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Lessons from Rwanda
As the defiant insistence continues to sing or chant slogans born during a time of conflict and derogatory, racist and vengeful commentary by self-appointed spokespersons of the right wing spill over into a flood of open hate speech on social media networks and comment strings on articles on the Web, a retired professional security analyst recalls chilling memories from Rwanda.
The ongoing debate that followed the singing of the struggle song "Ayesab’ Amagwala" was fast becoming stale and boring. The repetitiveness of the arguments for and against the singing of the song made even for unexciting television viewing and radio programming.
This changed when the news broke that Eugene Terre’blance was murdered. People responded by speculating that the controversy caused by the song and the defiance of Julius Malema and the ANC Youth League not to be gagged, placed the issue under the spotlight yet again.
Commentators and analysts who argue that it would be impossible to establish without a shadow of a doubt whether this song played a role in the killing of the leader of the AWB or the gruesome killings of other victims of farm attacks, are most probably right. “Scientific proof”, as ANC spokesperson Jackson Mthembu rather clumsily demands, also will be impossible.
The furore of the last few of days; and the debate whether a song or a slogan repeated over and over again subconsciously could affect and influence an individual or a group to commit unthinkable deeds, for me recalled images so vividly depicted in the chilling but brilliant movie Hotel Rwanda, about what actually could happen.
Visiting Rwanda for the first time only a few months before the carnage of the 1994 genocide began, I was completely unaware that the massacre of hundreds of thousands of women, children and men was soon to follow. As an outsider, one hardly could suspect that something terrible would happen.
For the untried eye, there were small signs that everything was not right, particularly at night. When it was getting dark, one could feel the tension even at the little hotel on the hill where we resided. The smiles on the faces of the people working at the hotel became less open and more nervous and we were told it was too dangerous to venture outside the hotel compound. But still, no indication to the visitor that something very serious was amiss.
It was only one morning at breakfast a couple of months later, watching CNN, when the first terrible images of the Rwanda genocide flashed across the screen that the reality of it all struck home. To this day, whenever I think of Rwanda, it reminds me of the fragility of mankind and the relations between people.
What, you may ask, has this little trip down memory lane to do with present-day South Africa?
In the aftermath of the Rwanda genocide and the research that went into establishing the causes of one of the most hideous crimes in recent years in Africa, two factors tower above the rest: intolerance and the repetitive use of derogatory slogans and songs.
For months on end, day in and day out, Hutu radio stations in Rwanda incited hate speech at the Tutsi minority – referring to them as "cockroaches" that should be crushed and killed.
In a manner that appears all too familiar, the Rwandan government at the time also attempted half-heartedly and without much conviction to muzzle the hate speech and incitement, but without much success. The end result of the failure to act decisively and firmly led to an incident that shook and disgusted the world to its core.
There is no question that in Rwanda, the repetitive use of derogatory slogans and citations played a major role in fermenting the carnage that followed.
I know and admit that what led to the Rwandan genocide is a highly complicated issue, and call me naïve and inept to understand truly the nuances of continuing to sing freedom songs and shouting slogans which can do little but polarise people instead of bringing them closer together.
But, when I listen to or read about the debate and ponder where it may lead eventually, I sometimes stop to wonder what happened to the friendly Tutsi and Hutu waiters who served our table in that small hotel on the hill overlooking Kigali.
Come on Mr. President its now up to you!