#TwoBits: Where is our guiding light?
The much trumpeted "25 years of democracy" is very laudable when one considers from whence we came, but conveniently ignores the culture of self-entitlement to feeding from the public trough that our political leaders would have us believe is an excusable way to correct a society built on racial inequality.
One of the realities of living in this country is that every time you open a newspaper, the reader is confronted with lurid accounts of misgovernance at every level, from simple mismanagement of money and projects, to outright corruption or even theft from the public purse.
It is disheartening – even sickening – and erodes at our faith in society.
The much trumpeted “25 years of democracy” is very laudable when one considers from whence we came, but conveniently ignores the culture of self-entitlement to feeding from the public trough that our political leaders would have us believe is an excusable way to correct a society built on racial inequality.
What corruption is uncovered leaves our President “shocked” every time, who then appoints a commission of inquiry whose purpose, one would expect from commissions in other democracies, is to expose criminal activity and take appropriate action.
But as the Zondo commission drones on and on, exposing a dirty laundry list of wrongdoings, nothing happens.
We have the various media investigative units to thank for telling us about the Guptas, the Vrede dairy frauds, Bell Pottinger’s disinformation programme, the VBS Bank scandal and many, many more wrongdoings that should be considered a blight on our democracy.
But, curiously, nothing happens.
The perpetrators walk free, are sometimes suspended on full pay for years or even promoted.
But they don’t go to jail where they belong. Is the real purpose of these commissions to sweep it all under the carpet?
When I was a lad attending St Mary’s Catholic Church in Pietermaritzburg, the parish priest was a Father Hourquebie, who would thunder from the pulpit about the sin of apartheid.
Black worshippers were welcome in his church.
He ruffled many a feather in the mainly middle-class white congregation, but he had the backing of Archbishop Denis Hurley.
Even more prominent amongst the priests who spoke out against injustice were individuals like Father Trevor Huddlestone, then later Archbishop Desmond Tutu of the Anglicans and Archbishop Hurley and, shockingly so for the Afrikaner community, the Rev Beyers Naudé of the NGK, whose outspoken criticism won him a lifelong banning order.
For nearly 40 years the pulpits were the only relatively safe places from which the policies and abuses of the government could be addressed.
I know little about the workings of churches, but I have always respected the role of religious leaders to define the moral standards of society.
By their very existence they are the standard bearers of what is right or wrong.
Do not steal, do not kill, do not covet the next man’s goods (coveting your neighbour’s ass sounds wrong these days) – and the rest of our sins.
I am curious as to the silence of the churches about what is happening in South Africa today.
Where are the Tutus, the Hurleys, the Naudé’s?
More pertinently, where are the black church leaders?
Where are the moral guiding lights that South Africans need?
I came across an interesting passage from the Epistle of James: “A faith which does not issue in action is like a corpse.” (James 11:26).
The country is crying out for somebody, everybody, to tell society right from wrong. Without that knowledge and without consequences for crossing the line, we are surely lost.
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One of the outcomes of lockdown in our household was that I finally got tired of paying far too much for DSTV – no sport, endless repeats of 30-year-old movies and “reality” shows that we hated – and switched to Netflix.
Rose is glued to The Crown. So far, so good.
I am now paying nearly as much for data as I paid for DSTV, but as least I get to choose material I enjoy, including documentaries, music and educational videos on YouTube that simply is not available elsewhere.
Since I was ringing the changes, I also ditched my gym membership and moved back to Pilates, where we could get online classes through lockdown.
I was amused to receive a letter from Virgin, 25 days after having given notice, which said I needed to give 20 days notice!
Fair enough, they had suspended payments for the last 4 months, but the nerve!
