South Africa’s obscene opulence amid crushing poverty: A call for moral calibration

“I gazed around myself, and my soul was wounded by human suffering. I then looked inside myself and saw that man’s troubles come from man himself,” wrote Alexander Radishchev, widely regarded as Russia's first political writer. In a similar vein, Walt Kelly quipped: “We have met the enemy and He Is Us.”

By Vusi Shongwe

THIS sentiment resonates deeply in South Africa, where lavish State of the Nation and Provincial Addresses starkly contrast with the realities of widespread poverty, demanding a recalibration of priorities towards genuine poverty alleviation and a modesty befitting this fundamental socioeconomic agenda.

Some philosophers like to play an intellectual version of Russian roulette. That explains why I have taken the risk of shooting myself in the head by generating controversy rather than consensus. I want to generate controversy rather than consensus because, like Ian Mitroff and his colleagues in their article, Assumptional Analysis: A Methodology for Strategic Problem Solving, I fervently believe that “in our culture we are unconsciously trained for compromise or even the avoidance of conflict”.

We, therefore, run the risk of reaching compromise and consensus “too soon and for the wrong reasons”; for example, because of our inability to tolerate conflict and controversy. Mitroff and his colleagues developed a technique called “assumptional analysis”.

Assumptional analysis is simply a technology for strategic problem-solving. The basic idea is to proceed to compromise and consensus without avoiding conflict and controversy. Assumptional analysis, therefore, starts with a stakeholder analysis of the problem that has to be solved. It proceeds to an identification of the assumptions that drive the arguments and the interests of the stakeholders.

And it concludes with an attempt to rank-order, negotiate and, finally, accept or reject the assumptions that govern the way in which different stakeholders perceive the problem that has to be solved.

Equally, Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman, in his book In Search of Politics, cites the philosopher Cornelius Castoriadis as observing: “The problem with our civilisation is that it has stopped questioning itself. No society which forgets the art of asking questions or allows this art to fall into disuse can count on finding answers to the problems that beset it—certainly not before it is too late and the answers, however correct, have become irrelevant.”

The Czech statesman, author, poet, playwright, and former dissident, Vaclav Havel, wrote the following profound words: “They say a nation has the politicians it deserves. In some sense, that it true. Politicians are truly a mirror of society and a kind of embodiment of its potential. At the same time, paradoxically, the opposite is also true. Society is a mirror of its politicians. It is largely up to the politicians which social forces they choose to liberate and which they choose to suppress, whether they choose to rely on the good in each citizen, or the bad.”

One is still reeling in disbelief of the morally vulgar opulence and lack of conscience and requisite modesty expectant of those hosting and justifying the lavish State of the Nation and Provinces Addresses in the face of conspicuous grinding poverty.

Two incidents come to mind. First, villagers in the Eastern Cape who cross a river in a locked drum, risking their lives in the process. They say they have been forced to resort to the extreme measure because the government has forgotten about them. At first one thought was watching the MacGyver, a contemporary hero and role model who applies scientific knowledge to ordinary items to create a means of escape for himself and others from impending doom, but, when a disabled man was locked into the drum to be ingeniously transported to the other side of the river, one’s eyes immediately welled up with tears.

Second, it is the incident that occured two years ago when the motorcade of the Police Minister, Deputy Police Minister, Premier of Mpumalanga, and provincial Secretary of the ANC in Mpumalanga had to wait for the gravel road to be fixed before it could pass on its way to visit the families of the three murdered ANC members. Now one understands the remark made by Africa’s foremost political scientist and historian, the late Professor Ali Mazrui, to the effect that: “The West has been to the moon many times, while Africa is still battling to get to the village, and the village gets receding because of potholes.”

It would be foolhardy even to dream of getting to the moon when our politicians struggle to get to the houses of those who elected them. It would further be foolhardy to wish to go to the moon when our politicians cannot even build a makeshift bridge for the villagers to get to a town replete with potholes.

There is a palpable feeling of hopelessness, anxiety, disease of fear and uncertainty that is engulfing our country. One of the US’s foremost psychologists, Rollo May, wrote that the chief problem of people in the middle decade of the 20th century is emptiness. In May’s view, the middle of the 20th century was more anxiety-ridden than any period since the breakdown of the Middle Ages. Poignantly, what May postulated is what some South Africans are currently experiencing.

The focus, it seems, has shifted from service delivery to self-delivery, with politicians prioritising designer clothing over the needs of the impoverished. Looking at the stylishly designed clothes our politicians were unblushingly wearing during Sona and Sopa, which take months to make, one is left with the feeling that what is uppermost in the minds of our politicians is not service delivery but self-delivery. It is both poignant and disappointing that our politicians’ behaviour prefers careless opulence in the face of oceans of poverty.

I am sure some politicians even dream many times of wearing their expensive designer clothes. Even those who would have been off sick suddenly find the strength to attend either Sona or Sopa to make sure they are seen wearing their months-to-make expensive designer clothes. It’s a joke to say the least.

The glitz and glamour associated with the Sona and Sopa are not only an insult but a betrayal to the aspirations of the downtrodden, some of them are yet to drink clean water more than thirty years in our democracy.

This ostentatious display insults those lacking basic necessities like clean water. In the eyes of the poor, the obscene opulence which is ostentatiously displayed by our politicians is perhaps best described by the great Russian philosopher and author Leo Tolstoy’s popular verse: “I sit on a man’s back, choking him and making him carry me, and yet assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by all possible means—except by getting off his back.”

In all fairness, considerate and well-meaning politicians would have recommended that the President address the nation just like he did during the Covid-19 pandemic. Address the nation in his office in a dignified and empathetic demeanour that is befitting the plight of the majority of citizens who are suffering socioeconomically. All that the president would have needed were, obviously, cameras and a bottle of water. That’s right! Such a move would have sent a strong and reassuring morally astute message to the nation.

The reported eight million rands would have been used the following day to attend to busted water pipes in a number of locations. If this is not thinking out of the box, or innovative thinking, or common sense, then one’s education was interrupted by his schooling. Our politicians’ unblushing arrogance and the anomie of wealth need to be nipped in the bud if we are serious about coming out from the country’s dilapidating public infrastructure mess in which we have enmeshed ourselves.

There is a deep and disturbing psychological trauma our country is going through. There is also a feeling of hopelessness and uncertainty that has become pervasive. While stress is a major issue, the deeper issue we face as a nation is individual psychological integrity.

One gets a sense of what is happening to the inner lives of some people living in abject poverty from the Roman poet, Lucretius, who summed up the temper of our times when he wrote of “aching hearts in every home, racked incessantly by pangs the mind (was) is powerless to assuage”. People are tired and yet feel helpless about corruption and some unscrupulous public representatives and public service workers. The causes for this situation are manifold. These are corruption, unemployment, poverty, and crime.

There are anxieties that, within the sea of prosperity of the Sona project, islands of poverty endure. South Africa is not different from other countries whose social policies are driven by concerns and the concomitant desire to help those deemed to be “excluded” from affluence.

This reminds one of the 1990 publication of US social policy analyst Charles Murray’s ground-breaking work, The Emerging British Underclass. Murray argued that in the UK—as had already happened in the US—a distinct class of people was emerging who live lives of relative poverty, worklessness and frequently lawlessness largely outside the norms and values of mainstream society. Many of their parents had lived similar lives, and unless change could be effected, their children’s lives would follow the same trajectory.

Murray argued an underclass was emerging, defined not by income or degree of poverty, but by type of poverty; the underclass was trapped in poverty by a culture of dependence on state support and rejection of traditional norms of work and self-reliance that eroded the motivation to invest in the future or change for the better. To a large extent, Murray’s views resonate with the South Africa’s conditions of the poor.

It is time for some unscrupulous politicians and government officials to acknowledge and stop their complicity in perpetuating poverty. It is time to pressure the government to undertake “an aggressive, uncompromising antipoverty agenda”. Understandably, the path to achieving these changes isn’t always clear, but it is worth pursuing it. Credit to the South African government.

Billions are spent for the welfare of the poor. There is, however, a strong case that the welfare state entrenches rather than alleviates poverty and, as such, harms rather than helps the poor. The question must be asked, then, why and how does the welfare state persist in its present form with apparently little political impetus for significant reform? The answer probably lies in two factors.

Firstly, as posited by John Meadowcroft in his editorial piece, Poverty Amidst Affluence, there are powerful vested interests who benefit from the welfare state. The most obvious of these interests are the employees of the organisations who deliver welfare services and who stand to lose out from any wholesale reform.

These are often articulate, educated people who can put their case in public and are often backed by strong public sector trade unions. Perhaps paradoxically, the second vested interest that benefit from the status quo is the affluent. As cited by Meadowcroft, Goodin and Le Grand noted many decades ago that “the non-poor” very often play a key role in determining the size and scope of the welfare state and they very often do this “with an eye to their direct benefit”.

The affluent are very often beneficiaries of the welfare state as they receive universal benefits and are equipped to navigate their way around the large state bureaucracies to claim assistance from a wide range of government programmes.

Secondly, in their article Mises, Bastiat, Public Opinion and Public Choice B Caplan and E Stringham maintain that it is probably an error to attribute any government policy purely to the activities of vested interests. While the power of vested interests may be important, it is probably also the case that most government policies command widespread public support; if examined on a case-by-case basis, there are, in fact, very few government policies that are not widely supported by the public.

Hence, the welfare state has persisted because most people believe it is a good thing that helps the poor, and it is feared that radical reform might jeopardise this assistance. One agrees with many scholars that if poverty amidst affluence is to be eradicated, a rethinking of the role and nature of the welfare state is probably a prerequisite.

We need leaders and government officials with integrity. Max De Pree, who is the author of The Art of Leadership and Leadership Jazz, defines integrity as “a fine sense of one’s obligations.” He goes on to characterise integrity as the difference between gesture and commitment.

The good thing about acting with integrity is that one can present a consistent face to all people because one’s conscience is clear. Cadet Colonel Brett Strand once said: “The world needs more men who do not have a price at which they can be bought, who do not borrow from integrity to pay for expediency, whose handshake is an ironclad contract, who are not afraid of risks.”

One wishes that our leaders could heed and learn from the wise counsel of the US President Abraham Lincoln’s annual message to Congress on December 1, 1862. Facing a stormy present as we currently do, fuelled by corruption and factionalism, Abraham Lincoln said: “The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion.”

* Dr Vusi Shongwe works in the Department of Arts and Culture in KwaZulu-Natal and writes in his personal capacity.

** The views expressed here do not reflect those of the Sunday Independent, Independent Media or IOL.