AFTER the killings in Arizona earlier this month, US President Barack Obama made a speech in a sports stadium to a traumatised community: "But at a time when our discourse has become so sharply polarised — at a time when we are far too eager to lay the blame for all that ails the world at the feet of those who think differently than we do — it’s important for us to pause for a moment and make sure we are talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds."
It is not every day that a world leader asks people to "talk with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds". As we know, sometimes a speech or piece of writing is very localised but has universal import. We would do well to consider what Obama has said.
It is timely for us as South Africans to reflect on how we speak to each other and the effect it has.
Unfortunately, politicians have not always taken this into account.
Given the centuries of war, conflict and hatred that have characterised our relationships in SA, I guess we should not be surprised that we still have some way to go.
There are so many examples that come to mind of language that is demeaning and inflammatory that has been part of our national discourse, which had its place when we were at war but no longer contributes as we continue the task of nation building.
References to "machine guns", "snakes" and "cockroaches", and even the injunction "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" are just a few examples of words that have been used carelessly and provocatively to gain popular support.
When immature or unhinged people act on the words we say, it is simply not good enough to claim that we did not mean to be taken literally.
Ironically, when we were at war, the language of the Luthulis, Tambos, Sisulus and Mandelas reflected civility, dignity and restraint.
Those of us privileged to listen to the speeches of Oliver Tambo were often struck by how every word was measured and considered.
The chosen words reflected a deep sense of responsibility because of how all the listeners might interpret the words he uttered.
Do the words that slip out reflect the degree to which we are a damaged people carrying deep within our souls unfinished business and destructive feelings — ready to infect the body politic and successive generations?
As the local government elections are around the corner, the parties and erstwhile public representatives have an opportunity to offer the nation a positive vision without vilifying others. And, at the same time, they have a chance to show an appreciation for the hopes and fears of those who think differently from them and whom they may still represent. Great leaders will take into account not only the aspirations of those they want to elect them but also the dreams and fears of those on the "other side".
Some years ago, I was speaking in an impoverished community in KwaZulu-Natal about the healing of memories. At the end of my presentation, a grandmother asked: "Are you working with our leaders?"
No, I said, we have chosen to work in communities.
She retorted: "Well you should. They are much more messed up than we are."
Sometimes our preoccupation with politics blinds us to the multidimensional nature of ourselves as human beings.
Everything has a political dimension, but not all of life can be reduced to politics — particularly not our woundedness.
Regardless of our role in society, we can all have demons that will not be silenced and need to be exorcised.
How we speak is a reflection of what is inside of us and, perhaps, of our own need of healing.
- Dr Lapsley, the Director of the Institute for Healing of Memories, is an Anglican priest whose hands were blown off in a letter bomb while he was chaplain to the African National Congress in exile. The institute was set up in parallel to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and now also works with traumatised groups in SA, including victims of xenophobic violence, orphaned children responsible for their households, and prisoners.
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