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hell to hope : An organizational case study of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) in South Africa
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Operationally the TRC was itself a transitional organisation with an initial task life of 18 months entailing a process of public expression, narration, witnessing, containing and transforming profound social and individual wounding. This paper looks at how the TRC fared in its negotiating these emotional transitions. The TRC can be understood of as a “transitional object” in a Winnicottian sense. It is this transitionality and the transitional space occupied and created by the TRC in the societal psychic fabric that is explored in the paper. It is argued that the TRC constituted a space for the integration of a reality crafted out of the tensions between reality and unreality, truth and untruth, hope and despair, the silenced and the narrated, justice and injustice, reconciliation and enmity; thus straddling many paradoxes in facilitating truth and reconciliation. This occupancy of transitional space in explored from two vantage points. One is a perspective on how the TRC attempted to address yet contain the traumatised emotionality of the society. The second is a perspective on the emotional processes within the organisational life of the TRC itself as it struggled to manage the emotional life within and without. The TRC is being proposed as an organisational model of transitional justice and non-retributive societal healing with potential implementation in other divided societies. This paper reflects on the challenges facing a national organisation attempting societal healing.
1) The Vision Of An Ideal Truth
In the late 1980's talks began between the leaders of the Apartheid State and those of the liberation movements. The aim was to negotiate a transition from violent unrest to political stability and peace in South Africa. These talks resulted, inter alia, in the release of Nelson Mandela, the unbanning of all political organizations in South Africa, the consensual dissolution of the apartheid government, and the formation of a representative interim government. In 1993 most political organisations had given up the armed struggle and committed themselves to a negotiated settlement and the establishment of a democratic state in South Africa. The challenge was how to effect this transition.
The negotiation process was placed on a precarious knife-edge over the question of how to manage and deal with the protagonists in the flagrantly violent enactment of, and resistance to, the Apartheid State. Positions ranged from a call for blanket amnesty (that is, no questions asked) to that of Nuremberg-type war crime trials for all perpetrators. Ultimately an agreement was struck: a political compromise between these two opposing positions required the 1994 government set up a commission to deal with the human rights violations that so disfigured the fabric of the South African psychological, social, and political landscape. The Commission's envisaged task was to reveal the truth about the political conflicts of the recent past (i.e. 1 March 1960 to 5 December 1993), to grant amnesty to those people who were prepared to tell the commission the whole truth about their politically motivated perpetration of violence, and to restore human and civil dignity.
To honour this agreement, Parliament promulgated the Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act (Act 34 of 1995), and mandated the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) to operationalism this Act. The philosophy underpinning the TRC was stated by the Minister of Justice Dullah Omar (1996) to be "the need for understanding, not vengeance; the need for reparation, not retaliation; and the need for ubuntu (i.e. humanity), not victimisation". The TRC was envisioned by many of its promoters as embodying a moral imperative: to exemplify a new and better way for a deeply divided nation to address its past: one that steers a path between "vengeance and forgiveness” (Minow, 1998); between the victor's justice of a Nuremberg and historical amnesia (Statman, 2000).
2) Organizing Truth And Reconciliation
On 16 December 1995 17 TRC commissioners were appointed by President Mandela, amidst much fanfare and expectation. Archbishop Desmond Tutu was appointed to lead these chosen commissioners in the tasks of delivering the truth, absolving disclosing perpetrators, repairing the damage to violated victims and communities, and reconciling a profoundly wounded and dehumanised nation. All in the short period of the initial life span of 18 months. The TRC was born and mandated in the midst of the national euphoria prevailing after the release of Mandela and the accomplishment of the dismantling of apartheid; something many though they would never witness in their lifetimes. The national expectation thus was that the Commission would continue this miracle (set in motion largely by Mandela's charismatic leadership) and heal the wounds and seal over the schisms. The prevailing metaphor was that the TRC was that of a caring mother- washing clean a septic wound so that new tissue could grow.
The commission was mandated to set up three committees; The Human Rights Violations Committee (HRV), The Reparation and Rehabilitation Committee (R&R), The Amnesty Committee (AC). Each committee had a prescribed primary task. For HRV it was to establish the truth of the past; for R&R it was to provide emotional support for deponents and to make policy recommendations around reparation and rehabilitation; for AC it was to grant amnesty to applicants who meet requirements for amnesty. These committees were supported by a set of administrative departments with their own supportive tasks.
The commission started its "work" immediately with minimal preparation, no organisational plan, no office space, and no prior strategic plan. It was an organisation "in mind"; a vision constellated around an idea pregnant with societal expectation. The result was that the leadership style was visionary and charismatic as opposed to strategic or operational.
The tasks of the TRC were massive. The societal projections were immense. The TRC was idealised by many as the resolution of the country's pain whilst also deeply criticised and derogated by other sectors as a persecutory object. As a result, from the outset, the TRC had to absorb and manage this paradox of projections onto its own paradoxical task.
It was not unusual to hear individuals expressing both strongly negative and positive feelings toward the work to the TRC. For example, victims were often praising of the opportunity to tell their stories to the commission and gain validation while at the same time deeply critical of the fact that "their" perpetrators may receive amnesty. Others were relived that the TRC was mandated to grant amnesty but were derisive of it as an ANC ploy to break the silence of apartheid state and to force confession and apology from white South Africans. These contradictory sentiments were both reflections and distorted images of the inherent paradoxical and contradictory nature of the primary task of the TRC in its pursuance of truth and reconciliation.
Establishing the truth of the past, attempting to restore human dignity, whilst granting amnesty presented the TRC with complex emotional and moral tensions and dilemmas. In a sense the TRC was charged with an impossible primary task of resolving the seemingly unbearable tension between truth and reconciliation. At the inception of the TRC the truth was an unknown; and where it was partially known it was blurred and distorted and lay in wait of narration in all its complexity. Could the process of unfolding the truths lead to healing and reconciliation? Or would it unleash an indigestible rage and bitterness that would entrench the enmity and suspicion? These dilemmas preoccupied the TRC throughout its task. It is not a surprise that the Commission reported that it found its task to be "riddled with tension." (TRC Report Volume 1, Chapter 5, 3).
Statman (2000) elaborates this point rather pessimistically:
“It is precisely the impossible weight of these differing and at times competing and partially contradictory aims, paradigms and responsibilities coupled with the more mundane pressures of time and resource constraints, that doomed the Commission to a process and outcome that however earnest and energetic was bound to be at times confused, confusing and perhaps Quixiotic” (p. 23).
It becomes clear that the Commission did not have a clearly defined primary task around which it could organise. Rather the normative primary task (of establishing truth and reconciling the nation) was so expansive a brief that it splintered, both consciously and unconsciously, into multiple tasks (Roberts ,1994). Roberts argues that anxiety is generated when there are ill-defined or diffuse organisational agendas. This anxiety induces organisational defences against grappling with the emotional complexities inherent in the task. That is, the organisation engages in anti-task activity. The dilemma at the heart of the TRC was the activities of pursuing truth, granting amnesty, and promoting reconciliation were not primarily pragmatic tasks. Rather to deliver on these required addressing and grappling with the intensely fractured emotional underbelly of the nation. An emotionality that was largely uncharted; a "black hole" (Bar On, 1992) of turgid emotionality that evoked enormous anxiety that became defended against in multiple ways. The kinds of anti-task activities engaged in by the TRC are charted below.
The TRC set in motion multiple discourses and projective processes that marked the historical divisions in the society. These ranged from paranoid-schizoid annihilatory anxieties expressed in comments like "The TRC's a witch hunt, a organ of the ANC" to omnipotent fantasies such as ''The TRC will establish a single reconciliatory history or truth" and "The TRC will enable us all to forgive each other and live peacefully together".
3) The TRC As Transitional Space
Creating a space where truth and reconciliation could merge required not only an organisational structure to secure this space but also an organisational climate and culture to hold this space and allow work within and across the tensions and paradoxes implicit in the primary task. In this the TRC can be thought of as a form of transitional phenomenon. In real terms it was a creative product of a transitional government; had a transitional life span; and had to deliver a form of transitional justice. However the TRC can also be considered transitional in symbolic terms in the Winnicottian sense (Straker,1999) of occupying and keeping alive an in-between space; a potential space for the integration of irreconcilable realities.
The TRC created a potential space for the individual and collective wounds and unspoken actions to be narrated and witnessed. This presented opportunity for that which was suffered in silence, a black hole of woundedness, and that which was perpetrated in secret, to be narrated and coherence sought between these two secreted realities. According to Winnnicott this space becomes a me and a not-me object, an intermediate area of experiencing which is unchallenged in respect of its belonging to inner and outer reality. It occupies a place in-between. In similar vein the TRC set up a space in-between hitherto irreconcilable realities. It was a space into which contradictory narratives were poured and hopefully bound and interwoven into a master narrative of forgiveness and hope rather than enmity and despair.
However the task of sustaining a space within which individuals could narrate their trauma was challenged by the inherently paradoxical mandate of the TRC. It was “forged in two competing paradigms-the legal paradigm and the psychotherapeutic paradigm” (Straker, 1999; Statman, 2000). On the one hand there was a quasi-legal process of discerning the truth and naming perpetrators whilst, in parallel, creating a safe psychological, spiritual space for victims so as to avoid the impingement of cross-examination typical of a legal process. The challenge was to maintain the tension between these two paradigmatic approaches to the arrival at truth. Some (Simpson, 1999) have suggested that these are irreconcilable processes. The result of this "profound dilemma at the heart of the findings process" (TRC Report, Vol. 1, Chapter 6, 27) was that what emerged was no unitary or single truth as perhaps naively anticipated.
4) On Hearing The Truth
On the 15th of April 1996, in the face of enormous internal and external pressure to "get on with the job", all 17 commissioners congregate in East London for the first TRC public hearing. At 8:30am the media room in the Cape office begins to fill up with TRC\ staff, waiting in anticipation for the official opening of a process that was to change not only their lives but indeed the life of a nation. As 9:00 draws closer the media room is a hive of anxious excitement as phone calls are made and received, ensuring that everything is in place for international TV coverage of the event. At 9:00 the opening ceremony begins with the 17 commissioners and 3 committee members being led by Tutu into the hall, taking their seats as the panel of the first TRC hearing in South Africa. The media room falls silent as staff watch with an admixture of shock, incredulity, and awe as Tutu opens the hearing with an impassioned hymn and prayer.
The first witness is led to her seat. Tutu addresses her thus:
"In welcoming you as the first witness in the proceedings of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, we are mindful of the suffering you have endured in the past. Many of us remember as though it was yesterday when Mapetla died in police custody. We remember the anguish and horror of those days, we also know, apart from the personal grief that you have experienced that you yourself have been victim of human rights violations. We know that you have been detained and were in solitary confinement, and we salute you as someone who has witnessed the great courage, and you coming here today, is testimony to your commitment to truth, to justice, reconciliation, and to peace between you and all people and all South Africa".
The silence is thick as the witness, an ordinary middle aged black woman, wife and mother, commences with the first words of the unspoken narrative of the nation. She describes the murder of her husband, and herself being brutally beaten, tortured and detained by security police. She remains composed for the first 10 to 15 minutes, numbing the audience with the chilling brutality of her story. Then, suddenly her composure shatters, and she begins to scream uncontrollably. The counsellor tries to console and comfort; then the witness leaps up, flailing her arms in the air, and wailing seemingly unaware of her surroundings as she gets swallowed up by re-experiencing her trauma.
Everyone in the hall is shocked and overwhelmed as the calm is ruptured by her violent emotional recount. All eyes look to Tutu to do something; to rescue them from the discomfort of this pain. He soothes her by inviting her to take her time; to pause to gather herself before continuing. She responds by sitting down with her head between arms, weeping to herself. In the media room staff find it unbearable, turn their gaze from the television monitors, and walk out to find relief in avoidance.
5) On Hearing And Not Hearing
Scenes like the above vignette were replayed in countless public hearings as traumatic memories were recounted by witness after witness; hearing after hearing saturating staff and audience with shocking facts and revelations. There was a relentless narrative of brutality, trauma, suffering and endurance, and fortitude that had hitherto been so effectively silenced and kept from awareness by the state repression and the turning of a blind eye by white South Africa. It can be argued that the maintenance of apartheid was predicated on a form of collective paranoid-schizoid splitting and projection that effectively resulted in a disavowal of awareness of the brutal foundations of the system. Although this split prevailed across all sectors of South Africa it was a particularly effective defence employed by white South Africa (and clearly buttressed by state sponsored repression of information).
The impact of the emerging narrative was mixed. In many senses the TRC exposed the paranoid-schizoid character of the society. As the TRC stimulated primitive anxieties the projections and splits became etched out in public reactions. Responses ranged from horror to confusion to outright denial. Much like the claims that the Holocaust did not occur, a sizeable sector of whites refuted the evidence and branded the witnesses as playing out an ANC political agenda. Others merely exculpated themselves from response by claiming "we had no idea". However many were immobilised in the glare of the televised hearings and began to slowly appreciate the extent of brutality exacted on fellow South Africans.
Another significant effect was that whites, and many blacks, were literally for the first time confronted with the humanity of black South Africans and were challenged to see them as human like themselves. This was massively disorganising in that it challenged people to dismantle their split and part-object saturated perceptions of otherness. Resultantly widespread anxieties were stirred up around whether the TRC could seal over these splits or whether they would widen into greater alienation and violence? Many turned away; wished the TRC away; minimised its import; or denigrated its integrity. To own complicity or even passivity would have entailed a degree of anxiety-provoking introspection. This has been too difficult or too threatening of internal disorganisation for most to engage in.
This struggle to manage primitive anxieties was duplicated within the organisation itself. It comprised over 200 staff members drawn from the full spectrum of racial and political groupings in South Africa. Although there was a veneer of a political commitment towards reconciliation, the organisation unconsciously embodied the primitive anxieties and projections stirred up by its own mandate. The processes in society at large were mirrored with the organisational dynamics of the TRC itself.
6) Truth In Transition
Contrary to the initial simplistic expectations, what emerged were different accounts and multiple truths. Deponents would diverge in their accounts of events; stories would contradict each other; TRC panellists would interpret the stories differently and respond according to their own emotional and political biases. This entailed a process of “disillusionment” (Winnicott) whereby the fantasy held by insiders and outsiders of the TRC as deliverer of the absolute truth was dismantled. The slogan of the TRC was “TRUTH , THE ROAD TO RECONCILIATION”. This became tarnished in the minds of staff who began to realise that truth would at best always be incomplete and may never relate to reconciliation. The commission’s final report concluded that what emerged were four notions of truth; factual or forensic truth (driven by the legalistic processes), personal and narrative truth (both victim and perpetrator), social truth (or dialogue truth) and fourthly healing and restorative truth (a form of emotional truth).
These truths in potential could conflict with each other and in fact in the TRC process negated and challenged each other. Recognition of the symbolic space constituted by the TRC could have allowed a fusion into a master narrative of complex truth, rather than a confusion of contradictory truths. However the symbolic potential of the TRC was not full appreciated and the symbolic space often collapsed under the pressure for facts and the organisational dynamics mobilised in the pursuance of a single truth.
The complexity and ambiguity of the emerging narratives (factual, personal, social emotional) could not be integrated in the absence of the maintenance of a symbolic space. In this vacuum there was an overriding imputes toward the objective (forensic truth) at the expense of the subjective (emotional truth). In this process the TRC engaged in a series of defences that obscured negotiating the emotional ambiguity and complexity inherent in its primary task.
For one the need for factual information and data processing assumed priority such that "the symbolic, therapeutic core of the TRC, its expressed victim-centredness, gave way to a more mechanistic quasi-legal accounting" (Statman, 2000, p. 25). The press for facts impinged on the space created for a therapeutic reconfiguration of emotions.
A significant countertransference response was the naïve belief that the commissioners would sustain an objective stance and that they would merely witness the truth. However the psychological reality was that the emergent truth were being forged in the intersubjective space co-constituted by the deponents, the commissioners, and the organisational dynamics of the TRC. The commissioners/panellists failed to appreciate the extent to which they were inserted in the production of the truth. The way responses were framed and questions led reflected the personal perspectives, political framing, and countertransference reactions of the panellists as stories impinged consciously and unconsciously on them. At times there was an over-identification with victim; at times a projective identification into perpetrator; at times an emotional distancing from the affective expressions of the victims. There thus was an ongoing unconscious intersubjective impingement that remained unthought about.
Wilson (1999) suggests another organisational countertransference impinging on the transitional space. He observed that the "ritualised" nature of the hearings, whereby individualised experience became subordinated to and subsumed within the dominant public narrative of forgiveness, resulted in a diluting of the intense and conflicted emotionality of the narrators. Statman (2000) echoes this perspective in saying "Rather than creating an empowering space in which victims can present their stories and express their actual emotions and feelings, no matter how complicated or socially acceptable, the hearings take on a quality of a scripted and staged morality play directed by the well-meaning commissioners" (Statman, p. 27).
Statman’s view is somewhat cynical in that it was
the way emotions were processed that gave the impression that the TRC
had effectively blanched out the lived experience of victims. There
were in fact a set of emotional filters or funnels attendant to the
production of narratives. These were manifestations of the paradox between
the private space and the public space traversed by the TRC process.
Approximately 2100 deponents (10%) were afforded the opportunity to retell their accounts in a national public space.
6.2) Public Space The public hearings graphically reproduced the public private paradox at the heart of the narrative process. It set up a ritual that invited a retelling of story yet the process of telling was impinged upon by the pre-hearing briefings, the court-like setting, the imposing presence of the commissioners, the glare of television cameras and recording devices, the requests to slow down or repeat for the benefit of interpreters, and the frequent interruptions for clarification of fact. The public ritual placed great restraints on the telling yet open, spontaneous telling was invited. Further the religious overlay that was enacted in Desmond Tutu’s person and ritualizations, although remarkably containing, also set up a set of constraints on the expression of negative emotions, such as rage and vegeafulness, and created a demand characteristic of forgiveness. These processes collectively set up a double-bind condition with respect to disclosure/non-disclosure.
In a detailed analysis of the transcripts of six Human Rights Violations Committee hearings, van der Walt (1999) found that victims whose testimony seemed to conflict with the TRC forgiveness paradigm, were frequently challenged by commissioners, interrupted and given less time in which to present their narratives, as compared to those whose accounts and emotional demeanour complied with TRC expectations and ideology (Statman, 2000). This finding reflects the extent to which the organisation unconsciously played out certain countertransference agendas, in this instance the agenda is a defence against multiple emotions such as, revenge rage, anger and sentiments of retribution. This defence was framed by the overemphasis on healing and reparation embodied in Tutu’s religious beliefs and inspirationally compassionate stance as the containing leader and spiritual guide of the TRC process. 7) Ruptured Space: Tutu Breaks Down The emotional fatigue from months of public hearings gained momentum. Numbness had set in amongst staff, coupled with an unquestioning commitment to get the work done. The metaphor of "hitting the ground running" developed, depicting the fact that there was little time and even less willingness on the part of staff to reflect on the work as hearing after hearing was organised and dispensed with. Furthermore to own any sense of emotional burnout or strain was not politically correct. There was no space for personal indulgence in a world awash with suffering far greater than one's own. Staff dealt with their feelings by adopting a near manic punishing work schedule splitting into small teams, travelling to remote parts of the country, setting up and conducting hearing after hearing. In total in excess of 21,000 statements were taken and 2100 public statements taken. To the observer the TRC was fulfilling its task of taking the 'hearings' throughout the country, from cities to smallest towns. However the sanctuary of the potential space was being threatened. The TRC panellists were emotionally fatigued, becoming increasingly briefer questioning witnesses; as if afraid or unable to listen to more pain and anguish. The lack of processing of countertransference experiences by the TRC staff manifested in the symptom of a pervading boredom. Staff often discussed being utterly "bored" by the repetitive and relentless nature of the deponents personal stories. They became inured and emotionally blunted. Although there was liberal discussion of things like 'vicarious traumatisation’ this happened at an intellectual level and there remained the unspoken fear of dealing with this knowledge at an emotional and organisational level.
A core dimension of the primary task of the TRC was to create a space for voice. In so doing it paradoxically silenced the articulation of the consequential emotional story of the organisation itself. The intersubjectivity of the process remained unacknowledged and silenced. Flight from the "impossible primary task" took several forms. One the one hand staff became preoccupied with logistics and bureaucratic detail, avoiding any emotional contact with witnesses. On the other hand staff became preoccupied with life-giving recreational and social activities as a flight against the intimacy of the public story-telling process. That is an attempt to patrol the impinged boundary between public and private space.
This disavowal of the impact of the process on the organisation was challenged at a critical point in one hearing where Tutu was presiding. It was a ' typical' story of yet another victim. However this time it was all too much. Desmond Tutu as he buried his head in his hands and simply broke down, sobbing inconsolably as a colleague placed her hand on his back and passed him a tissue. Within hours many of the TRC staff had phoned each other conveying the news, and the image of the anguished Tutu was splashed across the international media quoting Tutu as saying “The pain of victims is beyond comprehension”.
8) Repairing The Potential Space After the initial shock there appeared to be a sense of relief among staff; a vicarious acknowledgment that the stories were unbearable and the work of witnessing, demanding in the extreme. Tutu sent an e-mail to all staff, thanking all for their commitment to the work of the TRC and acknowledging that the work was painful and difficult. The emotional impact on staff had been acknowledged and a decision was made to appoint a “mental health expert” who would attend to these needs. The latter immediately commenced with an assessment process whereby he held three assessment meetings with groups of staff to establish how staff were coping with the stress of the work and assessing what emotional needs staff had regarding the management of the work stress and pressure. What followed was a proposal that staff meet in stress management groups. This proposal was rejected by most staff and never materialised. There were too many defences against a depressive acceptance of vulnerability and mortal helplessness.
However unconsciously there appears to have been a shift to a depressive position. Within days staff began to question the purpose of hearing these horrific stories. A general assumption was that the pain expressed by the victims needed to be attended to by the TRC with grater commitment. This sparked off a debate about the TRC’s duty to promote reconciliation and questions were raised regarding whose task it was to ensure reconciliation. Fingers were pointed at the R&R committee and allegations were made that it was not fulfilling its primary task. A discussion session ensued where staff and commissioners discussed the questions surrounding where responsibility for reconciliation lay. The R&RC pointed out that this committee was mandated to make policy recommendations regarding the Promotion of Reconciliation and did not have the power to respond to individual emotional needs. Unimpressed, one staff member compared the work of the TRC to a circus; arriving, performing, even entertaining, and leaving. This analogy stuck in the minds and was captured by the saying among staff “it’s like the circus leaving town”. A realisation had been reached that the TRC had limitations; it simply could not take away the pain it was mandated to witness. It could not deliver on the unconscious omnipotent fantasy of healing the wounds, nor could it deliver a pristine truth or offer reconciliation. In the short or medium term at least.
This was a critical moment that called for organisational introspection and reflection. Unfortunately the moment slipped by. In hindsight it was a critical point for the insertion of a consultation process that would have allowed for the opening up of a reflective space. It was as if Tutu had reawakened the emotional life of the organisation and created the opportunity for the reconstitution of a transitional space and the engagement with the depressive position. However the opportunity could not be held in the organisation's mind because there were too many taboos against owning vulnerability.
It was as though the counter-transferential processes of the organisation itself were impinging on the transitional space. Winnicott (1965) and Ogden (1996, 1998) describe how the developmental and transformative power of a transitional object and a transitional space resides is the capacity to embody and hold the paradoxical quality of experience and allow the interplay of illusion and disillusion. The paradoxes inherent in the TRC’s primary tasks required reflection on ambiguity rather than collapse into factuality. It is very possible that this process could have been sustained by the insertion of a consultation process that would have guarded the boundary of the transitional space and thereby facilitated reflection on these fundamental paradoxes.
Although there developed a more urgent focus on the need for psychological healing as well as on the psychological processes of both victims and perpetrators, there was no recognition of the need for an organisational analysis of the TRC and of how its own processes constituted impingements on the symbolic space for healing, reparation, and ultimately reconciliation.
9) Conclusion This paper argues that the TRC was a transitional organisation with a remarkably complex mandate. Its primary task was inherently contradictory and paradoxical. In fact it had numerous primary tasks lined up in paradoxical tension with each other. It was the hoped for organ of a complex process of transition. As Statman (2000) puts it "Political pragmatic, historical researcher, quasi-legal arbiter, moral imperative, nation-building process, mechanism of prevention, therapeutic intervention: on each and all of these inter-related levels, and perhaps many more, the TRC became a central institutional and symbolic catalyst of the South transition" (p. 23). In simple terms a bridge between a hellish past and a hopeful future.
This sentiment was reflected in the exaggerated mandate of the TRC; the inflated public expectations of the TRC; the self-appointed omnipotent reparative fantasies of the commissioners and staff; the unrealistic time frame; the simplistic understanding of the processes of healing and societal reconciliation; the collusion of the TRC in victims' projections and wishes for gratification in the form of healing pain, of delivery of truth and justice, and in the delivery of reparations.
Notwithstanding these impossible demands the TRC can be viewed as having accomplished certain things if viewed symbolically as a container and a transitional process. However the containing function was compromised by a lack of organisational perspective and the mobilisation of an array of defensive processes as the TRC grappled to remain focused on the primary task of dealing with the traumatised emotional life of the nation. These were understandable given the somewhat "impossible" nature of the TRC's mandated tasks. As a transitional process the TRC could be nothing other than imperfect. It could not deliver a perfect truth, a perfect justice, or full reconciliation. However, in Winnicottian terms, it probably was "good enough" in that it did not result in an emotional implosion or explosion. However fragile, it opened up and held open a symbolic space sufficient for the emergence of a creative collision of dialogues.
Significantly the TRC has initiated a process that is being mirrored in organisational life thorough South Africa. That is there is a new spirit of internal organisational reflection and attempts to move beyond the inherent contradictions of a complex reality and scarred history. This has resulted in a growing appreciation that organisations are not just production units but rather the receptacles of a multitude of competing emotions; of contraction and of ambiguity. The challenge of the future is to manage this ambiguity and paradoxical emotional terrain so as to facilitate transformation which is an inevitability within and without organisational life.
Within organisations this begs a questions as to the type of leadership required to work within this ambiguous space. This paper has not focally addressed leadership issues in the management of emotions within organisations. However, the paper indicates there is a need for the examination of the qualities of leadership that would best serve organisations embedded in societies emergent from violent and divisive pasts. What are the leadership-followership patterns most facilitative of such emergence and transition? The type of leadership attitude outlined by Gould (1999) and Obholzer (1997) offer fruitful lines of thought in this regard. Leadership that occupies, nurtures, and patrols the potential space. REFERENCES Bar On, D. (1992), A testimony before the (possible) occurrence of a massacre. On possible contradiction between the ability to adjust which means mental health and the maintaining of human moral values. J. Traumat. Stress, 5: 289-330.
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