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Violence in South African society is learned behaviour

This is an edited reprint of a blog I published on 24 April 2015. 

Years ago, after returning home from living abroad, an acquaintance wondered why South Africans are so aggressive. 

These past few weeks have seen more war-mongering rhetoric, aggression and violence around the country – UCT, Khayelitsha, townships and xenophobic attacks.

At a media conference recently about the xenophobic (racist) violence, minister in the presidency Jeff Radebe said “South Africa is not a violent country”. He can’t really believe that. Saying so discredits government's response to the attacks, along with their futile mantra that everything is under control.

South Africa has among the highest violent crime rates in the world.  Sociologists explain it to our apartheid history, poverty and inequality.  But other countries experienced both - often worse - without citizens resorting to the levels and frequency of violence that occurs here.  The forms of violence include stone throwing, tyre burning, attacks on property and life, and de rigueur among the educated class, faeces flinging.

Op-ed pieces this week says aggression is entrenched in our psyches and DNAs.  I believe that.  Despite underlying reasons for violent protests – poverty or woolly “transformation” issues – there is really no excuse for it.  It is learned behaviour.  We are being held captive by our own inability to plot the country’s destiny – an Eskom meltdown multiplied exponentially.  And we can’t blame apartheid, colonialists, Rhodes or foreigners for this.  

In the 1990s I volunteered with a NGO that worked in poor communities in Cape Town and nearby rural towns.  Among these people I detected peace, humility and resignation.  I’m not saying they were satisfied with their lot.  But ordinary people – rich or poor – do not spontaneously take to the streets in violent protests.   

Typically for South Africa there is a catalyst or an (misinformed) agitator that rallies them to leave decency, reason and common sense behind.  For UCT’s Rhodes protests it was an educated, state-subsidised provocateur.  For the xenophobic attacks they were allegedly a “labour dispute” and/or the Zulu king’s – who is living the life at taxpayer’s expense – exhortation to foreigners to go home.  (Coincidentally, the common thread between these individuals is "state-subsidised".)

Aggression is the currency for discourse.  This week while walking along Imam Haron Road, a car swooped off the road into a side lane, missing me by 10cm.  When I shouted I had right of way, the female driver, perhaps a resident of genteel Claremont, hurled abuse at me.  No introspection, no humility and no remorse.

This kind of behaviour is also learned by example from South Africa’s politicians and bureaucrats who, almost without exception, are unapologetic – even boastful – of misbehaviour, incompetence and corruption.  Councillors ignore ratepayers’ concerns or think it’s acceptable to threaten and abuse them.   A contributing factor is the political structure where politicians are not accountable to voters but to party bosses, and the poor quality of those running for office.
 
Why should we “do the right thing”, for example, being considerate to our fellows when South Africa’s leadership – president, police and prosecutor – are facing criminal or ethical charges, and are unrepentant?  Why indeed, when thumbing one’s nose at social mores is practised by the elite.

While writing this I’m thinking the reason why so many law-abiding residents are frequently unsuccessful with registering their concerns about various matters is because we use reason and civility in our conversations.  But reason doesn’t work, not with our politicians and leaders who understand the language of aggression, which unsurprisingly we see spilling over into society in violence, killings, excrement and anger.

During a conversation recently about the UCT-Rhodes polemic, I was told there is no place in this country for rational argument or liberal sentiment.  It is a depressing thought, but true.

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