Desmond Tutu, Our Generation’s Moral Conscience – By GEORGE BRAINE
The passing of Archbishop Tutu takes my mind back to 2008, when he, as the Chair of The Elders – a group of “independent global leaders working together for peace and human rights” – found fault with the Sri Lankan government for killing of civilians. Subsequently, an Opinion piece appeared in a local newspaper, criticizing Rev. Tutu. According to the writer, “fighting a terrorist group is violence” for Rev. Tutu. Further, Tutu had not spoken a word against Zimbabwe’s human rights violations, nor against the Western invasion of Iraq.
In my response, I stated that these outrageous statements regarding Rev. Tutu made me cringe. I further stated that, in a Sri Lanka that was becoming increasingly self-centered, where freedom of information is severely curtailed, where journalists critical of the government are often assaulted or killed, we need to maintain at least a semblance of right from wrong. We need, at least occasionally, to be open-minded and self-critical. We need to speak-up.
In my response, I presented the following facts. Rev. Tutu was a social and political activist who rose to fame during the 1980s as a non-violent opponent of Apartheid. At the time of my writing, he was primate of the Anglican Church of Southern Africa. He had received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984 [when it meant something],the Albert Schweitzer Prize for Humanitarianism, and, up to that year, more than 40 honorary doctorates (yet does not use the prefix Dr.). In February 2007, he was awarded the Gandhi Peace Prize by the President of India. Tutu was widely regarded as “South Africa’s moral conscience”.
I reminded my readers that, as for Zimbabwe, Rev. Tutu has been critical of the human rights abuses there, as well as the South African government’s failed policy of quiet diplomacy towards Zimbabwe. He had called Robert Mugabe, the autocratic, murderous leader of Zimbabwe, “a cartoon figure of an archetypal African dictator”. To quote Rev. Tutu further, “We Africans should hang our heads in shame. How can what is happening in Zimbabwe elicit hardly a word of concern let alone condemnation from us leaders of Africa? Do we really care about human rights, do we care that people of flesh and blood, fellow Africans, are being treated like rubbish?”
I went onto state that Rev. Tutu has been equally outspoken about the invasion of Iraq. In January 2003, he had attacked British Prime Minister Blair’s support of President Bush on Iraq. Rev. Tutu asked why Iraq was being singled out when Europe, India and Pakistan also had weapons of mass destruction. According to Rev. Tutu, “Many, many of us are deeply saddened to see a great country such as the United States aided and abetted extraordinarily by Britain”. Rev. Tutu has also been a vociferous critic of the Guantanamo Bay detentions.
Later in 2008, I travelled to Cape Town to attend an academic conference. The government was in the hands of the African National Congress (ANC), and the leadership was (and remains) Black. They appeared to be highly corrupt. In 2004, Rev. Tutu had accused President Thabo Mbeki, who had succeeded Nelson Mandela as President, of enriching a tiny elite while “many, too many, of our people live in grueling, demeaning, dehumanizing poverty.” The utterly incompetent Mbeki’s term was ending, and Jacob Zuma was next in line for President. Zuma had been accused of rape and embezzlement of $3 billion. (He is finally in jail now.)
I read that annually, 500,000 women are raped in South Africa (these are only the cases that are reported) and 4 women die every day at the hands of their spouses or partners. The newspapers were full of letters to the editor, complaining incessantly about the deterioration in the living standards, corruption, and crime.
Yet, except for Desmond Tutu, no Black leader appeared to be critical of the falling standards. While Zimbabwe, South Africa’s neighbor, descended into hell (an outbreak of cholera, in addition to a soaring inflation, famine, and a breakdown in law and order), hardly anyone else in Africa spoke-up.
Even more disappointing was the silence of Nelson Mandela. He was over 90 during my visit, somewhat feeble, and did not make speeches, but even a short written statement from him would have had an impact. A South African academic, who faced discrimination under Apartheid, told me that Mandela’s silence was puzzling to many locals.
During my time in Cape Town, I made the obligatory tour of Robben Island, where Mandela had been imprisoned. But, to my eternal regret, I did not pay a visit to Rev. Tutu, to thank him for his stand on Sri Lanka, and, on bended knees, to seek his blessings.
Desmond Tutu is known for his impish humor, uproarious laughter, or unashamed weeping, as when he chaired the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and was overcome with emotion. In keeping with his request, he lay in state in the cheapest coffin available, with a simple wreath of carnations on top.
Now, there is no Desmond Tutu to sound a moral conscience. He was open minded and self-critical, saw right from wrong, and spoke-up. Since his passing, I have felt a sadness and emptiness that is hard to explain. In a world lurching towards oppression and totalitarianism, when his voice is most needed, Rev. Tutu is gone. We may never see the like of him again.
I can go on, but I’ll conclude with one of Rev. Tutu’s best known quotes: “When the missionaries came to Africa they had the Bible and we had the land. They said ‘Let us pray.’ We closed our eyes. When we opened them we had the Bible and they had the land.”
GEORGE BRAINE
