History in the classroom: Education or ideological battleground? - Terence Corrigan - Biznews

Terence Corrigan
The proposed history curriculum will reserve an important place for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Concluding the final topic to be assigned to Grade 12 learners – Freedom and Democracy in South Africa: Coming to Terms with the Past – the TRC is billed as “a moment of reckoning”. Should the curriculum be implemented, this will probably constitute the final subject matter studied before learners write their exams.

This reminds me of a minor chapter of the Commission’s existence.

Back in 1997, Commissioner Richard Lyster penned an opinion piece arguing that the TRC needed to produce a “publicly sanctioned history” for the country. The account of the TRC, he said, produced by a body of 17 South Africans who had “reached deep into the most cruel and lonely corners of our national psyche”, would be taught in schools and would rid society of the risks posed by multiple contradictory versions of history.

Lyster came in for a great deal of criticism for this, including in a piece that I wrote. The notion of a “publicly sanctioned history” looked suspiciously like an official history, or perhaps a “government sanctioned history”. At the very least, the rejection of alternative accounts of the past – Lyster declared there were “too many” of these – sat decidedly uncomfortably with the entire concept of history, the study and interpretation of the past, which in a free-thinking environment is always up for revision and contestation.

This comes to mind in view of the controversy surrounding the curriculum. When it came to public attention as a result of a statement issued on 9 April, the response was audible and often negative. Much of this had to do with concerns about the new curriculum, self-consciously “African-centred” (or “decolonised”) as a vehicle for indoctrination.

Perhaps surprisingly, the most strident condemnation came not from AfriForum or the Freedom Front Plus, but from educationalist Professor Jonathan Jansen. He condemned it as “anti-intellectual and soul-deadening”, repeating a pathological tradition that has dogged South African education.

For Jansen, this was a curriculum that prioritised content over skills, particularly the critical thinking and ability to weigh and evaluate evidence that make history not only an academic discipline but capable of building skills with real-world workplace application. (When I was at university, a few large companies came by recruiting from the history department, whose graduates were valued for just that reason.)

Some sound, valuable pedagogy
On the face of it, the curriculum is grounded in some sound, valuable pedagogy.  It lists the aims of history in a four-part schema:

To develop an interest in and knowledge of the study of ancient and modern pasts.
To develop an understanding of substantive and procedural historical and archaeological concepts.
To develop an ability to understand and undertake a process of historical enquiry, which uses a range of archaeological and historical sources as evidence to make knowledgeable claims about the past.

To prepare young people for local, regional, continental, global and planetary responsibility.
An operative concept in the framing of the curriculum is historical consciousness. This is defined as follows: “Historical consciousness is the understanding an individual has of his or her place in time. It is the capacity to meaningfully remember and interpret historical events, their significance and meanings to people over time. Through historical consciousness, a person understands that there is a past, that it shapes the present, and that we too are shaping a future that others will live through. It means that we are conscious of being a part of a much longer story (and many stories therein), a story that neither begins nor ends with us. This speaks of having an awareness of change over time.”  

The curriculum recognises the need to promote engaged and critical thinking, and to taking learners through an educational experience “that is comparable in quality, breadth and depth to those of other countries.”

It promotes both individual and collaborative work, requires the exposure of learners to a variety of historical approaches – with an interesting stress on oral history and archaeology – and notes the importance of language in the study of history. (Multilingualism is encouraged in working through the curriculum, potentially taking advantage of the backgrounds and cultural heritage of a diverse learner population; this could be enriching for all.)

It recognises that history is not necessarily a single, fixed account of events, but is open to multiple interpretations and perspectives, which are constantly contested and evolving. In this, it is a refutation of Lyster’s approach.

Voiced concerns
That being said, even some sympathetic observers have voiced concerns about its practicability.

Prof Siona O’Connell, head of the Department of History, Heritage and Cultural Tourism at the University of Pretoria, commented: “The curriculum is extraordinarily ambitious – possibly too ambitious for the conditions in which most South African teachers are currently working. Asking teachers to facilitate oral history projects, engage with archaeological evidence, and draw on multilingual sources is asking a great deal of people who are already overstretched, in under-resourced schools, with large classes and inadequate support.”

For these reasons, any prospect of success would need to be supported by a substantial investment in resources, and teacher training.

History teachers who spoke to the Daily Friend made much the same observations. Indeed, one noted that the basic literacy foundations of many South African schoolchildren raised serious questions about the feasibility of the proposals. This is all the more so given the extensive content to be covered; experienced teachers, even in well-resourced schools, often struggle to deal with the extent of the content at present. Perusing these proposals, this problem has not been adequately recognised.

Another teacher told us that he had grave misgivings about the limited prioritisation given to factual basics – what/where/when – in favour of conceptual and source-based work. This risked leaving learners without the knowledge needed adequately to appreciate historical processes, and to formulate compelling arguments around them. This was the case with the current curriculum and seemed set to be carried over into the new one. The curriculum encouraged quizzes and testing of factual knowledge, but not for formal assessment. Together with the volume of work to be covered, this was likely to be undertaken only by very dedicated teachers, in conjunction with highly motivated learners, under favourable conditions. And this was bad news for most learners across the country.

Relegated to second place
The practical, classroom-level challenges are but one dimension and, in South African public discourse, one that is relegated to second place. The more prominent concern is about content, what is to be taught.

Part of what disturbs me in this regard is the implication that the proposed curriculum would deliver some sort of change from a pre-democracy curriculum. Hence the News24 headline “End of an Era: Jan Van Riebeeck will no longer dominate school history books”.

The curriculum documents discuss approaches in the pre-1994 era, stressing that African perspectives were ignored, but has surprisingly little to say about what has taken place in the interim. One could walk away with the impression that nothing had changed in the past three decades.

This is wholly ridiculous but is unfortunately the sort of chop logic that has become part of the public debate. The reality is that the present curriculum is vastly different from what it was prior to 1994. Jan Van Riebeeck makes no more than a fleeting walk-in on the curriculum (ask any South African learner). Nor is African history – African precolonial history, such as the Mali and Songhai empires – in any way absent. Post-apartheid material, such as the TRC, is featured prominently. To suggest anything to the contrary is dishonest (perhaps ahistorical?).

As one of our interlocutors has pointed out, much of the content from the existing curriculum remains, although in different places and in some cases with a very different sense of priority.

The Second World War and the Holocaust, for example, are included in the Grade 9 curriculum, and would thus be compulsory for all learners before history might be dispensed with as a subject to take. But at a mere 10 hours in total to cover the period from 1919 to 1945 suggests superficial treatment at best, with whole areas of the conflict – notably the Asian dimensions of the war – being ignored entirely. It is difficult to see how learners would indeed come away with an appreciation (as the curriculum intends) of the magnitude of these events and how they influence the world to this day.

Our interlocutor expressed additional doubts that learners at this stage of their intellectual and emotional development would be able properly to engage with the complexities of this phase of history. History is often dark, and these years intensely so.

The question of content is ultimately an ideological one. It speaks to what arguments and perspectives learners are encouraged or enabled to articulate, and to what purposes. On this, Jansen has been scathing. “Black nationalists are doing what white nationalists did,” he said, “make an enemy of the other and stamp their authority on the curriculum, at least until the next regime change.”

“Ideal terrain for indoctrination”
He had previously, in 2024, slammed the curriculum revision and the panel tasked with doing so, commenting: “The reason you do not see this angst around the mathematics or geography curriculum is that manipulating history as a subject is the ideal terrain for indoctrination.”

Here he is quite correct. British imperialists, such as Lord Milner, argued for using the education system to break the identity of the Boers, and to integrate them into the empire. Later, Afrikaner nationalists applied their own understanding of the past. It’s the broad tradition that dominated when I was at school (though I had an extremely talented history teacher, who was careful to provide alternative angles). This was the history that foregrounded Dutch and Huguenot settlement, the Great Trek, the Battle of Blood River, the Boer Republics and the struggle against the British Empire, the Boer Wars (with special stress on the Concentration Camps), the formation of the Union, and the early history of South Africa, if I recall, up to around the formation of the Republic.

The curriculum bills itself as “Africa-focused”. “The intention,” it states, “is to develop in the African child a strong foundational knowledge, understanding and appreciation of the continent, and its relationship to the world.”

None of this is uncontroversial.

Let me say that an emphasis on African history is no negative thing. The continent has a history, ancient and modern, that is the subject of research and interpretation, and has been for centuries. For people living on the continent, this should be a matter of inherent interest. What reasonable objection could there be to Grade 10 learners studying New Kingdom Egypt or Ancient Ethiopia? But the “Africa” that the curriculum describes is something more than geography.

The phrase “the African child” is one that pops up in African nationalist thinking. It evokes innocence and purity, an organic connectedness to Mother Africa. It is also, I find, never free of racial connotations. To see this in an official educational document is somewhat jarring. (I would add that I find it rather incomprehensible, given that the infantilisation of African people, as “boys” and “girls”, was historically a daily indignity. And by the time a learner reaches Grade 12, he or she is likely an adult, ready to assume those multifaceted responsibilities we looked at earlier.)

“Africa” in this sense is a particular historical and cultural construct. As an idea it gathered political momentum under the presidency of Thabo Mbeki. If it was clear what it meant to be a South African – a civic nationalism based on formal legal recognition – it was not clear what it meant to be an African. Consciously in my view, this concept erected an ethno-racial barrier to belonging that could be deployed to delegitimise opponents. One might be recognised as a citizen of a country, but be held to be an alien element of the wider society, perhaps even incompatible with and disloyal to its true spirit.

Enormous diversity
Yet, beyond geography, it’s a big open question whether one can in fact speak of Africa as anything like a coherent unit, however that might be defined. There are 54 countries in the African Union (not counting Western Sahara), along with an enormous diversity of religion, culture, lifestyles and levels of economic development. The default point of unity seems to be that the countries of the continent share a traumatic relatively recent history of domination by outsiders (though this was not universal, as Ethiopia and Liberia existed as internationally recognised states throughout the colonial period, although Ethiopia was briefly occupied by Italy).

So, what would it mean to be Africa-focused, and to what end?

The Grade 10 curriculum looks at achievements of African people throughout history. I can’t help wondering if this is really an appropriate theme for historical enquiry – any more so than, say, “the genius of the English”, or “Why America is the greatest country in the world”.

It also seems to conflate “Africa” with its diaspora, even where they may have little connection to the continent. Thus, the African ancestry of Alexander Pushkin is referenced. His great grandfather had been an African, brought to Russia as a slave, and he had a romantic attachment to this genealogy, though never visited the continent.

Jazz has West African influences (along with numerous others), but it was an art form pioneered in the cultural milieu of New Orleans. It is the brainchild of African-American artists (again, among others; Benny Goodman is as much a part of the story as Louis Armstrong), not Africans. Yet the curriculum document suggests assigning students a paragraph “to show how Africans invented jazz music”.  To claim these as African seems a stretch, unless perhaps the bloodlines and racial identity make them so.  

And if Africa’s contribution to the wider world is to be indexed to race and ancestral heritage, there would seem to be very little place for, say, the literary work of Alan Paton, the poetry of NP van Wyk Louw, the medical advances of Dr Christiaan Barnard, or the palaeontological contributions of Phillip Tobias or Richard Leakey. This most uncomfortable question is one that needs to be clarified.

Middle Kingdom Egypt, likewise, is not to be studied merely for its own value, but as a means to validate Africa’s place in the world. It is framed around the idea of “civilisation”. The curriculum asserts:

The western world later claimed the hegemony of knowledge production and further anointed Greek civilisation as supreme. It was claimed by Westerners that western civilisation is predicated on Greek civilisation. However, Africans are prohibited from making similar claims about Egyptian civilisation.

Really? Who’s prohibiting anyone from doing that? And do all “Westerners” claim their societies are founded on ancient Greece?

Lacking in nuance
This is appallingly lacking in nuance or the multiperspectivity that the curriculum elsewhere encourages. Ancient Greece certainly had an influence on Western thought and society, but so did Christianity, the Enlightenment, and various modern-day ideological currents. There is a long-standing and detailed trail of scholarship on these matters and their influence on one another. How they relate to one another is a matter of legitimate historical debate.

Whether Ancient Egypt played an equivalent role in Africa is less clear. Its links with other societies in the ancient world – down the Nile, across what is now the Middle East, and throughout the Mediterranean – are plentifully documented. But it would require some careful explanation and detailed evidence to show a civilisational lineage between, say, Ancient Egypt and the Eastern Cape. Some enthusiastic Afrocentrists have asserted this sort of thing, but not thus far convincingly.

Incidentally, the remnants of Ancient Egyptian culture, across numerous permutations, are embodied in contemporary Egypt’s Coptic minority, which exists under pervasive discrimination. Cultural oppression and beliefs in civilisational inferiority have not been the exclusive sin of Westerners, nor, sadly, something of the past.

“In groups, learners should debate on whether Egypt should be considered as part of Africa or not?”, the proposals recommend. That’s a decent question. For myself, I think the issue is how one understands the concept of Africa, and having some insight into the conceptions of the world at that time, not in our own. But I’m not sure that this sort of discussion will fit comfortably with the objectives of the curriculum. I can’t shake the feeling that much of the curriculum aims to produce a specific orientation of the learners’ historical consciousness, rather than one whose specificities each is encouraged to develop for him- or herself.

I have similar misgivings about some of the material in Grade 11. A large element of this is the colonial experience and the transatlantic slave trade. Interesting and important topics, though it’s notable that nothing in the curriculum seems to engage with the trade in slaves inside Africa (both Songhai and Mali did so), or with the trans-Sahara trade, which lasted for a longer period and probably trafficked many more people than the transatlantic trade.

A substantial 32 hours is set aside for studying the Haitian Revolution, under the heading “Slavery, Slave Resistance and the Haitian Revolution”. Again, an interesting topic, though of limited illustrative value, since historically speaking it was an extreme outlier. Slave revolts seldom succeeded. The vast majority, whether in the western hemisphere or anywhere else, were put down with great brutality.

Human freedom and equality
This topic also shows the limitations of the “African-centred” perspective. It notes – correctly – that the French (and American) revolutions enunciated the principles of human freedom and equality, but that in championing the cause of slaves, the Haitian revolution took these principles further through applying them to enslaved people.

The French Revolution receives a “brief overview”, but a recommended exercise is for learners to discuss whether or not “genuine liberty and equality were realised through the Haitian and not the French Revolution.” This is simply not possible to do meaningfully unless they have an in-depth understanding of both. The curriculum will not provide this.

Nor is the overall framing of the topic adequate. One of the “key questions” to be addressed is “How and why did Haiti become the first nation in the world to enforce a provision of personal democratic freedom for all at a time when North America was deepening its slavery roots?”

Neither contention is unambiguously supportable. In the United States, a number of states had by 1791 either abolished or initiated the process of abolishing slavery, as sentiment opposed to slavery spread and its economic utility declined. Its full abolition, though, would come only in the 1860s, after a destructive civil war. (A seldom mentioned phenomenon was the holding of slaves by aboriginal groups, in both the US and Canada.)  

As to whether Haiti provided “democratic freedom for all”, this is rather belied by the country’s tragic history.

It is also noteworthy that the potted account of the history provided neglects to mention that in 1804, within the timeframe set out in the curriculum, an order was sent out by the Haitian government to massacre – with some exceptions being made – all remaining white residents.

This was carried out shortly after Jean-Jacques Dessalines had declared the island’s formal independence. Dessalines was made Haiti’s emperor for life, and shortly thereafter instituted a regime of forced labour, rather limiting the freedom of the former slaves had received. There are all manner of complexities and contradictions here, which incidentally mirror those that arose in the now sidelined French Revolution. A failure to include these details would be a distortion of the past – no less than the distortions perpetrated in the name of colonial supremacy – and a disservice to the historical literacy of the learners.

Nothing, however, will provoke quite so much controversy as the manner in which South African history is presented. This speaks directly (or is at least invariably interpreted as such) to questions of whether particular groups have a legitimate claim to belonging in the polity. In 2024, a study by the Department of Basic Education drew attention to the declining proportion of white learners who were taking history to matric. Several well-regarded high schools no longer even offered the subject as an elective. Part of this was attributed to the impression that white people were presented as an enemy in the curriculum, and that it offered nothing substantial to reflect their personal or communal history.

“Each community”
Indeed, commenting on the proposed curriculum, Alana Bailey of AfriForum said: “We haven’t reached a point where we recognise that South Africa comprises diverse communities and that each community should have access to its specific cultural traditions, history and language.”

Looking at the proposals, the African experience (as in the indigenous people of the continent) is well catered for. That is clearly a priority for both pedagogical and ideological reasons. An attentive learner could exit school with a respectable understanding of African pre-colonial societies (not all, of course, since Africa is a very large affair) and the impact and traumas of colonisation and subjugation. Links to the diaspora are emphasised, as is the rise of African nationalism and liberation struggles on the continent. In broad terms, these appear to be presented so as to allow proper and sympathetic deliberation. This is particularly so in the higher grades.

The presentation of other communities is rather less coherent and comprehensive. The British Empire is treated largely as an impersonal force, with very little being said about the settlement or lives of its subjects who settled in South Africa. The only mentions of the 1820 settlers, for example, refer to their arrival intensifying conflict on the Frontier.

The Afrikaner (or “Boer”) story fares a little better. There is material on the Dutch settlement of the Cape (Jan van Riebeeck might even survive for a fleeting appearance – rather as he does today!), and on the trekboers. There is even a suggested project in Grade 7: “Study the life of a European colonist, traveller, hunter, or trader from this period.” The Anglo-Boer War receives cursory treatment in Grade 8. Afrikaner nationalism is back in Grade 12, though heavily fixated on its links to the minerals revolution. Here, I would suggest that learners would find it very difficult to get a coherent picture of Boer/Afrikaner society and its development over time. Certainly, it will not be a sympathetic account – rather, it functions as an “other”.

The experiences of coloured and Indian South Africans are if anything, even less well covered. Coloured people would be dealt with in the sections on the early Cape, while later material looks briefly at such groups as the Griqua. Indian people have very little presence. Dr Lindie Koorts of the University of Pretoria, who has been quite supportive of the curriculum, pointed to this. Nothing appears about the process of indentured servitude, or indeed about the peculiar status that Indians occupied for much of their history, regarded as an undesirable, culturally alien element – and often suspect in the eyes of both white and African people.

Ideological commitments
Frankly, I don’t see this content being attractive to substantial numbers of learners; in an age where representation has assumed such importance as a means of validation (“does this represent me?”), this might be surprising. But I would say that it merely follows the ideological commitments of the overall curriculum. And it also follows the long-established mode of using history in classrooms to underwrite the legitimacy of a political order and its guiding narrative.

In the above regard, it’s worth noting that the starting point for much of this discussion in the curriculum is the so-called “National Question”. This choice of words is revealing, in that it is a phrase taken directly from the African National Congress and SA Communist Party lexicon. In brief, the understanding that they came to propound was that in South Africa, colonisers and the colonised shared a territory, but inhabited vastly different worlds – indeed, was South Africa really one society, or was it a construct of different and antagonistic societies?

This is a deeply ideological, even political framing, and one that easily lends itself to race essentialising, as Prof Jansen warns.

No discussion of South African history would be complete without discussing the treatment of the “struggle” and the transition to democracy. This receives considerable attention, and will be one of the most closely followed and potentially incendiary elements of the curriculum. This gets directly at the pain and anger that is in our recent past, and is a recurrent theme in our politics – albeit one typically raised without any nuance and sometimes without much comprehension. It suffers, I think, from some of the same weaknesses as the material on the Haitian Revolution. While the syllabus relates much of it to the Cold War, the lack of an in-depth treatment of the latter on its own terms will likely compromise learners’ understanding.

And given the emotions invested in these issues, and the contemporary hold they have on our relationship to our politics, only a detailed, meticulous treatment, presented from numerous perspectives, will be adequate. I asked one teacher how she dealt with the tough, divisive matters. She said it was about sensitivity and empathy for all her learners, by explaining the factual material, and insisting on high academic standards and maturity from them. 

And then there is the TRC. The curriculum comments as follows:  “The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was a moment of reckoning; while it enabled some apartheid atrocities to be revealed, there were major problems with the process, e.g. why the apartheid officials never gave evidence; why white finance capital was never brought before the TRC considering the role it played in the apartheid state by excluding black South Africans from the economy; why the legal fraternity was never summoned for supporting and upholding racist laws; and why South Africa did not use the Nuremberg-style hearings. (3 hours)”

Debateable at best
Most of this is incorrect. Whether it enabled “apartheid atrocities” to be revealed is debateable at best. Much of what was probed was not in fact disclosed for the first time. Veteran MP Helen Suzman said that she had learned nothing she didn’t know; at best, the TRC gave people a forum to express their experiences.

“Apartheid officials” gave a great deal of testimony, not least in amnesty hearings; former President F W de Klerk appeared before the commission, as did a number of other former cabinet ministers – even President PW Botha, who refused to appear, sent an enormous volume of written documentation.

If by “white finance capital” (another ideologically loaded expression) is meant banks and insurance companies, they did in fact make submissions, both in writing and in person; this is found in Volume 4 of the report.

The legal fraternity, both judges and practitioners’ bodies, made numerous written and oral submissions, also to be found in Volume 4 of the report.

As to why South Africa did not use Nuremberg-style hearings, well, given the way the curriculum is designed, I’m not convinced that all will understand what these are and how they came about. Interestingly, the curriculum doesn’t seem to mention the whole idea of amnesty as being central to the TRC. As to getting this done in three hours, I personally can’t see that happening.

I am less than convinced that learners who are taken through the curriculum without a teacher willing to go the extra mile will really understand how the transition happened. It is very easy to take an intellectual short-cut and denounce the transition process as a sell-out that failed to deliver “justice”.

Indeed, the curriculum comes close to doing just that. Among its objectives is that learners should “recognise that South Africa has attained political freedom but economic inequalities have remained unchanged and the struggle continues for economic freedom, bearing in mind that the liberation struggle was always about both economic and political freedom”. This idea explicitly forms part of the historical consciousness that the curriculum seeks to inculcate and is recommended as a question for learners to address.

It’s a highly contentious and unambiguously ideological position. And since the curriculum offers no content beyond the late 1990s, the implication is that this judgement should rest on the decisions made at that time – not on subsequent misgovernance and poor policy. This would in turn have the likely effect of pushing learners to interpret South Africa’s current malaise as the outcome of the transition and the liberal democratic constitutional order. I can’t exclude the possibility that this is intentional.

Hard-left, Marxist narrative
One teacher told us that while the history framework over the course of his decades-long career had invariably had a left-leaning inflection, space had been available to present alternatives. These proposals seemed to be dispensing with this, and pushing a hard-left, Marxist narrative, with little pretence of balance.

This may not be true for the entire curriculum, but it’s hard to miss the pronounced Marxist influence. I would, however, say that the ideological orientation at play is less traditional Marxism than what we might broadly call “fallist”. This was the movement that forced onto the public agenda the notion of “the failed transition”, that insisted on the continued primacy of race in political analysis (“decoloniality” was another idea associated with it), and a rejection of the constitutional dispensation.

So, what are we to make of this?

The curriculum is unobjectionable in parts, particularly as it relates to the earlier years. As it advances through the years, a discernible ideological and identitarian position becomes evident. It seems quite clear that the writers of the curriculum have in mind a definite view of the historical consciousness they seek to promote – it is one that leads to definite conclusions about the present. This is concerning, and if dogmatically adhered to will undermine the very historical literacy that the curriculum nominally seeks to promote.

Contrary to its claims, the focus on Africa leads to a certain parochialism, not least in the higher grades, where one would expect an appreciation of the wider world to take hold.

What this will mean for the learners who will go through it, well, that will depend significantly on the quality of the teachers they have to facilitate it, and the receptiveness of those responsible for overseeing marking and moderating to alternative arguments. It will demand a level of professionalism that may not be in bountiful supply, and assumes access to resources that far too many learners cannot reasonably hope to have. There is a risk, however, that for many, it will simply become an exercise in repeating a preferred narrative to demonstrate the appropriate historical consciousness.

How it should be
This brings us back to Richard Lyster’s comments. “Truth” in history is difficult to establish and frequently contested. That is, frankly, how it should be. Nor is a single narrative a path to societal cohesion. This is a dangerous fallacy that ignores the nature of free societies. As Heribert Adam remarked in reference to the TRC: “Claims that truth commissions can heal a torn nation through a shared truth can be disputed both because the truth is liable to be constructed differently by competing interests and also because nations do not possess collective psyches.”

It’s the same for school history, probably more so, since its deployment to feed a political goal robs learners of the opportunity for academic development. Done well, history teaches knowledge, skills, and an understanding of the differences that constitute a society. Perhaps out of that we learn to tolerate those differences and accept disagreements, to persuade and be persuaded. Done poorly, it risks trapping us in a cauldron of past events, and being tortured by them.

Terence Corrigan is the Project Manager at the Institute, where he specialises in work on property rights, as well as land and mining policy. A native of KwaZulu-Natal, he is a graduate of the University of KwaZulu-Natal (Pietermaritzburg). He has held various positions at the IRR, South African Institute of International Affairs, SBP (formerly the Small Business Project) and the Gauteng Legislature – as well as having taught English in Taiwan. He is a regular commentator in the South African media and his interests include African governance, land and agrarian issues, political culture and political thought, corporate governance, enterprise and business policy

https://www.biznews.com/rational-perspective/history-education-ideological-battleground-corrigan

This article was first published on the Daily Friend.