We cannot continue witnessing the brutalisation of our next generation while they struggle for human rights, justice and equality, writes Desiré Goliath.
Cape Town - After all these years, I have an unwavering, indisputable sense that justice triumphs over its evil opposite. I grew up in an era when some of the worst atrocities were being unleashed by oppressors against the poor, the marginalised, the disadvantaged. I grew up in an era when we had the apartheid police attack us, brutalise us, throw our activists in jail, kill them.
We kept on fighting, protesting, resisting. There was unity, discipline, a commitment to cause, an unequivocal knowledge the struggle was right. That we would overcome. That freedom would be won. That we would never, never, never have to face the same tyrannical, oppressive demons again.
And then it happened. We finally crossed our proverbial Rubicon, the one a former president of the regime ironically referred to 15 years earlier in a speech that attempted to entrench white minority rule. Victory was ours. Freedom was won. The euphoria was overwhelming, intoxicating.
On a hot Sunday afternoon in Cape Town in February 1990, we were among thousandsgathered on the Grand Parade to celebrate the day we thought would never come in our lifetimes. The icon of the Struggle had earlier emerged from the gates of prison to a waiting world after 27 years.
Now a free man, Nelson Mandela received a rapturous welcome as he addressed his adoring nation from the beautiful, historic City Hall balcony.
Four years later, we celebrated a dream-come-true, a struggle won, an enemy overthrown. Democracy reigned.
And then the honeymoon began. We were starry-eyed lovers blinded by the rapture of freedom, the exhilaration of victory, the myth of our Rainbow Nation. We were invincible and everything was going our way. We conquered the world in the Rugby World Cup in 1995, our Africa Cup of Nations triumph brought nationwide euphoria in 1996.
Sadly, the honeymoon ended and we came face to face with the stark reality. In our quest for the overall victory, we failed to adequately address our damaged past, our deep-seated divisions, our historical anger and our pain.
Moreover, we increasingly saw the same Old Boys’ Club emerge. Only now the members were different.
There appeared to have simply been a change of guard. The power in the hands of a select few, favours for friends, cronyism and corruption became the order of the day.
And meanwhile, alarmingly, the gaps in privilege, wealth and opportunity were widening. Our democratic honeymoon was turning into an Orwellian nightmare before our disbelieving eyes.
This is the reason I feel so desperately burdened, hurt, devastated and angered by what our young people are dealing with today. On our post-democratic high, we never thought it would ever happen again.
Why are OUR kids, OUR children, OUR born-frees carrying the burden of a fight we fought, and thought we won, a generation ago? I have had so many surreal déja vu moments since last year’s #RhodesMustFall and later #FeesMustFall student movements, resurrected again this year with the continued struggle, culminating in the October 26 march to Parliament.
That the fight for affordable, accessible, equitable, Afrocentric education is warranted is sure. That the cause is just I have no doubt. That the struggle has been hijacked leaves me sad and angry. I was at Parliament at around noon last Wednesday. There were thousands. It was powerful. It was peaceful. It was making a profound statement. And then all hell broke loose.
I deplore and denounce the wanton, mindless sideshows of violence and destruction. But I also never thought I would ever again see police brutality unleashed on campuses. I never thought I would ever again see stun guns, rubber bullets and water cannon on our streets. I never thought I would ever again see a free, democratic police force threaten to wilfully run over another stricken human being. It sickens me to the core.
It was US president John F Kennedy who in 1962, acknowledging America’s failure to carry out its responsibility towards its poorer continental neighbours, cautioned: “Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.”
We need only look at our own Struggle history to know this to be true. At the same time that Kennedy made his speech, new tactics were being adopted in South Africa’s opposition to apartheid. Increased repression, draconian laws, banning orders and violent intervention by the state reduced hitherto non-violent opposition impotent. The genesis of the armed struggle began. Mandela, in a famous speech from underground, saw no alternative to a government that met peaceful protest with savage violence.
We have to learn from history. We cannot afford to repeat the mistakes of our past. We need to keep the doors of dialogue open. We must be willing to learn, listen and engage to find a working solution. There must be an endgame in sight.
We live in a democracy. We cannot continue witnessing the brutalisation of our next generation while they take up the struggle for human rights, justice and equality. They are being met with the same tyranny as before. Just this time the tyrants are different.
The brave young warriors on our campuses and on our streets - the disciplined, peaceful, intellectually engaged ones - look and sound so familiar. The leaders who were on loud hailers in the city centre on Wednesday imploring discipline, calling for calm, rallying their troops were known. They were us. A generation ago. They were us when we protested on campus. They were us chased by armed police. They were us choking on tear gas. They were us. They were us. They were us.
* Desiré Goliath is a humanitarian, social justice activist and a member of the Executive Committee of the UCT Alumni Cape Town Chapter.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.
Cape Argus