Humanity brings hope

I am feeling unusually positive about this country and our place in it this week.  

So often when we speak about South Africa, the government, the ANC, and the Jewish community, the conversation is heavy. It is about hostility towards Israel, about the government’s case against Israel at the International Court of Justice, and about a political climate in which many of us have felt unseen, unheard, and, at times, deeply alienated. 

That is why there is something fundamentally uplifting and encouraging in knowing that President Cyril Ramaphosa was human enough to help another South African-born father in need, simply because he could.  

He and the government somehow helped get the body of Captain Daniel Perez out of Gaza so he could be buried with dignity in Israel. For Rabbi Doron and Shelley Perez, the return of his remains meant they could finally fulfil their parental duty and bury their beloved son. 

Now, no matter how encouraged we may be that Ramaphosa made the effort, we need to be clear: the president’s politics have not changed. He hasn’t suddenly had an epiphany about “From the river to the sea,” nor has the government’s hostility towards Israel disappeared. What is encouraging is that he appears to have seen past the fact that Daniel was a South African oleh serving in the Israeli army, and recognised instead a young man, born here, whose family was desperate to bring him home. 

The government recognised that as Daniel and his family were South Africans, its duty was to help. And its members found it in themselves to do this.  

Perhaps they understood that every young person who takes on citizenship in Israel has no choice but to serve in the army. Perhaps Rabbi Perez managed to explain this to Ramaphosa, and if so, he did good for all of us. What really happened behind the scenes, we are likely never to know. And, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter much. What matters is that Ramaphosa found himself in a pivotal position to help, and he did not turn away. 

He did not refuse to meet Rabbi Perez, who is now the president of the World Zionist Organization. In that, there is no question the two men have deep differences of opinion. However, father to father, Ramaphosa seems to have set aside hardened politics for as long as it took and recognised a man grieving for his son. For this, I believe we can be grateful. It is good to know that underneath all the disappointment we have experienced at the hands of Ramaphosa, he is still a man with a heart. He is still able, down to the wire, to set aside differences and do the right thing.  

I accept that the president may be in for flak from his bullying and nasty anti-Israel cronies because they may be unable to see the human side of what he did. One hopes they can, but that is not what we’ve experienced over the years.  

Interestingly, within the community, those I knew who had heard about this before we published the story were suspicious, even disbelieving. Many spoke of some kind of ulterior motive, although they couldn’t quite say what it might be. Let’s be honest, it feels as if we are too far down the road for Ramaphosa to have done this in the hope of gaining our votes for the ANC. 

The silence surrounding this act of kindness also suggests the government didn’t necessarily want the world to know it had helped the president of the World Zionist Organization. Instead, it took a social media post by Rabbi Perez, with a photograph of the two men together this week, to alert people to what had happened, and only then did others, including the Presidency, confirm it. 

The second thing that lifted me this week was going into the Johannesburg city centre for Main Street Sunday. What a joy this was, and what a reminder of what Johannesburg can be when people refuse to give up on it. 

Jozi My Jozi has done extraordinary work in helping to uplift and reimagine parts of our city. Main Street was closed to cars and opened to people, with music, food, art, children, families, cyclists, skaters, and ordinary South Africans hanging out together in the central business district. 

I walked around, listened to local music, looked at local arts and crafts, and ate delicious food. But more than anything, I felt safe, welcomed, and part of something. For a few hours, the city centre felt like it belonged to all of us again. 

And that is why I feel positive about South Africa this week. Not blindly positive. Not naïvely positive. I know too well that there is far too much corruption and ugliness in government, and we have serious problems that won’t suddenly disappear. South Africans are tired, angry, and struggling. I know that the Jewish community has real fear and real reasons to feel vulnerable in the current political climate. 

But I also know that South Africans themselves are, by and large, good, caring people. They want to live decent lives, raise their families, work, create, celebrate, and be safe. They want a country that works. They want leadership that serves rather than steals, builds rather than breaks, and unites rather than divides. 

That is why this moment matters. We cannot afford to be blindly loyal, and we cannot afford to be permanently cynical. We have to be honest enough to call out what is broken, brave enough to demand better, and fair enough to recognise goodness when it appears. If the president can act with humanity towards a grieving Jewish family, and if ordinary South Africans can reclaim the streets of Jozi with music, food, security, pride, and warmth, then there is still something here worth fighting for. 

South Africa will not be saved by slogans, nostalgia, or denial. It will be saved by people who refuse to give up on it, by leaders who choose service over self-interest, and by citizens who insist that this country can still live up to the promise we once showed the world. This week reminded me that hope is not foolish. It is necessary. And, sometimes, it is earned. 

Shabbat shalom!

Peta Krost

Editor