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Why do nations sometimes lurch into spectacular acts of self-destruction? A strange fervour that seized the Xhosa people of South Africa in the 1850s may shed some light on Brexit
In South Africa in April 1856, a Xhosa girl named Nongqawuse went out to scare birds away from the crops. She returned to her family with a strange tale. She had met three spirits who had an urgent message to pass on to her people: all their cattle should be slaughtered and their crops destroyed. If these instructions were followed, the ancestors of the Xhosa would rise from the dead, drive the white settlers from their lands and replace the slaughtered cattle with new herds.
As the blood of the slaughtered beasts flowed and the crops burned, large enclosures were prepared for the arrival of the magnificent new herds promised by the spirits and great skin sacks made to hold their abundant milk.
A date for the promised wonders to occur had been set by the spirit voices: 18 February 1857, when the rising of a red sun would herald the miraculous transformation. As the day dawned, crowds gathered in eager anticipation of the glorious return of their ancestors.
Their failure to appear was met with confusion and dismay. It rapidly became clear that the Xhosa had rendered themselves utterly destitute, and the people were soon reduced to digging roots and eating what they could salvage from the rotting carcasses of their slaughtered herds.
In 2016 the Brexiters, channelling ancestral voices of their own, urged us to make a leap of faith in defiance of a mountain of expert evidence as to its likely impacts. Many people were inclined to believe their assurances that a brave new world awaited us after we’d well and truly burned our EU boats. Others seemed to feel – perhaps like the Xhosa – that their lives had become so insecure and impoverished that they had little to lose by taking a leap into the dark.
Like the Xhosa’s spirit guides, the Brexiters have refused all suggestion that a less drastic version of their magical transformation might be possible. Those pointing out that tens of thousands of jobs have already been destroyed and that much worse is to come are dismissed as faint-hearted advocates of “Project Fear”.
While the people of the UK are not yet obliged to survive on weeds and rotting carcasses, there are many signs that an economic catastrophe is looming. The miraculous mountains of cash – advertised on Brexit buses and in countless interviews – are no more likely to materialise than the herds of fat cattle promised to the Xhosa.
My guess is that Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson will be remembered in rather the same way as Mhlakaza and Nongqawuse are remembered by the Xhosa people of today – as false prophets who induced mass delusion and an act of spectacular national self-immolation.
In South Africa in April 1856, a Xhosa girl named Nongqawuse went out to scare birds away from the crops. She returned to her family with a strange tale. She had met three spirits who had an urgent message to pass on to her people: all their cattle should be slaughtered and their crops destroyed. If these instructions were followed, the ancestors of the Xhosa would rise from the dead, drive the white settlers from their lands and replace the slaughtered cattle with new herds.
As the blood of the slaughtered beasts flowed and the crops burned, large enclosures were prepared for the arrival of the magnificent new herds promised by the spirits and great skin sacks made to hold their abundant milk.
A date for the promised wonders to occur had been set by the spirit voices: 18 February 1857, when the rising of a red sun would herald the miraculous transformation. As the day dawned, crowds gathered in eager anticipation of the glorious return of their ancestors.
Their failure to appear was met with confusion and dismay. It rapidly became clear that the Xhosa had rendered themselves utterly destitute, and the people were soon reduced to digging roots and eating what they could salvage from the rotting carcasses of their slaughtered herds.
In 2016 the Brexiters, channelling ancestral voices of their own, urged us to make a leap of faith in defiance of a mountain of expert evidence as to its likely impacts. Many people were inclined to believe their assurances that a brave new world awaited us after we’d well and truly burned our EU boats. Others seemed to feel – perhaps like the Xhosa – that their lives had become so insecure and impoverished that they had little to lose by taking a leap into the dark.
Like the Xhosa’s spirit guides, the Brexiters have refused all suggestion that a less drastic version of their magical transformation might be possible. Those pointing out that tens of thousands of jobs have already been destroyed and that much worse is to come are dismissed as faint-hearted advocates of “Project Fear”.
While the people of the UK are not yet obliged to survive on weeds and rotting carcasses, there are many signs that an economic catastrophe is looming. The miraculous mountains of cash – advertised on Brexit buses and in countless interviews – are no more likely to materialise than the herds of fat cattle promised to the Xhosa.
My guess is that Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson will be remembered in rather the same way as Mhlakaza and Nongqawuse are remembered by the Xhosa people of today – as false prophets who induced mass delusion and an act of spectacular national self-immolation.
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