The poor used as front for narcissistic wealthy people

A man from KwaZulu-Natal in his early 30s is celebrating his birthday. He breathlessly tells a television news reporter that he has never felt more alive. He joined a crowd in looting and destruction, walking away with some electronic goodies, which he has loaded into his luxury car.

His motivation seems far removed from the manic political rhetoric which has accompanied the protest action against the imprisonment of former president Jacob Zuma. But mania appears to have been central to his experience. He appears almost proud of the primal release of self-indulgence and impulsive behaviour.

Elsewhere in the province, a gamer of around the same age excitedly shares photos of his spoils with his friends on WhatsApp. A brand-new 4K gaming monitor and some other paraphernalia from the now burnt down LG warehouse in Durban.

An otherwise benevolent man of ample means who enjoys a rather sedentary life devoid of much social interaction, let alone political affiliation or activity, is now part of the most impactful political event for SA since the Marikana massacre.

But an overwhelming chorus of voices has linked the protests of the past few weeks more to poverty than the greed of those who have enough, but often steal more than those who don’t.

The poor, because they are vulnerable, are often used as a front for narcissistic wealthy people who want to appear empathetic.

Zuma’s son Duduzane also placed poor people at the centre of his rhetoric. Duduzane has been a calm voice of confusion on social media, giving off the same energy as your gaslighting boyfriend explaining why it’s your fault he is a terrible person.

Like the sweatpants hanger you’ve been quarantined with for the past 15 months, Duduzane wants you to understand that boundaries simply had to be disregarded because of big vague ideas that conveniently exonerate him from responsibility and any form of personal self-reflection.

People suffered the triple threat of poverty, inequality and unemployment long before the pandemic and are now worse off, he points out.

He doesn’t deal with the fact that political activity in support of his father has been linked to the rampant criminality during protests. He wants you to know that the reasons behind the protests are long-standing broader societal issues.

“We’re not here to distract from the challenges we face today. We all need to band together, we all need to be a part of the solution,” he says unblinkingly. “The problem at hand is not Covid. The problem is poverty, unemployment…”

I can’t tear myself away from his glassy stare as he, a millionaire, explains to me the nuances of the poverty experienced by South Africans he refers to as “us”.

I wonder: are people truly gatvol of the current regime to the point of being driven to violence or is it a simple case of pent-up lockdown rage and the miracle of mass hysteria?

After all, history has shown us that it takes very little suggestion, given the correct conditions for masses of otherwise rational people, to be driven to uncontrollable levels of mania and hysteria. It may have only taken a few radicalised organisers to get things going, but should we label crazed looters as activists?