One did not wake up thinking, “Oh, my home has a stunning view of Table Mountain!” Living in the township meant that Cape Town’s beauty was inaccessible to us, unknowable as the beautiful city in our country. We knew it simply as “iindawo zabelungu” (white people’s areas), and the objects of beauty that defined it “izinto zabelungu” (things that belong to white people)—out of bounds. But because of the nurturing community that was so much a part of township life in those days—in spite of apartheid—the beauty of Cape Town seemed irrelevant in our lives as children growing up in the township.

What was of significance was the deprivation that marked many black people’s lives, something which has remained largely unchanged more than two decades since South Africa’s democracy, and after five elections since the transition from apartheid to democracy. I am from that place. Your question concerning what I can tell people about myself reminds me of where I am from, and of the stories that have influenced my important values and the things that I believe in, stories that have shaped my priorities and the way I have made choices in life. My parents instilled a strong sense of self in me. Both my father (who passed away in 2002), and mother have a wonderfully generous spirit. When I became full professor at the University of Cape Town in November 2011, I dedicated my inaugural professorial address to my late father and my mother. At this mature age, and with all that is happening around us, I try, in whatever small way I can, to be what our country is trying to find.Q: Your professional resume reads like most people's dream resumes would. What inspired you and kept you committed to the almost lifelong love affair with academia?You know, the interesting thing is that I never really set out to pursue an academic career. In my first year at Fort Hare University, I registered for a BSc degree, with intention to do what was called a “pre-med” degree. In those days, if you achieved top grades in primary school Arithmetic (“arithmetic” sounds so ancient!), and in high school Maths and Science, your parents “knew” you were destined to become a

medical doctor. You did not question this, and sort of accepted that this is what you wanted too. But the experience of dissection in labs killed any inspiration I may have had for a science degree. After changing course, the following year, psychology, one of my majors, fascinated me.

I was intrigued by human emotions and the human mind. I was curious to learn about how these aspects of human life play out in relationships. After my Honours degree, I studied for a Masters’ Degree in Clinical Psychology at Rhodes University. I really wanted to practice as a clinical psychologist, but personal circumstances led me to seek a second job as a lecturer. I discovered a love for teaching, and loved the freedom of being able to integrate theory and practice in the courses that I taught. I was inspired to pursue doctoral studies at UCT, and my research was on the crowd violence of “necklace murders” in the 1980s, the brutal killing of black people suspected of being spies for apartheid police.

I consider my experiences on the Truth and Reconciliation (TRC) to have been an important turning point that opened up new terrains of scholarly investigation. For the sake of brevity, I will only say that the work of the TRC captured my imagination. We were witnessing a unique historical moment, an important opportunity for scholars to explore new intellectual frontiers in a field that has been dominated for far too long by insights from the Nuremberg trials of the Nazi Holocaust. My work has been inspired by a quest for new knowledge production in this buzzing hub of scholarly debates on responses to historical trauma in the aftermath of mass violence and conflict.Q: What was receiving the Alan Paton (The Pulitzer Prize of South Africa) Award like? - In respect of accomplishment, recognition and confirming the validity of the body of work.The Alan Paton prize was a wonderful moment of recognition for me. Writing the book was both a personal and professional journey for me. My journey with this project began at the TRC, where I chaired a number of the public hearings in the broader Cape Town region. In that role, I encountered not only human destruction and cruelty against other human beings, but also the capacity for empathic bonding between victims/survivors and perpetrators. I am referring to family members of victims who expressed forgiveness for perpetrators. I was intrigued by these gestures of forgiveness: what does forgiving a person who has murdered your loved ones mean? I was not aware of any precedents of this kind of response. Experts who had authored the canons of knowledge in this field, notably political theorist Hannah Arendt, argued that gross violations of human rights, what Arendt termed “radical evil,” were unforgivable.

My book was, in a sense, disrupting long-established canons of knowledge on this issue of “the unforgivable”—talking back to them, as it were and challenging their views and presenting evidence to show that under certain condtions, the response of forgiveness in the context of dealing with past human rights violations is possible. It was liberating to position my work in this way.

After reading my book, Hannah Arendt’s biographer, Elisabeth Young-Bruehl, would conclude that Arendt underestimated “the potentialities of human power … to forgive.” The book was first published in the United States by Houghton Mifflin, and it won the Christopher Award. This American award and the Alan Paton Prize confirmed for me the significance of the book as a scholarly text with wider social relevance. The book has received wide critical acclaim in scholarly reviews that have appeared in peer-reviewed journals.

Insights from the book have provided an important touchstone for my research on the dynamics of historical trauma and its transgenerational repercussions, on empathy (the good and the bad), and on a research collaboration based on the analysis of the process of dialogue over time between adult children of Nazi perpetrators and descendants of Holocaust survivors.

I will add one final point about what I have learnt from this work. In much of the world’s great literature, and much of its past and current history as well, the idea of vengeance has carried with it a certain noble air, as if motivated by a force of good that somehow enables it to transcend the very violence that gave birth to it. Violent acts designed to

make the other person suffer pain, are sometimes thinly cloaked under notions of “justice-seeking,” “defending” human rights, or righteous indignation. They have an attraction, a logic that has come to hold a central position in the thinking and values held by individuals and groups who have been on the receiving end of the humiliation produced by oppression.

The experience of oppression and violence shatter the integrity of the self, and the desire for revenge is sometimes mobilised as a way of restoring one’s sense of dignity. The tragic outcome of this kind of response is that it transforms victims into perpetrators, and often breeds never-ending cycles of violence. Creating an environment in which thoughtful dialogue can take place may not solve

problems facing countries in the throes of ongoing violence. But it can help build social solidarity and establish a foundation for a shared ethics of care.Q: Given your background and life experience, does the current #FEESMUSTFALL movement create a feeling of history repeating itself for you?You know, the students’ protests are deeply unsettling on many fronts. I have so much that’s on my heart about this matter. One of the issues is precisely what you’ve alluded to in your question: why is black life still defined by this kind of discourse—struggling, fighting, and marching? Critics tend to gloss over the fact that thousands of these students live in families whose lives are caught up in cycles of poverty. Because they are black, they had very few or no opportunities at all to gain the

kinds of skills that could uproot them from the structural conditions of depravity. The younger generation has become disenchanted, waking up daily to a yawning void of emptiness. Attending previously white universities means that they see privilege every day, they are so close to it, yet they have to return to their homes to be reminded of their state of depravity. The fear that very few of them will escape the fate of intergenerational poverty in their homes and communities is very real. That said, it is painful to watch the destruction and violence that has played out at university campuses nationwide. Q: You served on the TRC's Human Rights Violations Committee, which I'm sure exposed you to the darker side of the South African persona. Despite this you are always wearing that warm and sincere smile of yours. How do you do it?Thank you Zunaid. That’s a lovely comment. I think that there was something profoundly hopeful about the TRC. Here we were, having emerged from the darkest period of our history, engaging in a process that tried to transcend the eclipses of humanity in order to embrace new horizons of possibility. In a way, the choice to pursue a TRC process, with all its troubling imperfections, was a sign of

lessons learnt from history. It was an important “starting point,” whose aim was to foster accountability for the past, and to restore hope and a sense of agency among people whose sense of identity was diminished and humiliated by the traumatic, social and economic legacies of apartheid.

The TRC was an extraordinary opportunity for scholars interested in understanding the experience of trauma and its repercussions. For instance, before serving on the TRC in December 1995, I was engaged in doctoral research on “necklace murders.” As part of preparation for writing up my study, I spent a year at Harvard University as a guest of the Graduate School of Arts and Social Sciences perusing archives of studies on perpetrators of Nazi atrocities, and on the responses of “bystanders,” or beneficiaries of privilege in Nazi Germany after the fall of the Nazi era. What struck me the most about the TRC process is how it was disrupting the canons of knowledge produced from a wide range of disciplines engaged in the study of the Holocaust and dealing with its aftermath through the Nuremberg trials. In this sense then, my research interest—on remorse and forgiveness in the aftermath of historical trauma—was an exciting new frontier of research in the field of psychology. Insights from the TRC, including critical insights of the TRC’s limits, continue to define my career as the bedrock upon which my professional activities are based.Q: As a beneficiary of the National Institute for Humanities and Social Sciences (NIHSS), what are your thoughts on the progress Humanities and Social Sciences as a faculty has made. And the role the institute plays in creating an enabling environment for progress?The name “humanities” has powerful resonance with the notion of what it means to be human. In this sense then, humanities has a vital role to play in society, especially in societies like ours, affected by massive human rights violations of the past and contemporary structural inequalities. I think that the goal of humanities research should be to advance one’s discipline within not only the academy, but also having some impact on public debate and influencing audiences at the broader level of society. Q: Without giving away too much, tell me about your latest project “Breaking Intergenerational Cycles of Repetition?”I have been struck by the enduring interest in the TRC “model,” aspects of which have been embraced by different countries and adapted as a form of redress for the legacies of human rights abuses that threaten peaceful coexistence. The invitation to lead one of the NIHSS Catalytic Projects was a great opportunity to bring together an international and interdisciplinary group of scholars whose research seeks to address some of the most urgent social issues related to historical trauma in different post-conflict context. The just-published edited volume, Breaking Intergenerational Cycles of Repetition: A Global Dialogue on Historical Trauma and Memory is a product of this NIHSS funded research initiative.

Working on this NIHSS project opened up new questions for me that led to research on intergenerational transmission of trauma. The problem of the transmission of past trauma across generations is probably one of the most urgent questions of the 21st century. Few topics stake a more compelling claim on

humanities research than the legacies of historical trauma—the impact of colonial oppression, genocide and other kinds of mass atrocities not only on individuals and groups that experienced the violence directly, but also across multiple generations of the descendants of survivors. So, this research focuses on this question of transgenerational trauma while also attending to the impact of the broader structural issues of inequality. This area is of profound social relevance that is at the forefront of contemporary debates about historical trauma. I think we are engaging with these issues at a pivotal moment in South Africa where questions about the past—and how to interrupt the cycles of its repetition and bring about social change—have come to dominate public debate. Q: Being a global comparison, what common thread, if any, and informed by the research, do trauma survivors share?The need for acknowledgement is so crucial to survivors of traumatic experiences. Public processes of accountability, such as when perpetrators confess to massive human rights crimes are an important form of recognition that helps survivors feel a sense of affirmation and validation. One of the tragic consequences of trauma is a loss of victims’ sense of agency. This is an issue of concern particularly when one considers the consequences of what I call “everyday” traumas that affect communities at the margins of society. Some of the most destructive acts of violence to the human soul are the subtle, systematic acts of structural violence that undermine the dignity and sense of worth of individuals, the insidious acts of violence that result from ongoing depravity, humiliation and degradation rather than from spectacular and extraordinary violence. The loss of a sense of agency is the most disempowering force that confronts victims because of this kind of “insidious trauma.” Q: In your opinion, how does the virtue of forgiveness contribute to building a healthy and cohesive society?I think that the word forgiveness is misunderstood. Some people see it as a kind of magic wand, a panacea for all the complex problems of our post-apartheid society. In my recent work, I have argued that forgiveness is “the wrong word.” Forgiveness seems to suggest a fixed position, or a coming to an end—“I offer you forgiveness so that I can have closure and move on.” A subtext here seems to signify an act of leaving something behind, moving on without looking back. This has echoes of those voices in academia of those who say people should “move on,” that perhaps we shouldn’t focus so much on memory but on forgetting. As if one had a choice in the matter when it comes to trauma. I think that ultimately, what is crucial for countries that have to face the complicated legacies of a violent past is to try to create conditions that can foster not so much forgiveness, but rather empathy. Empathy can be a resource for expanding the vision of a shared future, a vision that takes us to the edge of emotional possibility, pointing us to a general horizon of an ethics of care. I think that if relationships were inspired by a sense of care that extends to those who are different, problems such as racism would be reduced dramatically. Q: if you were to describe South Africa in one word, what would it be?Perhaps a short phrase instead of a word? Deeply wounded; painfully divided.

By: Zunaid Omar

Reflecting on forgiveness and healing

Professor Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, award winning author and editor.

Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela is Professor and Research Chair for Historical Trauma and Transformation in the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, Stellenbosch University. Her previous positions are, Professor in the Psychology Department at the University of Cape Town, and Senior Research Professor at the University of the Free State leading the initiative Studies in Trauma, Memory and Forgiveness. Earlier professional work in the include a role as expert witness working with human rights lawyers who were defending anti-apartheid activists charged with “treason” and facing the death penalty. Her book, A Human Being Died that Night: A South African Story of Forgiveness won the 2004 Alan Paton Award, and the Christopher Award in the United States.

The book has been published seven times, including translations in Dutch, German, Italian and Korean. This important scholarly work that explores the complexity and interwovenness of remorse, apology and forgiveness has been converted into a play and staged in major cities in South Africa, the UK, and the United States. Gobodo-Madikizela’s other books include Narrating our Healing: Perspectives on Healing Trauma, as co-author (2007), Memory, Narrative and Forgiveness: Perspectives on the Unfinished Journeys of the Past, as co-editor (2008), Breaking Intergenerational Cycles of Repetition: A Global Dialogue on Historical Trauma and Memory, as editor (2015), and A Reflexive Inquiry into Gender Research Towards a New Paradigm of Knowledge Production, as co-editor (2015).

She has co-edited three special issue journals: “Critical Psychology in Africa,” in Subjectivity: International Journal of Critical Psychology (2006), “Ethical Uncertainties in Psychoanalytic Practice and Research in Challenging Times” (2009), in the Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy in South Africa, (2009), and “Continuities and Transformation in the Aftermath of Conflict in Africa,” in Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society (2014). She has served as reviewer for several internationally accredited journals such as the Journal of Peace Research, Cultural Anthropology, and Signs:

Journal of Women, Culture and Society, Psychology, Public Policy and Law, and Political Psychology Journal. She is also asked regularly to review research grant applications for a range of funding bodies nationally and globally, including the New Zealand Marsden Fund, the Netherlands Organisation for Scientific Research, Austrian Science Fund, and the National Research Foundation of South Africa.

To illustrate the wider relevance of her work beyond the academy, she has contributed opinion pieces in international and national newspapers, and interviewed on radio and television stations globally, including on the United States National Public Radio, ABC Radio in Australia, CNN, and extensive interviews about her work in the German news magazine Der Spiegel, one of the largest publications in Europe, and in Noseweek, a South African investigative magazine. She has also contributed opinion pieces in international newspapers, including the New York Times, LA Times, Washington Post, The Boston Globe, The International Herald, and national newspapers including The Sunday Times, City Press, Mail & Gurdian, Cape Times, and The Witness.

Gobodo-Madikizela continues to receive invitations to deliver keynote lectures at international conferences and endowed lectures at academic institutions globally. Her honours include: being honoured among “100 People who Made a Difference” in the Permanent Exhibit of Hall of Heroes in the National Freedom Centre in Cincinnati, Ohio, 2005; the Eleanor Roosevelt Award, 2007; and the Social Change Award awarded by Rhodes University for “contribution made by leading psychologists in South Africa,” 2010. In 2015 she was awarded the South African National Research Foundation (NRF) Chair for Historical Trauma and Memory, and in the same year received a five-year grant from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation to establish the research initiative titled “Trauma, Memory and Representations of the Past: Transforming Scholarship in the Humanities and the Arts.” She is a B2 NRF rated scholar.

“Coming to terms with the past,” when perpetrators of atrocities live in the same

country as victims compels us to consider the question: What drives victims to enter

into constructive encounters with the “other,” to feel empathy for her or him, even

when their internal moral compass points toward its inappropriateness, and the

“other” seems morally undeserving? What motivates the need to face the victim, as some perpetrators have done in different post-conflict countries, and for victims to search out perpetrators? These questions

are explored in this publication using Simon Wiesenthal’s The Sunflower as backdrop.

Memory, Narrative and Forgiveness: Perspectives on the Unfinished Journeys of the Past brings together an interdisciplinary team of scholars and explores the relation

between trauma and memory, and the complex, interconnected issues of trauma and narrative (testimonial and literary). It

examines transgenerational trauma, memory as the basis for dialogue and reconciliation

in divided societies, memorialisation and the changing role of memory in the aftermath of mass trauma, mourning and the potential of forgiveness to heal the enduring effects of

mass trauma

This book is Gobodo-Madikizela's account of her interviews with state-sanctioned

mass murderer Eugene De Kock from the time of apartheid in South Africa. These interviews are mixed in with stories of

victims and criminals on both sides of the racial barrier that she met with during her time as a member of the Human Rights Violations Committee, a part of South

Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The book won the Alan Paton

Award in 2004.

The authors in this volume explore the interconnected issues of intergenerational trauma and traumatic memory in societies with a history of collective violence across

the globe. Each chapter’s discussion offers a critical reflection on historical trauma and its

repercussions, and how memory can be used as a basis for dialogue and

transformation.

At this mature age, and with all that

is happening around us, I try, in

whatever small way I can, to be

what our country is trying to find.

Memory, Narrativeand ForgivenessPerspectives on the Un�nished Journeys of the Past

Edited by Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela

and Chris Van Der Merwe

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