Holy Cows. Gareth van Onselen
is entirely detached from his conduct.
This confusion, then, is evident not just in our day-to-day conversations, but also in political exchanges at the heart of our democracy. Zuma, the ultimate patriarch, will often refer to women from the opposition as ntombazana (young woman/girl). It is demeaning and degrading. No doubt it irks Zuma no end that someone of the opposite sex, who should be showing him the kind of respect he saw in Venda, can take to the podium and publicly berate him for his shortcomings. And no one could have embodied that frustration for him more than Lindiwe Mazibuko, former leader of the official opposition and herself a proud Zulu. That dynamic represented the ultimate cultural insult for Zuma. So, when the ANC was not referring to Mazibuko as ntombazana, it would rubbish her dress sense or attempt to insult her weight. From Mazibuko, they expected nothing less than demonstrable and polite submission.
Mazibuko’s own definition of respect is worth noting, as it reflects the standard definition far more closely. She said in June 2013, ‘To earn our respect, he [Zuma] must deliver on the promise of employment for young people’, before elaborating, ‘I will always be polite to President Zuma, that is my job as a human being and as a parliamentarian. I will never reflect on his personal life, but what I will not do is simply respect, bow, keep my mouth shut when there is so much that he is failing to do to for the people of this country.’
Just like Nzimande and the radio caller, these two universes are never going meet halfway.
Former Sunday Times editor-in-chief Mondli Makhanya has described the ANC’s sycophantic caucus as ‘iziwengu’ – blind supporters more akin to praise singers than individuals with minds of their own. It is an apt description because that is the outcome the party pursues. All in the name of respect. And that pursuit has such a tight grip over Parliament that even the speaker has said, ‘the president is nobody’s equal here’. The irony couldn’t be thicker, for the very call for respect from the ANC is so often wrapped in the politically correct language of equality.
There is an ideal universe out there that many South Africans seem to believe can be realised. It is a world where each person is constantly shown respect and never insulted or offended, where each person is perpetually affirmed and insulated from harm in equal measure. It is as disturbing an idea as it is sad. Bradbury speaks to this egalitarian impulse in Fahrenheit 451: ‘Then all are happy,’ he says, ‘for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against.’
SACP deputy chairperson Nomarashiya Caluza makes reference to what she terms ‘African values’. One should always be wary of any principle or ideal that has before it a geographic disclaimer. What, for example, is the difference between ‘African democracy’ – another common phrase – and democracy per se? Certainly, the fundamentals cannot differ, or it would no longer be democracy. Unless it is government of the people, by the people and for the people, it represents some other kind of power arrangement and history suggests the alternatives lead to more harm than good.
The same logic applies to values. Two different cultures might well disagree on what the term ‘respect’ actually means, but that doesn’t mean they are mutually exclusive, only different. The problem comes when those different interpretations are not clearly expressed and articulated so that their meaning can be well understood and their implications plain to see.
Blade Nzimande dismissing the dictionary definition of ‘respect’ does not mean that idea ceases to exist. Nor does it mean there is no value to that particular understanding. In rejecting it, however, it is not good enough to do so out of hand. One needs to explain why it is of little help and, in turn, why the counter-interpretation is better suited.
There is a distinct lack of this kind of detail in South Africa. That is the power of political correctness. It too negates critical review. And we are the poorer for it.
It is remarkable that this deep desire for affirmation, often the result of hierarchy or position, and the belief that every person is equally virtuous exist side by side. It goes some way towards explaining the national proclivity towards authoritarianism because, if everyone is equally virtuous in their behaviour, the only way one can distinguish a hierarchy is through power and who holds it. And, at the top of that tree is the president – he who is nobody’s equal. By default, he should be due more respect than any other. It represents a profound distortion of a valuable idea.
And dignity is a person’s duty to maintain. There is a reason even the most wretched can appear dignified in the face of trauma and pain. It is a reflection of how they carry themselves, their attitude and behaviour. Kings and peasants both can be dignified in their own homes.
What is the result of this ongoing contestation? In his novel 1984, George Orwell describes ‘Doublethink’, the controlling characteristic of the state’s autocratic language. He writes: ‘Doublethink is basically the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one’s mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them.’
The genius of Orwell’s invention is the counter-intuitive blow it inflicts when first you try to imagine it made real. How can one possibly believe, say, black and white to be the inverse of one another and yet the same thing? It’s a headache in the making.
In Orwell’s dystopia, the government consists of four principal departments: the Ministry of Peace (which deals with war); the Ministry of Love (torture); the Ministry of Plenty (rationing); and the Ministry of Truth (propaganda). When speaking of the one, inherent to the idea is its real, opposite nature. In 1984, the purpose of Doublethink is to regulate discontent because if troublesome words and ideas do not exist, nothing remains for unhappiness to coalesce around. And so its full and cruel effect is made evident to the reader.
It is not entirely inapplicable to South Africa. Here, this kind of contradiction is alive and well, prevalent in, and often the product of, the ANC government’s particular interpretation. Even those words whose meaning you might think too simple or fundamental to be affected have been altered in some way. Every word is a nexus for a series of competing forces, and through tortuous manipulation and uncritical assumption, black very often means white and vice versa.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.