It is ironic — or perhaps merely unfortunate — that the sideshow involving Thabo Mbeki’s attendance at the ANC’s NEC meeting this week calls to mind the era of HIV/Aids denialism over which the former president presided (and for which he has never adequately apologised, even though his non-action cost the lives of an estimated 330,000 people who might have survived if provided with antiretroviral treatment).
Denialism is again the order of the day, this time with regard to Covid-19. This time, however, it is not the government (thank heavens) that is ignoring life-saving opportunities while trying to find its own localised solution to a global pandemic. It is the citizens of the country, some of whom are gadding about on post-matric Rage trips, while thousands of others throw caution to the wind as they spread their summery wings along with their deadly germs.
“Germ” is an interesting word, but let’s deny its existence for a moment and get back to denialism and its parent verb, deny, which has as many meanings as there are vote recounts in the US. In both cases, all turn out to mean pretty much the same thing.
Deny was born in the early 1300s, imported into English from the Latin denegare (to reject or refuse). Biblical scholars will recall Peter’s denial of Jesus (despite a persistent myth it is apparently not true that Jesus called Peter over to tell him he could see his house from the cross). That denial — meaning to disown someone — is not dissimilar to the second meaning: to refute an accusation or a belief.
Sometimes those who dig their heels into this second type of denial are given other names. Round-earth deniers are called flat-earthers. Evolution deniers are called creationists. Holocaust deniers are just called Holocaust deniers because they aren’t offering any alternative “reality”, and Covid deniers, in the same vein, are called idiots. Or at least they should be, if you ask me.
There is, however, a difference between pretending and being in denial.
The psychological fraternity adopted denial for a more prescriptive purpose. To be in denial (my mother would pipe up that this is a river in Egypt but I refuse to make that joke here) means to purge your mind of whatever might cause you guilt, pain or discomfort. There are situations when people find themselves faced with unspeakable horror, where denial of reality is perhaps an underrated coping mechanism, but on the quotidian plane of semi-normality on which most of us live, denial is merely a means of not facing up to things we are too weak or lazy or cowardly to countenance.
In 1956, The Platters had a hit single called The Great Pretender (later covered by the almost equally great Freddie Mercury). The song, as many have since pointed out, was essentially about being in denial. The lyrics go like this:
Oh yes I’m the great pretender (ooh ooh)
Pretending I’m doing well (ooh ooh)
My need is such I pretend too much
I’m lonely but no one can tell
Oh yes I’m the great pretender (ooh ooh)
Adrift in a world of my own (ooh ooh)
I play the game but to my real shame
You’ve left me to dream all alone
There is, however, a difference between pretending and being in denial. When we pretend, we are still aware of that which we are pretending to be unaware of. When you are in denial, on the other hand, you have convinced yourself that the thing you do not want to face does not actually even exist.
As an example, I know, as I write, that there is not an elephant in my room. I did think there was one hovering behind me for a second, but then I realised my mistake: Jimmy the boycat really needs to go on diet.
Had this been a real elephant that had somehow wandered in while the cats were asleep, I would probably say the same thing, because it just does not fit in with my rational worldview that an elephant should be in my room. I would probably enter a psychological state of deep denial and refuse to acknowledge its existence even if it stepped on me and I died a slow lingering death under its foot.
This is not unlike Covid-denialism. A global pandemic does not fit in with how we expect the world to behave (as Cardinal Python once said: “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition”). But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Ignoring it or denying it will not make it go away.
No one can deny that after a year from hell — annus horribilis, if you want to get Latin and fancy — we are all gatvol. (There is no adequate English substitute for this word — “we’ve had it up to here” is just not visceral enough.)
But no matter how weary, lonely, deprived, afraid and frustrated we might be, let us not forget how the Aids scourge was stemmed — first by acknowledging its existence; second by setting aside patriotism and partisanship and combining all the efforts of the world’s best scientists in seeking to deliver the most effective treatment; and third by loudly, constantly and unceasingly spreading the message that caution and protection are paramount: these are and must always remain the watchwords of every human being who is not a total psychopath.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.