Image: ANA
‘Tis the most wondrous of seasons!
It comes only once every five years, and it is a joy to behold the political and ruling class pretending they give a damn about you and your problems.
The country’s professional leeches have steadily been rolling out their charm offensives over the past few months, and you better believe things will only get worse.
Prepare to be subjected to media and pundits joining in the manufacture of consent by telling you how people died for your right to vote. They will most likely roll out that old refrain, “If you don’t vote, you have no right to complain.”
They will conveniently neglect to mention that, as a taxpayer, you have every right to complain about how your money is spent.
They won’t tell you how those, who often possess no skills other than convincing the rest of the population that you need them to make decisions on your behalf, will use your vote to continue their looting and corruption.
They will ask you to forget how they used your last vote to legitimise their mismanagement of the most crucial of entities, by telling you to accept that participation in their democracy was acceptance of the kakistocracy, which is most likely to continue by the looks of our candidate lists.
You might hear about how certain leaders rose through the ranks to become billionaires (ie, leveraged their political clout to join the moneyed elite), thus justifying the trust put in them to fix the mess which they helped create.
You won’t, however, hear about how those responsible for the rolling blackouts can afford generators to keep themselves comfy. Nor will you hear how those who ruined our public schools and hospitals can afford private schools and healthcare, at taxpayers’ expense. Rather, you will be reminded of their rich struggle history.
Meanwhile, the opposition will harass you with phone calls and SMSes boasting about the cities where they govern being awarded some meaningless platitude from rich foreigners. They won’t tell you about those living on the periphery of these marvellous cities, to whom the awards and clean audits mean nothing, as they wade through filth to get to jobs kilometres away.
Other pretenders to the throne will engage in a perverse poverty blackface, and dress up as those poor workers while pretending we can’t see the Gucci outfits under their overalls.
Don’t expect anyone to tell you about grassroots movements, like Abahlali BaseMjondolo, who exist outside the established political sphere, and whose members live in fear every day. Their attempts to teach people not to rely on government to provide, understandably, have led to many paying with their lives.
No one will tell you that instead of voting for the lesser of 48 evils, we need more movements like Abahlali, taking care of their own.
I certainly won’t suggest that, instead of voting, you get angry, and start mobilising those around you to make every public space in this country inaccessible to the councillors, MECs, and ministers, until every single person implicated in the mess is locked up. Nor will I advocate marching to the homes of those elected officials, instead of torching our public libraries and other facilities during protests.
I would totally understand if it happens though. Because now, more than ever, South Africans have a right to be angry, and we ought to know exactly who to be angry at.
Earl Coetzee.
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