
In South Africa, success never presented the problems that it
In South Africa, success never presented the problems that it presents in New York. In New York, if you happen to be the flavor of the month, a lot of nonsense comes with it into your life.






Hear the voice of Athol Fugard, playwright and witness of his people, who declared: “In South Africa, success never presented the problems that it presents in New York. In New York, if you happen to be the flavor of the month, a lot of nonsense comes with it into your life.” These words are not merely a contrast between two lands, but a meditation on the nature of success itself—how in one place it may be a quiet recognition of craft, while in another it may swell into a storm of vanity, distraction, and peril.
For in his homeland of South Africa, Fugard’s success was born in the crucible of struggle. His plays were forged against the backdrop of apartheid, a time when art was resistance, when theatre was not for fame but for survival of truth. There, success meant courage, persistence, and the strength to give voice to the voiceless. It was a triumph pure and solemn, untouched by the vanity of shallow praise. Yet in New York, the very heart of modern spectacle, success often becomes a fleeting crown—glittering one moment, discarded the next, burdened by what he calls “nonsense”: false friends, hollow applause, and the temptation to trade authenticity for popularity.
History itself bears witness to this truth. Consider the tale of Diogenes the Cynic, the ancient philosopher who scorned wealth and fame. He once lived in a barrel and carried a lantern through the streets of Athens, searching for an honest man. Alexander the Great, the most powerful ruler of his day, approached him and offered to grant him anything he desired. Diogenes replied only: “Stand out of my sunlight.” He knew well that the nonsense of worldly power could cloud the soul. In this, we see a mirror of Fugard’s warning: that in places like New York, where fame shines bright but briefly, one must guard the light within.
Yet it is not the place alone that brings the danger, but the condition of the heart. In South Africa, Fugard’s art was anchored by necessity and truth. In New York, the temptation was to be a “flavor of the month,” to let success be measured not by depth but by novelty. Such success is fragile—it fades with time and leaves emptiness behind. But true success, born of authenticity and service, cannot be diminished by the passing of fashion.
The lesson is clear: beware of fleeting praise. Seek not to be the darling of the moment, but the voice of eternity. The applause of the crowd may fill the ear, but it cannot sustain the soul. What sustains is the deeper call: to live with integrity, to create with honesty, and to serve with courage. Fugard, in his contrast of lands, reminds us that success without grounding becomes a burden, while success rooted in truth becomes a gift.
Practically, this means: anchor yourself in your purpose. If recognition comes, receive it with humility, but do not chase it. If distractions arise, return to the work that matters. Build your life upon values, not upon applause; upon authenticity, not upon popularity. In this way, whether in a quiet village or a bustling city, your success will remain steady, untouched by the winds of fashion.
Thus, Athol Fugard’s words stand as a warning and a guide: “In South Africa, success never presented the problems that it presents in New York.” Remember, O seekers, that true success is not measured by noise or novelty, but by the depth of one’s truth. Hold fast to that truth, and you shall not be swept away by the nonsense of fleeting fame, but instead endure like a pillar, unshaken, through all the ages.
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