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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

Sites of memory. Sites of trauma. Sites of healing.
2015-04-01

Judge Albie Sachs – human rights activist and co-creator of South Africa’s constitution – presented the first Vice Chancellor’s Lecture on Trauma, Memory, and Representations of the Past on 26 March 2015 on the Bloemfontein Campus.

His lecture, ‘Sites of memory, sites of conscience’, forms part of a series of lectures that will focus on how the creative arts represent trauma and memory – and how these representations may ultimately pave the way to healing historical wounds. This series is incorporated into the five-year research project, led by Prof Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, and funded by the Mellon Foundation.

Sites of memory and conscience – and healing

“Deep in solitary confinement, I read in the Bible: ‘the lion lay down with the lamb … swords will be beaten into ploughshares.’” And with these opening words, Judge Sachs took the audience on a wistful journey to the places in our country that ache from the past but are reaching for a better future at the same time.

Some of the sites of memory and conscience Judge Sachs discussed included the Apartheid Museum, Liliesleaf, District Six Museum, and the Red Location Museum. But perhaps most powerful of them all is Robben Island.

Robben Island

“The strength of Robben Island,” Judge Sachs said, “comes from its isolation. Its quietness speaks”. Former prisoners of the island now accompany visitors on their tours of the site, retelling their personal experiences. It was found that, the quieter the ex-prisoners imparted their stories, “the gentler and softer their memories; the more powerful the impact,” Judge Sachs remarked. Instead of anger and denouncement, this reverence provides a space for visitors’ own emotions to emerge. This intense and powerful site has become a living memory elevated into a place of healing.

After Judge Sachs visited the National Women’s Memorial in Bloemfontein some years ago, he came to an acute realisation as he read the stories, experienced the grief, and saw the small relics that imprisoned commandoes from Ceylon and St Helena sculpted. “It’s so like us,” he thought, “our people on Robben Island making a saxophone out of seaweed, our people carving little things. It was so like us. It was another form of inhumanity to human beings in another period.”

The Constitutional Court

The Constitutional Court next to the Old Fort Prison is also a profound site of trauma and healing. Bricks from the awaiting trial lock-up were built into the court chambers. “We don’t suppress it, we don’t say let’s move on. We acknowledge the pain of the past. We live in it, but we are not trapped in it. We South Africans are capable of transcending, of getting beyond it,” Judge Sachs said.

Transforming swords into ploughshares

Judge Sachs had great praise for Prof Gobodo-Madikizela’s research project on Trauma, Memory, and Representations of the Past. “You convert and transform the very swords, the very instruments, the very metal in our country. In a sense, you almost transform the very people and thoughts and dreams and fears and terrors into the ploughshares; into positivity.”

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