As former president Nelson Mandela’s health steadily deteriorates as he approaches 95, the urban legend that his passing will unleash pent-up black anger is revived once again. The myth has been repeated so many times over the past decade that even observers in Europe and North America, where Afro-pessimism lies just under the surface, are beginning to wonder if South Africa’s almost 20-year-old stability will be undermined with the great icon’s passing.
A softer version of the “white genocide” scare is that the ANC would regard the end of Mandela as a kind of licence to start behaving like Zimbabwe’s Zanu-PF because the last voice of tolerance, reason and reconciliation had fallen silent.
Even more moderate people believe Mandela’s death would lead to a sharp decline in the worth of the rand and the stock exchange. The source of the story is white right-wing conspiracy theorists expressing their subconscious fears of black dominance and their anxieties that “they will do to us what we did to them” – due to their own racism, they find it hard to believe the black majority could actually find it in their hearts to accept the white minority as fellow citizens.
Those who fear the reaction to Mandela’s death must still believe that he was a unique phenomenon, out of step with the rest of black South Africa. How pathetic is that after 20 years of goodwill and peaceful coexistence?
This particular theory of bloodshed after Mandela’s death is attributed to the Boer War mystic Siener van Rensburg, but his biographers insist he never said anything like that. I suspect the only consequence of Mandela’s death is going to be a period of sadness, nostalgia and a feeling of national coherence.
It will remind South Africans of all groups and persuasions of the almost miraculous transition from apartheid to democracy and of the golden era under his presidency after 1994. Almost all South Africans, from right-wing whites to militant blacks, had one thing in common then: a deep love and respect for Madiba, the father of the nation.
We will all recall the days when hope was abundant; when our president was the world’s most admired icon; when he wore a Springbok rugby jersey and held the rugby World Cup high with Francois Pienaar; when he inspired Africa and Africans in the diaspora.
But it is also true that millions of South Africans were born just before or after 1994 and have none of these memories. Most of them are black and live with little hope in townships and squatter camps.
In reality, Mandela is just a memory. He hasn’t been a political player or even a factor for many years. The last time politicians in government asked “What would Mandela do?” was well over a decade ago. At best his name is used when politicians want to boost their own public image. I suppose it is remotely possible that there could be reckless elements that would want to use the period of emotion to incite people into perpetrating violent acts. If this does happen, it would probably be isolated and quickly contained.
If there were an event that could have triggered black violence against whites, it was the assassination by rightwingers of the popular ANC leader Chris Hani in April 1993, a very tense period in our history. And yet it passed with almost no violence.
Minorities may not have great confidence in President Jacob Zuma and his government, but even the most insecure whites have to concede that they would never tolerate racial violence. Stability is South Africa’s most valuable asset and the government knows it.
It is true that resentments at the white minority linger on, but the last time we witnessed black people perpetrating violent acts aimed specifically at them was when fighters of the Azanian People’s Liberation Army attacked churches, clubs and restaurants in the early 1990s. Apla’s political masters, the PAC, are no more. This is not a society filled with hatred. In fact, class resentments are fast replacing racial resentments.
Mandela was a very special leader, up there with the likes of King Shaka, King Moshoeshoe, Gandhi, Patrice Lumumba, Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill. When he dies we will have to ask whether we as a nation have lived up to his expectations and our potential as a new democracy.
In my book, the answer is that we haven’t.
We have allowed corruption, nepotism and the abuse of power to flourish and we have sat back while millions still live with poverty and hopelessness.
The Mercury
