WHEN A "BOER" BECOMES A FARM OWNER

My response to Braam Hanekom's article, "Farmers are striking in De Doorns."

http://www.facebook.com/notes/braam-hanekom/farmers-are-striking-in-de-doorns/10151106012957691

Thank you Braam for a thought provoking piece on the matter at De Doorns.

I agree with you that the use of the language we use is confusing, especially when it comes to the word “Farmer” or “Boer.” Indeed, introspection is needed as I believe the issue is far deeper than the mere use of language as the headline to your article in the Cape Argus would suggest. To my mind there are two issues concerning the word “Boer.” Firstly, the word is intrinsic to white Afrikaner identity and nationalism, and secondly the word has class connotations attached to it.

I think we need to cast our minds back to the days of the VOC occupation of the Cape. The Company granted permission to some of its employees whose contracts had expired or who sought to be released from their contracts, to farm on the land within the boundaries of the Colony. So a group of itinerant pastoral farmers was created, the “Trek Boere.” It is within this group that even today white Afrikaners will look to for their cultural roots. Later on the Company allocated land to those it deemed fit to establish farms that would become the backbone of the colonial economy. Great farms were established for grape, wine, fruit and wheat production. All these farms were in the hands of white Afrikaners who relied mostly on slave labour. It is here in the context of land ownership and farm production that the Afrikaner identity was established and forged in terms of language, religion and culture. The Afrikaner in fact became a “Boer.”

The Great Trek was a melting pot moment in the making of this new identity: the Afrikaner was leaving the shackles of British rule to find greener pastures (literally and figuratively). What drove them and motivated them was to find new land to own and to farm, which is exactly what they did. Along the way these “Boere” took land away from the indigenous people living there and used these people as a source of cheap labour for their new farms. The towns that were established were there solely to support the farmers, the “Boere.” Afrikaner identity and nationalism were bound to the land, and I contend they are still bound to the land. When gold and diamonds were discovered, there was an influx of foreigners and the economy began to shift away from agriculture, but even so the Afrikaner did not and could not relinquish that intrinsic connection with the land. During the Anglo Boer War the British exploited this perceived weakness by burning farms and removing women and children to concentration camps, something for which the British have never apologised and which the Afrikaner has never forgotten nor forgiven the British. Scratch the surface of Afriforum's thinking and I am sure these facts will emerge.

After Union in 1910 the Land Bank was established to assist white people, mostly Afrikaners, to get back onto the land and to farm productively. Again this was done on the back of cheap black labour, who had no claim to the land they lived on and worked. Even though many Afrikaners worked in other sectors, the connection to the farm was never lost. The vast majority of Afrikaner professionals living in the cities were also farm owners and made a point of spending quality time on the farm during the year.

That brings me to my second point on the matter. The ownership of land and the identity of being a “Boer” began to acquire a class status. After the National Party won the election in 1948, Afrikaners were pushed to the forefront of the crucial banking, mining, academic and industrial sectors. For many this was at the expense of losing that connection with the land. However, for those Afrikaners in the upper middle and upper classes it was something prestigious to say that one owned a farm. Owning a farm meant that one could still be an authentic “Boer” albeit by remote control. Those who owned farms were accorded a status above the average person who could not afford it or had no desire to acquire his or her own farm. Intuitively the Afrikaner knew that because of that deep connection to the land, a true “Boer” must own a farm. However even those who were not farm owners could still find a cultural commonality by referring to themselves as “Boere.”

I am beginning to think that this class status attached to farm ownership, in our contemporary political landscape, is being blurred across racial lines hence the farm owner's statement that, “We are farmers, not whites.” Land distribution and shared ownership of farms has seen the emergence of many black farm owners. There are of course black farm owners who own farms for the sake of owning farms, a reflection of their new wealth and status. There is also the darker side to that when it reflects something of the victor mentality that unconsciously states that true victory can only be achieved when the Afrikaner has lost his identity as a “Boer” (a fear I am sure we will discover in Afriforum's thinking if we scratch the surface). This class of being a farm owner or a farmer, a “Boer,” can no longer be used to refer exclusively to white Afrikaners, which I think must be dreadfully unsettling to the white Afrikaner who finds his identity in being a “Boer.”

In English, the words “farmer,” “farm owner” and “farm worker” sound and feel comfortable and apolitical. However, when we change to Afrikaans the words, “boer,” “plaaseienaar” and “plaaswerker” are no longer comfortable and are no longer apolitical. To tell the “Boer” that the farm worker is also a “boer” is like saying to the bull in front of which you are waving a red flag, “You are not the Bull anymore.”

Perhaps a way forward would be to say to the “Boer,” “Yes you are a 'Boer' and we respect you as such, and you are the farm owner and your workers are farm workers.“ It might be wise to dispense with the word ”farmer” for now and wait until the wound has healed properly.

My two cents worth.

P.S. I am writing in my personal capacity and as the great grandson of Hendrik Adolph Frederik Treu Jnr, a Commandant in the Anglo Boer War who fought against the British in the Free State, a “Boer” and farm owner.

“SOUL TIFFIE?” I DON'T THINK SO.

This note is written to the man I met in the barber shop a few days before I left on deployment in September. I rushed into the barber shop after work for my last proper haircut for the next six months. As I joined the queue there was a man already sitting having his hair cut who noticed my chaplain's purple beret and remarked glibly, “Oh, so you're the soul tiffie!” I'm sure he meant it in good faith as normal barber shop banter but at that moment I took offence and ignored the man. At the time I wasn't entirely sure as to why I had taken such offence: I put it down to the last minute pressure of the pre-deployment arrangements, but after some thought I realised it was more than just that. I owe him and myself an explanation.

This is why I don't like it and why I take offence at being called a “soul tiffie.”

The term itself belongs to the past, to the days of the SADF and white conscription. In the new SANDF it is a term that is not used. The mere use of the term brings up associations with the ignominious past of the SADF that was used to gird an oppressive regime. The SADF too had its own way of oppressing and exploiting those unfortunate enough to be conscripted into it. Things are very different in the SANDF. We are a voluntary force representing the demographics of our country. There are many challenges: we are underpaid, under-resourced and short-staffed. The atmosphere however is completely and profoundly different. In the SADF the corporal was expected to swear at and to insult the troops; the corporal who tries to do that today will be dismissed. So at one level then, using the term “soul tiffie” is a symbol of our shameful past and hampers our efforts to move forward as a nation.

The term “soul tiffie” is problematic at a theological and epistemological level too. The term “soul” belongs to a dualistic world view that separates the “body” from the “soul.” It is easy to subscribe to this world view if one believes that the earth is flat and that heaven is up and hell is down. In this dualistic world view when one dies the soul leaves the body and depending on the requisite virtues or vices of the previous incumbent of the body, the soul will either float blissfully heavenward or fall heavily down to hell. Modern thinking has changed all that. Modern theologians do not subscribe to this simple dualism and will speak circumspectly and carefully when it comes to the “soul.” What then exactly is the job description of a “soul tiffie?” What is it we are supposed to do? The question becomes obfuscated further when the so-called “soul tiffie” does not subscribe to the dualistic world view elucidated above and does not believe in this concept of a “soul.”

For the sake of the man in the barber shop however, let's assume that “soul tiffie” means dealing with matters that concern the “soul” without becoming too philosophical about it. To most this means dealing with religious and spiritual matters only. It is assumed that the “soul tiffie” will be concerned with matters of worship, devotion and prayer. It is exactly this kind of thinking that led to the cry during Apartheid that the Church must stay out of politics. We forget that the Church was at the forefront of the struggle against Apartheid because in fact religion has everything to do with politics. Religion is how we connect to God, to one another and to ourselves. Politics is the way we live and the way we order our society. It is the responsibility of religion to be pointing society to a better way of living and engaging with one another. It is the responsibility of religion to be speaking out against oppression and against any system that dehumanises or brutalises people. The chaplain has the task within the organisation to be speaking out against all that which dehumanises and oppresses, to be pointing those in the organisation to a better way. There are times when this voice of conscience is welcomed, but at other times it is met with resistance and/or disdain. The chaplain must bear this responsibility with fortitude and dedication in spite of opposition or attempts to thwart the message. I submit to the man in the barber shop that this understanding of the role of the chaplain is not inherent or intended in the term “soul tiffie.”

Let us however bring this discussion to the level where it matters the most, to the human level. “Soul tiffie” implies a very narrow job description of who a chaplain is and what he or she does. It ignores some of the important tasks and responsibilities being a chaplain entails. I am the person to whom that young man or woman will come to seek advice concerning a problem back at home. I am the one to whom that soldier who can no longer take the pressure comes and who needs to vent or to cry. I am the one who listens to the stories of human lives and who seeks to be a guide and a comforter. I am the one who will hold the hand of the soldier who has been injured and who will make him or her feel that there is another human being who loves and cares: I stand there in the place of the family at home who cannot be there. I am the one to whom that soldier says, “Please tell my husband/wife/mother/child that I love them” as they are taken away for further treatment. I too am the one who has the responsibility to knock at the door of the family to tell them that their husband/wife/son/daughter has been injured or killed. To call me a “soul tiffie” in this context disparages what I do and who I am. To the man in the barber shop this really is the bottom line and is the main reason I took offence: I felt disparaged. I wonder if you would have been so glib in your remark had it been your loved one's hand I held as he or she lay dying? I wonder if you would have been so glib had I been the one knocking at your door to bring you the devastating news of the loss of your loved one? I don't think so.

To the man in the barber shop I am sorry I took offence so quickly. I owed you an explanation. I hope this explanation is adequate.

“Soul tiffie?” I don't think so...

Chaplain Andrew Treu