A state of panic: What is our response?

While witnessing the farce that was the State of the Nation address (SONA) last week, the cynic in me wondered, why are we surprised? We may not have predicted the chaos that unfolded in parliament, but the sentiments behind the event should not be a surprise. There are moments in South Africa’s political life that come to mind and have left me with the same sinking feeling I had while watching the SONA. We have been a state in panic for many years. The events don’t come to mind in chronological order nor in the order of importance but rather they are flashes, reminders of what has happened before. They appear as I will them to be remembered in my memory. And as they all come to mind, I notice a golden thread: panic.

South Africa has been likened to a young adult, a soon-to-be 21 year old who is still figuring out this democracy thing. If we continue with the analogy, the sense that we are in panic mode shouldn’t surprise us because as I remember myself when I was 21, I was in a constant state of panic: I had a sense that I should be an adult, but I felt like a fraud. How could I be expected to be an adult when I didn’t have my ducks in a row? I wasn’t ready to take on the responsibility of being an adult. I didn’t even have a driving license at the time and I was fast approaching my quarter life crises were the judgement would increase. I was plagued by self-doubt, the debilitating kind. Other 21 years olds around me were experimenting with drugs and being high was no longer a taboo. So I’m not surprised that at 21, South Africa is going through a state of panic. We are witnessing events we never could have imagined would be possible.

Remember when Thabo Mbeki was recalled and his sombre face came into our living rooms telling us he was no longer the president of the country? Before that, Jacob Zuma (as deputy president) had been involved in corruption charges and asked to step down by his comrade Mbeki. Before that, Nelson Mandela was the president and he promised us truth, peace, reconciliation and RDP. Remember Mbeki’s presidency being plagued with AIDS denialism and dragging its feet on reform? Remember the arms deal (which continues today)? Remember the Secrecy Bill that gave birth to the Right to Know campaign? Remember the FIFA world cup that promised prosperity but left us in dire straits with many poor people evicted and moved from their homes? Remember the xenophobic attacks, where we watched a man burn to death? Who can forget the Marikana massacre in 2012 and the Lwandle eviction last year. A list like this would be incomplete without the Nkandla upgrade and the Public Protector’s response. There is no cause and effect to any of these events (maybe a few), but they happened here in our country. Many of them hurt us and made us ashamed as a country. Some left us dumbstruck. Some we may not even have paid attention.

People remember these events differently. We remember them according to our own ordinary lives and what was happening at the time; a family birth or burial, a wedding, a graduation or simply sitting in a taxi listening to the radio on our way home from yet another boring day. The danger with South Africa’s political life is that it is seldom seen as something that ordinary citizens can do anything about. Except vote every few years. But where has that left us? If our civic responsibility and response to the events above is to vote, our citizenship becomes almost meaningless because we are still in the position of sitting in our homes watching “big” politics unfold with no input from us.

We have heard that South Africa is on it’s way to becoming a police state,, the space for public dialogue is shrinking and many other predictions are being made by analysts after every major political moment has passed. When I hear these comments as an ordinary citizen, I am helpless. It’s all alarmist rhetoric akin to the swart gevaar South Africans know all too well. I become a subject waiting for the inevitable to happen because I am not in a position of power to shift any of these events from unfolding. This feeling must be a consequence of how democracy means something different for an ordinary citizen and for those in power.

No, our country is not “going to the dogs” and those of us who can leave the country shouldn’t move to Australia. Now would not be there best time to leave. Not because of some patriotic duty. We’ve seen what has happened to other African states when things fall apart and the revolutionary hero turns into a dictator. Those who can, flee to find greener pastures elsewhere and live their normal lives where they can have water, electricity, wifi and a peace of mind. And some find poverty, violence and xenophobia. Nothing will change for the better if we run away. So the question remains, what should our response be to the rising panic amongst ordinary people like you and me?