Siyabonga Hadebe | Sunday, 8. June 2024
Today, South Africa finds itself entangled in ‘an art of forgetting’, where both black and white people engage in deliberate amnesia or selective memory, becoming complicit in ignoring or downplaying certain aspects and anomalies of their history. Although these two groups engage in a similar memory stunt, their motivations, while closely related, differ significantly. This article explores the art of forgetting as a social control and exclusion tool, breeding heroes and villains.
At the core of this discussion is the alarming rise of psychological manipulation, commonly known as gaslighting, where historical abusers, predominantly white individuals or groups, seek to sow seeds of doubt in their victims, primarily black individuals or communities. This manipulation tactic aims to instil doubt in the victims’ perceptions, memories and sanity, ultimately leading them to blame themselves for the trauma inflicted upon them during the eras of apartheid and colonialism.
Using their advantageous position of power and influence, white individuals manipulate mainstream media and other communication channels to aggressively propagate narratives that invalidate the experiences of black individuals. The goal is to attain a form of manufactured consent, where blacks unconditionally accept their suffering as a natural condition for which whites cannot be blamed. By convincing them that they are overreacting, imagining things, or deserving of mistreatment, these manipulators perpetuate a cycle of self-blame and psychological distress among the black population.
This article sheds light on the ongoing practice of historical revisionism and denialism, as exemplified in Piet Croucamp’s article ‘Treachery courses through Zuma’s veins’ (Vryeweekblad, 07 June 2024). Published suspiciously in English on an Afrikaans website, Croucamp’s exploration of betrayal within Jacob Zuma’s family history and its repercussions on South African politics poignantly illustrates the art of forgetting and selective memory in action. In his analysis, Croucamp deceivingly employs Aubrey Matshiqi’s analogy of ‘angels with horns and devils with halos’, revealing how historical narratives can be distorted to serve specific agendas.
By selectively remembering or conveniently forgetting certain aspects of history, individuals like Piet Croucamp and his ilk deliberately perpetuate false narratives that serve to absolve perpetrators of their guilt and shift blame onto the victims. This article challenges such revisionist tendencies and fosters a more honest and inclusive understanding of South Africa’s complex past. It also seeks to confront a one-sided version of the Eurocentric history of South Africa and the region, which conceals atrocities committed against Africans in the brutal conquest pioneered by Croucamp’s ancestors.
- The psychological manipulation tactic of creating witches and sell-outs
In the black community, two terms are often considered more damaging than even the term “heathen” in Christian texts: ‘witch’ and ‘snitch’ (or sell-out). Historically, these labels carried a profound social stigma and could have severe consequences. Even to this day, being called a witch can result in social ostracism, accusations of malevolent practices and sometimes even violence.
On the other hand, labelling people as sell-outs primarily originates from the struggle against apartheid, during which collaborators with authorities were ostracised and subjected to harsh treatment, sometimes even facing death as punishment. Although not as prevalent as in the past, being identified as a snitch still imposes a psychological burden on the accused while providing a sense of satisfaction for the accuser. A snitch faces alienation and hostility within the community, as the label implies betrayal and cooperation with the enemy, breaching communal solidarity and trust.
Zingisa Mavuso proposes what he calls “the battle against forgetting” as an antonym for the art of forgetting. Mavuso often cites intriguing examples that seek to diffuse the binary lens when interpreting history. Focusing on Maqoma’s life in the mid-1800s, he challenges the black-and-white categorisation often adopted by so-called black radicals, questioning the notion of a sellout as a momentary act or a continuous state. Mavuso reflects on a photograph depicting Maqoma in peaceful times, where he socialised with English generals, raising questions about the ambiguity of such relationships and the dangers of labelling individuals without considering the nuanced context of their actions.
Mavuso also argues that during their most fervent political careers, Steve Biko openly fraternised with the Woods family, and Robert Sobukhwe did the same with the Pogrund family. However, the Woods and Pogrund families were never considered radical whites deserving of the attention of Biko and Sobukhwe. Biko was also involved with the National Union of South African Students (NUSAS), an organisation comprised of white moderates. Despite this, the combination of Biko and Sobukhwe has the potential to profoundly influence South Africa’s political consciousness and rectitude. They were not static figures but rather dynamic, responding to life as it unfolded.
Relying on the publication of Jacob Dlamini’s Askari, Croucamp’s narrative centred around Zuma and his Nxamalala ancestors’ collusion with the British against the Zulu king Cetshwayo in 1879 reflects an old apartheid tactic of sowing divisions in African communities known as ‘divide and rule’. By highlighting this biased historical betrayal, he invariably places a tyre around Zuma’s neck for him to be burned alive. Croucamp implicitly suggests that Zuma’s alleged collusion with the Gupta family during his presidency warrants harsh punishment and mob justice.
Croucamp’s narrative perpetuates a cycle of blame and retribution, using historical betrayals and collaborations to justify harsh judgment and punishment in the present. He nonetheless says nothing about his ancestors’ role in manufacturing wars, conflict and angst against natives at the time. If askarism is a transaction, Croucamp’s ancestors were the sellers, and the Nxamalalas were the buyers.
- Dangers of historical revisionism occurring outside of relevant contexts
The danger of historical revisionism occurring outside of relevant contexts includes the distortion or erasure of significant events, leading to a skewed interpretation and understanding of history. When historical facts are manipulated or misrepresented, it can perpetuate false narratives, justify past atrocities and even incite conflict. This is exactly what Croucamp’s article desperately wants to achieve by revising South Africa’s history and those of other people, including Zuma’s ancestors, without considering its full impact on all communities downplays the suffering of marginalised groups and impedes efforts towards justice and healing.
A fact that cannot be disputed is that blacks were deeply involved in both sides of colonial wars and the struggle for liberation all over Africa. Due to existing societal divisions, some collaborated with colonial powers for economic gain or served as soldiers, administrators or informants. Others actively resisted colonial rule, forming liberation movements, engaging in armed struggle and mobilising civilian support. However, the heroes versus villains binary prevents a proper interrogation of why Africans were involved in World War II or in colonial wars in South Africa, including the two Anglo-Boer wars, the Xhosa wars and the British-Zulu war in 1879.
During World War II, a significant number of Africans were conscripted or enlisted into the armies of their colonial rulers.These soldiers often found themselves fighting in battles far from home, serving powers that had subjugated their own people. A tragic incident highlighting this reality was the sinking of the SS Mendi, resulting in the loss of hundreds of primarily black men who served in the British army. This event, along with the widespread conscription of Africans during the war, serves as a stark reminder of the complexities and contradictions of colonialism, where colonised people were sometimes compelled to participate in wars that served the interests of their oppressors.
During the Anglo-Boer Wars, black Africans were involved in various capacities on both sides of the conflict. For both the Boers and the British, they primarily served as labourers, wagon drivers, and servants. Some Africans also acted as combatants, scouts and messengers (agterryers). Similarly, in the 1879 British-Zulu War and other conflicts, Africans were often caught between competing interests, with some aligning with colonial powers for protection or personal gain while others actively resisted. Tragically, black Africans also suffered immensely during these wars, facing displacement, internment in concentration camps and even death.
Therefore, it is strangely bizarre that a white man in Croucamp fails to interpret the events of the time in their rightful context and decides to show unbridled bias. Firstly, he deliberately omits the role white invaders played in creating divisions, pain and desperation among many Africans. For example, the 1879 British-Zulu War manifested deep divisions within the Zulu kingdom that pitted the uSuthu faction (loyal to King Cetshwayo) against the Mandlakazi faction (led by Chief Zibhebhu), which fought on the British side. Therefore, it is concerning that Croucamp places a disproportionate emphasis on the Nxamalala alone and ignores all other facts.
It is crucial to acknowledge the enduring divisions and conflicts within African societies that were instigated and fueled by European colonialism. For example, Sudan and the DRC are currently embroiled in seemingly unending brutal conflicts driven by European interests that pit Africans against each other. By focusing solely on the actions of Zuma’s people, the Nxamalala, and ignoring the broader context of colonial interference, Croucamp’s interpretation risks perpetuating a one-sided narrative that overlooks the complexities of African agency and resistance.
In the complex landscape of South African conflicts, Africans were often caught between competing interests. Some aligned with colonial powers for protection or personal gain while others actively courageously resisted colonial oppression, driven by a yearning for freedom and self-determination. This does not mean certain contradictions in their approaches were not present. For this reason, Mavuso fervently cautions against those advocating rigid boundaries, suggesting that breaking walls may be warranted while upholding principles. The importance of battling against forgetting means that past events must be embraced with their contradictions and peculiarities.
In a country grappling with the ‘art of forgetting’, this critique of Croucamp’s historical manipulation underscores the urgent need for a truthful engagement with our past. Croucamp’s selective memory and revisionist tendencies distort history and perpetuate harmful narratives that serve contemporary agendas, namely demonising victims of white oppression and treachery. Simplistic binaries of heroes and villains fail to capture the complexities of African involvement in colonial wars and liberation struggles. It is unfortunate that those suffering from colonial and apartheid triumphalism feel they can set a moral compass instead of atoning for their historical wrongs and advocating for reparations.
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