Pikoli the Conscience in Our Heart of Darkness |
Publication |
Sunday Independent |
Date | 2009-02-08 |
Reporter | James Myburgh |
Web Link |
What does it take to remain good in an increasingly corrupt society?
In Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, Kurtz is described as the ultimate product
of Western civilisation. All Europe "contributed to the making" of him, and he
went out to the Congo with the intention of exerting "a power for good
practically unbounded". Yet by the time Marlow reaches him, the "powers of
darkness" had "claimed him for their own… He had taken a high seat amongst
the devils of the land - I mean,
literally".
Marlow states: "You can't understand. How could you? - with solid pavement under
your feet, surrounded by kind neighbours ready to cheer you or fall on you,
stepping delicately between the butcher and the policeman, in the holy terror of
scandal and gallows and lunatic asylums - how can you imagine what particular
region of the first ages a man's untrammelled feet may take him into by way of
solitude - utter solitude without a policeman - utter silence, where no warning
voice of a kind neighbour can be heard whispering of public opinion? These
little things make all the great difference. When they are gone you must fall
back upon your own innate strength, upon your own capacity for faithfulness."
Conrad's book is commonly used to try to understand the pathologies of Africa
and imperialism. But it seems to me that this passage provides an equally
profound insight into the descent of Europe into the moral abyss following
Hitler's rise to power in 1933.
There was a moment in March of that year in which opposition to the Nazi
takeover simply collapsed. From here onwards, a kind of moral inversion
occurred. The Nazis proceeded to subvert those things that keep ordinary people
decent and honest - the concern at what a neighbour might say, consciousness of
the watching policeman, the fear of the gallows - and direct them towards
morally perverted ends. Over the next 12 years, the forces of darkness would
progressively claim Germany and Europe for their own.
As Conrad notes, and the German example illustrates, where the restraining
forces of the law and public opinion are absent, or completely twisted,
there is really no limit to the evil that man can
commit. Conversely, in most modern Western societies, the constraints are
such that most people are prevented from doing much harm to others. In such a
society, the only question the individual need ask is: "Is this permissible?" It
is also the better qualities of individuals which are generally honoured and
rewarded - and the worst which are shamed and punished.
South Africa is a far more morally treacherous
place.
As our past history shows, majority opinion is not always a dependable
guide to moral conduct. Mixed marriages were once almost universally regarded -
at least by white opinion - as "an evil". Not so long ago the consensus in the
mainstream English-language press was in favour of cadre deployment and the
ANC's policy of "quiet diplomacy" towards Mugabe. Even today, the principle of
"demographic representivity" goes largely unquestioned.
Thankfully, our newspapers are more pluralistic and critical than they used to
be, and more intolerant of corruption within our ruling class. But this does not
change the fact that our recent democratic reopening owes as much to the
ambitions of bad men counteracting each other
- or "nail knocking out nail" - as it does to good thumping evil.
There is also a strong drift in our society
towards corruption. One sign of this is
the fading power of the law. It seems that the criminal justice system is
becoming so weakened that anyone stupid or arrogant enough to get caught can
still escape real punishment provided they have the money to pay off the right
policeman, or, at a grander level, employ lawyers
to pursue a strategy of endless appeals.
The Scorpions are currently being dismantled because the powerful and the
corrupt have finally had enough of living in holy terror of investigation,
exposure and prosecution. Another is the way in which the morally flexible are
able to progress rapidly onwards and upwards, whereas
the good often find themselves knocked back.
It is too often the businessmen who are willing to enter into mutually
beneficial relationships with politicians who win the big government contracts
and tenders.
Yet, for all this, one of the redeeming qualities of South African society is
that it has thrown up individuals willing to take a stand against the prevailing
power and opinion. The current predicament of Vusi Pikoli illustrates all that
is good and bad about our country. Here is an individual who remained faithful
to his constitutional obligations to prosecute without fear and favour, even
though it cost him his position.
Such stubbornness has made him as threatening to the new ANC leadership as it
did to the old, and they are hastening to get rid of him for good. ANC MPs, many
of whom were shocked by his initial suspension, are now preparing to make his
removal permanent. His successor will no doubt be
someone who is sufficiently malleable, incompetent or corrupt, to be relied upon
not to prosecute wrongdoing by senior officials.
So where does this leave the rest of us? In a society such as ours, it is
dangerous to subcontract out our moral choices to our rulers or majority
opinion. The key question has to be not whether something is allowable, or in
one's self-interest, or will be applauded - but whether it is the right thing to
do.
But it is no easy thing to avoid compromising with - or escape being compromised
by - the more malign forces in this society. Where we fall down, and most of us
will at some point or another, the choice is between going completely under or
trying to pick ourselves up.
In these circumstances, sometimes we have to rely on the continued faith of
others, in ourselves. "The earth for us is a place to live in," Marlow states,
"where we must put up with sights, with sounds, with smells too, by Jove! -
breathe dead hippo, so to speak, and not be contaminated. And there, don't you
see? your strength comes in, the faith in your ability for the digging of
unostentatious holes to bury the stuff in - your power of devotion, not to
yourself, but to an obscure, back-breaking business."
James Myburgh is the editor of Politicsweb.co.za
With acknowledgements to
James Myburgh and Sunday Independent.