Last week I wrote a column about courage – in particular, the courage of two women.

As is always the case when I write about women’s issues, the comment section was filled with nasty comments by - I can only assume – men. There was nothing political about the column, yet the commentators sought to score cheap political points, also attacking me and in the process completely missed the point of the article. 

It struck me that these commentators displayed the exact opposite of what I had written about: courage. There is absolutely nothing brave or courageous in hiding behind a pseudonym and hitting out against me or anyone, for that matter. 

Brene Brown famously said: “With social media there are an endless number of cheap seats.”

She went on to say, that “unless someone is in the arena with you, bravely showing up week after week having their ass kicked, you should pay no attention to his/her feedback.”

Like Brene, I have zero interest in the lazy, nonsensical and misogynist comments of cowardly people and I won’t respond to them. However, sometimes I find in the comments some broader themes which do interest me. More about that later. 

I was thinking about courage again this week as we commemorated the 30th Anniversary of the brutal assassination of Chris Hani. I remember the day so clearly. I was driving to my former in-laws when I heard the news over the radio. I gasped with shock and had to pull over to compose myself. 

Arriving at the Verwoerds, even they were pale. “Stupid idiotic people who did this,” my former mother-in-law mumbled. Despite their ideological positioning, they knew what the ramifications of the killing could be. 

They were right to be scared. 

This cowardly deed brought the country to the edge of the abyss.  Chris was a hero to millions of people and being killed in cold blood by a white extremist could have easily resulted in mass retaliations against whites.  

Yet, it was Mandela as the leader of the ANC, who took control and whilst acknowledging the people’s pain and anger, insisted that there would be no retaliation. 

Even today, it moves me to tears to think how much courage this extraordinary act of forgiveness took – as did the whole negotiation process that led us to democracy. With lesser leadership than that of the extraordinary people who were part of the ANC leadership at the time, this country could have seen unimaginable bloodshed even after the 1994 elections.

Of course, after Chris Hani’s killing, it was also the courageous actions of a woman called Margareta Harmse who helped to apprehend Janusz Walus when she saw him leave the crime scene and called the police – something Madiba made a point of mentioning during his national TV address that evening. 

Which leads me to some of the comments after last (and many other) week’s column:

After all these years people often still criticise me for having been part of the ANC during the transition. Many even suggest that I should be ashamed. 

I make absolutely no apology for that. I regard it as a huge honour to have been able to serve someone like Nelson Mandela and the many other political giants of the time. I have clarified on a number of occasions that I have not belonged to any political party since 2001, when I was appointed Ambassador to Ireland.

As a diplomat, I felt it was important to represent the whole country, not a party. As a political analysist, I believe strongly in the importance of not being bound by an allegiance to any political party. 

To enjoy the freedom to criticize any political party (as I regularly do also in my columns), I need to be distanced from all of them. However, that is not what was required of me or anyone else during the dying days of Apartheid. 

So, to all those anonymous commentators: No, I am not ashamed of having been part of the Mandela-led ANC during the transition – quite the opposite.  The question I would like to pose to you – assuming that who were old enough in 1994 - is: “Where were you?”

My guess is that if you are honest and don’t suffer from the all too common I-never-supported-Apartheid syndrome, you would have to acknowledge that you lacked the courage to speak up and take a stand for what was right. 

Furthermore, apart from spewing out negativity online and over dinner tables, what are you doing now to put things right in the country? 

Of course, like many of those who served in the ANC during and post the transition, I am heartbroken about the many things that have gone wrong and the state of the country at the moment. No one can deny that the ANC of today is a very different party from the one of Mandela and Chris Hani. 

So, I will continue to criticize their shortcomings - and with as much intellectual rigor as I can muster – but I will do so in my own name and not from the cowardly comfort of anonymity.