The shocking murder of South African reggae star Lucky Dube has stunned South Africans and once again brought the issue of violent crime to the forefront of national debate. One of the common themes discussed even as mourners gathered to celebrate the life and work of a native son-turned global superstar and the accused wallowed in jail awaiting their arraignment it became clear that this high-profile death might also provide the tipping point for more rigorous action to address the issue of crime which, even if sometimes politicized and overstated, is very real indeed for South Africans of all races and economic backgrounds. Even criminals serving time for committing violent crimes have expressed their outrage at Dube's death at the hands of carjackers.
It is, of course, a shame if it truly does require a high-profile murder to force prompt action on crime. And it is quite possible that botht he lip service and the outrage will fade, that even this death (which we ought not to value any more highly than any other deaths in the country) will not be enough to bring about systemic change on the matter of crime and concomitant questions of policing and the legal system. Still, one way to salvage something from this particular tragic death would be to use it not only to continue the ongoing national discussion about crime, but to translate that plan into action.
As this fine editorial in the Mail & Guardian argues: “Murder is always foul, no matter who the victim. And when it is of an internationally renowned personality like Lucky Dube, it reverberates beyond the immediate family's grief” and inevitably leade to calls for action. But the editors caution readers away from fleeing into the arms of a renewal of the death penalty, and, I believe, rightly so:
In our anger, no matter how righteous, we need to remind ourselves of the reasons the Constitutional Court outlawed the state's power to kill criminals. They include the fact that nowhere has it been demonstrated conclusively that the death penalty is a more effective deterrent than other punishments; and that it offers no possibility of redress if the victim's innocence is established at a later stage — a real possibility in South Africa, given the inefficiency of our law enforcement system.
The judges accepted that Old Testament "eye for an eye" retribution is backward-looking and has no place in a rights-based constitutional state — and that the weight of public opinion, which has never been tested, is a matter for the legislature, not the judiciary. (It is a curious contradiction that white conservatives who argue the will of the majority on capital punishment reject it on such issues as the radical redistribution of land and wealth.) There is, in addition, the fact of our divided and repressive history, which meant the vast majority of those hanged were black. The number of executions rose exponentially under apartheid, reaching 180 a year by the late 1980s; Nelson Mandela himself once stood in the shadow of the gallows.
The judges agreed that the most effective crime deterrent is the likelihood of being caught and convicted — and it is for this that we should be campaigning. As one of the M&G's letter-writers argues this week, getting to grips with crime means that ordinary citizens have to come to the party. Report crime and refuse to collaborate with it.
Leadership is an issue. To uproot South Africa's culture of impunity, we need leaders of the criminal justice system who do not consider it acceptable to be on friendly terms with self-declared crime bosses, or who engage in misconduct that, although not technically illegal, leaves the Bench besmirched. We need a unified and apolitical push on crime by the authorities, where different agencies are not at war with one another and are not used to pursue sectarian political agendas.
The credibility and integrity of the system is as important as its proper resourcing in terms of cash, skills and equipment.
Violent crime is a terrible scourge in South Africa and the murder of Lucky Dube has thrown it into brutal relief. As a gentle soul and a peace-loving Rastafarian, Dube's memory is best-served by bringing his killers to book and ensuring that no murder goes unsolved.
There are no panaceas. There are no quick fixes. But that does not mean there are no fixes. The outcry from citizens of all backgrounds for the return to the death penalty are a natural outgrowth of frustration with the system, but this palliative would not have much effect on crime rates. The desire to seek vengeance is not the same as the desire to seek justice and public safety. South Africans must keep this in mind even as they continue to bury their own.
Hamba Kahle, Lucky Dube.
