History is written by those in power, but lives through the memories of those who are not
NOT so long ago — less than a century in fact — there was a fairly substantial kingdom in northern Europe crossing over into Asia. Its rulers wielded absolute power — none of that bleeding heart constitutional monarchy stuff their cousins in other royal houses seemed to favour — which is why political commentators refer to that system as absolutism.
Now there's the old saying that power corrupts and absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely. With absolute corruption comes the perfect breeding ground for revolution. (That's not an old saying; I just made that up.) And so it came to pass that in February 1917 in the aftermath of World War I, Emperor Nicholas II, tsar of Russia and monarch of all he surveyed, found himself facing the righteous indignation of workers and was forced to abdicate.
Nicholas was held captive with his family until June 16, 1918, when they were executed. But we're getting ahead of things a bit. Let's backtrack ...
In March 1917, Vladimir Ilich Lenin returned from exile in Switzerland to the town of St Petersburg to find it in the throes of revolution. Together with Leon Trotsky, he steered the country successfully through the civil war of 1918 through 1921 and established what was to become the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Since he was a Godless Atheistic Communist, he was struck down by the heavens (by a stroke of course) in 1922.
Stop me if you've heard this all before.
We could probably spend a while longer talking about the the tsar and his marriage to the curvaceous Alix of Hessen-Darmstadt, (a German princess who took the name Alexandra). We could spend a lot more time discussing the exploits of Grigory Yefimovich Rasputin, a mystic who became Alexandra's lover while Nicholas was busy ruling the country. We could talk about how Rasputin came to wield undue influence in matters of state, appointing a string of high-ranking officials. We could talk about his propensity for debauchery or rumours that he possessed an extraordinary number of testicles (four, supposedly) ...
But we were talking about Lenin. The former St. Petersburg — which had been renamed Petrograd by the workers — was subsequently renamed Leningrad in honour of the late Vlad (after he died, of course). You see, the Soviets believed that it was the correct thing to honour heroes of the revolution and displace the tyranical names of the past.
(All right, so St Peter wasn't a tyrant, but he was one of those subjugators of the working class with that whole "blessed are the meek, turn the other cheek" routine. Don't ask me to explain, I'm not a Communist. I'm merely agnostic, thank God.)
Which brings us to my home town, Durban, in 1999. It's the eve of the election, and the city fathers (and mothers) decide in their infinite wisdom to begin renaming the city's main streets after heroes of our own struggle.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Don't misunderstand me. Chris Hani is a South African hero and deserves to be honoured. Oliver Tambo is a South African hero and deserves to be honoured. (Nelson Mandela is still alive, and so I will not embarrass him with an outpouring of glowing tributes.)
But we need to learn from history. Another Russian revolution took place fairly recently. Like their grandparents before them, Russians decided to displace the tyranical names of the past. The statue of Vladimir Ilich Lenin came down and Leningrad is once again St Petersburg. And the new generation of Russians do not remember the glory of 1917 or understand the hurt in their grandparents' eyes.
The old colonial names should be removed. Just don't replace them with names of today's heroes. Name them after birds, animals, flowers, fruit. Use words from all 11 official languages. The names of Hani, Tambo, and Mandela should not become cause for bitterness or anger.