IT has been observed that it is as well to be remembered after one’s death, but better not to be found out before one’s death. Chris Hani has been blessed in both respects. Hero-worshipped by millions before his assassination, he has now been remembered in perpetuity — or something approaching it – by having the largest hospital in the world (together with a couple of ancillary establishments) named after him by the Gauteng Cabinet.
But, admiring though most of us are of the memory of Hani, the honour is premature. There is, admittedly, little even in the way of journalistic gossip to threaten the reputation of the former leader of the South African Communist Party and Umkhonto weSizwe commander. But he did feature -if only by way of unsubstantiated allegation – in the African National Congress detention camps scandal, being accused of helping oversee summary executions.
The camps scandal still has to be dealt with by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. If the allegations were to be substantiated against Hani, it would be grounds for some embarrassment to have an institution, dedicated to healing, named after a man who showed a callous disregard for human life.
We are confident that this will not happen, but it is an example of the dangers inherent in rushing to ennoble the recently dead.
It is (a touch ironically) the Ministry of Defence which has given the country an impressive lead when it comes to honouring individuals in this way. This week, on the 75th anniversary of the launch of the navy, they renamed eight strike-craft which had previously been named by the Nationalists after former ministers of defence. The names chosen included five 18th-century chiefs, one hero from World War I and two from World War II.
The judgement of time ensures that none of them stands in danger of being “found out”.