I look at some of the young people in my circle of friends, family and acquaintances — and the children of friends — and I am always pleasantly surprised, after shaking my head in disbelief at their levels of optimism and the positive attitude they have towards the future. This bodes well for South Africa. Most people my age, even the overtly apolitical types, are mired in various combinations of misery, angst and pessimism, fear and loathing. Just how one explains the optimism among young people requires a wilful suspension of disbelief, but ultimately, it requires taking turns with Cassandra and Dr Pangloss on the dance floor.
Pessimism is easier to understand. Pessimism is a product of memory. Memories develop, take shape and influence many of our responses and actions. Young people have shallow reserves of memory and have to rely on written or oral representations of the past.
While memory itself is untrustworthy, written and oral history, too, are shaped by a range of biases, and if it is true that the victors write history, then South Africa’s future is being plotted by African nationalists (a unique but no less toxic iteration of the ethnonationalism that is sweeping the world) and creeping fascism, also a feature of the early 21st century.
In both cases, history is shaved down to a straight and narrow twig to force a narrative that conceals the crooked timber of post-apartheid South African society. This forces our gaze from the way that the most horrific ideas and patterns of the past are shaping the social and environmental disasters and convulsions of the present, and especially the way that resentment and the politics of revenge are being corralled by the African nationalists and the fascists.
Whether we are optimistic or pessimistic about the future of South Africa, we can probably agree that it is the thinking element of our beings that makes us look back or remember things past, and which, in turn, shapes our outlook on life. It’s not unreasonable to reach the conclusion that many people in middle to old age tend to be pessimistic about the state and society. This is, of course, a generalisation, and unscientific, to be sure.
Unscientifically stated (I speak for myself, knowing full well that generalising from personal experience is never a good thing), many South Africans under the age of 40, more so those under 30, seem to be a lot more optimistic about the country. They need to be praised, protected and allowed to project their positivism across society.
Right now we have to believe that this is not just youthful optimism and that they will know the truth that we, the older, more jaded and pessimistic among us, believe to be universal and eternally valid. How foolish we are, Friedrich Engels once said, to believe that the ideas we have in our youth remain eternally valid.
They call me ‘Uncle’
There is a group of people in the Eastern Cape, young people, whom I find to be exceptionally hopeful, enthusiastic and just generally pleasant. They are dedicated, hardworking, intellectually honest and ethical, and it’s a pleasure to be in their company. When Kholsosha or her brother Thabo call me “Uncle Issy” I feel great pride. The news that Olwam and his partner are expecting a child is uplifting. Sesethu constantly glows with confidence and smarts. Two young advocates, Thanduxolo and Nathi, have remained committed to justice and are building careers in law. Lithemba is a wealth of wisdom, and my go-to person for all things sport-related; he’s a damn smart person! Akhona is like a son. I will follow the careers and intellectual endeavours of people like Welcome and Bomikazi with great interest.
Elsewhere, Rabia is a vibrant and exceptional woman. Sara is the apple of my eye; her intellectual and creative endeavours never cease to impress. She has one great flaw; she’s vegan (insert winking-smiley emoji). I haven’t met Terry-Ann, but she has an exceptional mind and an outlook on life that should be a lesson to us all.
I have intentionally withheld their last names. We live in a country where fights start over the thickness of a slice of bread… But these people, among so many others, provide hope and inspiration that can set the country on a more progressive path towards a cohesive society with high levels of trust among citizens.
In a country where the police have abandoned the principles of service, where public goods and services are sources of rent-seeking and government is for politicians and their friends, and not for the publicum, it is to these young people (I have no doubt there are many more than I have named) that we should look for a better future.
We should, of course, not be fooled by the ones who have been fawned over, and granted privileges only because of their privileges… These are young spoiled brats who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, to fathers who have become wealthy by dubious means, and by dint of their fortunes have slipped into the elite — these “inheritors”, who have embedded privileges, should not be allowed to claim any moral high ground. I think particularly here of those who serve as the thinking and organising intellectuals, the purveyors of fascist consciousness, who sustain and change the thinking of the masses of unemployed, poor and disaffected people.
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The young people I refer to, above, are different from the children of millionaires whose privilege is evident in its crudest forms through connections, the benefit of attending elite educational institutions and easy access to privileged professional roles as a type of cultural heritage and entitlement they access while nobody is looking. Their optimism has been bought and paid for.
In their outstanding work on education, Jean-Claude Passeron and Pierre Bourdieu confirmed that the children of professionals (like lawyers or attorneys) have an exceptionally high chance (between 70 and 80%) of entry to the best educational systems and of passing through them successfully. By contrast, the children of working-class parents are often relegated to peripheral education systems and disciplines.
And so, when I think about the young people in whom I see so much hope, I understand the great odds they faced and overcame. The optimism among those who call me “Uncle” (okay, some of them call me “Prof” or “Doc,” but they are sick and twisted) is evident in their motivations and the efforts they make to improve the lives of people other than themselves. One of these young people turned down a senior position because: “I have yet to learn my craft.”
This is in stark contrast to the pessimists (and nihilists) among us. We tend to be less motivated and more inclined to remain distant and aloof in our day-to-day engagements. We are those who tend to see any and all endeavours for a better future as futile.
The young people I refer to seem to have arrived, brimming with confidence, in Candide’s world where everything goes well, everything has turned out right, and it is the best of all possible worlds. We need to harness all that hope and optimism. DM