In Defense of My Teachers

‘Uncle AJC’ is more than an uncle to me: He is a brother, a father, a friend and an uncle all rolled in one. Each time Uncle AJC calls me and goes ‘Kodi madala…’ (‘Hey buddy…’), I shift in my seat in anticipation of some bad, personal news. As it happens, I am sitting behind my desk in the office one mid morning. I am pulling my hair out at the ‘slower–than–a–snail’ speed of my internet. (Someone has renamed internet access here: World Wide Wait.) I am not being very productive. Then my phone rings and Uncle AJC is at the other end. He doesn’t so much as greet me when he goes: ‘Kodi madala…’ In my mind, I am like ‘Not now, please.’ Well, it will depend on how you will interpret this: But Uncle AJC has some bad news. It is just that this time, it is not personal to me.

‘Madala, you remember how you used to complain that the going was tough during your research?’ Uncle AJC fired away; pretty much from the hip. He had an agitated tone to his voice. I take time to respond: ‘Well, looking back uncle that comes with the territory.’ ‘Yes, it comes with the territory. But do you remember the hours you said you were putting in? Do you remember the time you called me and you were feeling so down you said you felt like you are not intelligent enough for the work at hand? Do you…’

‘Er, Uncle…’ I interrupt him. He is having none of it.

‘Wait, madala…do you remember the story you told me that you were sleeping four hours every day for almost three months when you were …when you were …what was that you were doing?’

‘That was when I was writing up, uncle.’

‘Yes, exactly. When you were writing up. And do you remember the defence of your thesis?

‘Uncle, what is this about? Where is this coming from? Where are we going? What have I done?’ I manage to successfully interrupt him this time around.

‘Madala, I was having a drink with X and he tells me Y is now a doctor; as in PhD?’

‘Yes, I have heard about that.’

‘Do you know where he got it from?’

Before I respond, Uncle AJC goes on to tell me how Y has obtained a PhD from a purported diploma mill; how he has an academic transcript with 14 subjects ranging from economics to statistics, from human resource management to project management; how the grades for the subjects are either A+ or A; and how, at its foot, the transcript declares: ‘Dissertation to be submitted’.

I am in three minds; whether to laugh, get angry or simply let it slide.

My personal assistant opens the side door to my office slightly, pokes her head in and ‘mouths’: ‘You have a meeting with the big kahuna in five.’

‘Uncle AJC, I can’t believe what you have just said but I gotta go. I have a meeting with the boss. We will touch base when you are in town.’

‘You better believe madala!’ He exclaims. ‘You have to stop this madness, madala!’

When I get home early evening, the words of Uncle AJC stay with me: ‘You have to stop this madness, madala!’ How does one have a PhD with an academic transcript to boot? How does one have a PhD with fourteen subjects on their transcript? How does one have a PhD with the submission of a dissertation pending?

I am sat in my lounge looking at the television and not watching. I remember all those great teachers I have had in my life: Ernest’s mom, Mrs Lida Maganga at HHI Kindergarten; Mrs Mulungu, Messrs Chidengu, Chimphanje, Kachala and others during my primary school days; Margaret Dawson, Mark Gray, Sydney Linyama, Mgombayaki Msiska and others during my secondary school days; Stuart Carr, Hermes Chidammodzi, Edge Kanyongolo, MacNight Machika, Malcolm McLachlan, Tony Nazombe, Matembo Nzunda and others at the college the gods love the most; Sam Adelman, Upendra Baxi, Abdul Paliwala, George Meszaros, and many, many others during my intellectual sojourns elsewhere. I remembered them. I loved some of my teachers. I hated some of them. Love or hate them, all my teachers believed in one thing: HARD WORK. If you do not feel pain, you will not gain. I have appropriated this attitude in my life.

‘You have to stop this madness, madala!’

                                   

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have decided to contribute towards stopping the madness. This piece is written in defence of my teachers’ hard work:

The Enlightment period is the immediate basis of present day knowledge–production. In the context of the creation of ‘knowledge’ under the Enlightenment period and indeed in light of the capitalism and the colonialism projects that underpinned modernity, there has been a pervasive process of ‘othering’; of declarations of ‘not–knowledge’. The knowledge–production during this time and beyond is based on reason as opposed to what Roy Porter has called the ‘dogmatic state of ignorance’.

The Enlightment period as the basis of modernity also discovered or invented the disciplines. ‘Knowledge’ must be understood as knowledge–production because it is not knowledge for its own sake. It is ‘knowledge’ under several modern myths. The first among the modern myth is the centrality of the book which in turn reinforces the importance of its cousin, the printing press. The book provides the record and is critical for the distribution of knowledge. Second, the school is an equally critical component in knowledge–production. The school is a pre–determined environment of a ‘knowledge–regurgitator’ (also known as a teacher), on the one hand, and a ‘knowledge–immersor’ (also known as a pupil), on the other. Hence those who go to the school are subjected to many time periods of (predominantly) rote learning where they are exposed to the disciplines: the languages, the literatures, the sciences, the arts and so on and so forth. The third critical modern myth is the test. The progression of a pupil is measured through the test. The pupil that passes the test continues to the next level of rote learning; those who fail must repeat the level.The distinction between a pass and a failure is not based on innate cognition. It is often about what the pupil remembers of the knowledge he or she was exposed to. Even more precisely, the distinction turns on what the teacher expects the pupil to remember, and the kind of analyses the teacher expects from the pupil. The fourth and final one of the modern myths is the certificate. The certificate is the stamp that announces the level of contribution to the (political) economy that is to be expected from the pupil–holder.

‘Knowledge’, when understood in this way, is a pregnant political–economic process of continual assessment. The Establishment declares: This is knowledge. This knowledge is found in the school. We will find out how much knowledge you remember through the test. If you pass the test, we will give you the certificate. The certificate will form a basis of whether you will earn a living or not, and what kind of living that will be. If you will, the virtues of modernity–based education are that it is a culture–specific education. It valorizes the centrality of the school; the importance of the test is never in question; and the legitimation that comes with the certificate caps it all.

This is blunt. However, it is the reality we live in.

                                   

The process of knowledge–production; of declarations of ‘knowledge’ and ‘not–knowledge’ has had its critics. Boaventura de Sousa Santos, for instance, argues that modernity–based education (what he has called ‘abyssal thinking’) actually reveals the tension between social regulation and social emancipation. Indeed, any Frantz Fanon, any Michel Foucault, Achille Mbembe in On the postcolony, any VY Mudimbe, any Makau wa Mutua, any Thandika Mkandawire or any P. Tiyambe Zeleza, to mention a few, constitute a large body of ‘other’ knowledge that seeks to critique knowledge–production.

The common thread among the critics is the (seeming) acceptance that modernity–based education or knowledge–production has every right to exist. And those who wish to pursue it are welcome. The process of ‘othering’ (or in the case of Mutua, ‘universalizing’) that embodies knowledge–production is the bone of contention. This is a disputation of the content. It seems to me the four myths, namely, the book, the school, the test and the certificate assume some sort of fait accompli.

This defense also proceeds in the context of this (supposed) fait accompli.  The book, the school, the test and the certificate are protected areas. Not every book, school, test or certificate is recognized under knowledge–production. The language used in these protected areas is accreditation. The language of accreditation signals competence, authority and credibility. In this way, there is a recognized book (or text), an accredited school, an approved test, or an accepted certificate. All these are underwritten by an (abstract) authority; often personified as the State.

                                   

Coming back to Y: Y is indicted with obtaining a PhD from a diploma mill. What is a diploma mill? What is the (moral) consideration, if any, in obtaining a qualification from a diploma mill? I think these are the two questions I need to address in this defense.

A diploma mill is a pseudo–educational institution that awards ‘certificates’ with substandard or no academic study; a pseudo–certificate. Within the ethos of knowledge–production, a diploma mill flouts the four myths; the book, the school, the test and the certificate. Indeed, a pseudo–certificate is ‘not–knowledge’ and lacks competence, authority and credibility. However, the ‘not–knowledge’ of a diploma mill is different from the one the critics of knowledge–production confront. The ‘not–knowledge’ from a diploma mill wears this garb because it purports to portray the impression that all the requirements under knowledge–production have been followed when the contrary is the case. It is a façade.

On the moral consideration: morality or ethics are nuanced terrain. For this defense, the short answer is that it is dishonest, fraudulent, and unfair to flaunt a pseudo–certificate. It gives the false impression of the level of knowledge a holder such as Y has.

The State is vigilant in guarding knowledge–production. I went through the public (read: State–funded or –aided) education system in my formative years. In primary school, if someone like Y wanted to enter the next level of education without passing the test, we were encouraged to sing: ‘Wolowera!’[‘He (or she) has sneaked in’]. In secondary school or at the college that the gods love the most, if you fail the test, you are ‘withdrawn on academic grounds’. Simple.

A PhD, as I understand, typically entails that a candidate must conduct an approved research project for a minimum of three years at an accredited university. The research project focuses on a particular point within a broader subject or discipline. The candidate must then submit a project, thesis or dissertation of a suitable quality fit to be published in a peer–reviewed journal. The requirement of a project, thesis or dissertation may be waived if the candidate is submitting a specified number of peer–reviewed published work. Either way, the candidate is required to defend his or her project, thesis or dissertation before a panel of expert examiners in the field. Once the candidate successfully defends his or her project, the panel recommends to the university that the candidate may be awarded a PhD.

Why then must Y be indicted for their so–called PhD? Y has flouted the four myths: Y has not read any recognized book; has not registered with an accredited school; has not passed any approved test in order to deserve any accepted certificate. Y has a pseudo–certificate, a pseudo–PhD, if at all. Hey; for his pseudo–PhD, Y’s dissertation is actually pending. In the context of knowledge–production this is sacrilege.

But Y is not alone in this ill–advised pursuit of academic accolade. I know Z; who calls himself ‘professor’ and yet Z is not an expert or a teacher of high rank in anything.

                                   

Uncle AJC, when I meet Y I shall not call him doctor; as in PhD. Nor will I call Z professor. The hard work of my teachers must be defended.