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The consequences of truth: Post-traumatic stress in new South Africa (continued) Part 7 of 7
By Lynn Burke

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Truth's Gift

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission endeavored to link truth with reconciliation by sifting through a mountain of atrocities committed in the name of politics, picking out the worst ones, and allowing a national audience to learn about them.

This seeking of truth was in part a gift to those who had always been voiceless, the victims of the past, the survivors of the present. By formally recognizing the awful truth, the commission endorsed a culture of human rights and not abuses. By blasting its message throughout the country and the world, it forcefully ripped away the heavy cloak of denial that once shrouded many whites who sat down each night to dinner served on china plates while just a few miles away their black neighbors dodged bullets and burning tires.

During the truth commission hearings, no one could escape listening to a former security officer's extraordinary confession about burning the bodies of black men while he laughed and drank beer by the fire, no one could look away while a black mother held a clump of her dead son's hair in the air, no one could close his eyes when Desmond Tutu broke down and sobbed before his nation. No one could look at his neighbor in quite the same way.

But this truth came with a price. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was created in December 1995 for political reasons, to bridge the sudden transition from a white, minority regime that reigned with brutality to a black majority democracy that wanted to avoid a massive civil war. And because the TRC was born from political needs, the individuals who spoke before the commission were caught in the gap that exists between the collective and the individual. In its attempt to scrub off the dust covering the past, the TRC exposed the thousands of tiny crevices of memory and pain that belong to each victim. In some cases, the airing of once silent memories helped break down the trauma sustained by each individual into manageable pieces. In others, the weight of memory only became heavier, more unmanageable.

South Africa is a developing nation. Its leaders are struggling with skyrocketing unemployment, one of the highest crime rates in the world, continuous political strife, and an AIDS epidemic that threatens to swallow the country's limited resources. So it isn't surprising that the government has not invested much in the mental health of its traumatized citizens. But ignoring the psychological well-being of so many disquieted people will inevitably prove more costly in the end, in terms of unemployment, crime, and the elusive goal of reconciliation.

There is no easy solution for a country in the midst of rebuilding its foundations, for the past is inextricably intertwined with the present. The very nature of post traumatic reactions is different here. The economic disparity between the whites and the blacks remains severe, and many of those who testified before the TRC have not seen their immediate circumstances improved since the end of apartheid. One of the challenges for those who attempt to heal the traumatized here is to recognize that stressful present, and integrate it into a treatment plan.

In fact, the very diagnosis of PTSD, according to clinical psychologist Brandon Hamber, mislabels the true experience and symptomology of many people here. In many cases, he says, it's hard to trace the direct origin of the stress-causing event, and it was usually not just one event but a cumulative process. "Using the word "post" is for me somehow not correct,” he says, “because people are living in a situation of continuous traumatic stress."

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