Leadership, Integration and Civic Consciousness: From Innere Führung to Ubuntu

By Mark Malan Lecturer,
Deparment of Political Science Military Academy1

Published in African Security Review Vol 4 No 3, 1995


Almost since its inception, the Institute for Defence Policy (IDP) has propagated the idea of civic education as a means of integrating the armed forces of a democratic state into society. Several articles dealing with the German concept of the soldier as a ‘citizen in uniform’ have been published in the African Defence Review.2 Other non-government organisations, such as the Institute for Democracy in South Africa (IDASA), the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and the Centre for Intergroup Studies (CIS), have more recently joined the IDP in advocating civic education within the Defence Force, and have made proposals in this regard. These initiatives seem to have met with considerable success, for the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) has launched a steering group to co-ordinate curriculum design and training programmes aimed at the implementation of civic education in 1995.

Such progress is encouraging, especially in the light of further consolidating democracy in South Africa. However, there is reason for caution. Civic consciousness cannot be imposed upon members of the SANDF, it must be inculcated. Any attempt to instruct, indoctrinate or demand rather than to inform, educate and demonstrate, will not necessarily create soldiers who are also first-class citizens. On the contrary, if civic instruction highlights discrepancies between daily organisational practices and the letter and spirit of the Constitution, it is far more likely to generate dissent than to contribute to the internal cohesion and external adaptation of the SANDF. A fundamental prerequisite for a successful civic education programme is the existence of a military leadership philosophy that enhances both military excellence and the basic values of a democratic society.

This article aims to illustrate the complexity of the challenge inherent in the civic education of South African soldiers during a period of fundamental transition within both the armed forces and society; and secondly, to go beyond the German experience in suggesting a philosophical leadership foundation that may support the integration and civic education of the SANDF.


The loyalty of the military establishment under a democratic political system depends fundamentally upon its acceptance of the political system. Such acceptance may also contribute positively to the combat effectiveness of armed forces. According to Moskos3, "primary groups maintain the soldier in his combat role only when he has an underlying commitment to the worth of the larger social system for which he is fighting ... he must at some level accept, if not the specific purposes of the war, then at least the broader rectitude of the social system of which he is a member."

Civic education programmes aim at awakening civic consciousness among participants. According to Janowitz,4 civic consciousness is "the positive and meaningful attachment a person develops to his or her nation state". While this supposes strong commitments, it is not without a self-critical component. Civic consciousness is therefore seen as a relatively self-critical version of patriotism. It involves a substantial element of reasoning, as well as personal commitment, and develops from reflection, pragmatic experience and effective democratic political leadership. Thus civic education involves the presentation of alternative frames of reference that assist students in developing an understanding of the social and political reality.

The need for taking positive action to develop and improve civic consciousness among members of the armed forces in South Africa, is obvious. Against a social background of relative poverty and turmoil, it would be unrealistic to expect members of the SANDF spontaneously to develop deep-seated beliefs about the fairness and virtues of the political system. Nor can it be accepted that members of the constituent forces have been socialised to anything nearly resembling a common perception of citizenship by the institutions of a hitherto deeply divided, plural society.

Moreover, the Africanisation of the SANDF seems inevitable, as the force increasingly represents the total national population, and military co-operation with other armed forces in Southern Africa is developed. While many scholars lament the politicisation of many of the continent’s armed forces, Chick and Mazrui5 have argued that the real problem with soldiers in Africa is a lack of politicisation in the sense that "[t]he level of political consciousness among recruits is frighteningly low, and there is a marked lack of sensitivity to the political implications of their actions. Ordinary soldiers in Africa, under relatively mild provocation, have been known to respond with staggering brutality." It has also been found that these soldiers lack the necessary consciousness of the nature of citizenship and its rights and obligations, and of the boundaries of authority. They have not yet learned to measure physical force according to legitimate need, to clearly recognise their role and functions within the social system, nor to respect socially sanctioned frontiers of authority.

In spite of such arguments, the merits of civic education might not be readily apparent to those who served in a military organisation such as the former South African Defence Force (SADF), as it was largely isolated from civilian influence and had emphasised the virtues of being ‘apolitical’ and ‘professional’. Such emphases tend to disguise the fact that a professional, apolitical military is inherently a powerful agent of political socialisation. Within the professional military, overt politicisation is typically avoided and replaced by institutional socialisation in military values. However, in the process of military socialisation, politically relevant attitudes are purposefully learned, implicitly instilled, and latently internalised. For example, specific attitudes are fostered towards authority, power, obedience, organisation, order and hierarchy. There can be no doubt that such attitudes affect orientation towards the basic order of the state and its institutions.

Although values and attitudes do not necessarily determine behaviour, they do represent a predisposition toward certain classes of behaviour.6 The likelihood that such a predisposition will elicit behavioural manifestations generally in line with the underlying attitudes, increases when one or more of three general conditions is adhered to:
  • the particular attitudes form a mutually reinforcing pattern;
  • they are the product of an extensive and intensive socialising experience; and
  • they are reinforced by powerful pressures for conformity.
Each of these conditions prevail within the military.7 As Be’eri8 has noted, "apart from monastic orders, there is no comparable social body that so sets its stamp, for so much of a man’s life, on every individual belonging to it".

In the interests of cohesion and compliance, soldiers within a democracy must internalise the clear set of values encapsulated in the military culture. However, the tendency exists for military professionals, who work closely over an extended period with officers who share these values, to assume that these are the only worthy values.9 In the interests of external integration, soldiers must also understand and accept the values inherent to the democratic political culture towards which civil society is striving. The internalisation of military values is achieved through the process of military training and socialisation. However, comprehending and accepting social values is more problematic for the South African soldier, because the fairness and virtues of a democratic political system will not become apparent through observation of civil society as it struggles with the process of democratic transition. Military socialisation must therefore be supplemented, though not supplanted, by some form of political (civic) education. A military organisation that is already attuned to political subordination against the background of a prevailing political ideology, can usually be trusted to reproduce itself in succeeding generations. In a new state, however, or one with traditionally non-democratic values in the military, the content and process of organisational socialisation should be planned and guided in order to produce the desired results.

Political socialisation, or civic consciousness must form an integral part of the process of military socialisation, education and training. The presentation of civic education by agents external to the military, or even specialised units within the military, borders closely on the discredited system of indoctrination via commissars, and should not be tolerated by a society intent upon democratisation. Civic education in the armed forces of a democratic state is the responsibility of commanders, and should be based on meaningful interchange between them and their subordinates. It cannot be separated from daily organisational practices, and rests in good measure on the informal and day-to-day leadership of military officers.10 The inculcation of civic consciousness among soldiers must, therefore, be based on a leadership philosophy that is compatible with the democratic ideal.


The drawing of parallels between established Western democratic systems of government and those of emergent democracies is often regarded as an exercise with limited usefulness. However, in considering the creation of the German Bundeswehr, certain parallels that are applicable to contemporary political systems in the process of democratic transition, are apparent. The Bundeswehr was created ten years after the end of the Second World War, at which stage the German Federal Republic could have been broadly defined as an embryonic democracy. Given the history of German militarisation in the first half of this century, and the successful establishment of effective civilian control over the military that coincided with the institutionalisation of democracy in the second half, certain aspects of the German experience may be fruitfully applied within our present situation.

An important component of Germany’s success in overcoming the traditional opposition between democratic and military structures was the system of institutional socialisation introduced into the incipient Bundeswehr. Military socialisation took place within the dictates of the concept of Innere Führung. The complexity of this concept defies both official definition and accurate translation. However, Wittmann11 has offered the following broad description: "It is a social, legal, pedagogical, moral and military-oriented concept permeating all areas of military life. It is a concept for shaping militarily efficient, democratically controlled and socially integrated armed forces."

In the German Bundeswehr, the purpose of civic education is clearly derived from the Constitution, and encompasses four basic goals:12
  • to clarify the fact that the basic order of the state is worth defending and protecting, and to clarify the mission of the armed forces;

  • to foster the intellectual ability of soldiers to recognise their role in the state and in society;

  • to provide guidelines for action that recognise the right of soldiers to exercise their civic rights while also discharging their legal duties; and

  • to strengthen confidence in military superiors.
It is clear that Innere Führung provides for the political education of members of the armed forces. Professional soldiers and opposition party elite within a liberal democracy are generally sceptical about political education programmes in the military, lest they lead to the type of partisan political indoctrination which typifies the subjective control exercised by socialist regimes. However, the programme implemented in the Bundeswehr is not designed to strengthen military allegiance to any particular political group, but to illustrate that the basic order of the state and its constitution are worthy of protection. The German approach to political education also emphasises the legal, political and ethical justification of the mission of the Bundeswehr and the obligation placed on citizens to render military service. Furthermore, "it ... promotes the ability of the serviceman to recognize and reflect on his role in state and society. It guides the serviceman in asserting his civil rights, to recognize the political importance of a soldier’s duties and to act accordingly".13 Moreover, Innere Führung is a leadership philosophy which harmonises military requirements and constraints with the rights of the individual in a developing society and state.14

According to Niebuhr15,

"... political education is to be seen as a central part of our concept of leadership and civic education which is unable to separate education from a more comprehensive understanding of leadership." Civic education can only succeed if there are no serious discrepancies between the statements made during instruction and the behaviour of military superiors. Furthermore, the soldier must be able to experience the constitutional values which he must defend, through the example set by his superiors during daily service routines. Civic consciousness must not merely be taught, it must be lived and demonstrated daily. "An excessively large discrepancy between word and deed will not only result in neutral non-success, but ... will permanently destroy the most important platform of military service, trust."16

Although Innere Führung guarantees the soldier, as a citizen in uniform, the same civil rights enjoyed by any other citizen, it also stresses his obligation to serve loyally. Servicemen must exhibit a willingness to render service faithfully and with conviction, to execute duties to the best of their ability, and to accept the limitations of their basic rights as stipulated in the Military Service Act.17

While the German system of military socialisation caters for conscripts, rather than volunteers, it is also applicable to career officers and non-commissioned officers. Elements of the system are therefore also compatible with a volunteer force. According to Janowitz18, civic consciousness is relevant to both short term volunteers and career personnel, officers and enlisted men. Whether armed forces are based on conscription or an all-volunteer format, both short term and career personnel serving in the military cannot be regarded as ‘unpolitical’. The short term soldier in a democracy has civil rights that are subjected to specific and temporary constraints. Members of the professional military may still be defined as full citizens, except for the fact that they are expected to be non-partisan in their relations with political groups within society. This does not mean that soldiers must be indifferent to the functioning of their political system. On the contrary, they must be strongly committed to the basic assumptions of a democratic society, and the task of civic education in the military establishment is to satisfy this requirement.



When the East German Army was dissolved as an institution in 1990, and parts thereof absorbed into the armed forces of a united Germany, the principles of Innere Führung, as applied to all members of the new Bundeswehr, aided the process of a relatively smooth organisational transition.19 At first glance, the process of creating a new Bundeswehr may seem every bit as daunting as that now facing the SANDF. It involved, against the background of a radically changed European threat scenario, the reduction in size of the old Bundeswehr

(500 000 strong) and Nationale Volks Armee (170 000 strong) to a force of 370 000 soldiers and by the end of 1994, to 340 000. Only 11 000 former members of the Nationale Volks Armee are included in the present Bundeswehr.20

The fact that the SANDF is currently involved in the integration of a large number of soldiers as a prelude to reducing its personnel strength by approximately a third of that of the integrated whole, provides a meaningful common denominator for purposes of comparison. This point is perhaps best illustrated by noting several important contrasts.

In Germany, the start of the process of democratisation preceded the establishment of the Bundeswehr by some ten years. There was widespread public condemnation of national socialism, and a deep-seated commitment to the principles of liberal democracy. The process of reconstruction and development of post-Nazi German society was sponsored and aided by the Western democracies, particularly the USA, that had an enormous stake in its outcome. The Cold War, Marshal Aid, and German technological excellence produced positive results, providing a graphic illustration of the merits of democratisation.

If the staging of South Africa’s first ‘free and fair election’, in accordance with the Interim Constitution that is in turn based on the principles of a liberal democracy, may be regarded as the start of the process of democratisation, then it has coincided with the creation of the SANDF on 27 April 1994. While there has been public condemnation of the doctrine of separate development, or apartheid, a significant portion of the white population must have felt that their personal prosperity has been well protected under the previous order. In fact, at this stage of the political transformation, democracy seems to offer very few benefits for white males, at least as far as future employment in the formal sector of the market economy in general and the public service and armed forces in particular is concerned. While such people might be regarded as an insignificant social minority, white males do dominate the officer corps of the SANDF. Furthermore, there is widespread scepticism about the prospects for the successful implementation of the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP). Any success that is actually achieved through the RDP is likely to be perceived in ethnocentric terms, as indicated by the popularity of ‘humorous’ references to the acronym as the "Revenge of the Dark People".

There are also limits to the lessons that can be learnt from Germany’s success in amalgamating the members of two very different military organisations. The absorption of the NVA by the Bundeswehr took place after nearly five decades of West German experience in the functioning of a liberal democracy. Since its inception, the Bundeswehr has served a democratic state, and therefore has had more than sufficient ‘moral high ground’ from which to dictate the terms of the amalgamation process. This is particularly relevant in terms of corporate military culture, but obviously has also had ramifications in terms of organisation, equipment, and training doctrine. There was also a significant area of commonality between the two forces which should not be overlooked: both had been trained to fight a conventional war in the Central European Theatre.

The amalgamation of South Africa’s armed forces is a far more contentious issue. None of the constituent forces have ever served a democratic state. Unlike the NVA, none of the ‘non-statutory’ forces were trained and organised for the conducting of conventional war, but members were politically indoctrinated in a similar way to those of the NVA. Indeed, Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK) and the Azanian People’s Liberation Army (APLA) fit the description of revolutionary armies. Unlike the professional, the revolutionary soldier is anti-corporate or non-corporate, and his political motivation is integrated with a revolutionary movement. Within the military, however, relationships between those officers who value the revolution more than the army and those who place the army above the revolution are normally strained.21 A military that retains its revolutionary fervour becomes a political liability to the post-revolutionary government, that is already faced with the dilemma of politically disarming and professionally re-arming its armed forces. Those who insist on continuing in the service of the military must invariably submit to a process that will increase professionalism and impose a more routined functioning.22 This would certainly reinforce any trend towards attitudinal intransigence that may occur among members of the SADF within the newly formed SANDF.

The problems facing the architects of post-unification German military integration, were not compounded by force heterogeneity in terms of race, ethnicity and language. South Africa, on the other hand, will create a military force representing the racial, ethnic, linguistic and cultural diversity of a hitherto deeply-divided plural society. Defence planners will thus have to aim at reducing the potential for mutually-reinforcing intra-military divisions along these lines. Given the history of violent conflict generated by factional intra-military divisions on the African continent, this must be regarded as a daunting task.

Furthermore, while the erstwhile SADF and, to an extent, the smaller ‘statutory forces’ of the former TBVC states, have been trained for conventional war, they have had considerable recent experience in counter-insurgency operations. Involvement in the latter type of military operations inevitably led to the politicisation of the SADF. Neither the SADF as the predominant statutory force, nor MK as the major non-statutory force can legitimately claim a military culture that is ultimately suited for perpetuation in an amalgamated force, required to serve a democratising state.

From the above perspective, it may be concluded that nurturing the fledgling SANDF to become a cohesive, disciplined and combat-effective force dedicated to the preservation of liberal-democratic values, will require an extraordinary and unprecedented effort on the part of those responsible for national defence. The greatest challenge lies in the realm of attitudinal modification, an aspect which tends to be readily subsumed by the administrative burden of amalgamation. The latter also has an impact on military culture, for the administrative problems and inconsistencies related to the amalgamation process tend to create or increase negative attitudes towards the building of a truly national defence force.


It is difficult for many members of the armed forces to be optimistic or enthusiastic about future organisational development. The complaints of former MK members about the process of their induction into the SANDF have enjoyed a fair amount of publicity. However, disillusionment with the integration process is not confined to these quarters. For example, many white members of the erstwhile SADF express mixed feelings about a process that requires them to make every effort to support an organisational transformation, while suspecting that it will result in the premature termination of their service, without a reasonable guarantee of equitable severance benefits. Nor are their black counterparts very happy with the organisational transition.

There is a perception amongst black soldiers that those of them who served the SADF loyally for a number of years were denied certain opportunities for advancement in the past because of their race. For obvious reasons, this situation did not prevail in the other ‘statutory’ armed forces being integrated into the SANDF. If anything, the benefits accruing to black individuals who served in the TBVC forces seem to have been greater than those of whites with comparable capabilities who served in the SADF. The policy of commissioning ex-MK officers to relatively elevated ranks if their proven military skills are taken into account, into the SANDF, albeit on a temporary basis, is therefore perceived as one of affirmative action.

Affirmative action refers to a deliberate policy of giving preferential treatment to some groups in a society on the grounds that they have hitherto been disadvantaged either by government policies or as a result of popular prejudice. From the perspective of ex-SADF black officers, there is nothing wrong with such a policy. The merits of affirmative action are, indeed, reflected in the present Constitution of the Republic of South Africa. Problems arise, at least during the integration process, when affirmative action within the SANDF is seen to be applied to members of the ‘non-statutory’ forces only, or to black soldiers who supported a particular political movement. The legitimacy of this type of affirmative action is therefore questionable, which does not augur well for morale and force cohesion.

There are also clear warning signs that the termination of the short service contracts of volunteers, upon expiry of the service period agreed to at enlistment, will create dissent among the ranks of the SANDF. This applies to those soldiers who were voluntarily enlisted in the SADF for two years and who are about to be discharged into an extremely morbid labour market, as well as those that are currently joining the military under the auspices of the negotiated political agreement which created the SANDF. While soldiers in the former category have already expressed their dissatisfaction at 3 SA Infantry Training Unit, for instance, far more widespread unrest is likely to erupt when the services of soldiers in the latter category are terminated in a few years’ time as part of the planned process of rationalising the Defence Force.

The amalgamation of South Africa’s armed forces is thus threatened not only by enormous administrative obstacles, but primarily by prevailing attitudes to the creation of a reliable, cohesive force. In fact, a major indicator of the potential for military disintegration may be detected within the incipient SANDF, namely soldier alienation. Alienation may be defined as a condition of estrangement or separation, often characterised by meaninglessness, isolation and cynicism. Meaninglessness exists where individuals lack a clear set of values and are unsure of what they ought to believe. The isolated individual’s values differ from those that are commonly held by most of society. Cynicism is a condition of mistrust, or a lack of confidence in the correctness and propriety of that which is occurring or about to occur.24 Almost all the SANDF members interviewed expressed such feelings to varying degrees.

No matter how limited or widespread the malady, no effective fighting force can afford to ignore indications of soldier alienation. Fortunately, when alienation is diagnosed, it can be cured. Effective leadership provides the key to overcoming soldier alienation. Such leadership should be based on a philosophy that imparts clear meaning to military service, that reconciles individual values with those of the military and society, and that engenders the trust of subordinates. While the German concept of Innere Führung encapsulates exactly this philosophy, it is unlikely to be received with enthusiasm as a foundation for South African military leadership because of its Eurocentrism and, indeed, its very uniqueness to the German political culture. However, an appropriate humanistic philosophy exists, with such deep roots in African culture that its incorporation into the military leadership equation might provide the type of cement for organisational bonding that is sadly lacking in the SANDF at present.


Ubuntu is an indigenous African philosophy of humanism and co-existence.25 As is the case with Innere Führung, Ubuntu defies simplistic definition. It represents a way of life based upon self-respect and respect for others as human beings, the latter becoming the source for finding one’s own humanity. Ubuntu therefore implies knowledge and understanding of the people within a specific society. Originating in the African extended family, Ubuntu not only calls for respect for the mothers and fathers within society, but also for the elders, for they have the wisdom that accrues with age. Respect for siblings is extended to include an entire peer group, who should be treated like brothers and sisters. Kindness must be shown to strangers, for Ubuntu grants dignity to all people, a dignity born of mutual respect among human beings.

The philosophy of Ubuntu is, in short, an ideal philosophy for the first-class citizen. Unfortunately, this indigenous philosophical foundation of good citizenship was largely destroyed in South Africa by the process of modernisation that was guided by apartheid law. Ubuntu could not survive the secular processes of urbanisation and commercialisation, within the framework of a policy of separate development, that ultimately led to the destruction, amongst others, of the family as the basic unit of black society. Reviving the spirit of Ubuntu in the broader South African society would be extremely problematic for as long as structural imbalances persist. However, in the controlled environment of the military organisation, Ubuntu could be established and nurtured as part of a new leadership philosophy, akin to that which sustains the German concept of the citizen in uniform.

The traditional military is, after all, much like an extended family. For example, the Defence Force has had a paternalistic remuneration system for many years, with compulsory contributions to pension funds and medical schemes, group life insurance, and free or cheap accommodation and housing. Wives of soldiers have actively participated in defence force associations for the purpose of mutual support when spouses are absent. Military leaders are supposed to know their subordinates, not only in terms of their functional skills, but as people. Peers should be treated with reverence as brothers-in-arms. Senior non-commissioned officers and warrant officers have traditionally been regarded as father figures for the younger enlisted ranks and junior officers. The officer corps should regard themselves as a group of equals, with an individual and joint responsibility for the welfare of their subordinates, including their dignity as human beings. The military has always insisted that superior ranks be respected, and while this respect cannot be enforced, it can be earned. While seniority in terms of age has not always correlated with organisational status, maturity levels should at least be a fundamental part of the promotional equation. Where the Geneva Conventions are upheld, soldiers are also required to show kindness to strangers, such as civilians, non-combatants and prisoners of war.

The concept of Ubuntu would obviously have to be extended to include a foundation for structural adaptation into the military hierarchy and for acceptance of the authoritative structures of the democratic state under the rule of law. However, the adoption of a concept such as Ubuntu as the moral foundation of leadership and military service in the SANDF does not need to be antithetical to the concept of military professionalism. On the contrary, leadership based upon a philosophy such as Ubuntu may complement and reinforce the universal values of the traditional military, whilst anchoring the SANDF firmly in the democratising society by extending the concept in such a way as to embrace the African citizen in uniform.


From the above discussion, it may be concluded that a civic education programme would help the South African military cope with the problems of integrating diverse groups of individuals into a national defence force that is capable of adapting to the environment of a democratising society, while simultaneously coping with the trauma of a significant reduction in personnel in the near future. To be successful, however, civic education would have to be based on the personal commitment of all military leaders to such a programme, and to the values espoused in the educational curriculum. In short, civic education can only succeed if it is rooted in a common leadership philosophy that is compatible with the fostering of both military cohesion and an appreciation of democratic citizenship in the African context. It is therefore suggested that those charged with initiating a programme of civic education within the SANDF investigate the concept of Ubuntu in greater detail as a possible source of core values for building an appropriate foundation for humane military leadership, while also strengthening the type of universal military values that give meaning to the concept of military professionalism.

Further investigation of the concept of Ubuntu may well reveal elements that are incompatible with the professional military ethic. However, such an exercise would make an invaluable contribution to the effort to find common values upon which to base the development of a unified military culture in South Africa.
  1. The views expressed in this paper are entirely those of the author and should not be considered to be representing the views or policy of the South African Military Academy or the South African National Defence Force.

  2. See for example Klaus Abel, Armed Forces in a Democratic Society - Foundations and Conditions for the Training and Education of the Citizen in Uniform, (3, 1992); Paul-Bolko Mertz, A Controversy: Moral and Legal Limitations on Military Obedience Versus the Demands of Combat, (4, 1992); Jakkie Cilliers and Paul-Bolko Mertz, Military and Democracy: Concept and Role of Armed Forces and Political Control of Defence in a Democratic South Africa (8, 1993); and Fritz Wittmann, Integration of Armed Forces in a Democratic State under the Rule of Law (14, 1994).

  3. Moskos, 1970, p. 147.

  4. M. Janowitz and S.D. Wesbrook (eds.), The Political Education of Soldiers, Sage, Beverly Hills, 1983, p. 60.

  5. J.D. Chick and A.A. Mazrui, A.A. The Nigerian Army and African Images of the Military, in M. Janowitz and J. van Doorn (eds.), On Military Intervention, Rotterdam University Press, Roterdam, 1971, pp. 286-287.

  6. J.B. Manheim, The Politics Within: A Primer in Political Attitudes and Behaviour, Longman, New York, 1982, p. 15.

  7. E. Nordlinger, Soldiers in Politics: Military Coups and Government, Prentice-Hall, Englewood-Cliffs, 1977, p. 60.

  8. E. Be’eri, Army Officers in Arab Politics and Society, Praeger, New York, 1970, p. 294.

  9. P. Maslowski, Army Values and American Values, Military Review 70(4), 1990, p. 11.

  10. Janowitz, op. cit., p. 75.

  11. F. Wittman, Integration of Armed Forces in a Democratic State Under the Rule of Law, African Defence Review 14, 1994, p. 11.

  12. C. Niebuhr, Political Education in the Federal Armed Forces, paper presented at the Seminar on Citizen Education and Public Relations in the National Defence Force, IDP/Hanns Seidel Foundation, Pretoria, 17-18 November 1994, pp. 4-5.

  13. Wittman, op. cit., p. 10.

  14. Abel, op. cit., p. 24.

  15. Niebuhr, op. cit., p. 2.

  16. Ibid., pp. 3 and 8.

  17. Wittman, op. cit., p. 10.

  18. Janowitz, op. cit., p. 73.

  19. Wittman, op. cit., pp. 12-13.

  20. . Wellershoff, Armed Forces in a Democracy: Theory and Experience of the Bundeswehr, paper presented at the Seminar on Citizen Education and Public Relations in the National Defence Force, IDP/Hanns Seidel Foundation, Pretoria, 17-18 November 1994.

  21. A. Perlmutter and V.P. Bennet (eds.), The Political Influence of the Military, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1980, p. 483.

  22. Ibid., p. 23.

  23. The sentiments articulated in this section are based upon conversations with various individual soldiers serving in the SANDF, and may therefore generate an amount of controversy. However, the author is convinced that such feelings are widespread, and that this would be confirmed by an appropriate attitudinal survey.

  24. S.D. Wesbrook, The Potential for Military Disintegration, in S. Sarkesian (ed.), Combat Effectiveness: Cohesion, Stress and the Volunteer Military, Sage, Beverly Hills, 1980, p. 270.

  25. Unfortunately, the concept of Ubuntu has never been philosophised and recorded as a belief system that can be taught through conventional didactics; it has been passed on by folk-lore, habits and culture. There is consequently a dearth of literature on the subject, which means that the incorporation of Ubuntu into the leadership philosophy of the SANDF would require an urgent effort to clearly articulate and record the basic values underlying Ubuntu. Furthermore, the concept would, like Innere Führung, have to be a dynamic one, which would constantly adapt to the evolution of a democratic South African society.