Since the assassination of Martin Thembisile “Chris” Hani on the eve of SA’s liberation from the apartheid state, televised political funerals have become a significant feature of SA politics.
They have become occasions where the nation not only mourns the departed and condoles with their family and other loved ones but also becomes a moment of reflection on the state of the nation itself and what steps it needs to take to get closer to its dream of a more equal and deracialised society.
At Hani’s funeral, and many others that were to follow, the ceremony also became a moment of celebration of the path generations of people have travelled since the anti-colonial wars towards the creation of a liberated South African nation.
There would be a deep sense of loss and sadness, but this would be accompanied by a triumphant spirit that acknowledged the positive contribution made to the collective struggle by the deceased while also expressing hope that the living would pick up the fallen spear and continue on the long march forward.
Hence, our collective memory of the Hani funeral is not just that of a sombre moment but also one that was filled with celebration and determination to put an end to FW de Klerk’s apartheid regime.
In most of the first two decades of democracy, political funerals, especially those of liberation Struggle icons from the ANC, PAC, SA Communist Party and the Black Consciousness Movement, meant celebrating the lives of people who sacrificed their all for the ideals they believed in.
They served as a reminder to younger generations that “freedom was not free” and that no love is more supreme than being in the service of others.
If the Sisulus and Makwetus could sacrifice so much in the service of the then yet-to-be-born nation, what excuse would those of us who had been granted the privilege to wield power in the service of that new nation have not to deliver?
These funerals were, in other words, an equivalent of what born-again Christians where I’m from call imvuselelo, revival sessions. The funerals served to revive the collective political consciousness of why many entered public service, whether as politicians, civil servants or members of civil society.
But as the country veered away from the nation-building project and politics became heavily infested with corruption, factionalism and careerism, political funerals became sites of a different type of national reflection.
You will not hear it if you do not listen attentively. You’d certainly not hear it coming from the mouths of those speaking on the podium on the day of the funeral. Theirs is to remember the good that the deceased did and celebrate his or her life.
But many a time, as the story of the deceased’s heroics in the liberation Struggle is told, how she fought on despite constant detention without trial and torture by the police, how he braved bullets and cheated death, how nothing could deter their determination to see their nation free, the question lingers: where did it all go wrong?
It is a question that kept repeating in the mind again yesterday as speaker after speaker, including President Cyril Ramaphosa, spoke of the life of Nathi Mthethwa, SA’s late ambassador to France. The question is not an indictment against Mthethwa, who also served the country as minister in the police and, later, sports, arts and culture portfolios.
Rather, it ponders how Mthethwa’s generation, men and women who sacrificed their youth – some like him were as young as fifteen – and braved possible death for the sake of freedom, only to allow for the dream to be betrayed in their latter years.
This is a generation that became known as “the young lions” for its death-defying spirit and its willingness to confront the brutal apartheid state machinery head-on. It was impatient, vocal and fearless.
Yet in freedom, it has failed to live up to its reputation. Instead of exploiting the opportunities afforded by democracy to further advance the broad goals of the nation-building project, some in this generation have wasted their political power on self-enrichment endeavours and outright theft.
Hence, politics today – and not just that of the ruling party – is rapidly gaining a bad reputation in society as nothing more than a self-enrichment scheme no different from any other “get-rich-quick” scam available out there.
While the Charlotte Maxeke, Robert Sobukwe, Steve Biko and Chris Hani generations left those who came after them with an enduring message that politics and the Struggle were, first and foremost, about sacrificing for the collective good, the truth is that “the young lions” in power and now in their 50s and 60s are telling those who come after them – through their behaviour – that greed is all they should be about.
As a generation, is this really the type of legacy we want to leave behind? That, in our country’s hour of need, the “young lions” fought gallant street battles, often armed only with rocks and rubbish bins while facing police bullets, but that when freedom came, we sucked the country dry through theft and corruption?
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