Thin end of the pledge

Having withheld from commenting on the pledge issue, I ask myself if such a thing could help heal my country as it gets sicker by the day.

Friday was one of lowest points this year, as members of my profession, our craft, exposed their racist hearts and were endorsed by an amoral autocrat thug who could be this country’s next president.

Such a nadir is only slightly offset by the South African Democratic Teachers’ Union adding its voice to the mounting condemnation of the pledge. The union says it is a “top-down approach” by the ANC government. Duh, like what isn’t?

The term top-down is a PC euphemism for authoritarian, which is the next-door neighbour of dictatorial, which is characteristic of all strict hierarchies.

I have no problem with the concept of a pledge and would tell my son so. He is intelligent and wise enough to decide for himself if he would take such a pledge. That is his decision. The statement of faith Anglicans call the Nicene Creed is akin to a pledge of allegiance to God, His church and His creation (including man) and I say it every week. Not only as part of the formal liturgy, but to remind myself what it’s all about.

Do I think the current concept of a pledge serves any purpose, has any real value? No, I don’t. School kids with hands on hearts reciting some words do not a noble nation make. Maybe such things had some weird form of social value 100 or 200 years ago, when paradigms were different and nationalistic fervour and visions of empire ruled the waves.

But today “to cement social cohesion” as Pandor claims, it’s more like using a pea-shooter against a herd of buffalo.

The religious leaders’ concept of a Bill of Responsibilities, taught as part of the curriculum and as counter-balance to the existing Bill of Rights, is a far more intelligent, rational, equitable and moral response to the hypocrisy and corruption of society. Doubtless, should it go through — and I pray it does — the ANC will claim the kudos as it has done with virtually every other good thing it has permitted private citizens to drive.

I recall with no small amount of shame how I would stand as a boy, eyes fixed on that unimaginative flag, singing about groaning ox wagons and echoing crags (sure Langenhoven’s poetry was libraries better than Sontonga’s, but still). A child’s heart is such a malleable thing that to toy with it verges on unforgivable sin to me.

Despite their contextual origins and thus possible shortcomings, I would attach more value to Rudyard Kipling’s If- and William Ernest Henley’s Invictus and Desiderata to inculcate tolerance, acceptance and stimulate “social cohesion” (whatever that means).

Their vastly superior literary value aside, they are more robust, more inspirational, more profound and far more durable than this tacky little pledge so reminiscent of Hitler youth and big-eyed little boys and girls with romantic notions of Alan Quartermain and King Solomon’s Mines awash with gold and treasure.