Dismissals for Social Media Hate Speech in South Africa: Animalistic Dehumanisation and the Circulation of Racist Words and Images

Social media is changing the way humans create and exchange information. Not all social media communications are, however, civil: the ‘dark side’ of social media cultivates various ‘anti-social’ exchanges including hate speech. Parallel accelerating social media use has been an increase in decision-makers having to consider the legalities of dismissing employees for social media misconduct. This paper through an analysis of first instance South African employee dismissal decisions, identifies an economy of hate within South African workplaces. In 30% of social media misconduct decisions (120/400), employees were dismissed for circulating racialised hate speech. This hate speech took three forms. First was the use of animality discourse and animal metaphors to dehumanise colleagues and employers. Second, employees used words that had specific racist connotations within South Africa. Third, there was the direct deployment of signs or symbols connected with South Africa’s racialised past.


Introduction
In South Africa, the 1994 elections promised a democratic nation infused with the hopes of unity, diversity and inclusivity-'Simunye-We are one!' 1 A metaphorical 'Rainbow Nation' representing a heterogenous society. 2 However, racism and 1 3 the vestiges of a colonial and apartheid past persist in South African society, economy and its public and private discourses [12: 671, 48: 22, 92: 377-378, 86: 325]. Racialised hate speech has been identified in South African online digital spaces [123: 53-68; 167: 42]. It has been suggested that racialised speech is the most prevalent form of hate speech on social media platforms [130: 89]. However, it is not just the verbal or textual expression of 'words' that can denote hate [75: 241]. Graphic images in the form of pictures and metaphors, or objects such as flags can also be considered hate speech [142: 446-447, 45: 309-332]. This paper explores how animal metaphors, graphic images and the symbols associated with the apartheid regime are decoded and deciphered as referents of 'hate' within the contemporary South African employment law context. Located in the law and society tradition, this paper examines the legal texts (the dismissal decisions) as 'social records' or 'archives' evidencing expressions of hate rather than doctrinal records of the black letter law [32: 17, 195: 204, 198] on 'hate speech' as prescribed in the statutes. This paper argues, through a content analysis of first instance South African employment decisions, that employees utilise social media to circulate racialised hate using words and signs with cultural signification or historical connotations. This paper is advanced in three sections. The first section frames and contextualises the analysis by locating it at the intersection of hate speech, the semiotics of hate, the South African legislative framework and the employment law context. The second section presents the method, explaining how the sample of decision was identified, coded and analysed. The third section provides the findings. There were three. First the use of animality discourse and animal metaphors to dehumanise colleagues and employers. Second, the use of words that had specific racist-connotations and legacies within South Africa, and third direct deployment of signs or symbols connected with the apartheid regime.

The Semiotics of Hate Speech, the South African Legislative and Contextual Framework and Social Media Misconduct Dismissals
'Hate Speech,' whether online or in the physical, is not a 'universally defined concept' [57: 4, 120: 325, 196: 56]. Cassim characterises 'hate speech' as 'the use of abusive, racist and disparaging comments, words or phrases directed against particular race, religion, ethnic background, gender or sexual preference' [25: 309]. In South Africa, 'everyone has the right to freedom of expression,' which includes 'the freedom to receive or impart information or ideas' as enshrined in the Constitution [31] by the Bill of Rights. 3 However, the 'advocacy of hatred that is based on race, ethnicity, gender or religion, and that constitutes incitement to cause harm' is 'words as weapons' which 'inflict injury' [200] rather than imparting 'information' or 'ideas' which is constitutionally guaranteed [31: s 16(1)(b)]. Jeewa and Bhima summarise the legal position that racialised speech may be considered speech of 'no-value' or 'negative-value' [86: 329]. The legislative mechanisms for regulating employment relations and dispute resolution in South Africa are the Labour Relations Act 1995 [98] and various Codes of Good Practice [64]. Under the Labour Relations Act and the Code of Good Practice: Dismissal [29], 'employees' may only be dismissed for a 'fair reason' (one of which includes misconduct) and through 'fair procedure' [98: ss 188 (1)(a), 188(1)(a)(i), 188(1)(b)]. The Code of Good Practice: Dismissal provides guidelines on where a dismissal for misconduct is 'unfair' [29]. 9 The Labour Relations Act provides processes for disputes arising from unfair dismissal allegations [98: ss 191-192]. Employees can challenge dismissals for hate speech in the Commission for Conciliation, Mediation and Arbitration (CCMA), or in the relevant bargaining councils 10 or private agencies accredited by the Commission [98: s 127]. 11 Importantly, while the decisions of decision-makers are not legally binding in terms of the doctrine of stare decisis, arbitration awards are final and legally binding on the parties to the dispute [98: s 143]. 12 There is a 'substantial diffusion of digital communication into the Global South' which is 'shaping and disrupting these societies, economies, and cultures' [32: 18]. South Africa is especially experiencing the ubiquitous proliferation of digital communication technologies and social media usage. As at January 2022, 41.19 million South Africans accessed the Internet, 13 with a very high average daily use time of 10 h 46 min [90: 22]. 14 Significantly, 28.00 million South Africans were active social media users [90: 16], having an average daily use time of 3 h 43 min [90: 22]. 15 These users noted that work-related activities were a reason for using social 9 Including whether 'the employee contravened a rule regulating conduct in the workplace and if a rule was contravened, whether or not the rule was a valid or reasonable. Where the rule was contravened, was the employee aware, or could reasonably be expected to have been aware of the rule; was the rule consistently applied by the employer and lastly, was dismissal an appropriate sanction for the contravention of the rule.' Schedule 8 Item 7 of the Labour Relations Act 1995 [98] as amended. 10 Bargain councils are established in terms of s27 of the Labour Relations Act [98: s 27]. Budlender and Sadeck [20: 5] note that 'bargaining councils are established when employer and employee bodies (unions) in a particular industrial sector and geographical area agree to come together to engage in collective bargaining.' In terms of s28 of the Labour Relations Act, the powers and functions of bargaining councils include the prevention and resolution of labour disputes [98: s 28]. 11 For example, Tokiso Dispute Settlement (Pty) Ltd (1 Dec 2019 to 30 November 2022). 12 Labour Relations Act 1995 [98] s 143 (1) reads: 'An arbitration award issued by a commissioner is final and binding and it may be enforced as if it were an order of the Labour Court in respect of which a writ has been issued.' s 143(5) states: 'Despite subsection (1), an arbitration award in terms of which a party is required to pay an amount of money must be treated for the purpose of enforcing or executing that award as if it were an order of the Magistrate's Court.'. 13 This is 68.2% of the total South African population as at 1 January 2022 [90: 16]. 14 The worldwide average is significantly lower at 06h58 at January 2022 [Global Digital 2022: 18,27]. 15 The worldwide average is significantly lower at 02h27 at January 2022 [Global Digital 2022: 18, 94].

3
Dismissals for Social Media Hate Speech in South Africa:… media platforms in 36.3% [90: 53]. Moreover, the current proliferation in mobile connectivity 16 as well as the upsurge in social media usage during the Covid-19 health pandemic suggests that digital communications-and with that further dissemination of hate through social media-is likely to intensify in South Africa.
Heryono and Helmy note that the verbal or textual expression of 'words' is not the only way to signify hate [75: 241]. Graphic images, metaphors, or symbolic objects such as flags or national monuments can be nonverbal signs of hate [142: 446-447, 45: 309-332, 11: 193-196, 118: 33-41]. Legal processes and decisionmakers are forums where cultural meanings and practices are recorded, perpetuated, and challenged. In South Africa, with its colonial and apartheid past, racially hateful speech is pervasive. As such, it would therefore be expected that South African employment dismissal decisions would record words, graphic images and objects of hate, and more particularly expressions of racialised hate.

Racialised Discourse: Hate Speech in CCMA Decisions January 2010-July 2021, South Africa
This paper examined 120 decisions of the Commission for Conciliation, Mediation and Arbitration (CCMA) and various Bargaining Councils for social media misconduct dismissals concerning racialised hate speech between January 2010 and July 2021. These decisions are archived on publicly available and a fee-for-service repositories, namely the Southern African Legal Information Institute (SAFLII) [183] and Sabinet [178]. Various search terms were used to identify the sample. These terms included 'social network,' 'social network platform' or 'social media' together with the words 'work,' 'employment,' 'labour law,' 'employment law,' and 'discipline' to limit cases to social media misconduct in the employment law context. The initial search identified 743 decisions where employees were 'disciplined' for social media misconduct. 'Discipline' includes progressive disciplinary action short of dismissal, so the sample was refined by limiting the decisions only to 'dismissals' for social media misconduct. This resulted in 684 decisions. To further narrow the sample, names of specific social media platforms such as 'Facebook,' 'LinkedIn,' 'Twitter and social messenger applications with 'group chat' functions such as 'WhatsApp' and 'Facebook Messenger' were used. This sample was again revised for false positives, resulting in a sample of 435 decisions. Finally, all erroneously duplicated decisions were disregarded, resulting in 400 contested social media misconduct dismissal decisions in South Africa between June 2010 and June 2021. The 'dismissal decisions' sample was then analysed through a content analysis that included several readings of the decisions to identify major themes, followed by the subsequent extraction of relevant data from the decisions coded according to these themes. Several themes presented. Significant themes included employees using social media as channels to express online dissatisfaction and dissenting voice, to circulate gendered and sexual harassment, and for the perfusion of cyberviolence. One of the leading themes which emerged from the sample was that South African employees used social media to circulate racialised hate speech and signs with hateful connotations in 30% (120/400) of all the contested social media misconduct dismissals identified. It is these 120 dismissal decisions which formed the primary data source and 'sample' for this paper.
There were three significant findings that emerged from the sample. First the use of animality discourse and animal metaphors to dehumanise colleagues and employers. Second, the use of words that had specific racist connotations and legacies within South Africa, and third direct deployment of signs or symbols connected with the apartheid regime. Each of these are considered in detail in the next section. In addition, there were several general findings from the sample. Of these general findings, three are pertinent to contextualise and explain the main findings. The first was the portrayal of a racial group using 'othering' pronouns to denigrate, dehumanise and to indicate a 'separateness.' The second was the continued use of racial classifiers in post-apartheid South African workplaces, and the third was attempts by employees to make freedom of speech defences.
'Othering' is 'the simultaneous construction…[i]n mutual and unequal opposition of the superior self or "in-group" in contrast to an inferior other or "outgroup" [14: 70, 235: 1]. This opposition 'reinforces notions of …[n]ormality' of the self, and the 'differences of others as a point of deviance…[which] effectively creates a separation between "us" and "them"' [65: 1933, 132: 23, 196: 60]. 'Online othering,' according to Harmer and Lumsden, refers to a variety of 'power contestations' and 'abusive behaviours' which are 'manifested on/through online spaces' [67: 2]. Online 'othering' language in the form of pronouns to collectively refer to a group or demonstrate a 'separateness' from the employee was evident in 6% (7/120) of cases in the sample. One such decision was that of Jikela v Smit Amandla Marine wherein the employee's Facebook post read, '…[t]here is nothing that disgust me like white people who always assume they know better, their "way" is better… You know actually that attitude that feeds their ill-founded superiority the one that makes them think they are "in charge" of black people …' (emphasis added) [ 17 A second general finding, as suggested in the use of the collective 'white' in the othering decisions, was deployment of the racial classification system that was the bureaucratic cornerstone of the apartheid regime [13: 195], and endures in 1 3 Dismissals for Social Media Hate Speech in South Africa:… post-apartheid South Africa through the use of historical racial labels [116: 255]. Notwithstanding the repeal of blatant racist legislation 18 and the passage of legislation that expressly prohibits unfair discrimination and advances equality, 19 employees nevertheless used racial classification labels based on skin colour such as 'white,' 'black,' 'Indian' or 'coloured' to refer to individuals in 48% (58/120) of the sample. 20 In Roose v Netcare 911 [172], the employee posted a comment on Facebook which read, 'Dear Blacks, If you find whites coming to your shacks to rob, rape or murder you…Or you find whites burning down your schools, busses or trains…Or stoning your cars and defacing your statues…You are most welcome to be racist, Sincerely Whites' [172: Koorts M [18]]. In this instance, the decisionmaker noted that 'the racist comments were directed at all back persons' as a collective group, were of an 'inciting nature' and had a 'wider impact on employees' and workplace harmony [172: Koorts M [70]- [71]]. The employee was not entitled to any relief sought, as the dismissal was found to be substantively fair [172: Koorts M [75]- [76]].
Employees raising the rights-based defence of freedom of speech was another feature in 12.5% (15/120) of the sample. 21 22 Mchangama and Alkiviadou note 'it appears that South African lower courts tend to attach higher weight to dignity and equality than freedom of expression, when these values are seen to clash' [125: 577].
In Chiloane v Trans Africa Projects, the decision-maker noted that 'the right to freedom of expression does not extend to propagating hate speech, racist remarks and the impairment of the dignity of others' [27: Kona T [20]]. 'Hate speech,' according to the decision-maker in NUFBWSAW obo Liebenberg v Institute for the Blind, 'is not protected by the Constitutional right to freedom of expression and is entirely unacceptable in the workplace in any form' [145: Jooma L [15]]. 23 This sentiment was echoed strongly in Mahlangu v Chabo Joubert Air Conditioning Services [111: Lekgwathi E]. The employee's defence was that the use of the words 18 See, eg, Population Registration Act [159] which required individuals to be classified from birth as a particular racial group, and an individual's identity number reflected their race. In terms of the definition of 'white person:' means a person who in appearance obviously is, or who is generally accepted as a white person, but does not include a person who, although in appearance obviously a white person, is generally accepted as a coloured person (see s1(xv) of the Act). 19 See, eg, Constitution of the Republic of South Africa [31], Promotion of Equality and the Prevention of Unfair Discrimination Act [163], Employment Equity Act [47]. 20  These general findings reveal three core characteristics of the sample. First, the decisions manifest hate and racial speech by employees. Second, that within South Africa, race and hate, through 'othering' pronouns perpetuating apartheid-era racial categories endures. Third, that the first instance decision-makers generally did not excuse employee racial hate on freedom of speech grounds. Having established these general features, particular focus can be given to the findings of animality discourse, South African specific racist words and direct deployment of signs or symbols connected with the apartheid regime.
The sample records broad use of animalistic dehumanisation and animal metaphors. An employee accused an employer of believing 'blacks are animals to make profit' [136: Sithole N [19]]. Employees also made direct, stereotypical racist posts. In Harvey v Little Gems, the employee referred to children in their care as 'dog eaters' [68: Molefe E [10.30], a derogatory reference to individuals of 'Asian descent' [222]. In some decisions, the employee obliquely engaged with animal imagery through references to proverbs or idioms. In Mosala v Fidelity Security Services, the employee used the metaphorical figure of speech 'tail between his legs' when alleging that the employer was not au fait with the employment law [131: Basholo V [4. 1.4]]. This expression alludes to 'a dog that slinks off in defeat' [52(a)].
However, the bulk of the sample was not as oblique. In many decisions, employees made direct connection between a racialised body and an animal. There were widespread examples of simianisation where black bodies were represented as 'monkeys,' 'baboons' or 'apes,' 24 and common portrayal of white or brown bodies were as 'snakes,' 'dogs' and 'pigs.' 25  are grounded in 'degradation' and dehumanisation [69: 94, 70: 318], while the use of 'offensive' animal metaphors of 'disgusting', 'reviled' or 'taboo' animals such as 'pigs,' 'snakes' or 'rats' seemingly involve a symbolic transference of the 'reviled' characteristics of 'depravity and disagreeableness' from animal to human rather than the denial of humanity [69: 94, 70: 318, 71: 135].
In African settler history, 'baboons' have always been associated with 'vermin' [210: 54]. However, before settler colonisation of southern Africa, traditional rock art demonstrates that indigenous groups did not depict the baboon as animals of 'contempt' [211: 94]. Instead, for some indigenous peoples such as the Ncube, baboons were 'constitutive of their personal identities:' ancestorial, 'totemic' animals [211: 94, 88: 85-103].Others, such as the San tribes, did not experience baboons as the 'enemy,' but bestowed on these primates a 'quasi-human position, replete with agency' in San 'cosmology' [211: 94, 88: 85-103]. Baboons were revered [211: 94]. Nor were baboons always encountered as the enemy [211: 95]. The hostile association between humans and baboon emerged not only through racist colonial discourse, but was augmented by the threat these primates posed to the crops and livestock of agrarian, coloniser farmers [211: 94, 233: 65]. Today, legislated as 'vermin' in South Africa, baboons live on the fringe of the 'wild' and 'civilised' human society [233: 66].Woodward notes that this is seemingly 'symbolic' of their place in the 'evolutionary' scale-at the intersection between humans and other nonhuman primates [233: 65]. The extreme hatred and brutality levied towards baboons in South Africa suggests that the disproportionate violence is more about 'societal anxiety in general;' the primate presenting as 'human proxy' [157: 131, 211: 97] having 'traits of human society' cast onto their non-human, animal bodies [59: 21]. In this instance, the simian metaphor is seemingly 'reversed' [59: 20-21, 9: 38-47]. De Robillard and Lipschitz note that post-apartheid, there have been several occasions of farmers discharging loaded weapons at black bodies, maintaining that they thought they were 'shooting at baboons' or 'monkeys' [35: 76-77]. In these situations, black bodies have been 'bloodily and bodily linked' [104: 16] [211: 94], persons of African descent were ranked somewhere on the 'Great Chain of Being' [201: 85] or 'evolutionary scale' [119: 25] between the least developed 'simian' and the marginally more advanced 'savage and/ or deformed anthropoids' [60: 293]. While dark bodies were categorised as 'incomplete' [188: 292] or 'less completely' human [186: 104], white bodies were ranked the highest and most evolved of beings [60: 293]. Martin notes that 'the ape became a vehicle through which to express colonial racism' [119: 24]. The colonial settlers segregated and subjugated the 'almost but not quite human' colonised peoples of Southern Africa and 'legitimised' the racialist practices through association of the indigenous dark-skinned bodies with apes [119: 24, 211: 92]. The animalised simian metaphor became utilised as a form of controlling the 'uncivilised, primitivist' 'African behaviour' [211: 96].
The 'baboon' metaphor, which was employed both during colonial and apartheid discourses as a racist insult [233: 65], has a complex history [211: 95]. While the English did liken the Boers to 'baboons' [214] it was the use of the dehumanising, animalistic metaphor for peoples of African descent [211: 95] which 'collocated' the baboon with indigenous groups living in Southern Africa [233: 65]. In this way, 'monkeys' and 'baboons' became the 'lightning rod' for racial segregation between black and white bodies and were then 'fashioned into instruments of insults' [63: 138, 141]. What emerges from the sample is that this metaphorical construct continues to circulate in post-apartheid South Africa. In contemporary South Africa, the 'monkey,' 'ape' and 'baboon' metaphors have the power to 'shock' and 'wound' [211: 96].
Traditionally, 'ape' has been associated with 'a stupid,' [59: 26] 'uncouth' individual [129(a)] or 'a large, awkward, unattractive, and uncultured male' [151: 7]. In the South African context, the 'monkey' conveys the 'explicit message that black people are not worthy of being described as human beings' and that darkskinned bodies had 'subhuman' or 'low intelligence' [3, 21: 210]. The reference to the South African government as 'fucking stupid monkeys running our country' in Cantamessa v Edcon Group [23: Khumalo B [40], [46]] and the distribution of an image of a 'monkey' with Afrikaans words translated as: 'I wonder what the 'volk' 26 [9]] are two examples of dehumanising simian imagery circulated by employees in the sample. Some of the recipients as well as the employer deemed the image as 'having racial connotations' as 'history had shown that blacks were referred to as monkeys by white people' [164: Terblanche M [4], [11]]. The decision-maker noted that 'in terms of the South African history and apartheid era, there have been several examples of racism by the use of the word monkey in reference to black people. This is not an opinion, but a fact' [164: Terblanche M [26]]. These decisions support De Robillard and Lipschitz's argument that 'animals and race circulate to restage a racist past and anxious present' in the post-apartheid South African milieu [35: 81].
A significant feature of the sample was that employees on several occasions posited that the online 'monkey' comments were not 'racist' but used the 'disclaimer' that they were merely 'jokes,' 'banter' or were said in 'jest. '  Another example is Hoskins v Standard Insurance Limited where the employee posted an image to a social media group which included work colleagues [79: Deysel A [11]]. The picture depicted a large, seated primate with a small black child on either side, holding its hands on the children's shoulders in a 'fatherly manner.' The caption read, 'Sit down kids. I will now tell you how I met your mother' [79: Deysel A [12]]. The employee believed the picture to be 'humorous' and sent it to his colleagues 'with the intention to solicit some laughter from them' [79: Deysel A [13], [31]]. The decision-maker noted that '[s]ending a picture depicting black children as the offspring of a primate to a racially diverse group of work colleagues and implying that there is something humorous about it, is racist, insulting and offensive' [79: Deysel A [34]].
Likewise, in Naidoo v Illovo Sugar, the employee sent a picture of three monkeys with a caption 'there are four monkeys looking at each other.' The picture insinuated that the individual looking at the screen was the fourth monkey [ 'Bigots try to hide behind terms like "it was made as [a] joke" and that there was no malice involved' [168: Mooi F [32]]. Lockyer and Pickering argue that racist humour is in fact a style of 'comic malice' [106: 811]. Using the 'only joking' humour 'disclaimer' or 'classic let-out clause' for racist animality discourse presumes that 'a joke' cannot be unfunny, nor can it be uttered with 'serious intent' [106: 812, 80: 46-47, 7: 42]. The sample shows that decision-makers were not convinced by the 'just joking' rhetoric. The sample further reveals that it is the 'moral defectiveness' of animalistic dehumanising racial 'jokes' which renders them no laughing matter [24: 546]. In this sense, dehumanising metaphorical speech masquerades as 'humour,' and simply put, is a vehicle for circulating racialised hate.

White Bodies and Brown Bodies: Canines, Rodents, Snakes and Swine
Animal metaphors used to denigrate white and brown bodies were generally 'negative' or 'uncomplimentary' [69: 101, 203: [59: 26, 154], in South Africa, the use of dog invectives, particularly 'inja,' surpasses mere insult [5: 345]. In the sample, references to disparaging canine metaphors or imagery for white and brown bodies was evident in 3% (4/120) of the decisions. 28 The isiZulu word 'inja,' according to the Dictionary of South African English, is a 'derogatory term of contempt' [40 (f)]. In Ntshangase v MCFI International SA, the employee posted a comment on Facebook in isiZulu that translated as, 'My white boss who I am working for is a dog ('inja'), together with his loyalists and spies' [143: Jazbay SA [18]]. The employer testified that the word 'inja,' 'meaning dog,' 'is deeply disrespectful and offensive in Zulu culture,' and combined with other posts 'wish[ing] someone would sleep with the boss's wife' and that the 'boss must be sodomised' constituted 'hate speech' [143: Jazbay SA [19]- [20]].
Similarly, referring to a female employer as 'bitch' 29 [19], [28], [63]]. The employee referred to a manager as 'a prawn,' included an image of a prawn and the description that a prawn had 'no backbone, no guts and its head was full of shit' [89: Mlaba N [29]]. Sommer and Sommer noted that non-mammalian zoomorphs were rare, [203: 237, 246] with fish metaphors being particularly uncommon [69: 92]. The 'human as donkey' metaphor means 'silly, stupid person' [59: 27] or 'fool' [203: 244]. The pig is considered in many cultures as 'vile' and 'repulsive,' the objects of 'scorn' and taboo' [99: 315]. The 'human is pig' or 'swine' metaphor refers to a 'greedy,' 'unpleasant,' 'difficult' or 'unkind person,' [59: 27] but also to a 'filthy,' [151: 288] 'dirty' or 'slovenly' individual [203: 244]. The employee altered the profile picture of a manager by editing the image and 'putting a pig's nose on her' and referred to her as 'a pig' [89: Mlaba N [29]]. Additionally, she then edited a picture of the manager's spouse's face (who also worked for the employer) and put a pig's face on him The universal 'snake' metaphor denotes a 'worthless, no-good' [151: 354] 'deceitful and unprincipled person' [203: 244]. It is also a reference to an 'unpleasant, untrustworthy person' [59: 27]. 'Viper' similarly denotes 'treachery' [81: 11]. In South Africa, snakes are a 'heavily-laden symbol' with a powerful 'cultural significance' [4: 287]. Associated with witchcraft, the snake may be a 'familiar' sent by a witch to cause mischief and misfortune, or is given to an individual as 'muthi:' a creature is created by the witch, and when eaten either in a dream or with a meal, typically manifests in the human body as a snake which then consumes the person from within [4: 289]. In Jikela v Smit Amandla Marine, the employee posted that '…[n]othing grates my nipples like the underhanded tricks some insecure people use to make themselves feel like they are adding value in the corporate space. I despise snakes!…[T]he next thing when shit hits the fan they hide in their socks and slither off to their holes # Bloody snakes' [87: [8]]. Further references to snake metaphors were evident in several cases including Pieters v Southern Canned Products [158: [6], Shayi v Quality Pourts [190: [16] and Shozi v Standard Bank [194: [5]].
In Mduduma v Jabulani Food Lovers Market, referring to a colleague as 'a foreign snake,' which was deemed to be a derogatory and xenophobic term by the employer, the decision-maker found that the employee was 'out of control, inflammatory, defamatory, a pernicious harasser and derogatory discriminator' [127: Moni N [31], [48]]. In referencing xenophobic violence, De Robillard and Lipschitz note that 'foreign bodies are made abject and resignified as animal,' and this resignification in turn results in 'a deadly slippage between metaphor and material bodies' [35: 74, 104: 16]. Through abjectification, foreign bodies are linked to all which is deemed 'foul, impure and a threat …[w]hich must be violently expelled for the sake of the security, or indeed purity, of the national body' [35: 75]. As a result, the 'foreigner-as-animal' is 'bloodily and bodily linked' to the abject formation of the killable: the foreign body is 'inextricable' from the unclean, the repulsive and repugnant, and the pestilent [104: 16].
In summary, this section advanced that 'offensive' animal metaphors of 'unclean,' 'disgusting,' 'reviled' or 'taboo' animals such as 'pigs,' 'snakes' or 'rats' were used to animalise white and brown bodies. The next part explores the cultural semiotics, semiotics of flags and visual imagery.

South African Specific Racist Lexicon
The second distinct finding was the use of specific words in the South African lexicon which objectively seem to be racially neutral, bear 'historical' or 'cultural' connections that 'qualify them as hate speech' [114, 58: 26-31]. These racial slurs were part of the apartheid-era vocabulary used to denigrate and debase individuals, and their continued use is 'offensive and demeaning,' effectively 're-opening old wounds' [168: Mooi F [169]]. Similarly, hate and intolerance find expression in 'cultural artefacts' rooted in 'historical' and 'cultural contexts' [185: 150]. The 'historical context' of 'symbolic expressions' of hate is 'precisely what imbues them with meaning' [229: 122]. In 21% (25/120) of the sample, employees used South African specific racist lexicon.
The term 'baas' in South Africa means 'boss' or 'master' [129 (b)]. 34 According to the Dictionary of South African English, 'baas' was used during the apartheid era 30 The term coined by phycologist A.A Roback in 1954. See also Hughes [81: 221]. 31 Bornman [11: 184] similarly notes that South Africa has '9 Black language groups associated with distinct Black ethnic identities…with strong ties to certain regions' for example the Zulu nation regard Kwa-Zulu-Natal as their nation's 'homeland.' 32 The word 'rooinek' literally means 'red-neck.' It is an epithet for 'Englishman' because the Englishman coming to South Africa was unaccustomed to the hot, glaring sunshine, usually burnt red. 33 'Soutpiel' or 'soutie' means the British had one foot in South Africa and one foot in Britain-another extremity dangled in the salt waters between the continents. 34 'Baas' (Afrikaans, from Dutch) which means 'boss' or 'master' and 'used especially by nonwhites when speaking to or about Europeans in positions of authority' [129 (b)].
to refer to 'a white male,' 'indicating the speaker's perception or acknowledgement of the other's superior social status' [40 (a)]. Today, it may be used 'ironically,' but is often deemed 'offensive' to be addressed as such [40 (a)]. Signifiers such as the term 'baas,' according to Enwezor, are established on 'blackness as anathema to the discourse of whiteness' [48: 22]. 'Baas' was evident in 2% (2/120) of the sample. 35 Another derogatory racial descriptor for white bodies is the use of the term 'boer.' 'Boer' means 'Afrikaner' or 'farmer' [148: 104-105], and is considered 'offensive' and 'demeaning' [168: Mooi F [168]- [169]]. It has been noted that this term carries similar derogatory connotations to the 'k-word' [57: 27, 114] 36 and its use has justified dismissal, even in instances where employees stated that such usage was acceptable in the workplace [226: Dhlodhlo P [47], 161: van der Merwe F [31]]. In the sample of the decisions manifesting racialised hate speech, 11% (13/120) of employees made specific reference to the term 'boer.' 37 The employee in NUMSA obo Daniels v Polyoak Packaging stated that 'in the industry bosses and the police are referred to as 'boer'[147: Erasmus T [61]]. Similarly, in NASECGWU obo Nkomombini and Steyn Diamante, the employee averred that the word 'boer' was used to refer to the 'owner' or 'someone who was in charge,' and that in using the word 'boer,' 'he had not meant to offend anyone' [135: Rabie M and Mosoma PS [20]]. The decision-maker, however, found that the employee had used 'vitriolic and disgraceful utterances' [135: Rabie M and Mosoma PS [41]]. Similarly, in Booysen v Namaqua Wines SA, the employee incited colleagues against management by stating that they had to 'protect each other' because for years the 'boere' had 'been sowing division amongst them' [10: Mohamed S: [4]]. The decision-maker noted that 'racist comments and vulgar language cannot be tolerated in the workplace neither in society as a whole' [10: Mohamed S: [20]]. Likewise, in CEPPWAWU obo Van Wyk v Atlantic Oil, the decision-maker found that where the employee referred to white people as 'boertjies' and 'whities,' was 'racist in its context' [26: Du Plessis JS [28]]. Encouraging people to stand up against 'die boere' was a statement which, according to the decision-maker in Paulse v JD Kirsten Boerdery, would 'stir up emotions and debate' and the damage which was caused when the comment was posted 'was an egg that could not be unscrambled' [121: Nash M [13], [36]].
In 3 decisions, reference was made by employees to 'kill the boer.' 38 In FAWU obo Du Preez v Aanhalt Boerdery, the reference was to 'chase the boere into the sea' and 35  to 'kill the boer, kill the farmer' [53: Mgubasi A [12]]. Similarly, 'kill the boer' and 'down with whites' was used in UCIMESHAWU obo Khumalo v Gooderson Drakensburg Gardens [221: Ngcobo AB [4]]. In these decisions, the dismissals were upheld, as the posts used 'inflammatory language' [221: Ngcobo AB [5]] or were deemed 'inappropriate' [53: Mgubasi A [30]]. In SDTU obo Liebenberg v Botha, the decisionmaker did not gloss over the employee's reference to ''n dooie boer is 'n gooie boer' (meaning 'a dead boer is a good boer'), notwithstanding her justification that she did not mean the words 'in an ugly way' and understood it 'to be a mere saying' [189: Jooma L [9]]. The 'derogatory statement,' according to the decision-maker, amounted to 'hate speech,' and that '[g]iven the context of the history of South Africa, it is universally accepted that one does not make such comments as they are perceived and understood to impair the dignity of a section of the population'[189: Jooma L [15]]. Confirming that 'hate speech' did not enjoy constitutional protection under the 'right to freedom of expression,' the decision-maker further noted that hate speech was 'entirely unacceptable in the workplace in any form' [189: Jooma L [15]].
The 'k-word,' 'known most pointedly for its license of violence towards Blacks during apartheid' 39 has been described as the 'most offensive word that can be used towards a black person in South Africa' [81: 280]. It was used during the colonial and apartheid eras to 'denigrate,''dehumanise' 40 and treat black bodies as 'non' or 'sub' human and is still viewed as 'taboo' due to its racist connotations [123: 54, 34: 43-44]. It is the 'highly offensive' [34: 43], 'contemptuous,' 'abusive' 'racial insult' for Black African individuals [153: 45]. It causes 'humiliation' 41 and is viewed as 'unpardonably painful and violent.' 42 Despite the use of the word leading to fines and incarceration for crimen iniuria, 43 the use of the hateful term circulates in the South African landscape. The word was used in 7% (8/120) of the sample, despite various decision-makers repeatedly noting that the use of the 'k-word' was 'unacceptable even as jokes.' 44 Like with justifications for simian metaphors, employees in the sample tended to attempt to downplay their use of the 'k-word', as humour. In Kganu v Smollan Group the employee stated that he was 'just sending a laughable picture amongst his colleagues…' and believed that the use of the 'k-word' word as 'a jokeable and a laughable term which can be used willy-nilly'(sic) [91: Mookamedi NB [43]- [44]]. Similarly, the employee in Weitz v Southern Mapping Company denied that he was racist but admitted that the joke contained a racist remark with reference to the 'k-word' [227: Zwane TR [14], [27]]. The decision-maker found that the online 'jokes' were 'steeped in race' [227: Zwane TR [28]]. Likewise, the employee who referred to a 'self-made' motorcycle driven by black individuals as a 'K****saki' in Wrobel v Southern Cape Business Systems justified it as 'funny and not racist' [234: du Plessis JS [14]]. The decision-maker noted the material had a 'racially offensive element' in which the 'k-word' was used [234: du Plessis JS [44]]. According to Pérez, 'race-based amusement and humour' continues to have a significant role in contemporary 'racist discourse' by feeding 'racist sentiments and ideologies' guised as 'jokes' [156: 957]. In this sense, the 'dark side' of humour is used to divide social groups, alienating the 'othered,' and perpetuates notions of racial superiority and inferiority [156: 957].
In McCarthy v Intergritron, the employee who used the 'k word' in his message said the meaning of the 'k word' is 'non-believer' [124: Mashigo T [12]]. Similarly, the employee in Mahri v Mather Dangor Financial Services explained that the Arabic meaning of the term 'k*****' was 'a non-believer; an ignorant person who is not of the Muslim faith,' and that it was not 'racist' nor 'derogatory' [112: Frohnapfel B [15]- [16]]. The decision-maker in Mahri categorically noted that '[a]lthough the term originated in Asia, in colonial and apartheid South Africa it acquired a particularly excruciating bite and a deliberately dehumanising or delegitimising effect' [112: Frohnapfel B [29]]. He further noted that '[i]n South Africa, the term is racially offensive, derogatory and also amounts to hate speech'

3
Dismissals for Social Media Hate Speech in South Africa:… F [13]]. 'Darkie,' in its original form was used in a 'paternalistic, condescending manner,' but the contemporary use is 'mainly to disparage' [153: 223]. In Prince v Nestle Mossel Bay, the reference to 'darkies' in the 'context' and 'chronology of the texts' exchanged between the employees 'was not simply a reference to people of darker skin, but, in the context, …[c]onfirmation of the "K-word"' and was deemed 'equally derogatory and offensive' [161: van der Merwe F [43]].
In summary, this section identified in the sample the endurance of hateful racialised ethnophaulisms in South Africa. It showed how a complex lexicon of racist name-calling emergent in the colonial and apartheid past continues in South Africa. The next section focuses particularly on apartheid specific signs and symbols.

Apartheid-Era Signs and Symbols
Images and physical objects such as national monuments and flags can also convey racial hatred. Reichl notes that flags present 'very powerful symbols' of 'national identity:' 'an expression of collective experience' [169: 207]. National symbols, according to Bornman, are contemporary 'totems' typifying nation states [11: 184]. Flags which are associated with a particular political, racial or ethnic interest in a heterogenous society will undoubtedly be viewed as 'divisive' [49: 5, 36: 222]. As symbols of national identity and unity, these flags then exclude minority peoples and can signify the divisions within a nation [49: 5, 9]. These flags, such as the 'old' Union flag of South Africa, are symbols of hate which, according to Whillock, remind the receiver of 'specific cultural interpretations of significant events' and therefore have 'specific contextual meanings' [229: 124]. They are 'the threads in the fabric of our collective memory,' [229: 124] and have 'emotional and semiotic significance' [229: 134].
However, national flags do not only present symbols of national 'unity.' The symbolism of flag design, colours and colour combinations, particularly in diverse populations, can have the potential of 'erecting barriers' and 'creating divisions' amongst a nation rather than unifying a people [16: 60]. Flags associated with particular political, racial or ethnic interests in diverse societies may certainly be viewed as 'divisive' [49: 5, 36: 222]. As symbols of national identity and unity, these flags then exclude people [49: 5, 110: 90] and can signify the divisions within a nation [49: 7, 96: 679]. Consequently, as 'social representations,' flags are one way in which members of society share their heritage and identify with other members of that grouping [36: 215], 'both past and present' [39: 1]. Conversely, the same national flag may simultaneously 'exert similarly powerful centrifugal effects' [45: 310] evoking 'strong feelings of oppression' or 'hatred' amongst other individuals in the same society [39: 1].
The 'reaction' of a people to a divisive flag, is truly the response to the 'entity represented' by that flag [95: 57]. Within South Africa, the 'old' national flag is not merely a 'stick with a rag on it' [182: 86]. It is, instead, anchored in 'historical context' with a 'cultural significance' which transcends the physical materiality of cloth and pigment [229: 126]. The 'Oranje-Blanje-Blou' [40 (g)] 46 for a majority South Africans, is symbolic of a racially segregated rather than unified nation. The 'old' flag is a 'symbol of othering and subjugation' [215] imbued with 'rich…[e]motional connotations' [49: 5]. It is a 'pariah symbol of racism and oppression,' of 'discrimination' and 'disenfranchisement' [207: 1, 170: 3, 36: 222].
The 'current' South African flag is the third flag of the nation [78: 117]. The Union of South Africa, as a 'dominion' of the British Empire, came into being on 31 May 1910 and up until 1928, the 'Union Jack based ensigns' were used in the Union as the first flags [16: 43-44, 17: 24-25, 78: 117]. The original Red Ensign had the Union of South Africa's coat of arms on the 'field of the fly,' but as part of the shield was the same colour as the 'field' of the ensign, the 'shield' was changed to be displayed on a 'white roundel' in the fly' [16: 44, 17: 24-25]. The 'Red Duster' was more commonly used than the Blue Ensign [16: 44, 17: 24-25] (See Fig. 3). 46 The colours of the former national flag; the title of a patriotic Afrikaans song. The second flag (which in this paper is referred to as the 'old' South African flag) (See Fig. 4) was first hoisted on 31 May 1928 in recognition of the nation's independence [16: 42]. It represented the European white populace of the country, namely the English-speaking British population and the Afrikaners [11:186]. While the English-speaking population wanted to maintain the Union Jack on the flag, the Afrikaners viewed the Union Jack as a symbol of 'British domination' and wished to exclude it entirely from the new national symbol [16: 46, 184: 269-273]. The flag of the Union (commonly known as 'oranje-blanje-bloue') as an independent state was comprised of orange-white-blue of the Netherlands as the foundation of the flag (the 'Prinsenflag' or 'Prince's flag,' as these were the colours of the Prince of Orange) [15: 61, 16: 48, 109: 146]. This flag was believed to have been the flag hoisted by Van Riebeek upon arrival of the Dutch East India Company in the Cape in 1652 [11: 186, 16: 48, 109: 146]. The positioning the three historical 'flaglets' in the center of the white stripe as a singular 'unit,' all enjoying equal prominence was regarded, as noted by Bownell, as 'a heraldic "tour de force" probably unique in the history of flags' [15: 76, 16: 48]. The central white band of the flag comprised the British Union Jack (presenting the British colonies of the Cape and Natal), and the flags of the two Boer Republics, namely the Transvaal 'Vierkleur' and the Orange Free State [11: 186, 109: 146].
Bornman notes that while the Union Jack symbolised elements of British colonialism, the 'old' Union flag more closely represented the flag of 'apartheid,' as it symbolised Afrikaner political pursuits [11: 189]. 47 There was no symbolic representation of the vast majority of South Africa's Black African, Indian or Coloured inhabitants [15: 103]. The 'old' South African flag, according to Maake, represented the 'symbolic erasure of the indigenous inhabitants of the sub-continent from the landscape of both history and myth' [109: 145-155]. What further emerges from the sample is that in this sense, the 'old' flag presents a means of exerting 'symbolic dominance and submission;' keeping 'racial inferiors' in their 'place' [45: 310-311]. It was therefore for many South Africans, 'a vivid symbol of white supremacy' and 'black disenfranchisement and suppression' [139: Mojapelo DJP [45]]. 47 See also Brownell [15: 103] and Brownell [16: 49]. In the sample, this was evident in the Bird v Rand Mutual Admin Services decision which concerned the dismissal of a white employee for posting a picture of the 'old' apartheid era South African flag with the words 'Good South Africa' [8: Ngwane N [13]]. The employee's argument in defence was that the 'old flag' was part of his 'heritage,' and it had neither been 'banned' nor its 'display forbidden' (but public display merely 'discouraged') [8: Ngwane N [15]]. He did, however, acknowledge that the flag was recognised as a 'symbol of apartheid' and 'took people back to the apartheid era' [8: Ngwane N [27]]. The employer noted during the proceedings that the 'old' South African flag is 'deemed offensive as it represents the apartheid era, a reminder of the past, the loss of loved ones and injustices of the past' [8: Ngwane N [17]]. Moreover, it highlighted that the flag is 'unwelcoming' to the majority of South Africans [8: Ngwane N [17]]. The decision-maker held that the flag was seen as a 'symbol of white supremacy over the black majority … [t]hat were oppressed during the apartheid era, a reminder of the past under this flag' [8: Ngwane N [53]]. The dismissal was held to be the 'appropriate sanction' [8: Ngwane N [57]] and the employee's application disputing the substantive fairness of the decision was dismissed [8: Ngwane N [59]]. It is significant to note that more recently, the South African Equity Court ruled that 'gratuitous' displays of the 'old' South African flag which do not serve any 'genuine journalistic, academic or artistic purposes' amount to prohibited 'hate speech,' unfair discrimination and harassment [139: Mojapelo DJP [56], [200], [205]]. However, this decision is currently on Appeal. 48

Racist Images
Images were used in 11% (13/120) of decisions in the sample. The 'literal,' 'linguistic message' of an image is in the label, caption or text which accompanies the image, while the 'iconic message' is the 'cultural meaning of the symbol' [229: 126]. The image must have a 'cultural significance' for members of a society, as it is that common understanding which infuses the image with a particular meaning [229: 126]. Accordingly, what an image connotes is dependent on the 'socio-cultural associations' of the visual community.
In Maja v Glencore Lion Smelter, the employee posted an image of 'white boys riding on the backs of black boys who are on all fours' with the inscription 'Vote for DA' at the top and the words 'Kuyobanje' which loosely translates as 'it's going to be like this' [113: Talane [6]]. This image was interpreted by the employer to 'imply' that voting for the Democratic Alliance (a political party), 'white people' would 'oppress' or 'dominate' black individuals [113: Talane [6], [29]]. The employee maintained that the posts were 'not intended to hurt anyone or to propagate hatred,' but were merely 'intended to encourage people to vote for the ANC' [113: Talane [65]]. In this instance, the decision-maker found the picture was merely 'political 1 3  [16], [25], [27]]. One image depicted two groups of chickens. One group appearing in white with the words 'k****' and opposite that, the other group of chickens in black with the words 'ke mmago' as the Sepedi caption, which means 'k**** is your mother' [91: Mookamedi NB [17]]. Humour was once again used as a defence, with the employee stating that he was 'just sending a laughable picture amongst his colleagues,' and that the 'k-word' was 'a jokeable and a laughable term which can be used willy nilly' (sic) [91: Mookamedi NB [43]- [44]]. However, under cross-examination, when questioned how he would have felt had his white colleagues posted a similar image with the 'k-word,' he responded that he would have felt 'racially offended' [91: Mookamedi NB [44]].
In FAWU obo Myeni v Imperial Retail Solutions, the employee had posted an image with the caption 'the official stamp for France on 1912… African Moors beheaded' [54: Dorasamy AS [8.1]]. The decision-maker noted that 'there is no doubt that the comments would cause concern as they are not conducive to the transformation of the South African society post the apartheid period,' further noting that 'the comments …[were] not only vulgar and leaning towards hate speech but are also offensive towards 'White people' [54: Dorasamy AS [11.1]- [11.2]]. These words 'attacked' 'White people generally' and the 'derogatory remarks' were 'unacceptable' [54: Dorasamy AS [11.3]]. The decision-maker further noted that the remarks were 'not only unfair but [were] the subject of debate…[t]o make such remarks and postings on social media a criminal offence' [54: Dorasamy AS [11.3]]. The comments were found to be 'offensive' and not to be in the spirit of nation building in the new South Africa, particularly given the nation's racially divided past [54: Dorasamy AS [14.5]].
In Smal v Heineken South Africa [199: Mokoena K], the employee was dismissed for a series of images which referred to 'the architect of apartheid,' former Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoerd and post-apartheid former President Nelson Mandela. The caption on the first image of Mandela reads 'since 1994 24 206 murders each year' with a further caption in Afrikaans which translated, stated 'or is it the angel of death and destruction' [199 49 Beneath this image, translated from Afrikaans, reads 'do that we will keep fighting until we reach the top again' (sic) [199: Mokoena K [4.1.2.6]]. The employee stated as her defence that the images she posted were merely aimed at demonstrating that election votes would have a significant impact on whether the country could be improved, which defence was deemed 'highly improbably and disingenuous' [199: Mokoena K [5.2]- [5.3]].
In Mahlangu v Chabo Joubert Air Conditioning Service, the employee had an image of Robert Mugabe on his profile picture with the caption 'help the white genocide' and 'the only white man you can trust is a dead white man' [111: Lekgwathi E [13]]. Robert Mugabe was the former President of Zimbabwe, and was 'one of the leaders of the guerrilla movements against white-minority rule, elected into power in 1980' [111: Lekgwathi E [13]]. While the employee did not believe there was 'anything wrong' in displaying Mugabe's picture and views on his profile, nor did he find Mugabe's words offensive, he did under cross examination concede to the 'sensitivity of the picture'[111: Lekgwathi E [9]]. The employer believed the status was a form of 'hate speech' and incited 'violence against white South Africans' [111: Lekgwathi E [11]]. The decision-maker found that the image and text was 'offensive to the white's minority' and its aim was 'achieving the effects of racism through indirect, underhand or divisible means' (sic) [111: Lekgwathi E [16]]. The words, according to the decision-maker, were 'clear, unequivocal and overtly racist in nature' [111: Lekgwathi E [16]]. Moreover, he found that 'the words speak for themselves' [16]. The words 'conjunctively demonstrate the intention to be racist' and that the profile picture 'depicts [a] racist remark or a racist slur' [111: Lekgwathi E [16]]. Similarly, in Maja v Glencore Lion Smelter, the employee's profile picture contained a photo of former President Mugabe and a quotation of the President, 'South Africans will kick down a statue of a dead white man but won't even attempt to slap a live one. Yet they can stone to death a black man simply because he is a foreigner' [113: Talane [5]]. A company witness experienced this image and text to 'promotes violence against white people as an alternative to black immigrants' [113: Talane [24]].
From these decisions it can be summarised that both the text and non-textual images circulate hate in online spaces. As an examination of cultural semiotics, the analysis reveals that in South Africa, signs, symbols and signification are culturally and contextually dependant. The sample reveals how animal metaphors and the meanings of certain seemingly banal words within the South African lexicon go beyond the literal, and are symbolically imbued with polysemantic meaning.

3
Dismissals for Social Media Hate Speech in South Africa:…

Conclusion
In summary, this paper argued, through a content analysis of 120 first instance South African employment decisions, that employees utilise social media to circulate racialised hate using words and signs with cultural signification or historical connotations. What emerged from the analysis was that hate, whether through words, signs or symbols, circulated between all cultural actors. The analysis specifically highlighted that the use of animal metaphors, words and ethnophaulisms extend beyond their literal meanings. They are decoded and deciphered into referents of textual and non-textual 'hate' in digital spaces within the South African employment law context.