Felix in Stellenbosch, South Africa

Over a year ago, in the summer of 2022, I embarked on my study-abroad adventure in Stellenbosch, South Africa.

A small, vibrant and - by South African standards - relatively safe town, Stellenbosch captivated me from the moment I set foot there. Be it the beautiful mountains surrounding the town, the numerous wine farms on the city’s outskirts or the beautiful Dutch-inspired architecture scattered throughout the town: ‘Stellies’ was an incredibly picturesque place to study.

It was a picturesque place indeed, but also a place full of troubled history, rampant inequality, and turbulent politics – issues that I had previously only discussed in classroom settings and which I was now confronted with directly. What perhaps struck me most was the sheer extent to which South Africa is still divided by ‘race’. Historically, of course, the white minority had long segregated, oppressed, and excluded the non-white population, first under the structures of colonialism and later under the system of apartheid.

But although official apartheid has been over for more than 26 years, its aftermath can still be felt intensely. This is obvious in the fact that many non-white South Africans still live in so-called Townships – racially segregated urban areas, often without access to basic infrastructure. Yet it also manifests in how ‘race’ still permeates almost every facet of life in South Africa. Thus, race is still a reliable predictor of the language people speak, the kinds of jobs they have, the music they listen to, the places they frequent, or even the sports they tend to watch.

I recount, for example, an experience of visiting a game of football – a traditionally more ‘black’ associated sport – and being asked by a group of fans during halftime to be in pictures with them. Flabbergasted, I assumed they must have mistaken me for someone else. That is before I realised that they had wanted to take those pictures simply because of my being… ‘white’. Similarly, it struck me how – when going on hikes with white South African friends – other ‘white’ people would be greeted as a matter of course, while fellow ‘black’ hikers at times entirely escaped their gaze. Moreover, I was shocked to wander from one bar to another to almost reliably see white people being the owners and black people constituting the service staff. What is it about this country that makes it so racially divided still, I thought? How come old cleavages haven’t yet been overcome? The more time I spent in South Africa, the more these and other intricate questions ruminated in my head.

And so, my semester abroad not only had me constantly marvelling at the natural beauty of South Africa – it also made me think about the more troubled and ambivalent aspects of the country. Fortunately, Stellenbosch University gave me and other exchange students extensive room to do exactly that. Characterised by a high level of education, Stellenbosch University is one of the leading Universities in Africa. And although it is not necessarily known for its Philosophy Faculty, Stellenbosch University offered equally thought-provoking and challenging courses that never left me bored.

What I found particularly riveting was to see how differently many themes were being discussed from a South African, and therefore distinctly non-Western, perspective: The relative silence of some Western philosophers on issues of racial justice, for instance, is often deemed intellectually sloppy in Europe, while it is viewed as unforgivably negligent from a South African point of view. In a similar vein, poverty and colonialism appear as rather abstract problems by many European students, while they are part and parcel of life in South Africa, profoundly shaping its socio-political realities to the present day. Having students recount their experiences of living in townships, facing racism, or suffering under the injustices brought about by decades of segregation – all this contributes to philosophy obtaining a life-world dimension at Stellenbosch University, which has left an indelible impression on me.

Interestingly, Stellenbosch University is itself implicated in the very troubled history it allows students to reflect upon. Not only was the university founded by the colonial figure Jan Marais. Until the end of apartheid, Stellenbosch University was known as a 'whites only' university, strictly reserved for the educated Afrikaans class and home to many a future apartheid prime minister. And just as is the case for the country itself, its history is still very much present on Stellenbosch's campus – for example, in the statue of Jan Marais towering right at its centre, in the proportion of white professors who still outnumber their black colleagues many times over, or in the many fierce debates within its student body about the decolonisation of university curricula, the removal of statues, or the language of instruction.

Being an international student, I found myself in a peculiar position, being at once curious about but also reluctant to directly participate in these debates. After all, I couldn't understand the hardships of those suffering from the aftermath of apartheid; I couldn't comprehend the complex opinions of those living in a country I had just visited for my second time, especially given my privileged position, sheltered from many of the struggles experienced by so many South Africans.

It was against this background that my stay in Stellenbosch made me think deeply about my own positionality as a European student, which – I came to realise – is a double-edged sword, both giving me deeper insights into but also often preventing me from understanding what was really going on: On the one hand, being an outsider can lay bare many of the peculiarities of a place; it makes you realise and be surprised by many things that might appear ‘normal’ from an inside point of view. Recounting the above anecdotes to my South African friends, for example, did not surprise them in the slightest – indicating just how normal they are for South Africans themselves. Being an outsider, therefore, can bring to the fore just how extraordinary the seemingly ordinary often is and can add another, more detached perspective complementing that of the insider. Yet, on the other hand, being an outsider also creates a distance between you and the inside world that can’t always so easily be bridged: a difference I personally felt financially, being able to afford more than most local South Africans; a difference I felt in terms of security, living in the gated community of an international dormitory; and a difference I felt in the generally far more comfortable daily lives we international students had in comparison to many local students. All this combined to make it challenging to relate to – much less fully understand – the life of those outside the ‘exchange bubble’.

And thus, with time, my stay in Stellenbosch led me to ever-more realisations both about life in South Africa and, importantly, also about life at home (if only about what I couldn’t realise or understand). I discovered, for example, that many of the opinions I hold are not so much the result of rational reflection as of the context I’m embedded in. If I had grown up in South Africa, I came to understand, I would probably think very differently about a great many issues – from religion over identity politics to affirmative action. And extrapolating from this, I came to the broader realisation that who we are, what we can hope for, and how we act, too, is not simply up to us – but is, above all, a matter of the society we grow up in and the notions, norms, and narratives it imposes upon us.

It’s of course not that I didn’t understand these things in abstraction before embarking on my trip. Yet it was really only through going abroad that I came to understand them fully – that I really felt them in and through my own body. Understanding that global power asymmetries exist is one thing; experiencing how lavishly many Europeans can live in contrast to local South Africans is another. Comprehending that colonialism isn't yet over is one thing; experiencing heated debates about its perceivable aftermath is another. And understanding that one's social background shapes one's destiny is one thing; seeing rampant – and completely unjustified – poverty and inequality first-hand is another.

All these deep and direct insights would have been inaccessible to me if it wasn’t for the practice of travel, through which we can not only gather wonderful new experiences, explore other countries, and see breathtaking and exciting new things but also gain new philosophical and worldly perspectives. Going abroad, therefore, is exciting and fun – yet most importantly, it also holds the potential of making you a better thinker. Strikes me as a perfect thing to do for a student of philosophy.