A naive view of democracy doomed us to disappointment

Who said democracy was going to be easy? Or - to abuse a popular phrase - a walk in the park? The struggle against apartheid was driven not only by the awfulness of the system, but even more significantly by the beauty and romance of democracy.

It was the beacon on the hill that lured us. Under democracy, life was simply going to be a treat, a doddle or a piece of cake.

And because of the emotional investment and sacrifices made over many years to defeat apartheid, we've tended to harbour exaggerated notions of what democracy can achieve. Two decades later, democracy has not exactly turned out to be the nirvana we were promised.

The anti-apartheid struggle was a worldwide movement (no wonder the ANC won't let go of the word "movement", milking it for all it's worth). All areas of human endeavour were roped into the cause. People fought and many died.

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To paraphrase that clever pig: apartheid bad, democracy good. Too good, in fact, we were made to believe. And because apartheid was too cruel, we thought democracy was going to taste even sweeter.

If apartheid was hell, democracy was going to be heaven.

Indeed, there was almost a religious or spiritual quality to it, almost an act of deliverance. Moving from apartheid to democracy felt like being saved or cleansed of all sins, or like visions of the miraculous crossing of the River Jordan all dressed in pure white, the Promised Land beckoning.

Not only was democracy going to be better, "our people" or "our leaders" too were going to be better.

Not the sadistic, homburg-wearing types who marshalled the forces of apartheid.

Our leaders, to a man (they were almost all men), had sacrificed everything for the struggle. Once in power, they'd be kind, compassionate, generous, committed, upright and work for nothing but the public good.

After all, they came from among us. They had worn our shoes and felt our pain. They too had once been bedraggled and poor. Betrayal was therefore out of the question.

It would be like in the Bible: a land of milk and honey. The masses of our people would sit back and lap it all up and savour this democracy and all its abundant gifts.

Little did we know that, alas, under democracy, charlatans, thieves, looters and scavengers can also be elected president. But how could democracy, our democracy, allow such a thing to happen? Thieves don't only steal but they also have the temerity to lecture us about the wrongfulness of stealing. That, too, democracy has a tendency to make allowances for.

block_quotes_start The world is keeping its distance not only because we're failing to live up to the promise of our birth, but also because being democratic means being left to our own devices block_quotes_end

Is democracy a mirage, tantalising in the distance but ultimately unattainable? Have we been conned?

We haven't been duped. Perhaps we've been a tad overexuberant. We have been disabused of rosy notions. Democracy was never going to be heaven on earth.

Because apartheid was such an unmitigated evil, we tended to ascribe to it every sin and transgression under the sun. Democracy, on the other hand, was the panacea that was going to sweep everything away or wipe the slate clean. We failed to see things in their proper perspective. We became lazy, even to think. Things were either too gloomy, or too rosy.

It didn't seem to occur to us, for instance, that our struggle was not the only international cause célèbre and that many countries were suffering worse calamities such as famine, civil war or genocide, in which tens of thousands of people died.

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I remember a friend on his first visit to the US being so shocked by the sight of homeless people sleeping rough in Central Park, bang in the middle of perhaps the most affluent metropolis on earth. How can the Americans afford to pay for me to visit their country when they can hardly look after their poor, he wondered, loudly and angrily.

My friend had a conscience, but was a bit naïve. The US may be rich, but it too has its problems. Life often doesn't deal us an identical hand, despite the best intentions of those in power to level the playing field.

But we thought we were special: special victims and special villains deserving of special treatment. For a while we got it. The world rallied around the anti-apartheid cause until the scourge was eliminated.

We're a bit sore now that nobody seems to care about us. The world has moved on, its attention drawn to the next trouble spot. We're left to tend to our wound. Apartheid was never a gaping wound, but a festering sore. Such injuries take a while to heal.

The world is keeping its distance not only because we're failing to live up to the promise of our birth, but also because being democratic means being left to our own devices.

Democracy is neither a panacea nor a blank cheque. It is the tool in your hand. We need to use it to fix what's wrong.