EDITORIAL | Who else but SA caps off Women’s Month with 24 hours of violence?

When President Cyril Ramaphosa stood before parliament this week to answer questions from the National Assembly, he had a crucible moment to reflect on his presidency and the state of the nation.

While his mind and ears were filled with concerns about Phala Phala, unemployment, immigration and factionalism, he was quickly reminded of among the most painful scourges plaguing this country: its near-constant thirst for violence.

Right before his eyes was a showy display of defiance by the EFF. Their screams for accountability led them to scuffles all the way out the assembly’s doors. The old trick that impresses less and less with every rerun.

Less than 24 hours later, the cameras were trained on another “street brawl” as members of the imploding Congress of the People (COPE) recreated their favourite scenes from WWE at a press conference in Kempton Park.

Across Gauteng, Operation Dudula members clashed with EFF members and restricted access to health facilities in Tshwane and Johannesburg, based on a cruel game of “guess my nationality”.

A frantic, and violent, 24 hours played out on TV screens for the world to see, not unlike a country where more than 12 in every 100,000 women are victims of femicide each year. It is also unfortunately all too common in a country where violent crime has become our way of life.

For all the outbursts, questionable claims and empty promises that have come out of police minister Bheki Cele’s mouth, he has never been more truthful than when he stood on stage late last year and declared us “a very violent country”.  

Ramaphosa perhaps should have been reflecting on this while fists were flying in the parliamentary chambers, and he would have realised it is a common denominator in so many of his problems.

We are a nation rushing to resolve issues with our fists, even during the dying days of another bloody Women’s Month.

We are entertained by violence. Tales of wars are glorified, and Van Damme, Chuck Norris and Undertaker are our childhood role models.

Our history was written with the blood-soaked pen of oppression and violence. Colonisation and apartheid were enforced with the gun and fist. The only solution we were taught: more violence.

Our brutal history cannot be erased nor reversed in 28 years of freedom. Likewise, our frustrations cannot simply be passed over.

Fighting fire with fire may have attracted the world to our issues pre-democracy and put the spotlight on our demands since, but it has left us a broken nation.

For all its distraction, it leaves a trail of destruction.

The temporary high of power is all too often followed by the painful let-down of lack. It can leave us worse off than before, like those who burnt down JoJo tanks in protest against water shortages.

It leaves us empty and perpetuates more violence.

Besides, it's a tool that grows blunter with every use, so that the shock no longer carries the way it once did.

We cannot pretend to be role models to our children and the rising generation, eradicate racism, or fight inequality when we rush for violence at every turn.

The solution, as idealistic as it sounds, is collaboration. It is the only way for the dying tribe of COPE, for those in red berets, for those frustrated by crime and illegal immigration, and for everyone else in the country.

We sometimes forget the icon we parade our democracy with, Nelson Mandela, was a boxer who was always ready for a fight; but won his best rounds with his mouth and mind, not his knuckles.

The country is on fire, but some of us need to realise we can’t put it out with our fists.