Transnational Motility in Post-Apartheid South Africa
In the autumn of 2006, the South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR) reported that the white population of South Africa had shrunk by over 16 percent between 1995 and 2005; that is, in the post-apartheid era (SAIRR 2006). More recent data indicate that roughly half of all South Africans living overseas are in the UK, and that those living in the UK have the most interest in and are the most likely to return to South Africa. Keeping this mass migration in mind (though by no means one-directional), in this article I bring into conversations current debates within literatures on geographies of race and geographies of transnational mobility using the case of white South African migration. This article examines mobilities—the mobile practices of the white, English-speaking South Africans from KwaZulu-Natal. Beginning with a critique of approaches to the study of race that privilege discourse and a brief review of materialist approaches to understanding whiteness, I move on to discuss the visa regimes that facilitate access of white South Africans to the UK and Europe, and then I draw on interview data to argue that whiteness can be understood as a material racial formation through its contingent coconstitution, at a variety of scales, with mobilities both past and present, or what I call the “visa whiteness machine.”
Within social science and the humanities, whiteness has been portrayed as primarily a socially constructed, discursively mediated identity (Bonnett 2000; Dwyer and Jones 2000; Hoelscher 2003; Jackson 1998; Kobayashi and Peake 1994; Pred 1997; Vanderbeck 2006, 2008). It is argued that race in general, and whiteness in particular do not have an ontology, but rather an epistemology, or a way of knowing and interacting with the world. It is not a material property of bodies with objective existence in the world but a means by which bodies are represented and understood, and variously valued and devalued. Whiteness is entwined with particular power relations at a variety of scales, and depends on political authority and spatial separation in order to maintain itself as hegemonic and not reveal itself as relationally constituted through the abjection of blackness. In post-apartheid South Africa, whiteness, shorn of its politically enforced authority, is seen to be under threat and thus in need of defense and shoring up. Thus, scholars of whiteness in post-apartheid South African society (Ballard 2004a, 2004b; Steyn 2005; Steyn and Foster 2007) have primarily focused on discursive techniques such as “white talk” to argue that “the dominant white representations of contemporary South Africa attempt to ‘fix’ groups relative to each other, reproducing and extending the power structures of whiteness into post-apartheid South Africa society” (Steyn and Foster 2007, 27).
I would like to suggest that these ways of thinking about whiteness are unsatisfactory. If “whiteness” is used to refer to an epistemology of power, how does it make sense for both Ballard and Steyn, among others, to refer to whites that are progressive, cosmopolitan, antiracist, and comfortable with diversity and democracy in the post-apartheid period as “whites” at all? Through the persistence of this unacknowledged slippage, I would like to add to arguments that whiteness can be understood as more than an epistemology. I would therefore like to shift the focus somewhat from thinking about whiteness as only or primarily a mode of representation, a way of seeing, or an epistemology, in order to open up space for thinking more specifically about whiteness as an embodied and material accomplishment. Arun Saldanha (2006, 2007; see also Slocum 2008) has attempted the ambitious project of moving away from a social scientific obsession with the discursive construction of race to a project of reontologizing race as allowing for the potential of the body to create effects, for materiality to, in a sense, speak for itself. As Saldanha puts it, he sees “race as a heterogeneous process of differentiation involving the materiality of bodies and spaces” (2007, 9). He goes on: “race is a shifting amalgamation of human bodies and their appearance, genetic material, artefacts, landscapes, music, language, money, and states of mind” (2007, 9).
I want to follow Saldanha in asserting that race exists and is closely related to phenotype, generated relationally through the body's interactions with other bodies, the environment, as well as a product of those discursive relationships to space and place so much more familiar to geographers. I contend that we cannot speak of “whiteness” without reference to the actual bodies of white people and how, in particular, those bodies are shaped through spatial practice.
In making this move I want to highlight transnational mobility as one means through which whiteness-as-materiality can be understood. Through mobility, the virtual capacities of bodies are mediated and directed toward, and away from, certain places. As Sara Ahmed writes, “bodies are shaped by motility and may take the shape of that motility” (2007, 159). In terms of thinking through the prism of South Africa's post-apartheid, transnationalizing moment, and in tandem with the new “mobilities turn” (Sheller and Urry 2006), which has attempted to displace the hegemony of sedentarism from social scientific analysis, I suggest that transnational mobility is not incidental to, or an epiphenomenon of, whiteness in South Africa, but is immanent in it. In the contemporary period, the formulation of whiteness as a “passport of privilege” (Kalra, Kaur, and Hutnyk 2005) cannot only stand abstractly for the transcendent power consistently bestowed on and associated with whiteness across the globe, but must also be stretched to indicate the emergence of whiteness as a congeries of bodies characterized by their capacity to move across borders, and how this is linked both to earlier histories of movement and the current globalizing era. Sherene Razack's (2002) notion of unmapping and Alistair Bonnett's (2000) discussion of the global history of white identities, among others, can help situate this. Razack argues that unmapping the fait accompli of whiteness in settler societies allows us to understand that white countries came to be that way for a reason; in other words, that social construction is material (cf. Nayak 2006). The demographic profile of a country, even if those demographic categories are contingent constructions, is still the outcome of often violent material processes. This includes genocide and disease spread as well as immigration regulations that have constructed the phenotypic constitution of various settler countries (e.g., the White Australia policy or the regulation of Chinese immigration in the United States). Whitening is a material, biopolitical process, as illustrated by, for instance, Australia's stolen generation and the policy of whitening in Venezuela (Bonnett 2000), and this highlights the central role of the state in mediating transnational flows of bodies in a globalizing world economy.
Similarly, McDonald's (2008) discussion of the whitening of the Cape Town landscape through removal of African bodies from central areas highlights the importance to the symbolic hegemony of whiteness in the landscape of the sorting of bodies as much as the discursive scripting of space. This again demonstrates the centrality of the materiality of the body to formations of racialized geographies. The complex regulation of transnational (and internal) migration on the part of states as well as supra-state networks works as part of an ensemble out of which race emerges. By attending to ancestry we can argue that through histories of the movement of certain kinds of bodies into certain national spaces, the presence of white bodies has been materially constituted in particular places. And it is those white bodies that, through material privilege to move between South Africa and the UK offered by ancestral regimes of movement, are now also partially constitutive of the face of elite transnational mobility as we have come to know it today. I want to argue that the UK's suite of visa and passport arrangements on offer to South Africans constitutes a machine that attracts and repels bodies, and that whiteness emerges out of the workings of this visa whiteness machine.
Saldanha writes, “From a machinic perspective, race is not something inscribed upon or referring to bodies, but a particular spatiotemporal disciplining and charging of those bodies themselves” (2007, 190). Thus the material arrangement of where bodies can be is as important, if not more so, than how racialized identity is mediated through discourse. Valerie here illustrates well the way in which she and her boyfriend (later husband) ended up in London because it happened to be a path open to her, by virtue of her ancestry, a path that exerted a financial pull of its own:
| Valerie: | For us, it was never really about living in London. It was just about living somewhere and earning an income. We didn't choose to go to London because we liked living there, or particular experience. I mean, we always talk about the weather in the UK. |
| Max: | It was just the path that was available? |
| Valerie: | Yes, ja, ja. I would say from, a salary point of view, money got us there in the first place. |
Valerie and her partner moved to London not in order to “shore up” their whiteness in some abstract sense by returning to the imperial center. In fact they didn't even really like London. The draw of London's economy and the cultural capital afforded to them as beneficiaries of apartheid were central to their decision to migrate transnationally, but, in the final analysis, Valerie and her partner moved to the UK because, thanks to the visa whiteness machine, they could.
This research is part of a wider project on the transnational practices of white South Africans. A series of in-depth, semistructured interviews were conducted in and around Durban with white South Africans who had experience living overseas at some point in their lives but were currently residing in South Africa. Durban is an industrial city of approximately 3 million, and its hinterland, the former British colony of Natal, is the only region of South Africa where English speakers constitute a majority amongst whites (as well as Coloureds). The white population of the former province of Natal (since 1994 merged with the former homeland into the province of KwaZulu-Natal) is renowned for its staunch history of loyalism, royalism, and even separatism before and during the apartheid period. Even after South Africa became a republic in 1961, Natal was often dubbed “The Last Outpost of the British Empire” (Thompson 1990). Roughly half of all South Africans living overseas are in the UK (and those living in the UK have the most interest in and are the most likely to return to South Africa).
Although people have moved back and forth between Britain and South Africa for the whole of the latter's history as a European colony, the period since the end of apartheid, which took place between 1990 and 1994, is the focus of this article. This is particularly important because, since the early 1990s, South Africa has reinserted itself into the international community through the repeal of apartheid-era sanctions, its reentry into the Commonwealth, and the dramatic liberalization of its economy, and there are now roughly 1 million fewer whites in South Africa than in the mid-1990s. Thus the juridical ability, the desire, and the economic pathways enabling and encouraging white South Africans to move overseas have all drastically increased during South Africa's postcolonial period.
In Kalra et al.’s (2005) assessment of what they call white diasporas, these authors discuss whiteness as a “passport of privilege” that enables privileged ease of movement for white bodies around the globe. The notion of a passport of privilege can, however, be deepened and extended by attending to the ways in which white bodies themselves emerge as products of this very mobility. In this phrase, privilege shouldn't be understood as some sort of transcendent advantage universally accrued to whiteness through the structures of the contemporary episteme. Instead, it makes more sense to turn to the “passport” half of the phrase, which must be taken, in fact, at face value, as real, with material effects that accrue contingently to some bodies by virtue of overlapping historical layers of access to economic and social capital. As Neumayer indicates, there is a “great degree of inequality of access to foreign spaces” (2006, 78). The visa and overseas citizenship regimes of rich countries not only partly explain the inequality of transnational motility but also constitute a means for states to engage diaspora populations in particular projects of governance (see Dickinson and Bailey 2007), such as filling gaps in the labor market with bodies that appear less foreign, or promoting investment from overseas citizens.
There are a variety of avenues, embedded in South Africa's colonial history with Britain, available to South Africans, and particularly to whites, to enter the UK and work. The Working Holiday Visa, though recently scrapped for South Africans, was available between 1994 and 2009 to Commonwealth citizens aged seventeen to thirty who planned an extended holiday in the UK for up to two years. Recipients could work but the holiday needed to be the primary reason for entering the country; as many as 17,000 South Africans took part annually. Working holiday visas could not be extended but an opportunity was offered for South African citizens to find employers who would sponsor them for a work visa. Candidates for this visa scheme, however, were expected to have a substantial sum of money in the bank in order to be granted the visa, which in effect closed this option off to most black South Africans. Ancestral visas are offered to Commonwealth citizens aged seventeen or over with a grandparent and in some cases great-grandparent born in the UK and they allow the bearer to work for five years in the UK, followed by the opportunity to gain citizenship. British nationality is available to anyone with a British-born parent if it is claimed by the age of seventeen. Because of the UK's membership of the European Union (EU), since the Maastricht Treaty became law in 1993, any South African in possession of citizenship of any EU country is also eligible to reside in the UK (this has been the case for Irish citizens since the UK Parliament passed the Ireland Act 1949).
In addition, until 2009 South Africans benefited from visa-free access to the UK as tourists (visa-free access was revoked because of security concerns about the illegal possession of South African passports by non-South African nationals). There are other avenues through which South Africans can enter the UK on a permanent or temporary basis, but these are the three most common routes, and are the ones that arise directly out of the historical relationship between South Africa and the UK, and have flowed through family trees via previous histories of transnational migration.
These three categories of legal access to UK employment encircle South African bodies like a Venn diagram, in increasingly smaller scales, from less to more contingent on sociocultural factors such as class and education. The working holiday visa thus encompasses all South Africans without British parentage—especially Afrikaans speakers who constitute the majority of South African whites, and who through colonial- and apartheid-era privilege would be more likely than blacks to have access to the financial means required, while the ancestral visa includes South Africans of British descent with longer family histories in the country, and the availability of UK nationality includes the not insubstantial numbers (perhaps 600,000) with at least one British parent.
In the following quotations respondents with British parents, such as Gary, Maureen, Daniel, and Greg, all of whom therefore possess UK nationality, repeatedly indicate the ease of moving to and working in the UK for South Africans with access to UK passports. Not coincidentally it is striking how respondents draw on family histories of migration from the UK to South Africa:
| Gary: | My father was English. He grew up in Bristol, and he emigrated to initially Zambia I think in the 1970s, and then he moved down to South Africa where he met my mother, so I had a British passport. It was easy to go to the UK. |
| Greg: | I managed to get British ancestry through my mother who was born over there. And I'd been thinking about going overseas mostly through my 20s. Finally got round to doing so when I was twenty-seven. Quite late. Probably prompted by a girl who I worked with here, who went to London in advance. |
| Daniel: | My father was English, he was born in Cornwall.… |
| Max: | So you already had a British passport, by nature of descent? |
| Daniel: | Already had a British passport, ja, that was from my father. My wife [is] South African and South African passports on both kids as well. Ja, so I just basically packed up and left. |
Maureen, whose Scottish-born parents emigrated to Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) in the 1950s, illustrates just how easy it was for her, along with her British-born partner, to move to London from South Africa:
| Maureen: | Well, I went with my partner. Um, and, um… and we bought our tickets [laughs]. |
| Max: | He was from the UK? |
| Maureen: | He was from the UK, he's got a British passport. So he didn't have any visa, whatever, issues, and neither did I. So, we could … we didn't really need to make … formal plans.… We could just buy our tickets and go, which is what we did. |
The possession of British nationality through descent thus enables whites who have it to freely move between the UK and South Africa, fueling a transnational culture of mobility in which the body's occupation of any given space can always be contingent, temporary, and voluntary. As Daniel indicates, and unlike Maureen, this marked him out as significantly more motile than his partner and children—who were eventually able to join him in London, but not right away.
The possession of relatively close UK ancestry also clearly functions to enact whiteness machinically through motility:
| Francine: | Well because of my grandfather being born in the UK, I'm allowed to get an ancestral visa. So that's what I'm working on at the moment, and I intend to do caring work, once I get there. |
| Max: | OK, and why are you planning to leave? |
| Francine: | Because of my financial situation. I can't really see myself lasting here financially. Because I don't have the income. |
Francine has been recruited as a locum providing semicasualized home health care to seniors in the UK. So we can see here how visa arrangements have allowed for the import of low-cost social reproductive labor (see Misra, Woodring, and Merz 2006), but, in addition, for Francine, attaining access to the UK through her ancestry has become a crucial mechanism through which she hopes to be able to maintain a middle-class standard of living that she implicitly associates with her whiteness.
In this way we can see how, in contrast to much recent work on transnationalism, especially of the “middling” variety (Conradson and Latham 2005), mobility associated with the visa whiteness machine is not confined to elites but applies equally to all who can prove UK descent and thus allows South Africans to negotiate the spaces between very different political and economic conjectures in the north and south. South Africans who stay in the UK for the full four years on their ancestral visa can then apply for indefinite leave to remain and, if they choose, shortly thereafter, a British passport, which would enable complete ease of movement between the two countries:
Cicely thus demonstrates how the need to make emotional decisions such as the acquisition of foreign citizenship is obviated as the attainment of indefinite leave to remain means a passport is not even required to facilitate continuous mobility between South Africa and the UK.
Though an English-speaker living in Durban, Peg has primarily Afrikaans heritage and does not qualify for an ancestral visa—and again she makes explicit mention of her heritage when describing how she had to resort to using the working holiday visa to enter the UK to work:
| Peg: | The whole plan in going was basically just a change. I was twenty-six, and I could only be in London up to the age of twenty-seven, because you can't get a working holiday visa [after that age], so…. |
| Max: | OK, so that's what you used? |
| Peg: | Ja, so I used a working holiday visa to go. |
| Max: | Were you eligible for an ancestral visa? Did you try? |
| Peg: | No, because I don't have any grandparents living there, that are close. It's more, further down the tree. |
As Randi illustrates, meeting the eligibility requirements for securing a working holiday visa as her means of last resort (despite the fact that she would have been eligible for an ancestral visa), was not difficult:
| Max: | Were you on the working holiday [visa]? |
| Randi: | Ja, I just took that out … quick and easy. |
Meeting the requirements of age, South African citizenship, and, crucially, the ability to prove they had the means to support themselves, Randi and Peg did not encounter much difficulty in attaining working holiday visas, the means used by many white youth of Afrikaans and Jewish extraction and those with only very distant roots in the UK.
Scale is also relevant in the way in which transnational South Africans are able to deploy various levels of membership in order to enhance their motility. Suzette, whose father immigrated to South Africa from Italy, was able to use the scaled-up citizenship regime of the EU to achieve easy motility into the UK. She explicitly recognizes that this embodied motility places her in a different spatially inflected subject position to other South Africans without EU or other foreign passports. Speaking of the persistent fear of crime that stimulates much emigration, she notes that:
| Suzette: | I do kind of feel that … touch wood, there's not been anything really violent happen to anyone I know, but if something were to happen, I don't know how I would react. I don't know if I would turn tail and just say, phew, that's it, boy, I'm out of here, if it's close family or something, or whether I would stick it out and fight. And I wonder if because of my Italian link, … I don't know how [a] 100% South African person would think, who had a South African passport and whose only option was to go through a full immigration process somewhere. And I do sometimes wonder if because of the European link, I sort of…not that I feel I have an out, but it's kind of … ja, sometimes I don't feel 100% South African, if that makes sense…. |
Suzette here acknowledges how the possession of a foreign passport allows her to feel differently about living in South Africa—in this case, easily able to flee if she felt threatened by crime. In this way, the pull of the UK, in particular, becomes evident. Despite Suzette's ability to move anywhere in the EU, it is the economic lure of the global city of London, as well as the cultural status of the city and the embodied fact of Suzette's monolingual anglophonism that directs her mobility.
Misty used the same scaled-up European citizenship regime in reverse. The daughter of English emigrants, she used her EU passport to go with her husband to Ireland to work:
| Max: | When you and your husband first tried to go abroad, why was it Ireland? |
| Misty: | Just because it would be easier for him to find work there, really. |
| Max: | Did he have Irish … |
| Misty: | No it's because I'm British … |
| Max: | … because of your British citizenship. |
| Misty: | Ja, ja. |
Greg is aware of his ability to use his UK passport to move himself and his wife to Sweden—thus also displaying his awareness of the ability to deploy the heterosexist mechanism of marriage-based privilege to bestow motility on his female partner, scaling up the unit of his motility from individual body to household unit:
| Max: | Does [your wife] have another passport, or just South African? |
| Greg: | No, she's just South African, but, me being British, we're on an EU passport. That's how we'd look to arrange getting her over. |
| Max: | OK, so you can go into Sweden with no fuss at all. |
| Greg: | No fuss. Same as going to England or Greece or anywhere.… |
| Max: | Or would you also be interested looking at other countries—North America or Australia? |
| Greg: | Well, we'd be very interested in North America, but the passport issues are difficult, and I think to get into North America is difficult. So, for that reason it's easier for us to try and get into Europe. |
Greg here clearly demonstrates the interaction of ability and choice in his discussion of possible emigration destinations. He and his wife would like to live in North America and not Australia. However, the easiest path is into the EU. Having lived in the UK previously, Greg, despite his possession of a British passport, has no desire to move back there, but would be able to use that passport to move to Sweden, a country to which neither he nor his wife have ancestral ties.
Jane's decision to bestow future motility to her family was quite strategic, in that she intentionally planned on having her baby in the UK before returning to South Africa so that, unlike in Daniel's family, he would in future have a UK passport and thus ease the possibility of migration at the scale of the family:
| Max: | So how did you come to decide that it was actually, now was the time to go home? |
| Jane: | Well we had planned it that I wanted my child to have a British passport. So I fell pregnant and we planned that we were gonna come back after he was born. |
| Max: | Was it a planned pregnancy? |
| Jane: | Ja. |
| Max: | How come you wanted him to have a British passport? |
| Jane: | So that he had an opportunity to go back. |
Through her own reproductive decision making Jane is thus creating embodied migration histories of the present in which her British lineage is reaffirmed as a whiteness privileged with motility, and highlighting the role of individual agency in reproducing the privileges associated with the visa whiteness machine.
In this article, I have engaged with the literature on whiteness in geography and South African studies, bodies of work that primarily posit race as just that—a socially constructed and fictitious epistemology of power relations framed through discourse and language. Drawing insights from Saldanha's materialist theory of race, I have argued that motility is a particularly instructive prism through which to demonstrate the materiality of whiteness for a particular, though representative, set of white English-speaking South Africans. Transnational motility, I have argued, is not merely an epiphenomenon of lingering white privilege in post-apartheid South Africa, but is embedded within the white South African body through its material origins, at a variety of temporal and spatial scales, in ancestral histories of migration. Through what I call the visa whiteness machine, motility is an immanent but unequally distributed property of South African whiteness, located in the body by nature of that body's relation to ancestry. I have argued that motility is a set of capacities that are unevenly distributed, even amongst white South Africans. Many white South Africans are eligible for UK passports, many more for ancestral visas, and those who aren't could participate in the working holiday visa scheme. I have also argued that motility, as a property, can move between bodies and change scales. Through recent European citizenship law, South African holders of other EU passports have gained the right to move to the UK and other EU states. Meanwhile, those in possession of white motility can choose to share it and pass it on to officially recognized family members.
All the same, I am keen to be clear that I am not pursuing an either–or approach to the debate around race and social construction, but am more interested in an approach best characterized as both-and. Thus I am keen to emphasize that the transnational motility embedded in white bodies involves only capacities that are mobilized and activated by discourses, cultural norms, and the material circumstances of everyday life and in particular emerges as a means of reconciling the possession of a white body with its emplacement in postcolonial, newly third world space. Not only does transnational motility demonstrate the materiality of whiteness, but, I would suggest, it is part of the very ontology of South African whiteness itself, as it emerges machanically out of the movement of white bodies through transnational space.
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