Press Ombudsman Joe Thloloe describes how a series of defining moments in the late 1970s shaped the future path for Sowetan
TO FULLY understand the phenomenon of Sowetan, you need to understand The World because it is the second reincarnation of the older newspaper at the time it was edited by Percy Qoboza.
When The World was banned by the National Party government on October 9 1977, it rose from the ashes as Post Transvaal - same journalists still led by the same Qoboza. And when the government shut down Post Transvaal in 1981, it resurfaced as Sowetan.
Qoboza was appointed editor in 1974, but it was on his return from Harvard University in Cambridge in the US where he was a Nieman Fellow for the academic year 1975/76 that he wrought a revolution in his newsroom.
About his year at Harvard, Qoboza wrote: "For the first time in my life, I could distinguish between what is right and what is wrong.
"The thing that scared me most was the fact that I had accepted injustice and discrimination as part of our traditional way of life. After my year, the things I had accepted made me angry. It is because of this that the character of my newspaper has changed tremendously.
"We were an angry newspaper. For this reason we have made some formidable enemies, and my own personal life is not worth a cent.
"But I see my role and the role those people who share my views as articulating, without fear or favour, the aspirations of our people. It is a very hard thing to do."
And that sums up the journalism of The World, Post Transvaal and Sowetan.
Qoboza took over a newspaper that had traditionally been edited by a white "editorial director" and had a nominal black editor.
Educationist MT Moerane had been editor before Qoboza, but editorial decisions were taken by Derrick Gill and after he left by Charles Still, both hard-nosed journalists imposed from the Argus Newspapers' headquarters in Sauer Street, Johannesburg.
Moerane and Gill were members of Moral Rearmament, a worldwide organisation that preached that the world would be a better place if there was a moral revolution in men and women. Gill emigrated and then wrote a best-seller which was turned into a Hollywood movie.
When Qoboza was appointed, he insisted that the editorial director be removed so that he could take charge without a paternalistic hand guiding him. He got his way.
The first thing he did on his appointment was change the menu in the newspaper. He removed sports from the front page and sent it to the back of the newspaper; he cut down the coverage of crime and sex from their imposing stature in the newspaper; and he put a bite into the editorial comments.
To understand the revolution, look at a copy of The World June 17 1974.
The lead story was "Chiefs cling to NPSL log lead" (soccer); and the second lead was "Two die in bloody Soweto shooting" (crime). The editorial comment on Page 4 was on the stabbing of a pupil at Orlando High School and argued that parents had abdicated their responsibilities.
It was all safe fare that would not upset the stomachs of the white rulers and would hopefully keep the natives happy.
When Qoboza took over, the townships and his newsroom had changed. The once-timid townships were bristling with new confidence. Young people spent their evenings drinking deeply of Steve Biko's black consciousness philosophy that had burst on our horizons, giving birth to the South African Students' Organisation. They sang along with Nina Simone: "Young, gifted and black." They were planning their liberation and debating their future. The newsroom had also changed. Most of The World's journalists, a baby born from the loins of Saso in 1972. Their union usurped Saso's constitution and replaced the word student with journalist. We shouted slogans like: "We are black before we are journalists."
Critics argued that we had stopped being journalists and had become activists. We had in fact followed in the footsteps of all great journalists, who stood firmly on the side of justice against injustice, who were the voices of the voiceless and champions of the downtrodden. Our stories were accurate, fair and balanced - all the qualities of good journalism - but they reflected our abhorrence for apartheid.
At the time that the UBJ was born, Qoboza was news editor at The World. He had been a member of the mostly white Progressive Party and rejected our "racist black consciousness". We had a few battles with him because of the way he treated reporters at the newspaper.
Shortly after he was appointed editor, Qoboza and his family left for the US and deputy editor Joe Latakgomo took over the reins temporarily. And it was during Latakgomo's watch that the children started shaking this country - timidly at first. The World - reporter Willie Bokala in particular - stuck with the children's story. The first headline was on May 18, five days before Qoboza's return, "Anti-Afrikaans pupils go on strike".
Bokala wrote the story of children at Phefeni Junior Secondary School refusing to be taught mathematics and social studies in Afrikaans.
They had thrown their Afrikaans textbooks, walked out of the classrooms and said they would not get back into class before the circuit inspector came to address them.
By the next day, the pupils were getting uncontrollable, grabbing a tape recorder from the vice-principal, accusing him of being a police informer and throwing stones at him. He had to be escorted out of school. By May 21 the class boycott had spread to three other schools.
The newspaper thought the class boycott was important enough for editorial comments, starting with one on May 19 asserting that parents had the right to choose the language to be used for their children's education.
Was this a revolution that could have been averted by simply listening to the children right at the beginning? We can speculate, but truth is that history set a course that took us to our April 27 1994. May 24: 1600 students keep up strike.
The children defied a resolution by a packed meeting of parents the weekend before that urged them to return to their classrooms while parents took on the fight against the use of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in half the subjects.
The parents formed the Soweto Parents Association and elected an interim committee led by Dr Aaron Matlhare, a medical doctor.
The despised Urban Bantu Council had entered the fray and held a special meeting to discuss the crisis in the schools. Councillor Leonard Mosala warned about "ugly scenes" that would come "through our children". He said the children had lost all respect for their parents because they had not taken up their fight and he also warned the police to keep out of the schools.
The council resolved to send a delegation of six to meet Minister of Bantu Education MC Botha on July 8. Too late, it turned out.
June 16 was our Bastille Day.
The second lead of the city late edition tells that more than 10000 children singing the national anthem Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika marched in Orlando West, Soweto.
They now included high schools that had not been involved in the class boycotts. The children carried placards saying "Away with Afrikaans, Afrikaans is a stench", and "Do not force the baas language down our throats".
The editorial comment, probably written by Qoboza, ironically called for cool heads in the language row.
It said the warning by Mosala had to be taken seriously and appealed to the police to leave school premises and "act in a diplomatic manner" and to the students to refrain from doing anything "that would spark of serious trouble".
The June 17 paper tells a fuller story: 23 dead 250 hurt and riot toll rising. The children had marched into history books. This became The World's story. Photographer Sam Nzima took the picture of Hector Pieterson that was to be a symbol of black resistance in the country.
Reporter Sophie Tema took the boy shot by the police to the clinic in a company car, only to be told that he was dead.
Bokala and Duma ka Ndlovu stuck close to the organisers of the June 16 march and gave the world their story as they hopped from one hideout to another. We got to know of the Soweto Students Representative Council, of the charismatic leader Tsietsi Mashinini and of his cabinet, people like Khotso Seatlholo and Murphy Morobe through the writings of Bokala and Ndlovu. This was The World's story as flames engulfed the country.
South Africans read the newspaper with pride: it was no longer bought and quickly hidden under the Rand Daily Mail or The Star.
The World was embedded in its community, its readers. It is not surprising that it was banned on October 19 1977. It told the story of the uprising that became a turning point in our history. It told us stories of pain, sadness and courage.
And that is the tradition that Post Transvaal and Sowetan have followed.
In this article, first published in Sowetan's coffee table book five years ago..
Press Ombudsman Joe Thloloe describes how a series of defining moments in the late 1970s shaped the future path for Sowetan
TO FULLY understand the phenomenon of Sowetan, you need to understand The World because it is the second reincarnation of the older newspaper at the time it was edited by Percy Qoboza.
When The World was banned by the National Party government on October 9 1977, it rose from the ashes as Post Transvaal - same journalists still led by the same Qoboza. And when the government shut down Post Transvaal in 1981, it resurfaced as Sowetan.
Qoboza was appointed editor in 1974, but it was on his return from Harvard University in Cambridge in the US where he was a Nieman Fellow for the academic year 1975/76 that he wrought a revolution in his newsroom.
About his year at Harvard, Qoboza wrote: "For the first time in my life, I could distinguish between what is right and what is wrong.
"The thing that scared me most was the fact that I had accepted injustice and discrimination as part of our traditional way of life. After my year, the things I had accepted made me angry. It is because of this that the character of my newspaper has changed tremendously.
"We were an angry newspaper. For this reason we have made some formidable enemies, and my own personal life is not worth a cent.
"But I see my role and the role those people who share my views as articulating, without fear or favour, the aspirations of our people. It is a very hard thing to do."
And that sums up the journalism of The World, Post Transvaal and Sowetan.
Qoboza took over a newspaper that had traditionally been edited by a white "editorial director" and had a nominal black editor.
Educationist MT Moerane had been editor before Qoboza, but editorial decisions were taken by Derrick Gill and after he left by Charles Still, both hard-nosed journalists imposed from the Argus Newspapers' headquarters in Sauer Street, Johannesburg.
Moerane and Gill were members of Moral Rearmament, a worldwide organisation that preached that the world would be a better place if there was a moral revolution in men and women. Gill emigrated and then wrote a best-seller which was turned into a Hollywood movie.
When Qoboza was appointed, he insisted that the editorial director be removed so that he could take charge without a paternalistic hand guiding him. He got his way.
The first thing he did on his appointment was change the menu in the newspaper. He removed sports from the front page and sent it to the back of the newspaper; he cut down the coverage of crime and sex from their imposing stature in the newspaper; and he put a bite into the editorial comments.
To understand the revolution, look at a copy of The World June 17 1974.
The lead story was "Chiefs cling to NPSL log lead" (soccer); and the second lead was "Two die in bloody Soweto shooting" (crime). The editorial comment on Page 4 was on the stabbing of a pupil at Orlando High School and argued that parents had abdicated their responsibilities.
It was all safe fare that would not upset the stomachs of the white rulers and would hopefully keep the natives happy.
When Qoboza took over, the townships and his newsroom had changed. The once-timid townships were bristling with new confidence. Young people spent their evenings drinking deeply of Steve Biko's black consciousness philosophy that had burst on our horizons, giving birth to the South African Students' Organisation. They sang along with Nina Simone: "Young, gifted and black." They were planning their liberation and debating their future. The newsroom had also changed. Most of The World's journalists, a baby born from the loins of Saso in 1972. Their union usurped Saso's constitution and replaced the word student with journalist. We shouted slogans like: "We are black before we are journalists."
Critics argued that we had stopped being journalists and had become activists. We had in fact followed in the footsteps of all great journalists, who stood firmly on the side of justice against injustice, who were the voices of the voiceless and champions of the downtrodden. Our stories were accurate, fair and balanced - all the qualities of good journalism - but they reflected our abhorrence for apartheid.
At the time that the UBJ was born, Qoboza was news editor at The World. He had been a member of the mostly white Progressive Party and rejected our "racist black consciousness". We had a few battles with him because of the way he treated reporters at the newspaper.
Shortly after he was appointed editor, Qoboza and his family left for the US and deputy editor Joe Latakgomo took over the reins temporarily. And it was during Latakgomo's watch that the children started shaking this country - timidly at first. The World - reporter Willie Bokala in particular - stuck with the children's story. The first headline was on May 18, five days before Qoboza's return, "Anti-Afrikaans pupils go on strike".
Bokala wrote the story of children at Phefeni Junior Secondary School refusing to be taught mathematics and social studies in Afrikaans.
They had thrown their Afrikaans textbooks, walked out of the classrooms and said they would not get back into class before the circuit inspector came to address them.
By the next day, the pupils were getting uncontrollable, grabbing a tape recorder from the vice-principal, accusing him of being a police informer and throwing stones at him. He had to be escorted out of school. By May 21 the class boycott had spread to three other schools.
The newspaper thought the class boycott was important enough for editorial comments, starting with one on May 19 asserting that parents had the right to choose the language to be used for their children's education.
Was this a revolution that could have been averted by simply listening to the children right at the beginning? We can speculate, but truth is that history set a course that took us to our April 27 1994. May 24: 1600 students keep up strike.
The children defied a resolution by a packed meeting of parents the weekend before that urged them to return to their classrooms while parents took on the fight against the use of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in half the subjects.
The parents formed the Soweto Parents Association and elected an interim committee led by Dr Aaron Matlhare, a medical doctor.
The despised Urban Bantu Council had entered the fray and held a special meeting to discuss the crisis in the schools. Councillor Leonard Mosala warned about "ugly scenes" that would come "through our children". He said the children had lost all respect for their parents because they had not taken up their fight and he also warned the police to keep out of the schools.
The council resolved to send a delegation of six to meet Minister of Bantu Education MC Botha on July 8. Too late, it turned out.
June 16 was our Bastille Day.
The second lead of the city late edition tells that more than 10000 children singing the national anthem Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika marched in Orlando West, Soweto.
They now included high schools that had not been involved in the class boycotts. The children carried placards saying "Away with Afrikaans, Afrikaans is a stench", and "Do not force the baas language down our throats".
The editorial comment, probably written by Qoboza, ironically called for cool heads in the language row.
It said the warning by Mosala had to be taken seriously and appealed to the police to leave school premises and "act in a diplomatic manner" and to the students to refrain from doing anything "that would spark of serious trouble".
The June 17 paper tells a fuller story: 23 dead 250 hurt and riot toll rising. The children had marched into history books. This became The World's story. Photographer Sam Nzima took the picture of Hector Pieterson that was to be a symbol of black resistance in the country.
Reporter Sophie Tema took the boy shot by the police to the clinic in a company car, only to be told that he was dead.
Bokala and Duma ka Ndlovu stuck close to the organisers of the June 16 march and gave the world their story as they hopped from one hideout to another. We got to know of the Soweto Students Representative Council, of the charismatic leader Tsietsi Mashinini and of his cabinet, people like Khotso Seatlholo and Murphy Morobe through the writings of Bokala and Ndlovu. This was The World's story as flames engulfed the country.
South Africans read the newspaper with pride: it was no longer bought and quickly hidden under the Rand Daily Mail or The Star.
The World was embedded in its community, its readers. It is not surprising that it was banned on October 19 1977. It told the story of the uprising that became a turning point in our history. It told us stories of pain, sadness and courage.
And that is the tradition that Post Transvaal and Sowetan have followed.
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