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09 September 2022 | Story Angela Vorster | Photo Andrè Damons
Angie Vorster
Angela Vorster is a Clinical Psychologist at the School for Clinical Medicine, University of the Free State (UFS).

Opinion article by Angela Vorster, Clinical Psychologist at the School for Clinical Medicine, University of the Free State.
Twenty-three people will die from suicide today in South Africa. Another 460 South Africans will try to end their lives today. They are from different cultural groups, different income groups, attained different levels of education, speak different languages, range in age from childhood through to elderly, have different genders and sexual orientations. These people have very little in common except that their lives all ended due to the final symptom of an illness. People who experience thoughts of ending their lives describe this mental space as feeling grey. Their thoughts tend to keep returning to the futility of being alive, what a burden they are to those around them, how nothing will ever get better and that nobody can help them. They tend to experience feelings of worthlessness, self-hatred, guilt, hopelessness, immense sadness and despair. Their suffering and emotional pain are excruciating. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. There is nothing to look forward to. Everything is difficult, boring, scary or meaningless. Inwardly they are drowning. But very often they smile, do their job and pass their exams, go on dates and vacations, make plans for the weekend and check up on their loved ones. They look happy in their photos. And when someone asks them if they are okay they say yes. Because they don’t feel like they deserve to feel better. They don’t want to be a bother. They might not call a helpline or make an appointment to see a psychologist or go to their GP for anti-depressants. Because they just don’t have the energy. It’s exhausting pretending to be fine all day. The one thought that brings relief is that they can end this pain. And one day they do. And their colleagues, friends and family are left reeling with shock and disbelief. How could this have happened? How could they have missed the signs? What should they have done differently to prevent this? 

The causes are as complex and varied

This is the purpose of World Suicide Prevention Day which takes place internationally each year on 10 September and through which the International Association for Suicide Prevention endeavours to increase awareness of suicidality, as well as to fight the stigma associated with suicide. Wanting to die can occur along with many other symptoms and disorders including, but not limited to, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar disorder, psychotic disorders, personality disorders and substance dependence or abuse disorders. The causes are as complex and varied as the manner in which suicidality may present. It is dangerous to regard only certain signs and symptoms as indicative of suicide risk, because we know that suicide can be extremely unpredictable. There is no way to tell if someone is a suicide risk based purely on their behaviour. However there are certain factors which may indicate an increased risk for self-harm. These include, but are not limited to, having previously tried to end their life, having a psychiatric illness, being seriously ill or having chronic pain or the misuse of substances. Experiencing legal, relationship, financial or academic stressors may increase suicide risk, as well as having access to lethal means to end their life along with being unable to access mental health care. 

So what can you do if you think someone may be at risk of self-harm? Say something. Talk to them. Tell them what you are worried about and give them the space to express how they feel without judgment or condemnation. Reach out to their support system and share your concerns with them. Encourage the suicidal person to make contact with a health care professional – this can be a psychologist, GP, psychiatrist, social worker, psychiatric nurse, counsellor or a suicide prevention help line. Other important members of our community who provide a great deal of assistance to suicidal people and their families include religious and spiritual leaders, teachers, support groups and employee assistance programmes. There are actually so many ways and places to receive health care and support; however the most significant barrier to making use of these resources is sustained by the stigma associated with suicide and mental illness. In our culture of toxic positivity where our photos are touched up, our statuses updated and our successes plastered on various social media platforms, the authentic act of acknowledging when we feel defeated, unhappy or like a failure has become a rarity. The more real, honest and vulnerable we can be about our ‘undesirable’ emotions and experiences, the more space we create for those around us to do the same. When we normalise not being okay at all times, we give ourselves and others permission to speak up when we need help. And this is our greatest weapon against suicide – authentic connection.

What suicide is not

We’ve explored what it may feel like to be suicidal, now let’s focus on what suicide is not. Suicide is not a moral failing. It is not because the person was weak or selfish, it is not because their family was dysfunctional or their faith not strong enough. Suicide is the final symptom of mental illness – and every single person is vulnerable to experiencing suicidal thoughts. Each one of us will be affected by suicide during the duration of our lives, either directly or indirectly. This is irrespective of how successful you are, how supportive your family is or how strong your religious convictions are. Dying by suicide is not a shame. It is not a failure. It is no different to a patient dying from any other disease. And just like any other illness there are symptoms we can look out for and treatments and medications that can assist in recovery. 

Please think before you speak about someone who died due to suicide. I guarantee that at least one person in the conversation has suffered the pain of losing someone in this way. But you probably wouldn’t even know, because stigma silences. Stigma disconnects and alienates those who need support the most. Our words have the power to shame and silence, or to empower and encourage connection, which is lifesaving. Treat each conversation as though there may be someone present who is having suicidal thoughts or is working through the loss of someone they love due to suicide. Often we want to reach out and support families affected by suicide, but don’t because we are afraid of offending, or upsetting or because we ourselves are so uncomfortable with mental illness. But all these survivors of suicide need from you is your calm, empathetic, kind presence, a safe space to express difficult and messy emotions. Without being blamed or shunned or shamed. Support suicide survivors as though a terrible illness took the life of their loved-one. Because that is exactly what happened. 

On 10 September this year I encourage you to light a candle and place it in your windowsill around 8pm wherever you are. This is in remembrance of those lost to mental illness and to show your support to those they left behind. In the words of the International Association of Suicide Prevention: “By encouraging understanding, reaching in and sharing experiences, we want to give people the confidence to take action. To prevent suicide requires us to become a beacon of light to those in pain. You can be the light.”

• If you or someone you know is at risk of self-harm please take a look at these websites and call the SADAG suicide emergency helpline.


SADAG suicide emergency helpline 0800 567 567

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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