Depending on one’s age, one may recall — or have read — that there was a time in this country when social engineering was so powerful and efficient that it shaped a person’s entire existence and the possibilities available to them, regardless of effort. Race, gender, age, class and sexual orientation were monitored and, depending on where one fell on the spectrum, life was affected in real and measurable terms. The system of separation was so effective it was unthinkable that life could be different.
It became all that people knew as a way of life, and anything different created cognitive dissonance, even for those negatively affected by the system. Many simply accepted their reality as the natural order, and those who dared to challenge it faced the risk of being ostracised by their own communities or silenced by the government. Contrary to what is often claimed today, not every black person fought against apartheid or discrimination, and not every white person hated the privileges that came with it.
In his bookBlazing a Trail, Lincoln Mali narrates how his eyes were opened to the injustices of the apartheid system. As a 16-year-old, he was exposed to challenging conversations about current affairs and to banned literature, as well as Radio Freedom, which introduced him to interviews, poetry and commentary from Umkhonto weSizwe. This was a life-altering phase that created deep dissonance.
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What became glaring was the contradiction between the lived realities of the country and the Christian values instilled in him by his parents: every human being has intrinsic value and must be treated with dignity and respect, regardless of their status in society. Race, gender, age, social class and sexual orientation, for instance, could not determine a person’s worth or how they should be treated. Yet the apartheid system was built entirely on maintaining order and control along these very lines.
This awakening led him to choose a path of uncertainty and to join a group of peers who were considered rebels or part of the “lost generation” because they challenged the system, organised, and demanded equality and liberation. This is one of many stories illustrating how the apartheid system was challenged and ultimately brought to its knees because ordinary individuals were disturbed enough by the status quo to actively confront it, often at great personal risk, including the loss of their lives. At the heart of the apartheid system was greed and an obsession with power over others, designed to secure economic opportunities for a few connected individuals who sat on the “right” side of the spectrum of attributes.
The ushering in of a democratic dispensation, led by individuals who had participated in the struggle for liberation in one form or another, lulled us into believing that replacing apartheid leaders with liberation leaders would automatically bring freedom, equality and opportunity for all. Little did we anticipate that the same greed and desire for control that sustained apartheid would simply morph, re-emerge in different forms, and quickly become normalised once again. In too many instances, positions of governance and power evolved into positions of access — to resources and riches — for oneself and those properly aligned.
Appointments to boards, executive committees or parliament ceased to be about service to the greater good and instead plunged individuals into elite circles that were often informally enabled to co-ordinate the distribution of opportunities and patronage among those who shared the code. Anyone not aligned could be frustrated or sabotaged, regardless of competence, value creation or skill. Discrimination shifted from race, class, gender, age, ability or sexual orientation to discrimination based on integrity and moral standards.
This serves to protect and feed greed, much like apartheid perfected control to serve the interests of a powerful few. This erosion of integrity and morality has become so normalised that it is assumed that anyone in a position of power is “eating somewhere”. Suspicion arises when a person insists that they are simply serving the role and nothing more.
It is easier and more comforting for people to know where “you are eating” because it allows them to predict and measure you. Increasingly, people no longer believe that someone can be good for goodness’ sake. This is the unfortunate reality we face as a country.
Men and women who say what they mean and mean what they say find themselves pushing against the grain in an environment where lies and deceit often prevail. We need more individuals like the 16-year-old Mali — people disturbed enough by the status quo to commit themselves to fighting for a different course. We must reclaim the meaning of “honourable” in titles such as “honourable member of parliament”, “honourable judge”, “honourable board director”, “honourable CEO” and “honourable business person”.
Just as apartheid was eventually defeated, this moral decay can be defeated too. • Dr Vilakazi is an academic and organisational developer whose work focuses on building ethical, human-centred systems in business and institutions.
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