2010 IALEI Country Report Multicultural Education in South Africa
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2010 IALEI Country Report
Multicultural Education in South Africa
Carolyn McKinney and Crain Soudien
School of Education, University of Cape Town
September 2010
Introduction
The meaning of multicultural education in South Africa is determined by its specific
socio-historical context, both post-colonial and post-apartheid. At the most general
level, multicultural education needs to be understood within the broader national
context of racial redress following apartheid, and thus of the struggle to achieve
access to quality education for the majority to whom this was previously denied. But,
as an educational intervention in the country, it is also about enabling all young
South Africans, as the post-apartheid generations, to understand the past from which
the country is still emerging, as well as the values and principles which are
entrenched in the current constitution: democracy, social justice and equity, equality,
non-racism and non-sexism, ubuntu (human dignity), an open society, accountability,
the rule of law, respect and reconciliation (RSA, 2006). Applying a multicultural
framework to South African schooling thus entails a dual focus on who is included
and excluded in the current system as well as how they are included and excluded.
The crisis in quality provision of schooling to the majority of South Africans is well
known (Fleisch, 2008, Bloch, 2009) and is high on the national state agenda. It is
recognized that despite some of the major gains made in dismantling apartheid, not
least of which is the achievement of near universal access to primary schooling for
children, “it is clear that redress in the form of a major turnaround of the education
system has not been achieved” (Chisholm, 2008a:230). In practice this means that
only a minority of black learners receive quality passes in the final school exit point
examinations, the National Senior Certificate (NSC). It also means that addressing
issues of difference and the democratic values enshrined in the constitution are not
seen as a current priority in redressing inequality in the South African schooling
system. Addressing the politics of difference and democratic values may seem
justifiably backgrounded in the context of a schooling system struggling to provide
quality education. However, the consequences of neglecting difference can be seen
in a number of ways, for example,
the experiences of black learners who continue to be „othered‟ in the post-
apartheid schooling system (Makoe, 2009, McKinney, 2010, Soudien, 2007a,
Soudien 2007b), with significant impacts on the identities they are able to
construct for themselves,
the ways in which some white learners resist learning about the apartheid
past and acknowledgement of their continuing privilege (McKinney, 2004,
2007),
in the increasing xenophobia and xenophobic violence which has
accompanied the immigration of Africans north of South Africa‟s borders in
recent years. (FMSP, 2010, Chisholm, 2008b)
the critical difference in achievement between children who attend functional
and capacitated schools, essentially the schools of the middle-class, and
those which are struggling.
In this paper we provide an overview of these dual issues in multicultural education in
South Africa: inclusion and exclusion in quality schooling; and the infusion of
democratic values in schooling for all. We examine what it might mean to work
within a multicultural framework within South Africa, given our specific socio-historical
1context and geographical/global positioning in the South. The first part of the paper
gives an overview of the social, historical and demographic context providing details
of post-apartheid apartheid policy changes aimed at redress and inclusion in the
education system, as well as problems both with existing policy and its
implementation. In the second part of the paper we focus specifically on the issue of
language and its relation to processes of inclusion and exclusion. We look at
linguistic diversity in relation to the issue of meaningful access to the curriculum as
well as in relation to linguistic ideologies common in South African schools and
society which frequently work to continue to privilege monolingual English (and thus
„white‟) ways of knowing and being.
PART 1
Demographic Context
South Africa is commonly described as a highly diverse society. Terms that are used
to describe this relate to the predictable categories of race, language and social
class. However, as Soudien (2009: 146) has recently pointed out there are many
more „critical themes of difference‟ emerging in the „new tellings‟ of the South African
story. These include –
1. the social, reflecting issues such as language, „race‟, ethnicity, social
class, income levels, religion, educational status, political orientation,
gender, and sexual preferences (see Hoad, Martin, & Reid, 2005;
Seekings & Nattrass, 2005)
2. the historical or temporal, drawing attention to the ways in which
differences between „traditional‟ and modern and that which is of
„apartheid‟ and „post-apartheid (see Comaroff & Comaroff, 1991, 1993)
continue to influence people‟s perceptions of the world;
3. the spatial, referring in particular to the ways in which regional and
global differences and one‟s urban or rural status mark people as being
either insiders or outsiders (Mamdani, 1996) and, somewhat
controversially,
4. the epidemiological, referring to one‟s age, disability, and health status in
relation to diseases such as tuberculosis and HIV/AIDS (see
Watermeyer, Swartz, Lorenzo, Schneider, & Priestley, 2006), which
determine one‟s degree of social acceptability. (Soudien, 2009: 146).
It is important to acknowledge this far more complex picture of how the country can
be described. The difficulty, however, and a matter which is itself worthy of
deconstruction, is that most of the official documentation, the research and the
representation of the country is rendered in the limiting framework of „race‟. We want
to recognize, therefore, how much official representations of the schooling system
limit opportunities for „getting at‟ the dynamics within it.
In terms of the discussion above, the figures below provide only a simplified
snapshot of the demographic make up of the country and its schooling system.
According to Statistics South Africa (StatsSA), the official government provider of
statistical information in South Africa, the mid-year population estimates for 20101
put the total South African population at 49 991 300 with slightly more females
(51.33%) than males (48.67%).
1 Since the last national census was conducted in 2001, StatsSA provides estimates for demographic
information.
2Population by gender
Male 24 329 000 (48.67%)
Female 25 662 300 (51.33%)
Total 49 991 300
Source: www.statssa.gov.za
While there is much debate about the continuing use of racial categories in post-
apartheid South Africa (Chisholm & Sujee, 2006, McKinney, 2007a, Posel, 2001a,
2001b), StatsSA, the country‟s statistical service, responsible, inter alia, for the
census, took the decision for the 1996 and 2001 censuses to retain the apartheid
racial categories of African, Coloured, Indian and White classify the population. The
decision remains controversial. The primary explanation presented by StatsSA for
the continued use of the apartheid categories is that race remains the most useful
proxy for addressing the disadvantage experienced by people of colour during
apartheid, and see it as a mechanism to fulfil goals of redress and equity. However,
while equity goals drive the continued need for racial categorisation and
identification, it is interesting that the decision to use the categories of Black/African,
Indian and Coloured (all of whom represent designated groups for redress and equity
purposes as do females) in stead of an overarching category of Black was not
ultimately resisted, drawing attention to the embeddedness of the racial legacy of
apartheid. This notwithstanding, the argument made against using „race‟ is that it
perpetuates the idea that „race‟ is a „natural‟ category, continues to stigmatise people
in hierarchical kinds of ways and obstructs the process of creating a new post-racial
landscape.
Population by race
African 39 682 600 (79.4%)
Coloured 4 424 100 (8.8%)
Indian/Asian 1 299 900 (2.6%)
White 4 584 700 (9.2%)
Total 49 991 300 (100%)
Source: www.statssa.gov.za
3The South African constitution gave official status to 11 languages, the previous
official languages English and Afrikaans as well as nine indigenous languages:
isiZulu, isiXhosa, Sepedi, Setswana, Sesotho, Xitsonga, Siswati, Tshivenda, and
Ndebele. Reported home language in the last national census (2001) is indicated
below.
Reported home language - 2001
isiZulu 23.8%
isiXhosa 17.6%
Afrikaans 13.3%
Sepedi 9.4%
Setswana 8.2%
English 8.2%
Sesotho 7.9%
Xitsonga 4.4%
Siswati 2.7%
Tshivenda 2.3%
Ndebele 1.6%
Other 0.5%
Source: www.statssa.gov.za
Further significant indicators that are available include official statistics for
unemployment, HIV prevalence and immigration. In the second quarter of 2010
unemployment was officially calculated at 25.3% (www.statssa.gov.za). However
unemployment figures are highly debated and depend on whether a narrow or broad
definition of unemployment is used, with the broad definition producing a figure as
high as 40%2. South Africa is currently the country with the largest number of people
living with HIV in the world (Johnson, 2009) with a 2008 HIV prevalence of 10.9% or
5.2 million (www.hsrc.ac.za). 2.5% of 2-14 year olds are HIV positive (Leigh, 2009).
Accurate figures on immigration are difficult to obtain as such data is generally poorly
collected and analysed (Polzer, 2010). However, the Forced Migration in Southern
Africa (FMSP) program estimates the total foreign population, including documented
and undocumented migrants at between 1.6 and 2 million, or 3-4% of the total
2StatsSA uses the narrow definition of unemployment which includes active job seeking or attempt to start
a business in the four weeks prior to interview/survey.
4population. Official figures provided by the Department of Home Affairs are tabled
below:
Recognised refugees at end 2009 47 596
Recognised asylum seeker new 223 324
applications in 2009
Economic migrants issued with work 32 344 in 2007/8
permits
People deported in 2007/8 312 733
(This figure has decreased since the
moratorium on deporting Zimbabwean
migrants introduced in April 2009.)
(Source: Polzer, 2010, www.migration.org.za).
School Population
In 2009, 12 214 845 learners attended 25 867 schools (state and
independent/private) in South Africa („School Realities, 2009‟
www.education.gov.za). While 9% of the learners were enrolled in Grade 1, only
4.9% were enrolled in Grade 12, the final year of the school system at the end of
which learners write the National Senior Certificate (NSC) examinations (Ibid). This is
an indication of the drop out of learners that takes place as they move higher up
through the schooling system.
According to the national education department‟s Education Statistics in South Africa
in 20083, 3% of learners were in independent or private schools with the
overwhelming majority, 97%, in state funded schools. Of the Grade 12 learners who
wrote the NSC, 62.2% passed. In order to pass, learners must pass 6 subjects with
30% or 40% (depending on specific requirements) and can receive less than 30% for
a 7th subject. It is thus not surprising that only 19.1% of the 62.2% of learners who
passed were qualified to apply for admission to a university Bachelor‟s degree which
depends on much higher achievement criteria. The NSC pass rates vary greatly
across regions in the country, from the highest rate of 78.7% in the Western Cape to
the lowest rate of 50.6% in the Eastern Cape. While more females wrote the NSC
examinations in 2008, the national pass rate for males was 62.9% and for females
61.5%.
Notably the national department of education does not publish statistics according to
race, neither in relation to school enrolments nor in relation to pass rates for the
National Senior Certificate (NSC). However, the South African Institute of Race
Relations‟ (SAIRR) South Africa Survey 2008/9 reports the following figures for
enrollment and NSC passes:
School enrolment by race – 2007
African 11 533 000
Coloured 1 038 000
Indian 201 000
White 676 000
TOTAL 13 462 000
Source: SAIRR (2009, 30)
32008 is the most recent year for which data is available. 2009 statistics will be released
December 2010.
5National Senior Certificate passes by race - 2007
Candidates who Candidates who Candidates
wrote passed passes with
endorsement
(eligible for
access to Higher
Education)
African 458 836 277 941 (60.6%) 49 950 (10.9%)
Coloured 34 741 27 101 (78%) 5367 (15.4%)
Indian/Asian 52 467 37 308 (71.1%) 11 382 (21.7%)
White 42 617 41921 (98.4%) 22 145 (52%)
Source: SAIRR (2009, 58)
The achievement gap between „white‟ students and „black‟ students is clearly visible
in overall NSC pass rates, with the greatest gap between „white‟ and African
learners. This gap continues to be reflected in the number of quality passes, (i.e.
„passes with endorsement‟) achieved by „white‟ learners (52%) and „black‟ learners
(collectively 16%) which translates into the under-representation of „black‟ students
enrolled in the country‟s universities.
University enrolment by race - 2007
African 324 000
Coloured 60 000
Indian 25 000
White 143 000
TOTAL 553 000
The History of Multiculturalism and Antiracism in Education in South
Africa
As Banks (2009) points out in a recent overview, multicultural education is usually
considered in the context of global diversity, migration and the displacement of
indigenous peoples. The history and current status of multiculturalism in the South
African context however, is best understood in relation to processes of colonialism,
and apartheid subjugation of the indigenous black majority which enabled a white
minority to gain control of the South African economy and its major institutions,
including education. The centrality of a particular social construction of race as both
an organiser of inequality as well as of all aspects of social life during apartheid is
key to understanding the current challenges in multicultural education of achieving
quality access for the „black‟ majority as well as of undoing essentialist apartheid
ways of thinking and being in relation to difference. As Soudien (2009) argues “one
of the major purposes of the apartheid school was to induct young people into and to
teach them racial identity” (148).
Against this historical context, Carrim and Soudien used the term „antiracism‟ rather
than „critical multiculturalism‟ in May‟s 1999 edited collection, Critical Multiculturalism.
They defended their choice by pointing to the continued overwhelming centrality of
„race‟ in South Africa as well as to the abuse of „culture‟ under apartheid which has
led to any uses of „culturalist‟ languages in schools referring to “ „bad‟ multiculturalist
tendencies [which] bear stark resonances with the justifications of apartheid itself,”
and which “essentialise cultures, homogenise and stereotype people‟s identities and
do not address the power dimensions of racism” (Carrim and Soudien, 1999: 155).
6This link between apartheid and multiculturalism has been articulated by a number of
South African educationists (e.g. Cross, 1991, Makgoba, 1997, Mkwanazi and Cross,
1992, Morrow, 1998/2007, Moodley, 1997) and thus cannot be ignored. Research
conducted under the NEPI4 framework in 1992 drew attention to the links between
multiculturalism and apartheid education with the latter described as one of “the best
known contemporary examples of extreme multiculturalism” (Mkwanazi and Cross,
1992: 39, Muller, 1992). This view was echoed in the final curriculum
recommendations in the NEPI Curriculum report which presented two models or
policy options for dealing with cultural diversity in the curriculum labelled A)
Multiculturalism and B) Common Citizenship.
The way in which the options were labelled reveals the prevailing attitudes that the
recognition of diversity was not compatible with the process of education for national
reconciliation and common citizenship. Wally Morrow (1998) also outlined the
uncomfortable similarities between multicultural education and apartheid ideologies.
Acknowledging the way in which „culture‟ and difference were used in the ideology of
apartheid and their very real divisive consequences, Morrow concluded that
At this time in South Africa, the politics of difference is likely to reinforce
traditional divisions, rather than to enable us to discover the social cohesion
of which we were deprived during colonialism and Apartheid (1998: 242).
While it is true that addressing the „politics of difference‟ may reinforce divisions as
Morrow argues, it is equally likely that ignoring and refusing to engage with difference
will reinforce these divisions. One might argue that the politically radical refusal to
address difference in schooling of the early 1990s has contributed to the dominant
model of cultural assimilation into „white‟ (or „coloured‟ or „Indian‟ depending on the
history of school) middle-class ways of doing and being acknowledged as commonly
promoted in many desegregated schools (Soudien, 2004).
Carrim and Soudien‟s (1999) critiques of multicultural education as essentialising
culture and identities and neglecting the power dimensions of race echoed critiques
from many other researchers in the United Kingdom (especially in relation to anti-
racism), in the USA (in relation to critical race theory) and Canada. Current critical
approaches to multiculturalism are presented as addressing such critiques (e.g.
Banks, 2009, May, 2009, May and Sleeter, 2010). May (2009) argues that critical
multiculturalism addresses the shortcomings of the multicultural approach by:
attempting to theorise ethnicity in non-essentialist ways; acknowledging unequal
power relations and critiquing static constructions of culture. May draws attention to
the need to examine knowledge structures in the school curriculum and the ways in
which these align with those in power:
In particular, attention needs to be paid here to the processes by which
alternative cultural knowledges come to be subjugated, principally through the
hegemonies and misrepresentations – (…) which invariably accompany such
comparisons [of hegemonic and subjugated knowledges] (May, 2009: 43).
This issue will be taken up in Part 2 of the paper, particularly in relation to language.
Banks‟ (2009) outlining of five dimensions of multicultural education similarly
addresses problems in the early multicultural approach: content integration (the
extent to which content from a range of cultures is incorporated in the curriculum);
deconstructing the knowledge construction process (examining implicit cultural
assumptions and frames of reference within disciplinary knowledge); prejudice
4The NEPI (National Education Policy Investigation) research was a project of the ANC aligned National
Education Crisis Committee (NECC) which conducted research and published guidelines “in all areas of
education within a value framework derived from the ideals of the broad democratic movement” to inform
policy making under the future democratic government (NEPI, Curriculum, 1992:vii)
7reduction (changing students‟ racial attitudes); an empowering school culture; and a
equity pedagogy (changing teaching practices to facilitate academic achievement of
diverse students) (Banks, 2009:15). Our dual focus on what knowledge and values
schools teach as well as who gets meaningful access to the curriculum thus
resonates with Banks and May‟s approach.
Theoretical Approach to Redress and Difference
Consonant with our earlier discussion of the critical themes of difference and
inequality that have emerged in post-apartheid South Africa (see discussion under
Demographics above), we theorise difference in non-essentialist ways and as
operating in complex inter-relationships. We draw on post-colonial understandings of
the hybrid nature of race and culture as shifting social practices and have found
Hall‟s (1992) theorizing of race in „new ethnicities‟ productive. Soudien, Carrim and
Sayed (2004; see also Sayed and Soudien, 2003) use Hall‟s (1996) theory of
articulation to highlight the ways in which multiple vectors of difference interact,
preventing the partial picture that emanates from the privileging of only one lens (be
this race, gender, social class or another):
The concept of an interlocking framework recognises the highly complex
ways in which race, class, gender and other categories [including language]
intersect and inter-relate to produce unique individual and group experiences
(Soudien et al 2004:14).
While, several South African researchers have taken up post-structuralist
approaches to identity and post-colonial approaches to difference, disturbingly, this
seems to have had little impact on the ground. Essentialist constructions of race,
culture and difference tend to persist in everyday classroom life (Chisholm, 2008a,
Dolby, 2001, McKinney, 2007, 2010, Moletsane, Hemson and Muthukrishna, 2004,
Tihanyi and du Toit, 2005) and Chisholm (2008b:360) has argued, “[m]uch of the
recent literature has shown that far from being a nation of cosmopolitans, South
Africans are strongly xeonophobic.” There is thus little evidence of the academic
debate on anti-racism, critical multiculturalism and difference in education (e.g.
Gillborn, 1995, Carrim and Soudien, 1999, Banks, 2009, May, 1999, 2009, Gillborn
and Youdell, 2009) having filtered down to the level of the school and even more
crucially, to classroom practice in South Africa.
Policy context
Post-apartheid saw the establishment of a generally enabling policy environment for
inclusion (Sayed et al, 2007). At the outer most level is the Constitution which came
into effect in 1996 with the aim to “establish a society based on democratic values,
social justice and fundamental human rights” (Preamble of the Constitution of South
Africa, 1996:1). However, as Soudien (2009:147)) points out, progressive as the
constitution is, it nevertheless bears the traces of the politics of the time of its
development. Most significant of these was “the compromise made between the
African National Congress, the leading liberation movement, and the National Party,
the party of apartheid, to respect each other‟s cultural institutions”. “With respect to
education, for example, it says that „everyone has the right to establish and maintain,
at their own expense, independent educational institutions that …do not discriminate
on the basis of race‟ (RSA, 1996, 14), but elsewhere, with respect to language and
culture, it says that „everyone has the right to use the language and participate in the
cultural life of their choice‟ (RSA, 1996, 15). This constitutional provision made
possible the re-appropriation of racial privilege through particular groups‟ abilities to
practice what they came to present as „their own culture‟. And eminently reasonable
as this right was, it projected culture in essentialist and uncritical ways” (Soudien,
82009:147). The constitution has thus also enabled the adoption of problematic forms
of multiculturalism in post-apartheid schooling.
Sayed et al identify three phases in the post-apartheid policy environment:
1) 1994-1997: Integration of the previous racially and ethnically divided system
through the establishment of “a unified, democratic and accountable
education system” (31). At this time, however the education budget and
bureaucracy was largely inherited from and thus constrained by pre-
democratic government.
2) 1997-1999: Introduction of a flurry of policies, which are largely viewed as
symbolic, providing “images of the desired educational outcomes” (33) that
are not necessarily realized.
3) 1999-2004: Focus on improvement of school practice through whole school
evaluation and emphasis on NSC passes.
During the three phases, a number of substantive policy texts were published
including the South African Schools Act (SASA, DOE, 1996) which “sought to
promote access, quality and democratic governance of the schooling system. It
sought to ensure that all learners would have the right of access to quality education
without discrimination, and made schooling compulsory for children aged 7 to 14.”
(Sayed et al, 35). The Act provided for democratic school governance through
School Governing Bodies (SGBs) and provided for two types of schools: independent
and public or state funded schools. “A key mechanism to achieve redress through
distribution of the education budget was articulated in the National Norms and
Standards for School Funding (NNSSF) Act, 1998. This policy provided a
framework for allocating „non-personnel recurrent costs on the basis of need‟”, based
on provincial education department produced „targeting lists‟. “The main effect of the
revised formula is that the poorest 40% of schools receive 60% of the provincial
schooling non-personnel budget allocation, and the least poor 20% received 5% of
the resources” (35). A new funding policy was implemented nationally in 2007
granting no-fees status to the poorest 40% of schools (Hall, 2009:36). Such schools
may not charge fees and receive the greatest financial allocation per learner.
Approximately 60% of learners were reached by fee-free schools in 2009 (Wildeman,
2009). Other schools however charge user fees on a sliding scale as determined by
the SGB with the previously privileged schools charging relatively high fees. While
any learner can apply for a fee exemption (on the basis of financial need), the fact
that schools do not receive any financial compensation for exemptions has meant
that they are reluctant to grant such exemptions, reliant as they are on school fees to
pay for resources. The policy of fee-free schools is thus the first attempt to address
this problem in access by compensating schools not receiving user fees.
Fee free schools – 2008
Total no. of schools 24 751
Fee free schools 14 215 (57.4%)
Total no. of learners enrolled 11 873 162
Learners in fee-free schools 5 307 833 (44.7%)
Source: SAIRR (2009, 51)
The introduction of a new curriculum, Curriculum 2005 and the National
Curriculum Statement, introduced in 1998, “envisaged a move away from a racist,
apartheid, rote-learning model of learning and teaching, to one which is liberating,
nation-building, learner-centred and outcomes based” (36) Key to the new
curriculum was an emphasis on competencies rather than particular knowledge. The
curriculum was reviewed in 2000 and again in 2009. The most recent review
9recommends a move away from OBE and integrated learning areas, acknowledging
that these have not delivered the liberating outcomes aspired to (DoE, 2009). [The
initial focus on OBE has meant that the issue of knowledge in the curriculum has
escaped serious debate in the post-apartheid transformation of schooling. The
dominant discourse, as Sayed et al (2007, 115) point out, “is one focused on the
production of citizens able to operate and succeed in a „Western environment‟” and
the exclusionary effects of this as well as of the broad direction of policy „to generate
public participation within the framework of Western approaches to democracy and
civil society‟ is generally ignored (115). This is accompanied by a neglect of the
particular challenge for many South African learners of having to contend with what
Soudien (2009, 147) has described as “the perplexing phenomena of the mind such
as “tradition” and modernity”.
In relation to the application of notions of democratic participation in school
governance, Soudien and Sayed (2004) have pointed out several problems, or
unintended consequences, of decentralization as promoted in the SASA. Firstly, “The
Act projects parental identity around a restrictive middle-class construction of who
parents are and how they function” (2004:108); and secondly, “In shifting power to
the local site, the ability of the state to manage the reforms as a package is severely
compromised and undermined” (Soudien and Sayed, 2004: 113). Rather than
strengthening the intended project of democracy, decentralization can be seen as a
key mechanism in a new racial (and social class) project of schooling:
“decentralization permits, if not the reproduction of key racial features of the old
order, but then certainly the remaking of those old features in new forms” (104).
Broadly speaking, previously well-resourced and privileged ex-white suburban
schools remain well-resourced with a huge gap between such schools and the
resources and educational outcomes at previously black schools.
One attempt to disrupt the racialisation of schooling and to prioritise democratic
values can be seen in the establishment of the Race and Values Directorate by the
Department of Education in 2000/1. The Directorate published a manifesto for
Values in schools based on the ten fundamental values of the constitution (see
Introduction above) including that
“All learners have access to teaching and learning and are catered for in the
school
All learners feel valued and welcomed in the classroom, irrespective of racial,
class, religious and language backgrounds” (Department of Education,
2002:4).
The manifesto further identified strategies for familiarizing young South Africans with
the values of the constitution “and set in process a more engaged focus on HIV and
AIDS” (36). Alongside the Directorate for Race and Vales, the South African Human
Rights Commission set up as one of the “state institutions supporting constitutional
democracy” also plays a significant role in preventing and intervening in
discrimination. In 1999, the SAHRC released a report on Racism, „racial integration‟
and desegregation (Vally and Dalamba, 1999) which revealed significant problems in
relation to racism and assimilation of black students in schools from which they were
previously excluded. A gender equity task team (GETT) established in 1996 led to
the formation of the Gender directorate in 1997. However, a colloquium held in 2004
highlighted the very limited gains made by the gender directorate following the GETT
report (see Chisholm and September, 2005). The Race and Values directorate has
also had limited impact.
10School Desegregation and Assimilation
While the issue of racial redress and access to quality schooling for those previously
denied is the concern of the majority of schools, in the absence of a national policy
with includes (former) „black‟ schools, the issue of integration and of dealing with
difference is largely seen as a concern of former „white‟ schools only (Soudien,
2009). Soudien‟s recent historical analysis of racial integration in South African
schools has shown how integration has been characterized by asymmetry in which
„white‟ people are positioned “as the bearers of preferred knowledge and „black‟
people, by contrast, as the embodiment of inferior understandings of the world”
(2007b, 443, Soudien, 2009). Such “asymmetrical relations of knowing” have played
themselves out in the common practices of assimilation in formerly white schools and
were set in place by the legal framework in late 1990 which began the official
process of desegregating government schools (Soudien, 2007b: 439). Apart from
giving „white‟ schools a choice as to whether they would open their doors to learners
of other races, two of the conditions were that „white‟ students remain in the majority
(51% or more) and that “the cultural ethos of such schools should remain intact”
(Carrim and Soudien, 1999, 157). It is thus perhaps unsurprising that research which
has tracked change in South Africa‟s desegregated schools since 1991 presents a
picture of limited or minimal changes in the practices and cultures of such schools
and an absence of co-ordinated programmes to address issues of diversity and
inequality such as racism and sexism (Naidoo, 1996, Carrim, 1998, Vally and
Dalamba, 1999, Sekete et al 2001, Dawson, 2007, Dornbrack, 2008).
Soudien (2007b) delineates three phases in the history of South African school
desegregation: firstly the desegregation of private religious schools in 1976-1990,
secondly the Clase5 years ending apartheid schooling 1990-1993, and finally the
post-1994 democratic era. The analysis reveals that it was only during the early
phase of desegregation involving the opening of private church schools to „black‟
learners that there was a brief moment of self-reflection and interrogation within
„white‟ schools. This was represented in the self-critical voices of Brother McGurk
and Sister Michael, representatives of two teaching orders within the Catholic
Church, who called for a consideration of processes of enculturation thus
acknowledging the partial cultural scripts operating in „white‟ schools. Theirs not
being the dominant voice, this moment was neither fully realised nor sustained
(Soudien, 2007b).
In continuity with the past, previously „white‟ schools at present are perceived as
representing the aspirational standard. This perception is entrenched by the current
context of widespread failure in the South African schooling system. To the extent
that previously „white‟ schools produce successful NSC matriculants with highly
valued university exemptions (and without any other measures of what constitutes
successful schooling in the country), such schools remain largely uninterrogated
spaces – perceived as the „shining lights‟ in an otherwise failing system.
Part 2 - Language and Inclusion/Exclusion in South African Schools
We now move on to focus on the role of language in processes of inclusion and
exclusion in South African schooling. As one factor to consider in multiculturalism in
education, language issues play themselves out in extremely complex ways across
the schooling system. At the broadest level, mismatches between the language of
learning and teaching and the linguistic resources learners bring with them to school
5Named after Minister of Education at the time, Piet Clase, who presided over the racial desegregation of
schools in the dying days of apartheid.
11create real problems of access to the curriculum for many learners. More narrowly,
learners‟ limited proficiency in English can prevent their admission to better
resourced schools (usually those previously set aside for learners classified as
„white‟, „Indian‟ and „coloured‟). Furthermore linguistic ideologies6, or beliefs about
language (English and African languages), in society and at the local level of the
school often work to position learners with limited proficiency in English as deficient.
[Part 2 draws on the findings of two research projects in which the authors were
involved: a UK Department for International Development (DFID) funded project on
„Education Exclusion and Inclusion: Policy and Implementation in South Africa and
India‟ in which Soudien was the lead South African researcher and a South Africa-
Netherlands Alternatives in Development (SANPAD) funded project on „Language,
Identity and Learning: exploring language practices of children attending
desegregated schools in urban South Africa‟ in which McKinney was the principal
investigator and Soudien a senior team member, as well as local published research.
Language in education policy and access to the curriculum
The national Language in Education Policy (LIEP) (DOE, 1997) has been widely
applauded as a highly progressive, educationally sound and inclusive policy. In line
with the South African constitution which recognizes 11 official languages, the LIEP
promotes multilingualism and the development of all official languages as part of the
process of redressing the neglect of local African languages during apartheid. It
aims to promote communication across apartheid racial and ethnic divides viewing
individual and societal multilingualism as the global norm and as a „defining
characteristic of being South African‟. The policy promotes the home language as
language of learning and teaching (LOLT) as well as bilingual LOLT and the principle
of additive bilingualism (maintenance of the home language alongside effective
acquisition of an additional language7). Furthermore, schools are expected to put
into place programs of support that will counter disadvantages for learners where
there is a mismatch between their home language and the language of learning and
teaching. Parents are entitled to choose the LOLT on application to schools and the
School Governing Body (SGB) is tasked with drawing up the school‟s language
policy, determining LOLT, additional languages on offer as subjects (at least one
must be taken from Grade 3 level upwards) as well as how multilingualism will be
promoted.
In reality, most schools do not have formal or official written language policies
(Probyn, 2005), frequently because they do not have functioning SGBs or because
SGBs do not have the specialised skills and knowledge needed to formulate such
polices. In practice, the only children who are receiving home language LOLT
throughout their schooling are the „white‟, „coloured‟ and „Indian‟ learners who are
learning through English and Afrikaans, the former apartheid official languages, in
relatively well resourced schools (20% of learners). Most African learners (80%)
receive instruction in their home language to Grade 3 (and in some cases Grade 4)
and then switch over rather suddenly to English LOLT, known within bilingual
education models as the sudden transition model (Baker, 2006). There is also a
move in schools catering for African learners towards the earlier introduction of
6 Linguistic ideologies are defined, following Spolsky (2004) in McGroaty (2008) as “the belief systems that
determine language attitudes, judgements, and, ultimately, behaviour” (98). As McGroaty points out, all
language users “possess ideological frameworks that determine choice, evaluation, and use of language
forms and functions” (98).
7 In South African policy, the term ‘additional language’ has replaced the more common term of ‘second
language’ in recognition of the fact that many learners are proficient in more than two languages. Thus
English is not necessarily second language (ESL) to many African language speakers, but may in fact be
there third, fourth, or fifth language.
12English LOLT and „straight for English‟ (i.e from year one) policies. This is in a
context where teachers themselves have limited proficiency in English, especially in
rural schools (which cater for 57% of learners). Ironically in such rural African
schools, teachers and learners generally come from linguistically and racially
homogenous backgrounds. While this is usually a strong basis for the shared local
language to be used as LOLT, in practice this is not the case. The use of code-
switching between English and African languages is a common though
unacknowledged practice and not mentioned in the LIEP. Learners generally
conduct spoken discourse in an African language but are expected to learn to read
and write in English. In urban schools, there is often a larger range of home
languages amongst learners, especially in township schools in the Gauteng province
(the most densely populated) which makes the implementation of HL LOLT more
complex.
The significance of the lack of policy implementation is best revealed in the huge
achievement gap between English additional language learners (mostly African) who
write the national senior certificate in English (e.g. in 2007 – 60.6% pass rate, see
part 1 above), and English and Afrikaans home language learners (mostly „white‟)
who write the examinations in their home language (e.g. in 2007 – 98.4% pass rate,
see part 1 above). This gap is replicated in the systemic assessments of reading and
mathematics carried out in primary school, whether local or international, the results
of which reveal a bimodal distribution with 70-80% of learners at Grade six level
(mostly African, working class and poor) failing such assessments, while 20-30%
(mostly middle class) achieve well (Fleisch, 2008). While we cannot explain such
achievement gaps solely on the basis of learners writing in home and additional
languages, it is clear that this is an important factor in underperformance. As
Kathleen Heugh has argued, the majority of learners in SA are “linguistically
excluded from meaningful access to learning” (Heugh, 1999:309).
In coming to understand the chasm between policy and practice, we need to
consider both the national department of basic education‟s (pre-2009 named the
national department of education) lack of support to schools in implementing the
policy, which, since its release in 1997, has never been supported by a program or
plan of implementation, as well as the growing hegemonic status of English in South
Africa post-apartheid and current linguistic ideologies (Kamwangamalu, 2003,
McKinney, 2007b, Makoe, 2007, 2009). At present, there is neither provision of
extended home language LOLT (including accompanying government financial
support for the development of educational materials in African languages) nor is
there any support for learners who are learning through English as an additional
language. It is in fact incomprehensible that with all the acknowledgements of the
hegemony of English, its material and symbolic power, there have been no
systematic attempts to radically intervene in the curriculum (whether in the English as
additional language learning area, or in infusing language development across the
curriculum), transforming this so that learners have an opportunity to develop sound
English language proficiency. In reality, rather than providing valuable learning
resources, or being a defining characteristic of being South Africa, linguistic diversity
and multilingualism is constructed as a stumbling block preventing access to the
curriculum.
Access to schools & learner positioning within schools
Disturbingly, the South Africa/India project found that learner proficiency in English
functioned as a “„major‟ mechanism of exclusion‟” (Sayed, et al 2007, 53) in
previously white, Indian and coloured schools. While schools are not officially
allowed to select learners based on their performance in admissions tests, the testing
13of English proficiency through interviews and even entrance examinations was
common. Allied to this are the impact of monoglot linguistic ideologies which
exclusively value English proficiency and equate academic achievement or even
intelligence with learners‟ ability to communicate in English: as Soudien & Sayed
(2004, 110) point out “[a] learner‟s competence was invariably judged on her his or
her ability to write and read and speak English well.” “This resulted in the structural
exclusion of ESL learners in the school and the representation of achievement as a
„white‟, „Indian‟, and „coloured‟ characteristic” (i.e. groups with the most English home
language speakers).
These findings were echoed in the research on language practices in desegregated
urban schools (McKinney, 2008). We present brief examples from data in this project
of how such ideologies and practices are expressed. In the secondary girls‟ school
(previously catering to „white‟ learners now replaced by „black‟ learners), the school‟s
language policy ensured that English was the official language of learning and
teaching and the only language allowed in the formal space of the classroom. The
school thus offered English as first (home) language and offered Afrikaans as first
additional language (or second language). The unofficial option of taking Zulu as an
extra subject after school hours was available only in the final Grade 12 year and
depended on ad hoc arrangements. On their first day of school in Grade 8, learners
write an English proficiency test as well as a Mathematics test which is used to
stream them according to their results. In explaining this procedure, the head of
languages made it clear that the English test carried far more weight than
mathematics: “Because the headmistress says when in doubt or if there is a big
difference between the English and the mathematics [results] then go on the English”
(Interview with head of languages). Here one sees the conflation of high proficiency
in English with ability to achieve. This was further evidenced in the head of
language‟s views on the use of code-switching in the classroom:
And in an academic class, the brighter girls usually do speak English to each
other and lapse into their languages less. So, I am just assuming that if you
do well academically, your English is of a higher standard. I am making that
assumption. (…) It can be just an assumption, in a weaker class they will
speak vernacular [i.e. local languages] more often (Interview with Ms Smith).
The assumption the teacher makes about „brighter girls‟ lapsing into „their language
less‟ while girls in a „weaker class (…) speak vernacular more‟ reinforces the
reasoning underlying the streaming according to the English proficiency test that
conflates good proficiency in English with intelligence.
In a desegregated co-educational primary school also previously „white‟ and now
demographically „black‟, English was the LOLT from Grade 1. The deputy principal
explained that parents had decided on the policy of English LOLT and Afrikaans as
first additional language. In elaborating on parent‟s choices for English LOLT, the
deputy principal exclaimed “well if you were to say let‟s have Zulu as a source
language we would have a revolution!” (Makoe, 2009, 133). This constructs English
as the „normal‟ and obvious choice, revealing the negative positioning of Zulu despite
the fact that it is one of the dominant home languages of children attending the
school. The deputy principal described children who come to the school (situated in
urban Gauteng) from rural areas as without linguistic resources: “Yes, especially if
you look at the kids who come from rural areas who have basically no language.”
Here lack of proficiency in English is equated with no language proficiency at all,
clearly expressing a monoglot linguistic ideology (Makoe, 2007). Such ideologies are
learned by the children who quickly come to realise that good proficiency in English
is the only linguistic resource worth anything in the school environment. As Bourdieu
points out, schooling is one of the most important sites for social reproduction and is
thus also one of the key sites, „which imposes the legitimate forms of discourse and
14the idea that discourse should be recognised if and only if it conforms to the
legitimate norms‟ (Bourdieu 1997, 650).
The effects of the position of English as the only „legitimate language‟ in many South
African schools is further influenced by the racialised nature of different varieties of
English in South Africa following different speech norms which developed during
apartheid racial segregation. By contrast to White South African English (WSAE),
Black South African English (BSAE) is often stigmatized and has been characterised
by sociolinguists as a deviation from the norm provided by standard South African
English (de Klerk and van Gough 2002). Given the nature of „white‟ hegemony in the
economy and the broader cultural environment it is not surprising that varieties of
English spoken by „white‟ people have come to define the standard for how English
should be spoken. Again this can be explained drawing on Bourdieu‟s analysis of the
relationship between language and power: “[d]iscourse is a symbolic asset which can
receive different values depending on the market on which it is offered” (Bourdieu,
1997, 651). Simply put “language is worth what those who speak it are worth‟ (ibid)
and „the dominant usage is the usage of the dominant class” (1997, 659). Speaking,
therefore, a variety of fluent English which approximates to a variety of White South
African English (including in the key audibility aspect of accent) is thus a form of
cultural capital, or more precisely linguistic capital, in South Africa (McKinney,
2007b).
This linguistic ideology is learned and frequently expressed by „black‟ learners in
desegregated schools. For example one secondary school learner explained:
Tsolo (16 yrs, female, African):I think people speak in different ways because
of their backgrounds and where they come from and how they are taught to
speak. Like, if let‟s say she‟s brought up by people, let‟s say white people and
I‟m brought up by blacks who can‟t speak English, I‟m going to speak that
broken English and she‟s going to speak that smooth perfect English.
(McKinney, 2007b, 16)
And another learner (in conversation with her friend, and the researcher who asked
what kind of English she spoke) explained:
Lulu: I think I speak a type of English that eh, (pause) I don‟t know because
(pause)
Lindi: it‟s hard
Lulu: I know. It‟s like, I don‟t know
Lindi: her English is good
Lulu: it is the type of white people, type of English.
Lindi: Mm
Lulu: You know what I mean? It‟s not the Coloured English, it is not the Indian
English.
Lindi: it‟s not the one mixed with your, with your…
Lulu: language
Lindi: African language, ja, ja,
(McKinney, 2007b,15).
The lack of cultural capital accompanying local African languages in high status
domains and the assimilationist expectation that African learners should
communicate exclusively in the prestige variety of English (or in some cases in
Afrikaans) is further reflected in the finding that African students‟ use of local
indigenous languages is often negatively perceived by „coloured‟, „white‟ and „Indian‟
15learners who often label such usage as exclusive and threatening (Weber, Nkomo
and Amsterdam, 2009). The fact that African learners may be excluded with the
exclusive use of English demonstrates the monoglot ideologies held by many first
language English speakers. Ndlangamandla (2010) reports the disappointments of
some African learners at the lack of effort made by „white‟, „Indian‟ and „coloured‟
learners to learn African languages. While African languages are very often not
offered (again despite official LIEP principles) in previously „white‟, „coloured‟ and
„Indian‟ schools, even where they are, it is unusual to find non-African learners
choosing to learn the languages. There is no doubt that in contrast to the aims of the
LIEP, linguistic diversity constructs and reinforces social divisions among learners,
limiting the possibilities of shared youth cultures and opportunities to communicate
across apartheid constructed boundaries or race and social class.
Some small scale qualitative studies which utilize the tools of an ethnographic
method (notably observation and recording of naturally occurring speech in and
outside of classrooms) do however offer moments of hope, and demonstrate the
powerful mobility of linguistic resources which can be differently valued depending on
the audience and particular context. Research in four secondary schools (Nongogo,
2007, McKinney, 2010, Ndlangamandla, 2010) showed how particular „black‟
learners are able to draw on the full range of their linguistic repertoires in playful and
creative ways, which at times function to subvert the assimilation project, despite the
fact that only their proficiency in English is valued in official discourses in the schools.
McKinney (2007b), Nongogo (2007) and Ndlangamandla (2010) show the positive
views African learners hold towards African languages and the ways in which they
draw on these linguistic resources, despite the hegemonic status of English in their
schools. For example, McKinney (2007b) analyses the use of the usually derogatory
term „coconut‟ by black learners to label their peers who are perceived to have
assimilated to whiteness, and notably who no longer speak African languages or do
not use these much. Such labeling is an indicator of sub-cultural capital linked with
local indigenous languages among African youth.
At the primary school level, Makoe and McKinney (2009) provide a case-study of the
linguistic and semiotic strategies used by one multilingual Grade one learner (highly
proficient in Setswana, Sepedi and English, as well as in reading the unspoken rules
of classroom interaction) to induct other learners into ways of doing and being at
school. Despite the limited official use of learners‟ African languages in this English
LOLT classroom where most learners are proficient in African languages and not in
English, the case-study learner is shown to actively recruit her multiple linguistic
resources in order to provide her peers with access to both the official and unofficial
curriculum. What these examples illustrate is the complex pathways taken by agency
amongst young people. They are aware of the power valences in the formal setting
of the school and can adjust to it. This adjustment shows them exploring ways in
which they can make themselves acceptable in the mainstream. In inducting their
peers into this mainstream they demonstrate, moreover, an awareness of people
around them. But, as the „labelling‟ process described in the paragraph immediately
above shows, this induction constantly has to keep in sight the racialising proclivities
of the larger order, where the choice to speak in a „white‟ accent unleashes upon one
disapproval from one‟s peers which is very hard to manage. The young people thus
find themselves in situations which require constant alertness.
Conclusion
The purpose of this overview of multicultural education in South Africa is to show
how hard it is in contexts of social, economic and cultural dominance to develop and
implement approaches to, and systems, of education that are, on the one hand,
inclusive, in so far as they seek to bring into the orbit of teaching and learning those
16that had been marginalized, and, on the other, are also just and equitable, in respect
of what kinds of cultural capital enjoy respect and recognition.
Several challenges flow from this difficulty. The first is conceptual and has direct
bearing on the „traction‟ and even the applicability of the concept of multiculturalism
to South Africa. We have tried to show how the discussion around social difference in
South Africa is insistently over-determined by the master-signifier of „race‟. The
difficulty this precipitates is that „race‟ occludes the multiple ways in which
disadvantage is experienced. So dominant is its presence that it, ie „race‟, is invoked
when it in fact may be some other social factor that is at work. What this requires,
therefore, is a form of social analysis that is alert to the interpellation of race and the
always proximate realities of gender, class, religion, language, place of „origin‟ and
so on. The problem with using apolitical forms of multiculturalism is that they begin
with essentialist understandings of difference particularly those that conflate „race‟
and „culture‟ and which, moreover, approach culture in simplistic, static and
homogenized ways, and so fail to recognize the multiple ways in which dominance
asserts itself.
The second challenge is that in beginning with essentialised forms of difference, and
in struggling to name the ways in which racism is obscured and is hidden behind
„race‟, multiculturalism struggles to come to grips with how individuals and groups
strategically choose to present themselves. It cannot see how identification, self-
identification and attribution of social characteristics is a minefield for all of the
stakeholders in a society and how little the content of multiculturalism prepares
young people to operate in spaces such as these with the kind of critical capacity that
is not trapped within the logics of self-interest that come with notions of „my people
and my culture‟ and „you people and your culture.‟ We try to show in the discussion
on language how this difficulty manifests itself in how children of colour themselves
react to a world which is based on the naturalized racial language of „my people, my
culture‟. We are unable to demonstrate it, but there is need to investigate how this
marginalization – activated structurally but also enacted by the subjects themselves -
actually works in relation to the continuing racial and class based achievement gaps
amongst young people in South Africa. Much of the explanation that has to this point
been made draws on the structural realities of South Africa, its racially determined
policies inherited from apartheid. This explanation does not actually explain why
these children fail to flourish. It is unable to draw a distinct line between their social
and economic deprivation and the choices they actually make. We would like to
suggest that the work we have done on their language choices could help us begin to
see, however, tentatively, the scale of the mountain that they are required to climb to
achieve. With much of their pasts invalidated they stand in front of a modern order
with limited social, cultural and critically economic capital. Little that they have has
currency. Told that they now need redress because they are black, many come to
think that it is the colour of the skins which needs remediation. In the process they,
predictably, become immensely confused. It is this unacknowledged „headwork‟ that
becomes their primary burden in life. In relation to it many black children succumb to
the assimilative pull of the school and simply follow its imperatives. Many disengage
from it and are disaffected. They come to the conclusion that it cannot do anything
for them. It is this phenomenon that the formal schooling system has yet to recognize
and which any policy of social difference in relation to learning needs to come to
terms with urgently.
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