On Friday the country stood on edge as members of the EFF descended on the small eastern Free State town of Senekal, where three weeks ago a white farmer was killed. The killing sparked protests by White Afrikaner farmers and right-wing groups such as AfriForum, who insist on propagating the false narrative of large-scale and systematic farm attacks in the country.
I wrote about this in my column last week. My position is clear: there are high levels of violence in our country, but there is no systematic killing of white farmers, and statistical evidence demonstrates this fact.
The two accused were appearing at the magistrate's court in Senekal, and the EFF went there to defend state institutions which came under attack in the protest by farmers. They had stormed the court and proceeded to vandalise property – going as far as to set police vehicles on fire.
There was an expectation that the court appearance of the accused individuals would be extremely tense, in part because right-wing racist groups had over the week circulated videos on social media threatening war. In response, the EFF made it clear that it was ready to fight if needs be, to defend not only state institutions, but the very dignity of black people who were being dehumanised and de-civilised in racist Afrikaner farming communities in Free State and across the country.
The anticipated violent confrontation did not occur – at least not on the day. EFF leader Julius Malema marshaled a huge crowd of supporters who were prepared to fight, but the Afrikaner farmers clearly had no appetite for the violence they knew could potentially galvanise the entire country.
But even without the violent confrontation, there were lessons to learn from the scenes that took place in the Free State, not least of all because they are reflective of something potentially dangerous: that black people in our country are reaching a limit of tolerance for unrepentant white racists.
Senekal is a microcosm of South African society. It reflects the depths of polarisation that exist in our country, and the extent to which decades of cosmetic reconciliation has done nothing to mend race relations that evidently remain highly toxic.
The reality of the situation is that our country is a ticking time bomb. Almost three decades since the end of apartheid, white people in the main remain resistant to change, aided by a government that does not have a clear strategy on how to facilitate meaningful justice.
The triple challenge of poverty, unemployment and inequality continue to have a black face. Annually, research and survey reports are churned out, communicating what we know to be fact: that the condition of the native is a nervous condition, and that white people in SA remain at the top of the ladder of privilege and accumulation.
Under such circumstances, it is impossible that race relations can be anything but toxic. It is improbable that black people would continue to exist on the margins, hurled at the periphery by a minority that has dispossessed them of not only their land, but of their very humanity. Senekal is a mirror reflecting this bubbling rage – rage which will someday spill into all parts of the country and see poor black people confront whiteness. My only fear is that by the time people wake up to this understanding, by the time white SA realises that black people have had enough, the small window of engagement that might still exist will be closed.
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