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27 July 2021 | Story Nombulelo Shange and Ntando Sindane | Photo Unsplash
Opinion article by Nombulelo Shange, Lecturer in the Department of Sociology, and Ntando Sindane, Lecturer in the Department of Private Law, University of the Free State

Opinion article by Nombulelo Shange, Lecturer in the Department of Sociology, and Ntando Sindane, Lecturer in the Department of Private Law, University of the Free State


The recent protests were originally sparked by the arrest of former president Jacob Zuma. His arrest might have started the protests, but the protests have arguably spiralled into something far greater. These protests/riots mirror the consequences of what happens when people live in extreme poverty, joblessness, and brazen inequality.  

On Monday evening, 12 July, President Cyril Ramaphosa addressed the nation and condemned the actions of the protesters. Ramaphosa missed the opportunity to appeal to the protesters as people; to identify with their daily struggles and speak to them from the space of genuine concern and empathy. Instead, President Ramaphosa delegitimised the protests, claiming that the violence and damage to property goes against the nature of protest. The resultant outcome of Ramaphosa’s utterances is that it has succeeded in whitewashing protest and, in some way, eroding emancipatory revolutions such as our own fight against colonialism and apartheid. 

A brief history of protest in South Africa

Protests are disruptive in their very nature – when this disruption is responded to by the deployment of state machinery (such as the army), it follows that the protests culminate into utter violence, and even bloodshed. It is important to note that protests are the product of severe discontent – people are waging mass actions precisely because they feel that their voices are not being heard, and these mass mobilisations may take the form of violence. Various anti-apartheid movements have adopted similar strategies in the fight for freedom. The fight for freedom and against apartheid colonialism was won through mass mobilisation, and this included riots and protests. It is indeed true that liberation movements have used protest as a decisive tool to resist racist apartheid polity and demand the non-racial and democratic South Africa that we see today. Such a reality (and historical background) makes it somewhat bizarre to comprehend how a leader of the liberation movement can use apartheid-like characterisations to denote and refer to protests and protesters. To be sure, President Ramaphosa’s articulation is emblematic of deep-seated forgetfulness within the ruling party, and the political elite at its helm. 

MK and Poqo (from the ANC and PAC respectively) were labelled terrorists by the government of the National Party. Even former President Nelson Mandela, now a global symbol for peace and reconciliation, has led and engaged in protest action to fight for the rights and dignity of marginalised South Africans. Of course, history lends perspective, and as a result, it would be incorrect to suggest that Nelson Mandela, MK and Poqo were inherently violent, because hindsight allows us to understand that the nature of the struggle in which they were engaged made ‘violence’ necessary.

A deepened discourse about violence reveals that poverty is far more violent and dehumanising than the violence that Ramaphosa was condemning this week. Upon closer inspection, Ramaphosa would be empowered if someone were to teach him that protests offer some hope for change, no matter how small, while doing nothing launches people deeper and deeper into poverty and repression. These are the difficult decisions that many had to make then and now. Poverty is the highest form of violence – it imputes indignity, it kills, and recreates itself as it transmutes into different forms between generations. The violence of poverty is evidenced in its ability to dehumanise people by stealing from them their humanity and their capability to lead a full lifestyle. This is a sort of violence that is hardly spoken about, because in a capitalist society, the only violence that is heeded is one that disturbs profit maximisation and the accumulation of private property. 

Whitewashing protest

Protesters are not looting because it is fun, protest is not pretty, and it comes at great personal risk to the protesters and their families. To invoke a Fanonian expression: “When we revolt it’s not for a particular culture. We revolt simply because, for many reasons, we can no longer breathe.” People engage in protest action because the South African government protects capitalist structures over its people and has perpetuated a hungry society. People are hungry for resources, real empowerment, education, and economic freedom. To label their actions as illegitimate glosses over their pain like it is meaningless and it whitewashes protest, thus negating our own protest history. 

President Ramaphosa’s discrediting of these actions also further criminalises the actions of what has been a patient citizenry that had to grapple with staggering unemployment, with the youth feeling the biggest brunt at 73,3% unemployment. When President Ramaphosa painted the protestors in this light, he also reinforced a dangerous anti-black, anti-poor sentiment which Steve Biko referred to as ‘Swart Gevaar’, which translates to black danger. During apartheid, it was the fear that black people would take over and threaten the safety and security of white people. Today, on social media pages and in the president’s address it is the fear that the poor, who are still predominately black, will threaten the ‘peace and stability’ of the minority middle class and elite through their protest action. 

No peace while poverty prevails 

The reality is that there is no peace and security while poverty prevails, and to restore stability without dismantling the capitalism system that brought us colonialism and apartheid, is to damn the majority back into poverty. These violent events will continue to take place and will become more and more violent with every passing moment if poverty is not eradicated as a matter of urgency. 


News Archive

Victory lies beyond the moment
2017-12-25


 Description: 2017 Victory lies beyond the moment Tags: 2017 Victory lies beyond the moment 

Mokoena learns a new skill at the Learning Festival arranged
by the Centre for Community Engagement.
Photo: Igno van Niekerk

For Mokoena it was just a regular day. Another day. Another rush. As a taxi driver you get used to the adrenaline, taking gaps, foot on the accelerator. Alert. Honking hooters. Angry drivers.

Then it came out of nowhere. A stroke. The one side of his body was going numb. What was happening? What about his job? His income? His life?

Fast-forward a few years.

I meet Mokoena at the Learning Festival arranged by the Centre for Community Engagement, in association with Bloemshelter on the University of the Free State’s Bloemfontein Campus. A reserved young man, Mokoena is busy at one of the stands where a range of people from rural communities come to learn new skills. At no cost. They then go back to teach the skills they learnt in their communities. Job creation, that’s the philosophy: as you develop, you need to develop others. 

When I talk to Karen Venter, Head of Service Learning at the Centre for Community Engagement, the stories are overwhelming. “There was the lady who attended 19 workshops in two days. She went back to her community, shared her knowledge and became an entrepreneur helping others take care of themselves.”

New skills
Mokoena is also here to acquire new skills. After his stroke he was told by occupational therapy students about a project that teaches you to build your own house with raw materials. He takes out his cellphone with a sense of pride. Scrolls through some pictures: “This is my house. I built it from all kinds of things, cow manure, bottles, clay, other people’s rubbish.” The pictures show a house in a neat environment. Solid. Proud. A lot of healing came with building the house. Karen explains: “The physical work he was doing, pushing a wheelbarrow and working, but more than that – the knowledge that he could take charge, make a difference, work on a dream – the healing power of a sense of purpose. He became stronger and more confident.”

Victory 
Mokoena walks back to the sewing workshop he was attending before sharing his story. The buzz continues inside the Equitas Building where artisans, entrepreneurs and UFS staff are sharing their skills. Sewing machines hum away and infrequent beeps sound from a table where an excited group of non-scientists have just completed the building of circuits. Faces light up with every beep. Hands raised. Fists clenched. Victory!

But the victory lies beyond the moment. It’s in the confidence, the learning, and the sharing that will be taking place when these people go back to their communities. Some will participate in research projects; others will benefit from curricular requirements leading students into distant communities, and others will be hosting workshops at the next Learning Festival. 

And there will be more great stories. Like Mokoena’s.

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