Bravery to bangbroeke: how we became a nation of cowards

THE abiding characteristic of this country in these troubled times, it seems, is not corruption, dishonesty or incompetence — serious though all these issues are. No, the one striking attribute of our age is spineless cowardice.

Our collective lack of a backbone is a well from which all our pathologies seem to spring. And like water gushing from a fountain they squirt and contaminate the body politic.

This is hard to understand, given the fact that the struggle against apartheid was marked by astonishing acts of courage, resilience and determination. In many instances people laid down their lives for a cause greater than themselves, without expectation of any personal gain.

The advent of democracy seems to have turned some of us, certainly those in power, into pussycats. We’re averse to confronting uncomfortable issues. We tend to be overly generous with our praise for minor or insignificant achievements; but run a mile when we have to take slackers or wrongdoers to task. We treat culprits as victims. Somebody or something made them to commit whatever the infraction. We’re loath to be bearers of bad news.

Which is why sensible individuals can sit around the cabinet table and applaud as President Jacob Zuma and his family and friends loot the state with gay abandon. Bangbroek is an Afrikaans word that seems apt. They’d rather wet their pants than tell Zuma to stop plundering.

It’s not a recent phenomenon though. Thabo Mbeki’s HIV/Aids denialism was tolerated, even promoted, by party and government. And when Nelson Mandela meekly expressed mild admonition of a stance that was sending thousands to an early death, he was frogmarched to an ANC kangaroo court where he was given a talkingto like a naughty schoolboy.

So why are people who defied apartheid bullets and banning orders suddenly parking their backbones at the door on entering government?

Is it simply cowardice, or is democracy about being nice and going along for the sake of getting along, without putting even the odd nose out of joint? Is the unravelling of the social fabric an unintended consequence of our emergence from under the heavy rock of oppression and into the bright light of freedom, squinting and struggling to adjust our vision? Is society still groping for new tools or ways of doing things? Too many questions, very few answers. As Antonio Gramsci nicely put it: the old is dying, but the new is still struggling to be born.

We’re also struggling with new norms and etiquette, or lack thereof, in our homes, schools and workplaces. A friend has a teenage daughter who hogs the remote control. The family is thus forced to watch whatever programme she fancies. In the “good old days” he probably would have known how to deal with it. Now he fumes in silence. Freedom comes with its own obligations.

Nowhere is this dilemma more evident than in the education system. In our desire to score quick victories, exams have been made so easy that pupils just have to turn up to pass. The old slogan of “pass one, pass all” has become official government policy.

There’s no reason to be shocked or surprised by the turmoil at our universities. Firstly, it’s a reflection of the boorishness that’s tolerated, and therefore encouraged, in society at large. Violence has become an acceptable — and effective — form of communication. Buildings are torched and streets trashed without consequences. Instead of getting their comeuppance, the culprits get what they want. The rest of us simply shrug our shoulders.

Secondly, because our education system has become a conveyor belt of mediocrity, students arrive at tertiary institutions unprepared for the intellectual rigours of higher learning. Illiterate and barely articulate, they resort to violence at the slightest resistance to their demands. And so we have thugs masquerading as students, prowling campuses like predators.

Fire has become the preferred weapon of “struggle”. Books and buildings are set alight. The other day a vice-chancellor was kidnapped. He was lucky he wasn’t tossed on the pyre. They denigrate everything, these peacetime heroes.

Nobody has the courage to tell them that a no-fee university is a pipe dream. It’s not a priority; sorting out basic education is.

How do you revert to an atmosphere conducive to learning on these campuses where thuggery has been normalised and authority has totally been undermined?

Zuma has played his part in this debacle. Last year on hearing the students were marching to the Union Buildings, he capitulated and agreed to a freeze on fees. He instructed Nhlanhla Nene to find the money, but then fired him before he could come up with a solution.

Now he’s set up a commission to find a long-term solution to the problem. But then, why did the ANC decide at its Mangaung conference to introduce free tertiary education before such groundwork had been done?

That decision is what lit the fuse. It raised expectations. The students are merely holding the ANC to its promises.

Democracy is not simply about playing to the gallery.