In recent weeks, South Africa
has once again been rocked by cases of gender-based violence (GBV) that have revealed
an absurd contradiction in the public’s reaction towards each of these cases. The
most harrowing incident involves the alleged assault of a now
eight-year-old girl, referred to as Cwecwe, at Bergview College in Matatiele in
the Eastern Cape. In stark contrast is the acquittal of Nigerian televangelist Timothy Omotoso, who faced multiple rape and kidnapping charges, which sparked a
wave of celebration and jubilation among his followers, many of them women.
This juxtaposition brings to light the serious absurdity among South Africans regarding
GBV, specifically sexual violence, in this case. As such, this reveals what can
only be described as glaring double standards.
Horror and urgency vs
celebration
The case of Cwecwe, who was
allegedly sexually assaulted at her school, ignited a massive outcry nationwide.
The public’s reaction was one of horror and urgency as the details of the
assault came to light. The #JusticeForCwecwe campaign gained traction,
with social media platforms ablaze with calls for justice and accountability.
The Eastern Cape Department of Education acted swiftly by deregistering
the school involved, citing its failure to protect the young girl and being uncooperative
towards the investigative process. The message from the public was clear: those
who perpetrate violence against children must face the full might of the law.
Contrast this with the
acquittal of Omotoso, a case which has caused an equally profound public
reaction, but one that is far more troubling. Omotoso, who had been accused of
grooming and raping young women over years, was acquitted by the Eastern Cape
High Court following a long and highly publicised trial. The judge ruled that
the prosecution had failed to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt. A large
number of Omotoso’s followers, many of them women, erupted in celebration. Some
even described his acquittal as a ‘victory’ for the faithful.
The stark contrast in the
reactions to the two cases cannot be ignored. On the one hand, the public called
for justice for a young girl whose life was forever changed by a violent
assault, demanding that those responsible be held accountable. On the other
hand, a group of men and women celebrated the acquittal of a man who had been
accused of using his position of power to exploit and abuse vulnerable young
women. What is happening here? Is this an example of the hypnotic effect religious
leaders have over their followers?
The opium of the people
One might ask, how can women,
many of whom would undoubtedly identify with victims of sexual violence,
proudly rally behind a man accused of perpetrating such crimes? The answer
lies, in part, in the complex relationship between power, belief, and religion
(particularly in the context of South Africa's so-called miracle churches). In
the case of Omotoso, his followers see him not as a perpetrator but as a
martyr, a man whose innocence was denied by the justice system they believe is unjust.
They chose to ignore the testimonies of the young women who accused him of
abuse, instead placing their faith in their pastor’s word.
Karl Marx’s assertion that “religion
is the opiate of the masses” remains highly
relevant in this context. These words reflect the view that religion can
function as a mechanism to pacify and distract the oppressed, offering them
solace and hope while suppressing their capacity for critical thought and
action. In the case of Omotoso’s acquittal, this quote seems to ring true for
many of his followers, who, rather than questioning the credibility of the
accusations against him, placed unwavering faith in their pastor's innocence.
To them, his acquittal became not just a legal victory, but a spiritual one,
reinforcing their belief in the miraculous power of their religious leader.
The quote further highlights
the broader function of religion in the lives of those who feel marginalised or
oppressed. South Africa’s miracle churches, which often promise ‘deliverance’
from poverty, illness, and personal hardship, provide a sense of hope and
empowerment to many. Yet, this hope can also come at a high price, particularly
when the faith placed in religious leaders becomes a tool for enabling abuse.
The case of Omotoso is just one of many examples in which religious power has
been misused, and the celebration of his acquittal illustrates how easily a
religious narrative can overshadow the moral clarity needed in the face of
sexual violence.
Deeper societal issue
South Africa’s miracle
churches have long been a source of controversy, particularly when allegations
of sexual abuse and exploitation emerge within these religious communities. Bishop Stephen Zondo, another prominent figure in the religious realm, offers a
stark parallel. Zondo, the leader of the Rivers of Living Waters Ministries,
was accused of sexually abusing women who encountered him for spiritual
reasons. Despite the accusations, his followers continued to defend him,
viewing him not as a perpetrator but as a victim of false allegations. Like
Omotoso’s followers, Zondo’s supporters turned a blind eye to the claims of
sexual abuse, prioritising their faith in their pastor over the safety and
dignity of the victims.
The responses to the Cwecwe
case and the Omotoso acquittal are not just examples of legal inconsistencies but are a deeper societal issue. In South Africa, where GBV is rampant, the
public's reaction to these cases exposes double standards to what is morally
right and what is socially, religiously or ideologically convenient. The case
of Cwecwe calls for swift action, demanding justice for a defenceless child.
The case of Omotoso, however, underscores how deeply entrenched power and
religious influence can obscure appropriate reactions to social injustice,
regardless of the many victims involved in their lamenting voices.