South Africans are feeling despondent. Post-1994 euphoriais rapidly dissipating. Die-hard ANC cadres are disillusioned at how the mighty ANC is crumbling through infighting and wavering loyalties to personalities rather than the party – sadly in Mandela’s lifetime. Marikana is hurting our conscience because as a people we are sensitive to oppression.
But we may want to rationalise it from a party point of view – Marikana will be an unerasable blot in our history.
We cannot believe what we see. Black-on-black violence is not an easy pill to swallow, especially since we believed race was the main and only reason for oppression. It was easy to manage then.
It was easy to mobilise the international conscience as racism against black people was abhorrent. Now class is emerging as a divisive force separating workers and masters.
How can leaders in the struggle for freedom turn against workers, the very life blood of their movement? Yet analysts will tell us about, and social science theorists can document, the inevitability of this behaviour. When circumstances change, they produce a change in people’s behaviour. But when rulers oppress their own kind, it is akin to domestic violence under the sheets of family business.
In newly emergent post-revolutionary nation states, the rulers have two sets of standards – one for themselves and one for the masses. They build barriers through cars, clothing, homes, lifestyle, travel, functions, food and other material markers of privilege. Julius Malema reputedly orders the best foreign-label Champagne and whisky fit for royalty and the mega-rich, while the masses he supposedly represents can’t afford their daily bread.
NGOs – like Gift of the Givers, which is feeding Marikana workers – quietly go about their work, adding a dressing to the haemorrhage of national neglect. We have to develop these pockets of excellence if we want to save our country from a national crisis. Civil society, through a system of volunteerism, is our last hope to redeem ourselves.
There is a saying, “the greater the party, the greater the hangover”. This seems to be the mood of many observers of current-day SA. Nineteen years after democracy the ANC party still continues. When Lindiwe Sisulu says she cannot be expected to use dilapidated offices downtown and risk the safety of her staff, she makes a very telling comment on “us and them”.
Why should downtown be cordoned off for the ruling class’s safety, yet it is of little concern when it is unsafe for the people? Why should we spend so much on bodyguards for leaders, while the rest of us suffer under crime?
If our rulers really cared, they would set an example that tells us they understand our predicament and are willing to do something constructive about the crime situation. Instead, they use taxpayers’ money to protect themselves.
Logic defies our ruling class’s mentality. Cronyism is rife when the government appoints inefficient ministers to mess up education, health and policing.
What is the point of getting our gender quotas right when we appoint inefficient people. We must measure the outcome of our policies and balance them against good judgement. When we can’t deliver textbooks, or launder hospitals sheets, how do we expect to lead a nation?
Unless the government is serious about sharing its spoils, South Africans will continue marching to make their voices heard.
So, simply put, what is the problem?
The working classes are feeling degraded and undervalued. They are not getting a living wage. Basic commodities, like milk and bread, are too expensive.
Their freedom is meaningless.
The nation’s wealth, like rich frosting on a cake, does not reach the dry crevices of its bottom layers. Government excesses are an example of why people at the bottom feel so hard-pressed to retaliate.
Fees paid to consultants, auditors and lawyers for litigation battles shocks average civil servants who battle to eke out a living on their monthly salaries.
Nurses, social workers and teachers are grossly devalued financially and expected to take an oath they will remain loyal to their professions and wards.
Why should there be a positive correlation between lowly paid jobs and loyalty? Why can’t we have the reverse, where we expect society’s more highly paid individuals to show more commitment and make greater sacrifices?
Greed, poverty and the devaluing of honest labour are splitting the country apart. Unless the the government is serious about equitably sharing its spoils among its people, South Africans will continue to march under union banners to make their voices heard. Marikana, it seems, is just the beginning of an Arab spring President Zuma has optimistically assured us will never happen – well, at least, “till Jesus returns”.
l Devi Rajab is a psychologist
