I Write What I Like

Chapters 13-16 were written in different contexts and for different audiences. Chapter 13 is an undated article from SASO’s newsletter; Chapter 14 is an essay from an edited volume on Black Theology; and Chapters 15 and 16 are excerpts from the 1976 BCP/SASO trial, which saw Biko convicted under the Terrorism Act. The pieces are sometimes linked thematically: As Stubbs observed in his prefatory remarks, for example, Chapter 13 is a companion piece to Chapter 16. The former is a critique of Bantustans, while the latter presents the creation of Azania as an alternative to the National Government’s native policy.

Biko positions himself as anti-separate development. In his view, Bantustans exclude Black people by forcibly moving them to all-Black “homelands” and stripping away their South African citizenship. He traces the origins of Bantustans to 1913, when the South African government first proposed to divide the land and apportion sections to indigenous populations. Initially unpopular with virtually all segments of the population, the National Government successfully created eight Bantustans after a nationwide media campaign spearheaded by a segment of the Afrikaans community.

Biko vehemently opposes Bantustans, presenting Bantustans as Tools of Government Control. He conveys his disdain by alluding to the Holocaust, as he did in Chapter 7: “These tribal cocoons called ‘homelands’ are nothing else but sophisticated concentration camps where black people are allowed to ‘suffer peacefully’” (86). Biko objects to Bantustans for several reasons: first, because Black people are the rightful owners of all of South Africa; second, because the land earmarked for Bantustans is undeveloped, unsuitable for agriculture, and excludes mineral rights; third, because Bantustans are underfunded; fourth, because they promote border industries that exploit Black labor; and fifth, because they offer false hope, divide Black people, and prevent them from lobbying as a group.

Biko cites statistics to convey the absurdity of separate development: 20% of the population control 87% of the land, while 80% control only 13% (82). He rejects the policy in the strongest terms:

Geographically, i.e., in terms of land distribution, bantustans present a gigantic fraud that can find no moral support from any quarters […] To make this situation even more ridiculous, not one of the so-called ‘Bantustan nations’ have an intact piece of land. All of them are scattered little bits of the most unyielding soil. In each area the more productive bits are white controlled islands on which white farms or other types of industry are situated (82).

Biko uses similarly strong language to describe Black Bantustan leaders, calling them “sell-outs and Uncle Toms” (81). Although he concedes that Bantustan leaders have good intentions, by participating in the system, they are not only siding with the oppressors, but also setting Black people up for failure, a view he conveys with an analogy: “If you want to fight your enemy you do not accept from him the unloaded of his two guns and then challenge him to a duel” (85).

While Chapter 13 is a critique of Bantustans, its companion piece, Chapter 16, offers Azania as an alternative. Bantustans are key devices for the disenfranchisement of Black people. By contrast, Azania empowers Black people because it is an African state run by Black people, for Black people, embodying The Role of Solidarity in Black emancipation. Responding to Soggot’s questions, Biko explains SASO’s vision for Azania, describing it as a society that will respect plurality, but that will belong solely to Black people. To underscore his stance, he reads SASO Resolution 45: “Therefore we wish explicitly to state that this country belongs to black people and to them alone" (121).

Biko then explains that white people who wish to remain in Azania will be allowed to do so, but only “on terms laid down by blacks and on condition that they respect the black people” (121). Anticipating objections, Biko clarifies that the idea of a Black African state is not “antiwhiteism,” but a natural development:

This country is essentially a country in Africa, a continent which is inhabited always naturally by black people […] whites are here and […] they may live in the country, or they may leave the country, depending on their relationship with blacks, and their acceptance of whatever conditions blacks in this country shall lay at a certain time (122).

Biko’s tone in Chapter 16 is direct and composed. He maintains his composure even in the face of hostility from the prosecutor and judge. Indeed, Biko exhibited great courage on the stand, openly voicing what many Black people were afraid to say. For example, when the prosecutor asked Biko what he thought of Black members of the security police, Biko responded, “They are traitors” (120), even though the room was ringed with Black and white security officers. In his prefatory remarks, Stubbs speculates that Biko’s courage inspired the Soweto uprising six weeks later, a series of protests and demonstrations led by Black South African students from various schools. The uprising resulted in at least 176 deaths (“The Soweto Uprising, 1976.” Michigan in the World). The two events may be unrelated, but, as Stubbs observes, “courage is infectious” (121).

Chapter 15 also captures Biko’s courage. Under hostile cross-examination, he not only explains The Importance of Pride and Black Consciousness, but also identifies white racism as the primary force driving the movement:

[T]he black man is subjected to two forces in this country. He is first of all oppressed by an external world through institutionalised machinery, through laws that restrict him from doing certain things, through heavy work conditions, through poor pay, through very difficult living conditions, through poor education, these are all external to him, and secondly, and this we regard as the most important, the black man in himself has developed a certain state of alienation, he rejects himself, precisely because [. . .] he equates good with white (100).

Biko provides examples to help the court understand institutional racism. Key among these is language. For example, Biko discusses the term “black magic” to demonstrate that the word “black” is imbued with negative connotations in a wide range of contexts. Biko’s testimony about the word “black” serves as a point of departure for more general statements about language and racism. He points out that higher education in South Africa is conducted in English, a second language for most Black people, which not only places Black students at a disadvantage, but also impacts how they see themselves.

Biko’s rhetorical style remains consistent, regardless of his audience. Whether addressing SASO members in writing or testifying in court, he communicates in direct and bold ways that seem intended to shock. A key example appears in Chapter 14, when Biko discusses the need for a Black withdrawal from the white system: “As long as we go to Whitey begging cap in hand for our own emancipation, we are giving him further sanction to continue with his racist and oppressive system” (90). Interspersed with Biko’s colorful statements, however, are expressions of hope for the future of Black South Africans: “If one is free at heart, no manmade chains can bind one to servitude” (92). These words capture the essence of Black Consciousness, a movement that “makes the black man see himself as a being complete in himself” (92), empowering him to feel strong, proud, and dignified.