Emic and etic perspectives on Khoisan revivalism: a response to Bam, Coetzee, Gordon, and Øvernes. Khoisan Consciousness: An Ethnography of Emic Histories and Indigenous Revivalism in Post-Apartheid Cape Town

I am honoured that June Bam, Basil Coetzee, Siv Øvernes, and Robert Gordon accepted my invitation to share their thoughts on my book. I am equally grateful to the editors of Critical Arts for allowing us to have this discussion in their journal. In light of the decades of groundbreaking research it has published in the field of Khoisan Studies, I can think of no better host. The reviews differ in length, style, and emphasis, but I will focus on a shared concern that is indeed also central to my work: the relationship between ‘etic’ (i.e. outsider) and ‘emic’ (i.e. insider) perspectives.

This relationship is certainly relevant to the ongoing debates surrounding terminology, which every article or book dealing with the Khoisan usually begins with. Gordon reminds us that ‘Khoisan’ originated in the colonial era as an etic term to ‘lump’ various groups together. For these reasons, it upsets academics and non-academics alike. Gordon posits that ‘Khoisan’ is in fact beyond the pale, ultimately unsuitable for what I termed ‘subversive authenticity’. He suggests sakhoin as a potential alternative and encourages Khoisan revivalists to revive and explore elements of ‘conviviality’ from traditional Khoisan culture.

I do not possess the necessary expertise to contribute significantly to the discussion on terminology or culture from a standpoint of factual accuracy or archival knowledge. This is one of the reasons that I sometimes feel like an outsider in Khoisan Studies, not to mention my focus on Cape Town! Gordon’s proposal rather reminds me of the intricate relationship between academics and the Khoisan I examined through Ronald Niezen’s concept of ‘therapeutic history’ (2009), which I since elaborated on following feedback from Øvernes and others (see Verbuyst 2023). As indeed demonstrated in various sections of my book, academics offer a significant amount of the materials that Khoisan people use to shape their identities and cultures. Some of these materials end up with Khoisan revivalists indirectly, while others are directly offered to them as helpful advice. This has been, and continues to be, an important supply line for Khoisan revivalists (see below). However, academics should be cautious when commenting on the contents of culture or weighing in on appropriate modes of identification. Anthropologists working in various parts of the world have long grappled with this issue (see e.g. Linnekin 1991). From an anthropological (and moral) perspective, it is important to respect people’s individual preferences. No identity is inherently more problematic than another. Gordon is correct in critiquing my phrasing ‘remote Kalahari’ in this sense. I would ask him in return why he differentiates between ‘self-identifying Khoisan’ and the Bushmen/San, whose identity he seemingly takes for granted.

With regards to the San, I believe that Gordon accurately observes that there are still few ‘alliances’ with Khoisan revivalists (see e.g. Lee 2006). And yet, their paths continue to cross in contexts such as the National Khoisan Council or the recent rooibos settlement (see below). More research is needed to ascertain the nature of these engagements. San representation clearly plays a meaningful role in Khoisan revivalism. Coetzee, who regards my book as proof of the connections between Khoisan revivalism and the San, for instance references our visit to the !Khwa Ttu museum near Cape Town, although here too further research is required to gauge the effect of this institution on Khoisan revivalism. Whatever the relationship between both groups (if one could even speak of two singular groups) may be, I am puzzled by Gordon’s claim that Khoisan revivalists have created ‘successful social movements’ in contrast to the Bushmen/San. What about the ǂKhomani San land claim, the hoodia settlement, or the San Research Code of Ethics, to name but a few? Conversely, Khoisan revivalist organisations’ know short lifespans and are plagued by infighting.

Returning to the debate over ‘Khoisan’, some people evidently find the term to be a meaningful and authentic way to identify in the 21^st century. This is similar to the subversive appropriation of the n-word in the United States. Others believe it should be discarded and they have every right to voice their criticism. Whichever position one adopts, whether for purposes of self-identification or research, one has to be aware of its limitations. Moreover, it is crucial to recognise that critical-etic and interpretative-emic perspectives have a role to play. As Bam and Coetzee point out, it is essential to maintain a critical perspective on the identity politics that underlie certain aspects of Khoisan revivalism. While I support this effort (see for example Van Zyl-Hermann and Verbuyst 2022), I spent most energy pushing back against what I believe Bam and Øvernes accurately characterise as the ‘simplistic’ criticism of race and ethnicity as social constructions. Similar to Øvernes (2019) in her groundbreaking research on Khoisan identification among individuals living on the streets of Cape Town, my primary interest lies in emic perspectives. I acknowledge that wearing both hats may be seen as a cop-out. Then again, I just love how Khoisan revivalists seem to confuse us academics much more so than the other way around. At every turn, they refuse our academic categories, forcing us back to the drawing board.

By adopting a non-judgmental stance I was exposed to a wide range of emic perspectives. Both Bam and Coetzee commend me for the access I secured as a result, but this access was also curtailed in crucial respects. For example, as Bam’s (2021) recent book suggests, for the time being delving into indigenous knowledge might only be a realistic pursuit for ‘insiders’. Conversely, my choice to speak to as many people as possible has also been criticised by certain Khoisan revivalists who feel that I wasted my time, reproduced faulty histories, and naively platformed ‘charlatans’. Lastly, one should also not forget that my ability to conduct extensive fieldwork was in large part due to the fact that I was privileged enough to have the financial support to do so. Being afforded such freedom is increasingly rare in academia, especially in the Global South.

I certainly hope to be fortunate enough to continue my research because so many other aspects of Khoisan revivalism deserve scrutiny. Coetzee for example would like to learn more about how leaders and members of organisations interact, particularly in terms of ‘conscientization’ processes. Bam for her part believes that our theoretical understanding of indigeneity can be enhanced by studying Khoisan revivalists, who, as I noted before, refuse easy categorizations, thereby prompting us to rethink those very categories in turn. Crucially, as Bam put it, an emic theorization of indigeneity could lead us beyond ‘predictable’ conclusions that offend the ‘non-racial sensibilities’ of post-apartheid academia. I have for my part gestured towards the untapped potential of settler-colonial studies as an analytical lens on indigeneity and contemporary South African society (Veracini and Verbuyst 2020), which is something I intend to explore more fully in the years ahead.

While research like mine tends to age quickly, I am still struck by the pivotal developments that have occurred since its publication. I am primarily thinking of Henry Bredekamp’s passing, as well as three stories that are by no means concluded at the time of writing. The first massive land occupation under the Khoisan umbrella, known as Knoflokskraal, has been unfolding since 2020 on publicly-owned land near Grabouw and has attracted countless Capetonians (Human 2022). A recent multi-billion-rand property development in central Cape Town has been profoundly affected by contestations over its impact on Khoisan heritage, with some Khoisan revivalists believing that it will benefit them and others claiming it will have deeply destructive effects.¹ Significant financial resources may also soon flow towards Khoisan revivalists following a landmark agreement that was signed in November 2019 between the National Khoisan Council, the South African San Council, and the South African Rooibos Council, which recognises the Khoisan as the ‘traditional knowledge holders’ of rooibos and guarantees them 1.5 percent of proceeds from rooibos sales (Wynberg 2019).

I aim to follow-up on these developments in due course, but perhaps, as Gordon suggests, I should prioritise an affordable version of my book with less jargon, even if it will become open access in July 2024. I would personally like to see more Khoisan revivalists join the ranks of Coetzee (2019) and become more involved in academic debates, although they face numerous practical and institutional hurdles. Their texts will be as biased as any others, but that is precisely what is needed to counter the bias that has gone unchecked in mainstream academia for generations. As Coetzee points out, aside from historically enjoying limited access to universities, Khoisan revivalists distrust academics for this very reason. Like elsewhere in the world, there is a gap in South Africa between academia and the various communities it conducts research about. Bam and others have instead suggested ways in which research can be done with the Khoisan (Bam-Hutchison and Verbuyst 2023; Grant and Tomaselli 2023). One of the challenges among many is that once Khoisan people do become part of academia, they face short-term contracts and pressures from fellow Khoisan activists to implement immediate tangible changes.

Academia’s built-in asymmetries will have to be tackled somehow as I wish to reiterate in closing that the perspectives that need to be boosted at this time are primarily those of the Khoisan revivalists themselves. After all, when I reflect on Coetzee’s ability to translate his message through powerful speeches, poetry and prose, I am reminded that Khoisan revivalism is all about tying the past to the present. I cannot and should not assert the presence of the past in this way. I can position myself as an ally, but will forever remain an outsider. My book has a minor role (if any) to play in the grand scheme of things. I hope to carry this humility with me as I conduct further research into this fascinating phenomenon.

Notes

1 For an overview of the different positions in this debate, see the various commentaries in the special issue of New Agenda, 79, 1 (2021).