Julius Malema slaughtered a holy cow with typical truculence this week, denouncing the Springboks as a symbol of apartheid. In today’s South Africa, what can be more slanderous than to be associated with that universally detested system, which caused untold harm not only to black people but to the entire country?
The insult, delivered with relish and clearly meant to dim the warm afterglow of a historic victory at the Rugby World Cup, would have caused deep distress to many.
Speaking to the party faithful, Malema said the EFF had “no problem with rugby”, but with “this one of the boere”. Declaring that “that emblem and that jersey represent white supremacy”, he demanded that “the Springbok must fall”.
This raised eyebrows after his earlier praise for the team’s world cup success. Explaining his volte-face, Malema said his political consciousness had escaped him.
The gathered fighters must have been flummoxed to learn that their self-styled commander in chief, who deploys them to fight the good fight, occasionally suffers ideological lapses. Or that he can, in terms of party doctrine, be so grievously wrong.
And he has been wrong before. Take for example his role as a leading stormtrooper in the ANC coup that ousted Thabo Mbeki, for which he later apologised. Or when he predicted months ago that the power grid would collapse within two weeks. Not forgetting his promise that Cyril Ramaphosa, his nemesis, would not be president by last Christmas, having been replaced by his deputy David Mabuza.
It’s no secret that, as a country, we have much unfinished business from the 1994 transition, including economic inequalities and unequal opportunities in many spheres of our national life
Not only has Ramaphosa remained in Mahlamba Ndlopfu, but he was on the podium when the Springboks lifted the Webb Ellis trophy on their glorious night in Paris.
On the other hand, Malema’s proclivity to get things wrong, or his momentary lapses of political awareness, might not have mattered at all to his followers. An idolised leader can be right even if he’s wrong. Just as a president mired in a foreign currency scandal can retain his party’s support.
In politics, we choose our poison.
Some might not forgive Malema for trying to burst the nation’s bubble, but we would err if we threw the proverbial baby out with the bath water. If we dismissed his argument outright. He is correct about the racist history of the Springbok emblem; how the apartheid powers reserved it exclusively for white athletes despite the fact that black people also played sports, including rugby.
They even forced visiting rugby teams to exclude black players, effectively seeking to export their racist philosophy abroad. The rearguard battle waged to keep Springbok rugby exclusive, and white, was epitomised by the epic legal confrontation between rugby strongman Louis Luyt and president Nelson Mandela in 1998.
It’s no secret that, as a country, we have much unfinished business from the 1994 transition, including economic inequalities and unequal opportunities in many spheres of our national life. This is leading many to increasingly question the accrual of benefits, democracy’s supposed dividend, to a minority of the population, excluding the majority, who are mainly black.
To bury our heads in the sand, in pursuit of a fake unity and colour blindness, will not make the grievances disappear. Even if listening to the aggrieved may make for an uncomfortable experience, we will ignore those voices at our collective peril.
We must not be fearful of intellectually engaging arguments for a review of the status quo, nor should we ignore the cries for help of those left behind — homeless, jobless and hungry.
But in our conversations we must be faithful to historical facts as well. Addressing his audience, Malema pointedly ignored the facts of how and why rugby, much loved by large sections of the white population, got to keep the Springbok emblem. Neither did he tell them about the bitter contestation that occurred at the transition over its fate.
It may seem laughable now, but keeping the emblem was part of a package of agreements and understandings that facilitated a less intractable and bloody transition than we had. Today many express reservations about aspects of that broad package, such as the retention of the Springbok, and whether the liberation movement broadly made too many economic and political compromises, which are coming back to haunt us.
To bury our heads in the sand, in pursuit of a fake unity and colour blindness, will not make the grievances disappear
Some question the constitution itself, blaming it, rightly or wrongly, for the failure of land reform. Others argue that the criminal justice system is too lenient on criminals, resulting in our rampant lawlessness, and even calling for the return of capital punishment. They see the constitution as the reason the country is overrun by illegal migrants.
The temptation to review key aspects of our post-apartheid dispensation will only grow stronger.
Could it be a matter of time before some demand the excision of Die Stem from the current national anthem? Imagine the gnashing of teeth that would unleash?
Still, we must be prepared to listen to each other and keep open minds, always with the aim of creating a more just and inclusive society. Otherwise we’ll be living in a fool’s paradise.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.