We live in a complex country that requires complex, not lazy, thinking
Ladysmith Black Mambazo, performing in 2017.
On Saturday night I went to a concert of Ladysmith Black Mambazo in the Artscape Theatre in Cape Town. The Artscape holds many happy memories for me. As soon as we were old enough, my mum would bring my sisters and me to concerts at the Nico Malan Theatre – as it was then called. Concerts were serious business. You had to dress up in dresses and shiny leather shoes, and absolute silence and best behaviour were required during the performance. The audience was, of course, lily white.
How different it was on Saturday night.
Although still predominantly white, the audience reflected far more the demographics of our country and what a difference it made! From the first song, people were ululating. They whistled and shouted, jumped to their feet and danced with unbridled joy. This, together with the beautiful music, moved me deeply. (I was a mess by the time they sang “Homeless”).
In between the tears I couldn’t help thinking about how different South Africa was in the mid-eighties when the world became aware of Ladysmith Black Mambazo through Paul Simon’s Graceland. Naturally the apartheid government didn’t approve, and the older generation of whites were shocked by it all. Still, Joseph Tshabalala and the group he formed in a 1963’s dream came true: South African singing was exported all over the world and served as a uniting force in our deeply divided country even amid a brutal state of emergency.
Through their wonderful “Isicathamiya” singing and their athletic dancing, they gave us hope that a better country was possible.
These days when you work in the political field as I do, it can be very difficult to retain a positive outlook. The consistent negativity of people and every news cycle gets to you eventually.
Yet, Saturday night as we laughed, danced, and sang together, I was reminded just how special South Africa is. I felt a sense of unity, joy, and hope that is so often lacking these days.
Of course, the huge challenges that we individually and collectively face didn’t magically disappear, but for two hours we were able to hold the tension between darkness and light, between divisiveness and togetherness, between rich and poor, and between different cultures.
This ability- or perhaps inability - to hold the tension between what seems contradictory is something that has occupied my thoughts for very long.
I worry that in a time of Tik-Tok, X, Facebook and even mainstream media, where clicks are more important than substance or truth, we are losing our capacity and willingness to understand and engage with complexities.
We want things to be simple – to be binary, either good or bad, because it is easy and gives us a sense of certainty – albeit it a false sense, and a false security.
Understanding nuances requires hard work and can be confusing and so we shy away from it.
The current narrative around Gaza and Israel is an obvious example. It seems it is impossible to criticise Israel’s actions in Gaza without be labelled anti-Semitic and pro-Hamas.
Closer to home I am daily confronted with people who insist that all politicians and especially ANC politicians are bad.
For example, I was recently at a swimming lesson for toddlers when I overheard two dads talking about politics- specifically Eskom. One declared loudly that Pravin Gordhan was the biggest problem and was clearly “in on the take” and “as bad as the rest of them”. I tried not to get involved, but eventually couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I explained that I had known and worked with Pravin for many years and that even though he has shortcomings (like all of us), corruption was not one of them.
Even though neither of these dads had ever met Pravin and could not provide any concrete evidence, they kept insisting that they knew he was corrupt.
There can be no denial that there are many corrupt politicians, but it is also not true that they all are. This all-too-common narrative shows ignorance and lazy thinking, which I believe is a big problem in the country at the moment. We loudly proclaim opinions – often without any - or very little - factual basis and we do not allow any room for different opinions or nuance. We insist that our views and only our views can be right.
For the sake of our country’s future, we must be able to hold the tension between good and bad.
For example, surely denouncing the horrific atrocities of Hamas and condemning the industrial scale destruction wrought by Israel’s response are not mutually exclusive? To suggest that they are is to deliberately close one eye.
We must be able to criticise the current political dispensation and at the same time accept that not all ANC politicians are bad or corrupt. Equally so, we must be able to criticise the leadership profile of the DA, whilst at the same time acknowledging that not all DA politicians are racist.
We live in a wonderfully complex society, with a complex history and complex problems which require complex thinking and solutions. This requires of us to hold the tension between what often seem like contradictions - and perhaps every now and then to dance, sing, and laugh together.