So it’s confirmed, Nelson Mandela Bay is the most dangerous metro in SA (The Herald Editorial November 16).
We bemoan the decline of the economy, blame politicians and point to the rampant corruption under the ANC.
At face value, the solutions are simple. Policemen must be appointed, and law and order must prevail — we nod in agreement.
Looking back in history shows that policemen do not reduce crime — people do.
Port Elizabeth’s first policeman, Thomas Sterley, assumed duty in 1822 and ran the prison.
In 1850, when the City had a population of 4,000, there were more policemen, but there was hardly law and order.
Strand Street was a haven of illicit taverns serving toxic concoctions of Cape Smoke, an addictive mix of tobacco, pepper, Natal rum and Cape brandy.
The liquor trade was lucrative, trade flourished and crime — most often from drunkenness — was rampant.
The dark side of urbanisation had eroded centuries old systems of justice, across all cultural groups.
The victims of Cape Smoke, among all race groups and genders, shared their misery wallowing in the filth and squalor of Strand Street.
Police did not work at night, the magistrate hid from enraged citizens afflicted by crime, and shopkeepers appointed private security.
Citizens took action, forcing the development of the six parts of what has become the current South African criminal justice system.
More police, better equipped and deployed 24/7. A prosecution system which prosecuted, magistrates determining guilt and sentencing, mechanisms for fair justice, prison systems focused on rehabilitation and a social safety net.
All are enshrined in our constitution. They’re not working — and we must ask why?
In the latter part of the 19th century, citizens took action.
For instance, a women’s temperance movement advocating a ban on Cape Smoke emerged.
Citizens found ways to support police in enforcing the law, ensuring that magistrates hand out just sentences, and seeing that fines imposed by the court were distributed among policemen.
Societal pressure worked.
A century on, we’ve been through wars, abolished apartheid and have a democracy.
But, if the crime on the streets of the city is anything to go by, the criminal justice system has collapsed.
Police are more demoralised than under resourced, prosecutors work the system of not securing convictions, the courts strain under ever-widening Stalingrad tactics, prisons harden and train criminals, and the social safety net is failing where it’s needed most.
Our rotten political leadership cannot solve this. Only people can.
We’ve had leadership elites who try, fail and flame out.
Meyer Khan, the private sector brewer, tried and failed with the police.
Andre de Ruyter found clean governance a bridge too far at Eskom.
Brian Molefe, the darling of investment banking, public finance and maestro of light at Eskom, became the primary architect of state capture at Transnet.
Magic leadership is not the panacea for our societal ills — be they populist or euphoric presidents.
Our current leadership over-elaborates and underachieves — like a South African soccer team — fancy footwork, but no goals.
Pockets of success are there, but failures dominate.
In some communities, close collaboration between the police, private security and citizens have eliminated crime.
In others, tenderpreneur leadership transformed vibrant civil society movements into organs for self-gain.
Extracting rents without delivering services — across all spheres of governance — through verbiage and violence.
In safer communities, business and civic organisations are forcing law enforcement agencies to become more transparent in fighting crime.
Police leadership, obscuring inefficiencies and corrupt motives behind veils of secrecy, are being outed.
Good, honest policemen, and they are the majority — believe in the value of good citizenship.
But they’re not promoted and are excluded from leadership, often under the guise of legislatively supported race or gender discrimination, which rewards acquiesce to a corrupt boss or maintaining networks of criminality.
Whoonga, tik and krokodil have replaced Cape Smoke and there is no safety net for the devastating consequences.
Our city infrastructure is being plundered — society assets for drugs — and our services are collapsing.
Civil society is providing solutions, but too little too late, hampered by the snail’s pace of government support.
The rot in government is deep — corruption masquerading as incompetence — suppressing honest work and real skills.
Scrap metal dealers and foundries are the modern-day liquor barons of old, and citizen action is long overdue.
In the 19th century, civil society groups banded together and forced change from a government obsessed with resource exploitation and weak on justice.
If history is anything to go by, the signs are there that citizens are going to force a workable criminal justice system — and very soon at that.
So, the next time you see the mirror, think what that person can contribute to stopping the rot, even if it’s only a cross in a sensible place.
Graham Taylor chairs the Historical Society of Port Elizabeth
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