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FAIR OR FOUL?

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Sir,

Instances of mob justice have steadily made headlines over the past few weeks. While the illegality of such acts cannot be disputed, it may be worthwhile to consider the nature of vigilantism and the social spaces it thrives in.


Vigilantes are nothing new, for as long as there have been laws and enforcers – there have been those who feel failed by both. Yes, the law is not perfect and neither are those who uphold it; this is known. Yet it is also understood that when individuals or groups feel repeatedly disappointed by a system, many will begin to shun its rules and expectations. In other words, if people do not trust the relevant social structures to give them justice, they might just settle for revenge instead.


There are two local instances of mob justice that I will always recall, due to their similar circumstances and entirely different outcomes. These cases perfectly illustrate the pros and cons of taking the law into your own hands. The first involved a man who allegedly raped a preteen girl, accosting her on her way to school. It later emerged that the accused apparently committed this crime while on bail for raping another little girl; under eerily similar circumstances.


When the community members learned of the latter incident, they called the police and proceeded to beat the accused until they arrived. The unspoken understanding was, of course, that the officers would not be quick to the scene anyway. To pretend the community’s behaviour offended me would be misleading. The truth is that I found its actions comforting. Indeed, I believed the situation would serve as a warning for perpetrators who corrode their victim’s souls, confident that there are no consequences.


If a jail cell is no deterrent to rape, I thought, perhaps a broken collar bone would be. After all, the alleged perpetrator had already caught a glimpse of life behind bars, and it didn’t do much to stir his spirit. The second instance of community justice involved a teenage boy who was reportedly caught stealing goods from a neighbour’s home. Upon this discovery, he was beaten and humiliated for well over an hour, in the rain, while his assailants waited for the authorities to arrive. They, too, knew it would be a while.


Unlike the first case, this one bothered me: partly because I actually saw it happen and partly because things had gone too far. This alleged perpetrator had stolen a measly pair of shoes, not kidnapped or murdered anybody. 


Granted, theft is theft, however, great or small. But he was just a child, who made a mistake before he was mature enough to know better. I remember his palpable shame, and the way he sat with his head down; a stance that did nothing to hide his bloodied and swollen face. Right then I hoped he would not go home that night and take his own life, like so many children do upon their first real taste of humiliation. I walked away from the ordeal thinking, ‘this was not justice’.


But that’s the thing about vigilantism: it cannot be regulated. These two examples demonstrate the unmistakable duality of street justice. In the heat of the moment, few members of angry mob will stop to weigh the costs and benefits of their behaviour. If they only did, they would conclude that while trying to make things better, they may just do the opposite.
 
Nonjabulo Dlamini

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