The Pistorius Case

There is something sordid about a televised trial, especially when the evidence is gruesome. And yet, the world is transfixed on the proceedings of the Pistorius case, currently taking place in Pretoria. It has all the hallmarks of a scandal: a celebrity sports-star, a beautiful girlfriend, a relationship in turmoil and, of course, a death.

‘The Fall of Pistorius’ by Richard Belton

No one doubts that the Paralympic champion shot and killed his girlfriend, nor that he is sorry for it (his despair in court is plain for all to see), but there are enough unanswered questions to hold everyone’s attention. Not least of which is: is this global celebrity is the cold-blooded killer as the prosecution claims him to be?

If such drama was somehow insufficient, the trial is also forcing South Africa to adopt an introspective mood. Pistorius’s defence – that he shot Riva Steencamp in the belief that she was an intruder – has been accused of having a racist tinge. The claim is given validity, so to speak, by the pervasiveness of the fear among rich, white South Africans of being burgled by someone who poor, dangerous and, inevitably, black. The country is having to ask itself if this fear is well-founded, and the answer seems to be yes (although Pistorius’s defence suffers from other short-falls). This is an uncomfortable truth for the rainbow nation.

That the racial issues surrounding the case have overshadowed its other controversial aspect – disability – is perhaps surprising, giving that much rests on whether the double amputee was wearing his prosthetics or not. Pistorius is by far the world’s most recognisable Paralympian, perhaps even its most famous – now infamous – disabled person. For many he represented the face of Paralympic sport: a multiple gold medallist, good-looking and likeable, he was the perfect poster boy for the Games. And the organisers made good use of him, plastering his face on posters and TV advertising. After his spectacular fall from grace, it seems all too possible that the Games will suffer. Without their star, will the crowds still come? After the success of London, it will be a great shame to see numbers slide.

For many he represented the face of Paralympic sport: a multiple gold medallist, good-looking and likeable, he was the perfect poster boy for the Games.

Because the Paralympics are never just about sport. They are about showing disability in a positive light, as something which can be part of achievement, not just something to be overcome. Pistorius exemplified that, and for that many disabled people were grateful. When able-bodied women found him attractive, it was a sign that disability need not be a barrier in relationships; when he was featured in magazines, a sign that it was not a barrier to fame. When he ran alongside able-bodied athletes in the Olympics, many felt that the divide which had seemed so hard-and-fast was slowly coming unstuck.

I am not ashamed to say that I cried when I watched that race. In the summer euphoria of London 2012, with the “biggest and best” Paralympics ever just around the corner, the merging of disabled and able-bodied sport seemed to presage a new, inclusive society – at least in an oddly cheerful London. Oscar was my personal embodiment of success; called affectionately by his first name because I felt a connection with him. Now, with the Olympic haze long gone, I am shocked by my own naivety.

I am not ashamed to say that I cried when I watched that race.

A single athlete was never going to change everything, and despite myself I often wondered if Oscar represented the acceptable side of disability. Off the track, his disability was unnoticeable, and on the track it was an asset. That is rarely the real experience of disability lived by millions of people. It was too easy for the media to focus on Oscar. Nevertheless, he was an icon, and one that was sorely needed. The events of the past year have stripped him of that status and, in some ways, stripped away the normality he afforded disability. He is no longer simply a successful man who happened to be an amputee, but someone who brutally killed a person he professed to love.

The loss of Pistorius’s example is the other tragedy of Riva’s death, and one which will be felt long after the courtroom falls quiet again. As a child, I looked up to Pistorius. Through all the coverage, the circulating theories, the excitement of a scandal, a question has repeatedly arisen in my mind: how many young disabled children – aspiring Paralympians or not – have lost a hero, just like me?

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Photo: flickr/jimthurston