ColumnistsPREMIUM

YACOOB ABBA OMAR: Between the raised fist and the middle finger

Millions are frustrated by the failures of democracy and the prevailing form of capitalism

Picture: 123RF/Alejandro Duran
Picture: 123RF/Alejandro Duran

There was a time when the raised fist symbolised all the struggles being waged throughout the world.  

Think back to the peaceful and dignified passive resistance and defiance campaigns waged decades ago by South Africans opposed to minority white domination. In the face of apartheid jackboots, rifle butts and bullets, South Africans marched with fists raised high against the pass laws in the early 1960s, as well as through the various states of emergency in the 1980s. 

Globally the raised fist symbolised the struggles of the working class, of women and those opposed to fascism. The “Roman salute” used by the Nazis and fascists is said to have been their response to the clenched fists of socialists and communists in Spain and Italy.   

The fist represented the struggles of black people in the US, most poignantly at the 1968 Mexico Olympics, when victorious black US athletes made what came to be referred to as the black power salute while their national anthem played. 

Today another, potent symbol of resistance is emerging: that of the middle finger. Best depicted by Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei in his picture taken at Tiananmen Square in Beijing in 1995, it features in many of his other works.  Since that picture on June 4, the anniversary of the 1989 Tiananmen massacre, he has taken similar ones of his now famous digit poking at a wide range of symbols of capitalism or suppression, including the White House.  

In one of his typically large collective projects, this time with London’s Design Museum, online submissions of virtual middle fingers against a range of backgrounds have been invited. More than 15,000 contributions have been posted and can be viewed on Middle Finger · Ai Weiwei & Avant Arte.  

The backgrounds vary, ranging from Moscow’s Red Square to Donald Trump, and include religious sites and corporate headquarters. As this symbol slowly glides away from its phallic roots to the rarefied walls and websites of galleries, we need to reflect on its increasing appearance on anything from denim jackets to posters for demonstrations of all political stripes.  

At its core it symbolises the disillusionment with democracy and the form of capitalism that prevails today. In less polite company, one could say it symbolises an “F-you moment” in our history, when millions are frustrated with their political edifices as well as a system that does not care for their wellbeing. It speaks to the loss of hope that tomorrow will be a better day. 

The political actions that then follow target the buildings and even the personnel of those seeming to be responsible for the desperate situations we find ourselves in. Hence the July 2021 uprisings in KwaZulu-Natal and Gauteng, which led to the ransacking and looting of businesses, government offices and public infrastructure. Hence also the 2021 attack on Capitol Hill, Washington, and the persistent threats of violence that have come to grip the body politic of the US.  

Today we see France rocked not just by its traditional penchant for protests but also attacks on municipal buildings, as seen in the torching of Bordeaux’s town hall doors. The Financial Times’ Simon Kuper has argued that “the state’s autocratic nature helps explain why the French are so angry despite living relatively well”, pointing out that there is a serious conversation on about the rewriting of the French constitution.

Jean-Luc Mélenchon, the unsuccessful left candidate in the 2022 French presidential elections, argued that France needs a “Sixth Republic” that reduces the powers of the “monarch president”. 

As SA strides to its seventh national and provincial elections in 2024 a similar and urgent conversation is being held about electoral reform to ensure the deepening of our democracy and an accountable government acting in the interests of all of society. 

If we fail to reconnect the connection between the public and the state, and create an economy shared by all, we will see many more people responding to Weiwei’s call: “When we can raise our middle finger, don’t forget to do so unhesitatingly.” 

• Abba Omar is director of operations at the Mapungubwe Institute. 

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