The sentencing of Julius Malema on the back end of the DA internal election will mark a moment in history — a moment of change and a moment that has changed the face of South African politics. Does it mark the end of the EFF, or does it provide the avenue for a new party with a revolutionary spirit to be birthed in the image of Julius Malema?

On 16 April, at the conclusion of the first day of the sentencing hearing, Malema outlined that, though he may no longer be a physical presence, his spirit remains: “They use us to show that whoever dares to speak truth to power must be jailed; we shall not be silenced under any circumstances. They can imprison me, but they will never imprison my ideas. They will never suppress the idea of economic freedom in our lifetime.”

This mantle is not new to South Africa; it emulates the track of many of the great and revolutionary leaders of the past, whether it be Nelson Mandela, Oliver Tambo, or Walter Sisulu, to name a few. The state detaining you was not a diminishing of your ideas, but a call for those ideas to be thought anew, revolutionised and embodied in the people and no longer in a person.

It emulates the Pan Africanist Congress, which recognised and never contested its leader in Robert Sobukwe, a revolutionary leader who declared that Africa belonged to Africa. The party remained a thorn in the side of the ANC, but died as liberation narratives dominated and their leader was laid to rest.

Malema’s imprisonment, though being a dim moment in the current light, has the potential to play out in ways that South Africa is not yet considerate of in politics. Malema will no longer be a man who is given time to speak, but rather time to think. He will become an image for the young South Africa who believe the government is an extension of the political establishment to believe less, but it will leave a man with a narrative that the system is fighting him — and he too will fight back.

The legal proceedings are far from over, and the appeals of the sentencing are likely. This is the beginning of a battle of resources versus the state in the case of Malema. But it is a battle worth taking.

In the same ways that Mkhwanazi, Cat Matlala, and other actors within the commission of enquiry have been idolised as a result of the power they hold, the aspiration they represent, and the constant battle framed in the media in South Africa as a fight between good and evil, Malema is given an opportunity to take on the state.

Even if the appeal is unsuccessful, this moment signifies that he is down but not out of politics. Malema is sentenced to five years. He will be allowed to return back to politics five years after his sentence ends. He will be a man with a story and a mission to take the space the government actively denied him — the ability to be the man for the people and the future president of this country.

However, the Economic Freedom Fighters have an opportunity to still honour the wisdom and principles of their charismatic leader, while defining the party in a manner that is truly and wholly representative of the people, the youth and the moment.

Already a party that was grappling with the decline it faced electorally, an exodus of members leaving to the uMkhonto we Sizwe party and a leader who seemed to have been tightening his grip, this potentially is the breath of fresh air the party needed.

This may be the moment, if done correctly, for the “youth” party of South Africa to be run by the youth. Already dominating university campuses and developing the political leaders of the future, the moment provides the capacity and ability for that future to be now. The EFF, truly at this moment, has the opportunity to be the movement it is hoped to be — to address the socially pressing issues that plague modern South Africa.

But it also provides a unique moment for Julius Malema to think, to redefine and realise a new identity. He is provided a new opportunity with the idea that “the most dangerous man to any government is the man who is able to think things out for himself, without regard to the prevailing superstitions and taboos.” While South Africa grapples with its national and local politics, he can regain control of his own.

It will be interesting to see how this moment, through time, will be defined — as either another rebirth or the death of Malema’s political career. As South African media tries to predict once again what the future holds for the EFF, this provides a perspective that may be more positive.

Regarding the DA shortly, this moment is rare. Either they will capture the people who continue to go without a political home, as the face of politics changes across the country, or they will face the deep reality that they are not a national party. If the ANC benefits in any way at the cost of one of the DA’s formidable enemies in the EFF and Julius Malema, it leaves them to fight only their ally in the ANC — potentially drawing much strength for the broad church which is the ANC.

The moment is going to truly test whether or not the party which is the DA — and the future of the country — lies within unity, or will once again become a battle ground where only the DA and the ANC are forced to be both friend and enemy in the game of politics.

In South Africa, this is a moment of history, and the fate of two political parties have been decided in just two weeks. The face of one has been solidified; the future and fate of another is up in the air. A question left for the party that continues to be the face of it all — the ANC — is that the future is uncertain in South Africa.

The truth and reality of the matter is that there is no one who can tell the future, and there is no true way to understand this moment as it will live through. But nonetheless, it marks a turn in the ever‑telling story of this country and the new world of politics.

In the build-up to the Local Government Elections in South Africa, the narrative that seems to be underplayed is that this election may be rather inconsequential to the ANC. Regardless of the result, they are relying on a potential belief that everyone will return to the “broad church” that is the ANC in 2029.

It is extremely important to understand that, in the scope of South African politics, there has still yet to be a body that can truly embody the diversity and range of the political spectrum under one organisation. The Mbeki-ites, who stood for neoliberal economic policy and fiscal responsibility, shared the same organisation with the South African Communist Party. ANC politics, always being defined by the leader of the time, has been home to opposing, counterintuitive, and even rebellious beliefs.

These political disputes have represented themselves over the years as personality engagements between party leaders and youth structures. The fight between former President Jacob Zuma and the then former president of the youth, and current President of the EFF, Julius Malema, pushed for more radical and revolutionary politics—particularly calls for economic freedom in our lifetime and the need to expropriate land. This led to the first congregation within the ANC to break from the “broad church” and start their own political party.

In 2013, the EFF was championed by the people of South Africa. Revolutionary greetings and red berets placed many within the youth at the footsteps of the EFF. The EFF placed itself right at the forefront of progressive politics and, on the political spectrum, positioned itself more left than the center-left-leaning ANC.

Colloquially, some even believed it was the rebranding and embodiment of the Youth League. Malema dealt the first blow to the ANC but was unable to truly topple it. Electorally, the ANC declined from 65.9% in 2009 to 62.15% in 2014. Comparatively, the EFF, in its first election, amassed 6.35%.

This indicated two things politically within South Africa: there was growing despondency developing within the political system that the EFF, in its early stages, capitalised on. Beyond taking ground from the ANC, it actually revitalised the scope and scale to which politics could be considered outside of the ANC. More importantly, even though the EFF was not part of the ANC, they still shared a similar constituency—people who cared about the same things but had different mechanisms for achieving their goals. The broad church lost, but gained overall in the wider scope of Black politics in South Africa.

Though there had been an electoral decline, it had not produced a radically different political landscape. Rather, it was a disruption of an existing sentiment within the broad church that more needed to be done, and that it needed to happen through the youth and a more radical socialist outlook. These ideas were not new to the EFF, but were already embedded within the ANC, just not given significant airtime. This marked the first dilution of the ANC majority, but not its fall into a minority party reliant on others.

Similarly, in the election year that followed in 2019, after the country had grappled with state capture and the Gupta family’s use of state institutions to facilitate widespread corruption, the same trend followed. Left and center-left politics continued to hold a 67% electoral majority in South Africa, just not concentrated within the ANC.

The ANC experienced an electoral decline of 8.4% in the 2019 election, placing them at 57.5% nationally, while the EFF continued to rise, gaining an additional 4.44%. The push for reform and alternatives outside of the ANC became significantly more necessary as the ANC became synonymous with corruption, government failure, and inefficiency. The people needed change. However, they were not upset with the ANC alone; rather, they exposed that it had failed to implement its promises, thus requiring a harsher political response.

Then, in the build-up to 2024, something interesting happened. The media underplayed and undervalued the impact that the uMkhonto weSizwe Party (MKP) would have electorally. This led many to believe that it was not a party to be taken seriously, but rather an attempt by a former president to reclaim power.

Former President Jacob Zuma has clearly outlined that the formation of the party was not intended to contest with the ANC indefinitely, but rather to force the ANC to return to its former state and restore its brilliance. This suggests that MKP voters were not non-ANC voters, but rather disgruntled ANC voters. The same logic applies: the “broad church” further fractured, yet continued to hold roughly a 64% majority of the electorate.

The ANC declined by 17.32% and fell below 50% for the first time electorally. The rise of the MKP corresponded with this shift, achieving 14.58% in its first election. Unlike the EFF, which relied on radicalism, the MKP leaned into nostalgia—a return to perceived better times pre-COVID and periods of reasonable economic growth. They did not create new constituencies but further fragmented the broad church.

Similarly, the EFF, even though it declined by 1.2%, continued to hold over 9%. Both parties felt the effect of the MKP and may have become victims of the same internal dynamics that once led to Malema’s expulsion from the ANC. The broad church had now been contested in unprecedented ways.

Yet, the ANC remained in power. It continued to dictate policy and the national outlook, both locally and internationally. Despite shifts in numbers and coalition dynamics, very little fundamentally changed.

Now, with Local Government Elections on the horizon, many analysts will call for the death of the ANC or claim this is their last chance to remain competitive. This overlooks the broader dynamic that continually drives the reformation of the broad church into a political entity capable of housing diverse ideological perspectives.

One of the more speculative concerns surrounds former President Zuma’s capacity to campaign in 2029. At 83 years old as of 2026, and with limited appearances in the build-up to the 2024 elections, there are legitimate concerns about his health and ability to re-engage the electorate.

This presents a major issue for the MKP, which relies heavily on Zuma for legitimacy and direction. There appears to be little succession planning for a post-Zuma era, and their long-term political vision remains unclear beyond his influence.

Additionally, Duduzile Zuma-Sambudla has removed herself from political viability after reportedly recruiting South Africans into a Russian mercenary group, forcing her resignation as an MP. A potential successor to the Zuma legacy has therefore become politically untenable.

Similarly, Julius Malema is awaiting sentencing following his October 2025 conviction for discharging a rifle at a 2018 rally. If sentenced to prison, he could be disqualified from running in 2029 under Section 47(e) of the Constitution, which bars individuals sentenced to more than 12 months without the option of a fine from serving in the National Assembly for five years after completing their sentence.

Within the EFF, the departures of figures such as Floyd Shivambu and Mbuyiseni Ndlozi have left a leadership vacuum. There is no clear successor capable of embodying Malema’s charismatic leadership, leaving the party vulnerable.

As internal dissatisfaction grows and members seek alternative political opportunities, the question becomes: where do they go?

It is unlikely that parties such as the Democratic Alliance, FF+, United for Change, or the IFP will fill this space. These parties lack the structural and ideological capacity to unite a broad and diverse electorate. Furthermore, their positions—particularly around social safety nets and transformation—often contrast with the foundational thinking of the ANC, making them less appealing as inclusive alternatives.

Even where the DA has governed, coalition instability has been a recurring issue. While governance in the Western Cape and Cape Town is often cited as effective, this alone does not translate into national appeal. Within the Government of National Unity, the DA has also faced challenges in implementing its policies effectively.

Even in a best-case scenario where the DA becomes the largest party, it would still require coalition partners—many of whom are more united in opposition to the DA than in cooperation with it.

This leaves one potential outcome: a reconstitution of the ANC.

In a political environment where opposition parties struggle to position themselves as a unifying force, the ANC has the opportunity to call for restoration, restructuring, and renewal of the broad church. This is where figures like Patrice Motsepe emerge as potential unifiers.

Motsepe’s public image is one of unity—across business, sport, religion, and traditional leadership. He engages with South African society in visible yet understated ways, while maintaining strong international and economic ties. This positions him as a potential figure capable of leading a renewal of the ANC—not as a dying institution, but as one seeking to reunify a fractured electorate.

The ANC, therefore, may not need immediate action. Instead, it can afford to wait as opposition figures face legal, political, and personal challenges. This creates space for the ANC to reposition itself for the future.

Finally, it is important to note that President Ramaphosa’s decision to initiate an inquiry in the lead-up to an election year appears counterintuitive. It risks exposing wrongdoing within the ANC itself.

However, as the state acts on the commission’s findings and begins prosecuting those implicated, it positions the ANC as the party attempting to resolve systemic corruption. Whether this leads to meaningful accountability or further delays remains to be seen.

Either way, it allows the ANC to frame itself as a vehicle for renewal—bringing in new leadership, distancing itself from past failures, and attempting to reunite its broad and diverse base under one umbrella. The vision remains the same: to be the “broad church” that accommodates all.

A struggling artisan with discomfort in his hands continues to toil with his tools. Refusing to sever his hands because his creations are necessary for his survival.

To say the flocks of young people leaving religion is a newfound occurrence would be wrong. People like Biko spoke to the trend of youths falling at odds with the church; however, now the widely traveled journey of deconstruction feels different, packaged with a newfound intellectualism and vibrance. For many, it is the net outcome of relief and release from bondage; freed from the attachment of their actions to eternal damnation in purgatory and the resolve of their crushing internal conflict. For me, the journey of religious deconstruction is not esteemed in relief or intellectual satisfaction. It is the abrupt removal of comfort and community. The divine explanation that my suffering is temporary or a part of a grand plan is gone. An omnipotent, benevolent creator deciding my future is now suddenly non-existent. Painstakingly, I know the reality my heart cannot accept, and neither can my family.

My mother calls every week and asks if I’ve found a youth group to join or if I’ve found a church to attend, and every time I tell her that I haven’t, she sighs in disappointment. She is weary for her son’s well-being, thinking it is likely to deteriorate without God or concern that the Lord will punish him. My grandmother’s happiest memory, as she so often proclaims, is my baptism. I cannot bring myself to tell them I’m agnostic. Even revealing the truth that I’m not religious to my peers is difficult; people on TikTok have referenced the need to “soft launch” the fact, wrapping it up in conversational foreplay before feeling comfortable enough to speak their truth. I can imagine the dull, repetitive and jarring debate that would likely ensue- the arguments I’ve heard a million times or have already picked apart in my head. Beyond my anxiety in “agnostically coming out,” it feels as if once I have shared my views, they’re final, and for some reason, I hope they aren’t because my mother’s eyes light up every Sunday, Easter, and Christmas, and even in my deconstruction phase, I crave her joy.

I yearn for the rhythm of church drums and incense. I feel incomplete without the Sunday routine of long church service. Part and parcel of the Black experience seems to be religious; so many individuals are compelled to seek intangible support from their precarious conditions. Now I stand alienated in navigating uncertainty for the first time in my life. What makes it marginally worse is the illogical fear that perhaps I’m wrong in my deconstruction and some divine ramification of failure awaits me. Stuck in this quagmire, I find myself more often than not reverting to what I’ve been taught as a child.

As if my eyes wide open, I close them. As if all the inertia pushing me to stand, I kneel; knowingly wrong, I close my eyes and pray. I pray for love, peace, and the health of my family and friends. Even selfishly to assume the intense suffering in the world would remain while mine is reduced, but what alternative do I have? Positioned to deal with pain and the weight of things I have little control over, what choice is there but to look above and plead?

I engage with religion in a quasi-genuine manner, drawing reliance through the escapism it offers but never having a tangible belief in its truth . Sigmund Freud argued, “religion is a system of wishful illusions”.Cognisant of the illusion, I choose to partially remain.

Like the artisan , I struggle with discomfort in my mind and heart, continuing to toil with the problem, refusing to sever it because its creations are paramount to my survival.

The Pentagon declared Anthropic a “supply-chain risk,” barring government contracts with the Department of War. It raises an interesting concern about who truly regulates the guidelines and usage of artificial intelligence: the creators or the government.

The debacle between the Pentagon and Anthropic developed over a clause that limited the government’s use of the AI technology for mass surveillance and autonomous weapons. This limitation strongly pushes against the government’s understanding that the military should be able to use technology for all lawful purposes.

The CEO of Anthropic, Dario Amodei, has specifically expressed that the technology is not up to standard to be used or accessed by the government as it currently stands. However, in the future, if the technology had the correct safety protocols and was deemed safe for military use, then they would consider it ready for use.

Furthermore, Amodei has expressed that Congress should develop laws and regulations that speak to the new technology and the complexity it presents to both society and governments as a whole. Absent those regulations, there are no checks on power or legal means of ensuring accountability as AI continues to aid in influencing decisions made at the military level in the use of Anthropic’s AI in both the strikes on Iran and the capturing of former President Maduro.

The Trump administration has been unwilling to engage with a private company influencing the way the government is allowed to utilize a specific technology to strengthen national defense. It is an argument used for a multitude of inventions, from the atomic bomb to the internet: the United States government has always been able to dictate how innovation alters and conforms society as a whole.

However, this moment feels less about technological advancement and integration and more about politics. Anthropic’s contracts in government defense had been signed in 2024 with the Biden administration and extended once the Trump administration came into office. As the pressure and threat of war in the Middle East began to ramp up, they needed partners who would further the interests of the government engaging in unsanctioned war. Anthropic refused to participate.

Interestingly, even though there has been some backtracking, the CEO of OpenAI, Sam Altman, was more than prepared to aid the Trump administration and fill the gap in the market—to be the company that would have sanctioned mass surveillance and autonomous weapons. However, public pressure forced him to reconsider his partnership. He further admitted the move was perceived as “opportunistic and sloppy.” The business move turned into a horrible public relations decision and once again created contestation with the Trump administration.

An interesting turn of events for AI companies, who have already had close ties with the Trump administration. Specifically, they were present at Trump’s commitment to invest $500 billion into AI. Sam Altman’s presence was known and felt. Over a year later, those same relationships continue to be tested.

More specifically, regarding the technology itself, the declaration of Anthropic as a “supply chain risk” is definitely unprecedented, as it is the first American company to be assigned that status. However, it is only in relation to the Department of War, formerly the Department of Defense. Commercial business and relationships are still deemed valid. There will be a deep legal battle that develops in the coming months.

It has caused some to speculate that in instances where the government no longer agrees with the political beliefs of integrated AI networks, or disagrees with the ethical standards and guidelines applied by the company that owns the technology, governments may attempt to unilaterally remove and implement a more politically aligned AI company.

This potentially is the first iteration of a developing issue for governments around the world. Anthropic framing themselves as the more ethical, principled, and well-intentioned AI company has not held strong against a government that seems to prioritize the implementation of its agenda above all else. The contest has no clear answer regarding who is more powerful.

The largest considerable threat, as AI companies integrate into government departments and access more information, is that they will continue to become more powerful than governments themselves, as they have both insight and understanding of the processes and biases that influence machine operations.

More threatening is the fact that they will have substantial amounts of data about private and public information concerning government operations. They have the capacity to overhaul and override government systems if they so see fit. To some degree, Anthropic’s contract with the government is believed to do so.

Furthermore, on a more hypothetical basis, in the instance where the CEO of an AI company is directly opposed to the government that has been installed, direct conflict could occur after an election. If the guiding principles between the elected president and the CEO are deemed unresolvable overnight, havoc could ensue, or key systems and infrastructure could be shut down.

AI technology not only becomes the infrastructure that governments depend on to optimize their function and ensure processes that would have once been deemed impossible due to limitations of human capital, or impractical due to lack of resources, but suddenly becomes the very system governments depend on to run the state, protect their borders, and sadly, wage war on other countries. It is no longer a technology that will merely progress society but one that will define society.

Evidently, this moment shows that regulations and solutions to the problem may not come about in time, as technology continues to influence all parts of society more visibly on a day-to-day basis. Countries will come to understand the impact of AI on elections, public support, media, and democracy long after AI has already implanted itself within humanity.

The world currently exists in a strange paradox where both world leaders and corporate leaders appear to be both trustworthy and self-interested. They continue to show that they are neither heroes nor villains, but individuals trying to make sense of the information as technology continues to challenge our assumptions about the rules that govern society. They too seem to be searching without a clear answer.

The following months will be defined by the story that is believed and held by the majority when it is all said and done. It may be that Amodei is seen as the moral voice and leader of the world of AI, or it may be the government that, in its time of war, tries to show the world that it is best positioned to ensure care and safety. It may end with no one being the hero and society collectively holding the failure together.

History seems to be repeating itself. Social media continues to face growing regulations around the world. Technology CEOs are forced to take accountability in public hearings, and policy continues to be developed to regulate social media and its influence on children. It happens well after damage has been done, when loneliness, anxiety, and depression have become symptoms among adolescents who developed habitual feelings of lack. The world seems to have responded far too late.

Now faced with AI, unaware of what the consequences may be, what the influences may do to society, and unclear as to what symptoms will unite and bind the next generation, it is important that politics does not blind the world from the true opportunity and/or threat that AI currently represents.

The truth of the matter is that AI needs to be regulated by everyone: consumers, creators, and governments as a whole. It affects everyone equally and defines whether or not world peace is an aspiration or a reality.

It is us, not our prompts, that make us whole.

The assassination of Iran’s Supreme Ayatollah Ali Khamenei by the United States and Israel, and the prospect of war in the Middle East, felt almost like a nail in the coffin for humanitarianism and international law. It evoked a deeper question: where did all the love go?

In 2026 alone, there has been the capturing of a sovereign country’s leader in former President of Venezuela, Maduro, and now this killing. The world has been unable to respond to the might-is-right politics of the current day, exposing the dissonance between what was assumed to be the belief in democracy, peace, and sustainability.

Ironically, the United States once was the leader of democracy, development, and aid, particularly in the development of institutions such as the United Nations, World Trade Organization, and International Monetary Fund. Once champions of global development and globalism, with an increasingly integrated economy, it overnight became the strength test for the true aims of these institutions and the true validity of their strength absent the United States, both in name and financial contribution.

Suddenly, once again, the Trump administration recognizes the most untested assumption of all: that the United States will always be good and democratic, not only threatening a rewriting of the rules but a rebuilding of institutions.

As threats face the United Nations, risking closure in July if dues are not paid, “The United Nations said on Friday that it was facing imminent financial collapse and would run out of money by July if countries, namely the United States, did not pay their annual dues that amount to billions of dollars,” according to the NYTimes from a letter written by U.N. Secretary-General Antonio Guterres. There is further risk that the institution that champions and fundamentally fights for and prioritizes human rights in action and word will collapse. There will be limited space for legitimate global cooperation and solution-building.

To further the situation, President Trump established the Board of Peace, which many believe is likely to threaten the United Nations. There is a clear redefining both of the relationship and of the states that are allowed to dictate international law moving forward.

However, it is important to point out that technically this is just an open and outward expression of American domination that has existed for years. Whether it be the IMF or the United Nations, there have always been inherent embedded powers to strengthen the interests of the United States against enemies it deemed at the time, or in support of allies.

Most evidently exposed in the continuous veto of aid relief and peace plans in the years after October 7, 2023, the United States continued to side with its ally in Israel on both Democratic and Republican sides and turned a blind eye to the blatant human rights violations that were taking place.

Furthermore, they continued to refuse to acknowledge and recognize the genocide that was taking place in Gaza. Sadly, even now, their idea of peace for the people of Gaza and Palestine continues to be without the Palestinians and without actual peace in Gaza.

The Trump administration continues to replicate the idea of doublespeak, where its intentions are directly opposed to the name of the institution itself. Whether it be the Board of Peace led by a nation that continues to violate sovereign borders and do as it pleases with leaders in various states, or the claim to be “America First,” a belief of isolationism in America and removing itself from geopolitical engagements, yet continually threatening expansion and now the risk of war with the killing of Iranian top leaders — America has been far from the isolation he once promised on the election trail.

Core to this suffering and destruction, which is not new and has been known to many African countries for centuries through the various exploration and pursuits taken by the West, it is now exposed amongst Western allies in ways that once were assumed to never be tested again — especially after World War Two and the provision of interconnectedness culturally, physically, and online. But at this moment, the world seems unable to come together, unable to love, a world overcome by despair that seems to grow endlessly.

Whether it is online or in person, around the world it feels as though everyone’s reality continues to be fractured. As those realities are fractured and emotions are amplified through constant algorithmic programming that fosters hatred to garner engagement, there becomes an enemy within — some in society that need to be upended and uprooted but actually never truly can be.

Instead of encouraging a world of acceptance, the world of difference is normalized. Videos that celebrate stereotypes, that promote prejudice, and that constantly cross the line of expression and clearly migrate toward hate provide the ground for love to be an impossible reality.

It is this reality that subconsciously justifies the death of human beings and shows no remorse. Over the years, the celebration of death and the support of killings have completely ignored the human soul — the necessity to protect life and to appreciate that at present there is only the promise of one.

Whether it has been the attempted assassination of President Trump, the assassination of Charlie Kirk, or the assassination of the Supreme Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, there can never be an instance where the world celebrates the destruction of another sovereign leader or any human being for anything that they believe in.

Truth be told, people are not their ideas. People are not perfect, and people are not expendable.

This will have an effect both internally and externally. Iran will have a power struggle, as seen in other nations where their leader has been assassinated. It has already taken to responding to neighboring countries in the Middle East.

This is the moment where the world cannot remain silent and allow power to be the defining factor of the world. The world has come too far and progressed in ways that have gone underappreciated. Global cooperation, USAID, and the United Nations, though far from being perfect, meant a lot to refugees, to migrants, victims of war, and human rights organizations as they continued to chart the vision for the world. It cannot at this time choose to let those ideas die.

Furthermore, it is important that leaders make sure not to support further division, but rather promote dialogue and actively move to reinforce and honestly reflect on the assumptions they clearly overstated and undervalued.

This is the moment to show the world that love and peace can be a force for uniting people. There is actually no need to be divided if there is an actual addressing of the realities and failures that have been the systems of democracy, international law, and capitalism.

To find legitimate solutions that are equitable and actually democratic, where they do not allow for the dominance of smaller nations by larger nations — where might becomes not a concern of sovereign nations but partnership, growth, and cooperation become the norm and not the outlier.

The world once came together to fight the dominance of the Germans and built institutions that promoted the beliefs that became accustomed to so many democratic nations. It can be done again if states together choose to be champions of their beliefs both in word and action.

To truly embrace what is core to the idea of having the right to life — to have it be loving, absent the fear and threat of war, and the need for suffering to be carried by all of humanity and not just those forced to face it.

It is about time that our politics returns to having love at its center — to truly stand for a peaceful world and to ensure the safety and security of every human life, regardless of where or how it exists in the world.

If everything as it stands is horrible, what good is the future? South African political podcasts at the moment seem to call for no real solution and only amplify the political discourse with more anger and rage, without a solution. Truly, what is the end that these podcasters hope to achieve?

Listening to South African podcasters react to the current state of South Africa after SONA and the budget speech, it felt apparently clear that nothing would satisfy the people who claim to be the face of discourse within South Africa.

There seems to be a common problem among all of them at the moment: nothing works in South Africa. Whether it be commissions of enquiry, the economy, the government, or any institution touched by the African National Congress or the Government of National Unity, it is almost doomed to fail.

Evidently, they are working on the same emotional nerve and touchpoints that politicians use when advocating against the ANC. They have innately repackaged the anger and outrage that was traditional media and provided it in a more long-form and digestible tone.

There is reason to say that the government has been far from perfect and has failed, or is currently failing, in a multitude of ways. However, this is not absent from the few successes, minor or major, that the government has currently achieved.

Whether it be decreasing unemployment ever so slightly, adjusting tax brackets for inflation, and providing some relief, though minimal, it is a step in the right direction — one which, a year ago, when inflation adjustments had not occurred, was a point of discussion for podcasters as they claimed once again the budget was doomed to fail.

Further to this, at the moment there is no accountability or pressure that exists for pundits and commentators to be accountable to anyone beyond their fan base. Claiming to represent a politically objective platform, absent any bias, becomes evidently further from the truth when statements are charged with opinion and devoid of data and facts.

It has been said before by pundits themselves: it is easy to complain, it is easy to say slogans, and it is easy to be a talking head — but it is hard to do the work. They too need to be able to reflect and truly unpack what their role in society is, for if they do not move the conversation to a place that actually allows people to objectively evaluate the situation and deem the best way forward, they fail in that role.

The risk of clouding judgments and views based on biases, and the preference for certain political views over others, does not move the country forward or achieve their claimed aims of strengthening democracy. It only further divides society and blurs the lines between fact and fiction, as South Africans shape their political views off a few, unaware of the full spectrum of political thought.

It is easy to provide a simple narrative — one with heroes and villains that paints all the bad guys as being of one party and one mind, and the good guys the converse — but the reality of South African politics has been far from that.

Democratic Alliance leader John Steenhuisen himself exposed how politics “corrupts,” whether you are ANC or not. He hired his friends, he pleased his donors, and he had credit card debt. But it was not corruption, it was not crime — it was “infighting,” because the media shaped it that way. Yet the brand remains the DA as the clean party.

However, when it comes to the GNU, it seems useless, devoid of the same DA. The same party is pushing for Helen Zille to be mayor in Johannesburg — the second-largest partner to the ANC, part of the same failing government. Yet they remain heroes, while the ANC and President Cyril Ramaphosa are the villains.

Truth be told, neither party has been perfect. On both sides, favours were likely made, conversations were had, and pressure from various interest groups influenced their decisions. Truly, what came about was human decision-making influenced by intuition and experience.

However, instead of unpacking the media’s bias, lack of nuance, and failure to fairly report both sides of the story, commentators amplify the parts that suit their narrative and negate the parts that do not, strengthening mistrust in the government and leaving no one with a place to truly understand the political situation at hand.

Belief and trust continue to be at an all-time low, as commentators and pundits celebrate the fragmented and splintered reality formed by algorithms and channels such as theirs that play into people’s biases. They too lose sight of the harm they have caused — the further destruction of society’s fabric — when they refuse to be aware of the consequences.

Most importantly, they leave the future of this country not thinking about a way forward, talking and planning about their future, but simply questioning endlessly without an end. Not providing certainty or clarity, or being fair to both sides, leaves people angrier than when they started. It only fuels pressure to act — but not together — instead alone, to achieve the quickest relief to a solution and not the most thought-out one.

Just recently, the United States, on January 6th, 2021, felt the impacts of a fractured society when a select few were allowed to dictate and inform how the collective viewpoint of a few thousand in the nation could lead to the storming of the Capitol. They found their way through the world of podcasts and social groups.

The recent election in 2024 in the United States was influenced immensely by the appearance of Donald Trump on a variety of podcasts, particularly more conservative-leaning ones and broadcasts aimed at younger audiences. Those had a major sway on the election and have had much impact on the world ever since Trump’s inauguration day in 2025.

Similarly, in South Africa, if there is no care and critical thought applied to the shift in the consumption of news and media, there lies a risk for a few to define the outlook of many. If the country is not careful and truthful about the problems that politics and media have caused — which have given way to this new digital world — it will become just another hopeful platform destroyed by the emphasis on despair over objectivity.

More importantly, it threatens to further entrench the low levels of trust in each other, in the government, and in society as a whole if it continues to celebrate factionalism or partisanship that is neither fair nor factual.

This is not to say that there is anything wrong with differing political opinions, thinking, theories, or schools of thought. Rather, it is to say that all thinking should be based on evidence and facts.

There cannot be a further celebration of the death of our intellectualism and the offering of political thinking to the few who give their time to read the news. It should remain something shared and encouraged amongst all South Africans — not simply those who care to ask the question, but even those faced with dealing with the problems.

South Africa is not all bad. It is ironic that pundits and commentators will even tell you this too. It has its moments. It is going through hardship, but it is never doomed to failure always. Sometimes it is bad, and sometimes it is good. It just depends on the collective willingness to act, to make do with the current situation, and to improve on it.

The country will derive its identity from the story that it tells itself — the story it tells of its people and the realities that people face every day. Whether those realities are shaped as opportunities or as moments of despair should be a choice everyone makes together — not because of the influence of a few, but through the thinking of everyone, collectively.

Johannesburg’s water crisis is peculiar; it has brought politics, civil society, and the media all to the forefront. Collectively, there is a dire need for quick solutions, but reality is unable to provide them. A small few are raising major concerns about how this will alter the social fabric and the relationship between Johannesburg and its people.

Water is one of the most pertinent resources to society. Throughout history, communities were formed and developed around water sources: the River Thames, the Nile River, or the Suez Canal. Wars have been fought over the lack of access to, or exploitation of, water sources. It has been crucial to humanity.

Furthermore, in certain cultures and religions, water holds sacred value. It is the embodiment of purification. Beyond its biological necessity, water has been highly esteemed and intertwined with the social identity of society.

Particularly with urbanisation and modern sewage systems, it provided the ability for people to live inland and prioritise lives that focused more on intellectual tasks, which developed into service industries. Increased accessibility and removal from the need to live directly by a water source provided greater development across the world and in Johannesburg.

It improved life expectancy as people’s sanitation improved with access to running water and sewage systems. Water was significantly safer for consumption, and there were fewer waterborne diseases. The improvements were felt throughout society.

However, all these developments, and the importance and value of water, went unnoticed when it existed in fair supply and now go strained and unprovided in Johannesburg.

Suddenly, the progress, the busyness, and the hustle and bustle that is Johannesburg is forced to come to a halt. Communities are left wanting and waiting to receive not a luxury, but a human right — water.

Schools are unable to run as students do not have access to adequate and functioning restroom facilities. Students are forced to source water to bring to school daily as taps run dry. They are forced to go to school in an undignified state, unwashed and unclear as to when the next shower may come.

Hospitals, with doctors who took an oath to save lives and be of use to society, are unable to do their jobs as their concerns shift from patients to securing water to keep people afloat. Already overburdened with countless lives, they are further forced to compensate for a government that failed to maintain infrastructure and water systems. Suddenly, their job, which was already hard, becomes far harder.

Parents and people with young and elderly dependents are concerned not only for themselves, but for the safety and well-being of those in their care. No access to water increases the risk of compromised immunity, and diseases become more prevalent. They are forced to adapt and find ways to keep their own protected. They go from citizens to survivors, wondering when the nightmare will end and when someone will do something that is more than words.

No water does not only cause inconvenience but fundamentally strains an already strained population even further. It pushes societies to no longer share and understand one another and instead become individualistic and defensive of their resources.

The city cannot function on water tankers, water bottles, and boreholes. Those resources themselves are not limitless and are far from perfect. They are perceived to prioritise select communities, expose those who have means and access to resources, and further highlight the degree of neglect communities feel.

It does not happen within the normal functioning of society, but in the stagnation of society — in the worst kind of environment, where people remain at home and have no outlet for their anger. It is left unaddressed, unengaged, and disingenuous, leaving many without any other choice but to take action of their own.

Already throughout Johannesburg, there have been protests regarding the water issue. Communities have begun to use their own voices and ask their government to find a solution to a pressing problem.

It is important that they respond swiftly and honestly. They cannot allow this situation to further enhance distrust and leave people resentful towards the government, or it will further disillusion the youth who have known nothing but dysfunction.

More importantly, they must find a solution that brings society together over playing politics — to set an example that water is not a political issue but a human issue. One that, if not solved, can lead to some of the worst outcomes.

To, for once, remove the politics and make it simply about people. To show people that they need not be affiliated with a political party to be taken seriously. To give people the belief and feeling that their voice matters, whether they are in government or not — simply for the mere fact that they are citizens who have a dire need of a solution, clarity, and transparency.

The longer there is no water, the more anger is capitalised upon. The more money is lost as people are unable to attend their jobs and places close in the interim while they deal with the water crisis. Society remains left stuck, without a clear way forward. People will want to define that way for themselves.

On the other hand, the ANC truly is having a huge blunder at the moment. Holding the mayorship while the DA is making a concerted effort to ensure they become the leading party, with Helen Zille as mayor, they should be more than concerned about the current state of service delivery because Johannesburg is the spotlight city, and they are being exposed as a failing party with Dada Morero at the forefront.

Furthermore, Dada Morero fought Loyiso Masuku for the seat of Johannesburg’s mayorship, making it seem that the party does not have clear priorities, but may be more concerned internally about hierarchy than the current situation at hand. So the politics are already more than at play.

Truthfully, this Johannesburg issue will contest everything that has been assumed about the resilience of its people — their willingness to live through service delivery failures and find their own way through the degrading city. It leaves many people with the question: can they still believe in politics and government?

Will it be the promise that was made — the prosperous society that continues to be envisioned — or is it a dark reality that requires more than visionary thinking, but simple concern for humans and their basic rights? Even if it is not through government, not together but alone, in a new society defined by a different water source?

Reading and watching reviews of the State of Nation Address what became oddly apparent was that the media is truly unclear as to what story it wants to tell. What exactly does it actually intend to hold the government accountable for and being the bridge to the public that separates nuance and rhetoric from policy, statistics and data, the people who find the real story. To put it truthfully it has become disillusioning and it is showing itself now more than ever.

President Ramaphosa was the key character as he took to address the nation. He addressed a multitude of issues from the water crisis facing Joburg, crime and corruption being discussed and unpacked through the Madlanga Commission, failing municipalities and there need to be alternatives and state intervention and the improvements in the economy.

He spent over 100 minutes addressing the people of South Africa and took his time to both outline where the country has come from, how it is now a turning point and seems to be improving but there are major issues but particularly crime that is a major issue to confidence in the state and a threat to democracy.

Without expressing too much in regards to the speech just yet, one thing is true about problems that face society. There is never a solution that fixes everything and rarely are there instances in which there is complete agreement. Democracies inherently come with the ability to express dissent and push for discourse that may or may not influence policy. However, this influence element seems lost on the media in South Africa.

What is becoming particularly hard to understand are the assertions by individuals who are part of traditional media organizations without any clear justification. Analysts are exclaiming President Ramaphosa will be out at the end of this year. To some degree there may be validation with a local government election, however it is outlined it never happened before an ANC election because it puts the party in turmoil. Statements are made to direct and guide the narrative in a certain way but lack clear timelines, trends or evidence.

Furthermore, the echo chamber of information in media and the lack of diversity in takes where journalists actually express a viewpoint that is informed by evidence rather than opinion there would be wider representation of the takes of South Africa.

Currently, there is both an overtly critical outlook on the President as he fails to implement and meanders over issues. Forms tasks, groups and forces that are non consequential or end up failing in their objective. Many pointed it out with the Water committee chaired by Deputy President Mashatile announced two years ago. Providing much credibility to the open questioning of the president’s abilities.

Conversely, considering the pursuit the President has undertaken being taken over the grey list, consumer spending being up in the months of December, inflation being low. While simultaneously being an active voice and player in geopolitical engagements. There have been many crises and problems that have been resolved slowly over time.

Eskom and Prasa both provide prime examples of President Ramaphosa’s long-term approach and meticulous planning to solve issues in South Africa. Suddenly Loadshedding is not the crisis that it once used to be. Moreover, Prasa trains increase accessibility to cities and affordable transport provided by the government. It is far from perfect but is a success story.

However, it cannot be devoid of the unemployment rate and youth unemployment. Many journalists have pointed out that until it is felt in communities and seen amongst those in civil society this speech is nothing but another promise. There is truth to that, it is another promise. But not all failure is complete failure, sometimes things take just a little more time.

The government will never and is unable to get everything right entirely all the time. Governments are a human based system, humans are innately imperfect and will forever create imperfect within a system. Think about input on the system and typing a name or number incorrectly that is human error. That happens at scale for the government and means that the targets they set they may over estimate and under estimate, that is a part of their function to estimate how much they can spend in a budget.

In instances where collection is better than expected at SARS as in this year there is more money that can be allocated to the budget. Governments are required to promise good outcomes, they are frank about their realities. But politicians frame the future, the outlook and the path forward.

There is credence in the media questioning the validity based on outlines but forever playing to the gallery and enforcing that it never works makes it untrue. The South Africa government works, it is not the best. It has been horrible at solving inequality and taking care of socially vulnerable communities. But it has not collapsed and it is far from it. It may show signs of cracks but it is about how the collective guides conversations to solve them rather than point them out.

It felt as if much of the question was about negativity. The things that were going wrong. But no one ever asked how the country would improve and maximize on the things that it is doing right. Everyone provided their opinion on how they would solve the problems in South Africa but beyond word had no action.

These are not public citizens watching a speech. These are members of parliaments and ministers who actually have the ability to, beyond being part of the conversation, actually implement policies that lead to the vision they hope to see for the country. Not critics about speeches and more talks.

There is a need to break the echo chamber of the media that simply provides verbatim the words of politicians. But the media that asks questions that unpacks and truly understands the motives and decisions made by politicians, donors and the country as whole.

It will become an even harder task as the newsroom shrinks and media interests are funded by a select few. But there is a need for South Africans to express their full voice and truly ask those who criticise their colleagues in power, what are they truly doing about?

South Africa needs to get a grip and the media needs to become an institution that complains but that shapes, builds and guides political and intellectual thinking in the country. That means being critical about the question asked, the statements made and the assumptions presented.

It means accurately separating what is the difference between opinion and fact. Clearly outlining what is a thought versus what is known. It means making sure that it is a place of trust that builds understanding and does not further disrupt and confuse discourse in the country.

If there is truly an attempt to hold this government accountable, let it be the media that tracks, updates and communicates the information promised to the people. Let them understand how they are being failed or not because the government is or is not fulfilling its mandate. Do not outline the thought before the information, inform rather than persuade.

Truly none of us know what will happen after this SONA, it seems as though the President has asserted some hard power with military support to the police. The establishment of an independent anti-corruption body and move to garner more private-public partnerships through operation vulindela. There is a lot to be seen and only time will provide that clarity.

So let the future discourse in South Africa be about pragmatism, practicality and accountability that does not only point the figure to the top but asks all of us what is our role to play? Let the media be the bridge to information, not just opinions devoid of facts.

The announcement by Democratic Alliance Leader John Steenhuisen stating that he would not seek re-election for the position of DA Federal Leader marks an interesting turn in South African politics. More interestingly, it begins the early waves of the political drama that is about to unfold. But is this story of his exit being told slightly incorrectly, and is it a deeper reflection of what conservative South Africa’s view is on the country?

All around the media, the credit card scandal and the ousting of Dion George, finance chair and Minister of Forestry, Fisheries and the Environment, are framed as the catalyst for this decision. It is presented as a perfect story without a perfect ending: an individual mistake made by a politician that results in a personal decision over a political one. This marked the beginning of media leaks from both Dion George and John Steenhuisen, resulting in George’s resignation after the investigation findings.

The findings cleared John Steenhuisen of wrongdoing in the credit card expenditures; he remains under inquiry over allegations that he brought the party into disrepute. There was not much beyond reputational damage, which fell heavily on Steenhuisen, and an emulation of politics seen in the ANC with media leaks and calculated oustings.

However, in reality, no crime had been committed. No evidence had been found and nothing was to be disputed. Steenhuisen’s reason to leave, though potentially actioned now, was not actioned now by any stretch of the imagination.

Steenhuisen’s media run upon announcing his option not to be re-elected has been interesting because within most of the discussion he has particularly emphasised that he has delivered on his promise and his duty.

He both led the DA to government with the formation of the Government of National Unity, which saw the DA receive key ministerial posts and govern in what many believe is truly a coalition between the ANC and the DA, rather than that of collective parties. Thus, he fulfilled his promise to lead the DA to government.

More importantly, he fulfilled the mandate of returning the party to a better standing after former Federal Leader Mmusi Maimane took a slip in the polls, as more conservative voters opted for the Freedom Front Plus when Maimane was seen to take a more progressive stance on issues regarding race, education, and health care. In 2024, Steenhuisen outperformed his predecessor and returned the party to a reputable place.

An interesting framing places Steenhuisen not only as a leader who embarked on new journeys that previous DA leaders would not, in partnering with the ANC, but also as a leader who was able to provide a clear class-liberal identity back to the party in the wake of an election that allowed for much-needed electoral growth.

However, internally the DA spoke of a much different story.

In Steenhuisen’s interviews, there is discussion of an unidentified faction, which some believe is backed and led by Helen Zille, the DA federal chairperson. Others are unwilling to clearly provide its name and face. Interestingly, this faction, similar to that of the one in the ANC, has not been fond of a partnership with the ANC in the GNU format.

What became evidently apparent is that the DA struggled to separate its opposition identity from its governance identity. There were many instances where camps within the DA believed they had been dictated to, policy-wise, regarding NHI, the Expropriation Act, and international policy.

Steenhuisen’s inability to materialise actual urgency for the ANC to take their threats seriously has meant he has been unable to play to the interests of funders and donors in a manner that is representative of their interests, without risking both his job in government and his legacy as a politician.

The one agreed fact and belief in the story is that Steenhuisen guided the DA into the GNU. There is belief amongst many analysts that his legacy as a politician in South Africa rides very much on its success or its failure. It marks not only a first time in government, but a deeper concern into coalition governance that many other leaders would most likely opt to delay for another election cycle.

However, in the case of Steenhuisen, through proving to potentially have some success and being on the correct course, his own portfolio suffered immensely with the mismanagement of the foot-and-mouth outbreak, which placed him further at odds with some of his donors, as agriculture further suffered under his directive.

There is a more fair reality, one that is the story Steenhuisen tells: one where he wants to retire and spend time with his family, making it clear that this was an option for him to enjoy his life and his family. However, the reality does not entirely line up.

It is not as though Steenhuisen is stepping away from politics in any capacity. He still intends to keep his position, while maintaining he will follow the directive of the incoming executive once it is elected. Furthermore, he continues to commit to the belief that he is both loyal to his party and his country. Those do not appear to be the sentiments of someone who is going into retirement or leaving politics soon.

Furthermore, considering the idea that politics is more of a long game, there will be major questions in terms of who takes the reins of power from Helen Zille as she reaches the closing years of her political career. It would be hard to see, after Johannesburg, how she would take on any further ventures, even more so considering she is not running for re-election as Federal Chairperson. The DA power plays and succession plans are only just beginning.

Steenhuisen does not leave a faction. He does not leave in any capacity tainted. The decision from April will be that of a new DA executive, with a different face, voice, viewpoint, and politics. History will grapple immensely with the question of whether or not John Steenhuisen was a revolutionary leader who led his party on the right path, or rather a person who sacrificed his party for his own legacy.

What is unclear is if he believed so much in the project of the GNU, why did he decide to leave it when he could have seen it through to completion? Did he potentially have internal doubts, could he be privy to information that the country is not aware of, or was this simply a mistake — a political error and blunder that influenced the course of politics in the country for the next three years?

In reality, was this a sign that the power that influenced politics needed a stronger stance — a more loyal representative who would push policy over the line and contest the dominance of the ANC? Truly push the ANC as it is no longer a majority into action? It will be hard to tell until the DA election is all said and done.

But what is evidently clear, and will probably show itself throughout this year, is that for some politicians their reputation and legacy are everything. This will be a keystone moment, defining and formalising those narratives for some of the most important players in the politics of this country.

Steenhuisen was just the first domino to fall. Who will be next is a question of time and calculation. But do not, for one second, think that politics is a game of moments. It is one of strategy, of planning and timing. It is more structured than it may seem. But sometimes it takes a moment of error or luck to change the outcome.

Activism, and specifically youth activism, feels as though it is seen as an end in the 21st century rather than a means to an end. The endless usurping of stages and moments to amplify the cause, while still being credited as an individual, has moved activism far from the collective and exposed the more selfish and perverse elements that once were the by-products of achieving the aims that activism intended to cause.

Recently, speaking to friends and hearing how they endlessly and sporadically move to the social cause of the time, declare their enemies and allies, and claim to be entirely, one hundred percent for the cause, there is almost no recognition of the previous cause. Whether it is Palestine–Israel, Russia and Ukraine, Sudan, the Congo, or more recently Venezuela and Iran, there seems to be no principles guiding the conversation. There is an emphasis on what is right without full understanding or justification for why it is true.

Due to the nature of social media and its capacity to create niched viewpoints adjusted to maximise engagement, there are both positive and negative sentiments that reinforce viewpoints and silo the world from the breadth, depth, and nuance that are required to understand the situations unfolding.

In the majority of instances, there is disagreement over history and perceived misunderstanding that continues to revitalise hostilities between states. Particularly with Russia, Ukraine, and Israel–Palestine, both sides’ motivations are rooted in their perception of history. On both sides, there have been atrocities — not equal to one another — but they stem from decades, sometimes centuries, that provide the context to understand the outbursts we see now.

Furthermore, with that being said, the solutions are probably far harder to reach than sentiments shared openly, such as two-state solutions or the return of usurped land in the case of Russia. There is both pride and fear of the impacts of defeat that all nations uphold, and sometimes, in the worst cases such as Palestine, there is no easier solution than destruction. This provides providence to go about the destruction of people in Gaza and wage physical, psychological, and mental torment until people have no option but to surrender.

However, I hope, at least, that the world will not watch the destruction of another state, nor do I believe in any instance that civilians should be used as casualties of war — one that they themselves did not consent to or willingly participate in. I hope for peace in Gaza and the world.

Conversely, more current issues, such as Iran and the capturing of Venezuelan President Maduro, raise an internal moral question: are democratic countries allowed to topple autocratic regimes they do not agree with? International law protects the sovereignty of all states, and there is evident history of collapsing governments that lead to worse outcomes, as seen in the Congo and Sudan. The people are left without a clear way out of governments they collectively distrust, and power has sporadically disappeared amongst a few controlling forces. Violence becomes a norm in these societies as territory is contested.

However, there is no negating their oppressive forms of governance — the killing of civilians, the use of the military against the public during protests, the arrest of women for refusing to wear hijabs in public. These governments remain far from perfect, and internal sentiment continues to be contested as the public protests and calls for the end of oppressive rule.

Somewhere lies the paradoxical nature of societies. They can be far from perfect — in some instances more than imperfect — and as people who experience the freedoms guaranteed through democracy, there is an aspirational belief to spread them around the world. Simultaneously, there can never be acceptance of instances where power alone defines the approach to geopolitics, or there will be no respect for diplomacy, governance, and international sovereignty. This would destroy much of what the world has worked to build, even if through imperfect systems.

Within this chaos — a whirlwind of events that has defined much of the 2020s — it is how this information is communicated to the people who champion the cause that defines our approach to these events. Whether it be celebrities, activists, or musicians, there is evident support for causes without any follow-through on what to do long-term. There is a lack of commitment and a culture of moving on when the act of activism does not pan out as successfully as deemed.

There is almost a newfound ability to be activists outside of communities, from screens, and never have to engage with the work, importance, and value of mobilising communities to actively direct action in a manner that leads to legitimate and intended outcomes. Much of the activism of today is to highlight a moment and move on, not to ensure systems are put in place and policies are advocated for that reduce the problem.

Moreover, there is immense pressure to be current, relevant, and knowledgeable about every issue. Though it is possible, it takes time. It requires more than reading brief summaries and gathering general facts. Additionally, it requires the humility to recognise that there are likely far more knowledgeable individuals who can speak to the issues being discussed at present.

A friend said to me at a protest about Palestine that none of the Palestinians were provided the opportunity to speak about their country, to provide their perspective, and to share how their pain may be different from ours. It was dominated by organisers and individuals who wanted to be seen as speaking to an issue rather than providing a platform for those who have survived the situation, or relate to it directly, to be empowered to tell their reality.

Additionally, in that same vein, understanding which solutions are viable only makes sense when they come from those most affected. In most instances, they are most attuned to their most pressing needs, which people they are most likely to trust and cooperate with, and most importantly, what is right for co-existence. Absent their input, it is nothing but another imposing voice declaring a solution without a clear or vested interest in success.

During the wave of liberation, they proclaimed, “African solutions for African problems.” It is about time that the same principle is applied across the world — where people find solutions, find dialogue, and seek a way forward collectively. For all of us to collectively remember, it will be far from easy and far from quick.

Social media activism has forced us to believe that things happen overnight — that saying something today will push society to be different tomorrow. However, it is far from that. Society does not change unless there is active will to teach how to change, to show what the other side — the better society — actually looks like, and to understand that the process is both collaborative and necessary.

Activism is also not linear. You fail more times than you succeed. There is no timeline for when change comes about. Moreover, there are too many issues to know all of them and be deeply invested in each. There is only so much time and energy every human has to give. It is okay not to know everything — there should simply be a willingness to learn and to have an informed outlook on the situation.

The world is dominated by applications that seek attention, and activism has become one of the roles in society competing for that attention. Let it not be another label assigned to people who engage in unpacking current affairs; let it be about people who are mobilising communities on the ground to be better. It requires more than likes, followers, and views — it requires people.

It is time that society as a whole learns about the world’s problems not only through a phone, but through its people. This is a country where everyone lives together and must therefore be active together in building the future, in declaring a better society.

Activism is meant to have aims, goals, policies, manifestos, and agendas. It is meant to speak to the people, find its voice in the people, and always be about the people. If there is truly to be activism, let it not be a moment, but a movement — with feet, voices, and chants — that pushes South Africa closer to a dream not merely manifested, but actualised.

The disillusionment with media and politics in South Africa seems to be created by the constant tussle between “doomsday” and utopian promises that are never fulfilled. As politicians promise to be better than the last government that promised to be better, and the media constantly claim state failure while blowing perspective out of proportion, there seems to be no middle ground for reality.

Listening to and reading about the Commission of Enquiry and the Ad Hoc Committee, it has been pretty hard to draw a clear story. The more witnesses who provide their understanding of the rot in the criminal justice system, judiciary, and police system, the more complex the picture becomes. There are two very telling stories: one about people and the other about crime.

The first is about people. There is an over-exaggeration of what is simply human nature, which is to be political even in non-political spaces. Cops working their way through the police system and aspiring to be National Commissioner are likely to have friends, allies, and enemies for no other reason than that they are competing with others who aspire to have the same role and, even more so, believe they can do it better.

Furthermore, within those environments, camps begin to develop. People team up and factions form so that they may be beneficiaries of the success of their friend or ally. This is true in any space where people are competing for positions, whether it be school, corporates, or McDonald’s. There will forever be the very innate human reactions of jealousy, competition, and tribalism that occur in these environments. That is normal and human.

So when it comes to writing about the cops and outlining the allegations they baselessly accuse each other with, there is something rather human and normal in the fact that they all have their own motivations, camps, and people they consider friend and foe. Not all of it can be about being ill-fitted, immoral individuals, but rather a human response to environments that replicate villages of ancient times.

However, to the second point: corruption and crime. There is a sad reality that there are major concerns and problems regarding the relationships some criminals have developed with certain people within the criminal justice system. But it cannot be everyone.

Hearing about whistleblowers and people who have had to keep their identity anonymous to ensure that what they have to say does not harm them or their family is a huge risk. It more deeply displays that they are people who are moral, upstanding, and willing to aid the process of moving forward toward a more just country.

Even then, when they try everything in their power to remain anonymous, Marius van der Merwe, a former EMPD officer known to the Commission as “Witness D,” still lost his life in early December last year in the pursuit of justice. People continue to try, and this is probably only the beginning of a long struggle with ourselves, with the institutions that be, and with the painfully slow toll it takes to see justice truly play out.

Not everyone who is spoken about in the commission, not every allegation made, and not every word in the commission is fact. Until the report comes out and the information is made public, and everyone can truly make sense of what has been fact and what has been fiction, it will all remain allegations and processes yet to be concluded. Absent time, it will continue to feel as though doomsday is near.

With constant twenty-four-hour news cycles and pressure for news to compete with social media, the sentiment began to parallel social media and became negative. The world always had to be ending, politics forever had to be on the brink, and suddenly news broke by the minute, never the hour or the week. Suddenly, there was little time for stories to be told well or for space to understand what the objective events were, separate from opinion. However, that does not always sell, and media for many is a business rather than a necessity for society.

There is probably a reality that is less clear and not as well put together as the narratives presented on our screens. There are probably cops who are moral and principled and who simply appreciate their job and the symbolism it represents to themselves, their community, and society. There are probably cops who have engaged with criminals and are obstructing justice. However, this should not push us to give up on the system entirely, even when they are the ones who dominate headlines, newsfeeds, and timelines.

Similarly, in politics, there is a need to truly ask politicians deeper questions about how they intend to actually implement the policies they claim to aspire to implement in South Africa. The pressure to prioritise rhetoric that lacks clear planning, research, or even idealisation continues to threaten belief in politics as a whole.

Already, only a quarter of the population participates in politics if you count cast ballots: 16,290,760 people out of the 63 million who make up South Africa. Even within that, with a voter turnout of only 58.64%, concerns have been raised about what democracy means absent participation. This raises the question of what the future holds and what young South Africans will choose when asked what they intend to do with their future. Will they choose to attempt to strengthen democracy or turn to an alternative, as they continue to see politicians live lives filled with wealth while the majority remain in a world of poverty that remains unchanged?

The question will be interesting. Across the continent, youth continue to choose the alternative. Kenya and Madagascar bore witness to youth protests as conditions remained unchanged and government responses to expression and protest were violence and oppression. Ibrahim Traoré continues to be both an ideal and a mystery for young contemporaries who ask who represents the future of Africa’s leadership and voice as the world faces the revolution of technology with AI, changing geopolitics, and stagnating economics. The future is uncertain for us all.

However, I do believe that this is the most human thing of all. No matter how hard humanity tries to become more certain about the world through policy, speeches, international regulations, and agreements, it is often a false sense of certainty. Sometimes, we are not as safe as we believe and not as close as we perceive ourselves to be with countries we thought were allies. Sometimes, our enemies may actually be our allies; we simply misunderstood the relationship or had poor communication. To be willing to work together through change is to accept that there are no guarantees. The only thing we may truly know is that it will never be the same.

Whether it be politics, media, or podcasts, I think we all need to remind ourselves that it is probably never that bad, but also never that good. It is somewhere in the middle. Joy can be felt in the presence of pain. Pain can be the catalyst for some of life’s greatest joys, and within it all, there is always hope for a brighter tomorrow.

There will forever be things that pull us apart and things that bring us together. It is time that, as a whole, South Africa chooses each other. Away from headlines, speeches, and politics, and toward understanding what our story truly is. Hopefully, that journey will open a door that allows us to set our sights on our shared reality—the one we feel, see, and live together.

Julius Malema acclaimed two nights ago: “South Africa, Bafana Bafana must officially withdraw. SAFA must take a decision to withdraw from having anything to do with the World Cup that is taking place in America.” Has he positioned himself to be the moral voice on South African diplomacy, and could his questioning of the World Cup ask an even deeper question about South Africa’s participation?

Regarding the history of South Africa and the use of sanctions to push the apartheid government into negotiations with the ANC, those boycotts took place both economically and culturally. Particularly paying attention to the cultural boycotts, the Anti-Apartheid Movement worked with the South African Non-Racial Committee to get South Africa excluded from the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. A few years later, Commonwealth governments pledged to the 1977 Gleneagles Agreement that discouraged citizens from competing in countries where sports were organised on a racial basis. There is much written in our history of cultural boycotts.

Now it puts into question South Africa’s stance, but also action, against a country that has violated international law. In the capture of former Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro Moros, “a lot of countries refused to trade with South Africa because it was violating human rights, it was violating international law.” Furthermore, with the United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement arresting American citizens, and in one instance killing a woman, Renée Nicole Good, there is a clear violation and moral stance that South Africa is to take if it intends to stay in line with its stance on Israel-Palestine.

However, there is a risk and deeper question South Africa will ask. Will it be willing to deal with the reactionary politics that have surrounded President Trump’s second presidency? Already the EU and other European countries are facing the threat of tariffs regarding the Denmark dispute. South Africa leading the charge on a boycott of the World Cup would most likely come with some repercussions.

Furthermore, interrogating FIFA as an organisation that hosts the World Cup, there has been an insurmountable history of the tournament being hosted in countries known for their violation of human rights.

The last World Cup was hosted by Qatar, which employed the Kafala system that tied migrant work visas to their employers, meaning workers were dependent on them for legal residence or status in the country. They were further denied exit from the country absent their employer’s consent, allowing for an abuse of power that often played out in labour and human rights violations, including low wages, unpaid wages, arbitrary deductions, and a lack of investigation into deaths, with many being cited as “natural causes,” according to Human Rights Watch. The previous World Cup before that, hosted by Russia, saw 17 construction workers die, with many others facing labour abuses during the construction of stadiums for the 2018 World Cup, according to The New York Times. There has not been a precedent for the World Cup to be boycotted.

It now asks the question: is this time different? With the EU and Europe preparing to move toward retaliatory tariffs against the United States, South Africa may have a lot more allies if it advocates for a boycott of the World Cup on the international stage. There have been moves to recognise the State of Palestine by Western countries such as France, Luxembourg, Malta, Monaco, Andorra, and Belgium. There may be more willingness to further put pressure on the United States and push for recognition and respect of international law and human rights across the globe.

Looking more acutely at the situation, Julius Malema has once again potentially put himself in a conversation that asks wider questions about South Africa’s involvement with the United States. Absent the same actions taken by countries during their own struggles—hardship, banning, and oppression of political parties and the ANC—does the ANC follow what once was of great significance for them, or do they adapt?

Either way, Julius Malema has found a way to be relevant again. He has found a hinge point that is likely to test all the powers in South Africa.

In the Government of National Unity, it will likely bring up once again the question of who forms foreign policy in the government. Should it be a collaborative process, or should it follow the ANC, which holds the ministry? Similarly, within the ANC—already tested by disagreements about partnership with the DA in the GNU—it further asks them to test their relationship with the United States, which continues to go under strain with worsened diplomatic relations. There is much to be discussed regarding South Africa and whether it is a country that takes action into word.

It is unclear to truly say where South Africa and the world will conclude on the upcoming World Cup. Geopolitics continue to shift. Strategies remain forever changing. This will be a hard discussion for South Africa and may call into question if the country is truly a principled non-aligned country that is the moral compass of the world.

For Julius Malema, this moment may once again give birth to a different voice that speaks both to those at home and abroad. This may be a more active respondent outside of government, truly trying to make the government account for its policy.

Does it truly put into question the slogan that “We will not be bullied” into a conversation that requires deeper nuance and introspection into how South Africa acts on the global stage, or will this be a conversation left to X users, political theorists, and commentators who question every political decision?

Only time will tell.

Reading Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom reminded me that the South African story and belief in a better future did not end with liberation but began with liberation. It was not meant to be a moment that defined our history, but a moment that moved us collectively forward—a moment that asked us all to be active participants in the future of this country. Not through the government solely, but with the people included within that.

It has become evidently apparent that South Africans have become heavily reliant on the government, whether it be the provision of basic services, the need for justice, or simply an improvement in life. It has left many South Africans waiting for the “messiah,” the next Mandela, who will change the tide against a system that has been far from perfect. However, even Mandela himself recognised the impossibility of this aspiration.

During the campaign trail in the build-up to the 1994 elections, the first democratic elections of South Africa, he challenged South Africans. “If you want to continue living in poverty without clothes and food then go and drink in the shebeens. But if you want better things, you must work hard. We cannot do it all for you; you must do it yourselves,” he said. He outlined that it is not the government alone that can improve conditions and change the country, but rather everyone’s active willingness to be a participant in improving the future of the country.

What became evidently clear was that South Africans as a whole need to decide what their future holds. Riddled with failure and corruption that is forever lamented in the media, it seems as though there is an unwillingness to perceive solutions to our problems. The country’s sentiment has grown to one where negativity is enough, where simply exclaiming how bad the country is will move us forward to the country that we hope to see.

South Africa has not been a leaderless country, but it has become visionless. There has been no clear outline for the aspirations of the people and how we actively achieve them. The same embattled fights have been taken up through activism which has no end, achieves no policy changes, and leaves the country exactly where it was years prior. Whether it be crippling unemployment, gender-based violence, or a stagnant economy, the problems have been apparent for years.

It has become a lot easier to assign the blame to a few bad apples rather than engage with the nuances present and find feasible, working solutions.

Politics and journalism have become that of commentary and rhetoric, where there is no need to show how journalists and politicians aim to achieve their goals or guide the country to a place where revolutionary solutions will be beneficial for everyone. It has rather become about assigning blame and distancing themselves from the solution.

It is evident when people in the country speak of the need for economic growth. However, they lack the structural understanding and technical ability to actively explain how that growth will be achieved. It is a country where promises mean significantly more than results.

There is no denying the government has been front and centre in failing to provide those promises. Their own inefficiencies and self-interested approach have meant many have lost faith in institutions, thus losing faith in democracy. But it has also been ourselves, citizens, who have continued to allow it to happen.

The reality is that they were the only ones who provided some faith that there was vision and a future to believe in. Yet, we failed to hold them accountable to it. It was us who allowed a government to return after another election cycle to disappoint us once again, as they had in their previous turn in office. It was us who allowed ourselves to let people lose sight of the strength and value that can be found in democracy.

It has been all of us—collectively, citizens, business, and the government—who have allowed failure to be the norm and not an outlier. The government derives its power from the people, gains its legitimacy through the ballot, and receives its funding from those who operate in the economic environment and climate that allows them to donate millions of rands a year to campaign to the people. It is us who have been to blame for the failure of this country, and it can be us who work towards a solution.

Instead of being plagued by pessimism that claims it will never work, we must become the people who find ways to make it work. To be the people in community spaces who put their hands forward to be leaders in their communities, to provide a vision for what the future holds, rather than being commentators and detractors who further diminish our pride.

The South African story has been a great one, but it is now waning and needs a new narrative that is created by the people of South Africa—inclusive of people from all races, all economic classes, and from urban and rural communities. To find a way forward that does not only happen at the hand of the government, but rather starts with the people.

It is the small things: organising community meals, community centres for recreation and sports, and creating literacy classes to help those who have not had the same privilege as the most well-off South Africans. It goes beyond telling people that they should vote, by engaging in political classes explaining what we need to vote for to see the South Africa we dream of.

Sometimes it is even smaller than that and simply starts with talking to one another in South Africa and understanding the extent of each other’s hardships. As South Africa belongs to all who live in it, it extends to dealing with the hardships of foreign individuals and finding solutions to their problems, whether it be here in South Africa or their native land. It means being willing to do things together as a community rather than as individuals or isolated communities defined by race, religion, class, creed, colour, or nationality.

There is no telling what the future holds in South Africa if we are unwilling to listen to one another. There will never be a feeling that suffering anywhere is suffering for all in this country and abroad.

South Africa has been a country that prided itself on its ability to speak to humanity, to call out injustice in the world, and to take decisive action when necessary. It is about time that it happens here at home, with everyone.

This country is nothing without its people. It cannot be and will not be this beautiful place called South Africa if it does not derive its identity from the soul of each and every South African. If it lacked the cultural diversity that teaches us to appreciate and understand each other.

The ideas that once stemmed from democracy—being the rainbow nation, truth and reconciliation, and a unified country where every person was seen as equal—were not flawed ideas, but ideas that became too easy to recite without there ever being an actual understanding of what that truly meant for all South Africans.

What the future holds is not a turning back on all of the ideals that came before, that allowed people to be represented in government, but a reteaching and relearning of how these things have mechanisms that can lead to change.

Absent our understanding of what they meant or how they failed us will allow the country to lose sight of what it was meant to be, or what it should be when it is said that we are South Africa.

The need for a national identity that binds everyone from Soweto to Sandton, from Cape Town to Khayelitsha, and Umlazi to Durban means we will otherwise continue to become a country that is separated by class, access to opportunities and education, and access to basic healthcare, instead of a country working to resolve those separations.

As Nelson Mandela puts it in his book, the start of South Africa’s journey was the start of freedom and the need for there to be more freedoms—freedom from poverty, crime, gender-based violence, unemployment, lack of healthcare, lack of education, and lack of economic participation. For it is this fight for freedom that we need to start in South Africa, and not harp on the endless joy our history once gave us.

Reading Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom reminded me that the South African story and belief in a better future did not end with liberation but began with liberation. It was not meant to be a moment that defined our history, but a moment that moved us collectively forward—a moment that asked us all to be active participants in the future of this country. Not through the government solely, but with the people included within that.

It has become evidently apparent that South Africans have become heavily reliant on the government, whether it be the provision of basic services, the need for justice, or simply an improvement in life. It has left many South Africans waiting for the “messiah,” the next Mandela, who will change the tide against a system that has been far from perfect. However, even Mandela himself recognised the impossibility of this aspiration.

During the campaign trail in the build-up to the 1994 elections, the first democratic elections of South Africa, he challenged South Africans. “If you want to continue living in poverty without clothes and food then go and drink in the shebeens. But if you want better things, you must work hard. We cannot do it all for you; you must do it yourselves,” he said. He outlined that it is not the government alone that can improve conditions and change the country, but rather everyone’s active willingness to be a participant in improving the future of the country.

What became evidently clear was that South Africans as a whole need to decide what their future holds. Riddled with failure and corruption that is forever lamented in the media, it seems as though there is an unwillingness to perceive solutions to our problems. The country’s sentiment has grown to one where negativity is enough, where simply exclaiming how bad the country is will move us forward to the country that we hope to see.

South Africa has not been a leaderless country, but it has become visionless. There has been no clear outline for the aspirations of the people and how we actively achieve them. The same embattled fights have been taken up through activism which has no end, achieves no policy changes, and leaves the country exactly where it was years prior. Whether it be crippling unemployment, gender-based violence, or a stagnant economy, the problems have been apparent for years.

It has become a lot easier to assign the blame to a few bad apples rather than engage with the nuances present and find feasible, working solutions.

Politics and journalism have become that of commentary and rhetoric, where there is no need to show how journalists and politicians aim to achieve their goals or guide the country to a place where revolutionary solutions will be beneficial for everyone. It has rather become about assigning blame and distancing themselves from the solution.

It is evident when people in the country speak of the need for economic growth. However, they lack the structural understanding and technical ability to actively explain how that growth will be achieved. It is a country where promises mean significantly more than results.

There is no denying the government has been front and centre in failing to provide those promises. Their own inefficiencies and self-interested approach have meant many have lost faith in institutions, thus losing faith in democracy. But it has also been ourselves, citizens, who have continued to allow it to happen.

The reality is that they were the only ones who provided some faith that there was vision and a future to believe in. Yet, we failed to hold them accountable to it. It was us who allowed a government to return after another election cycle to disappoint us once again, as they had in their previous turn in office. It was us who allowed ourselves to let people lose sight of the strength and value that can be found in democracy.

It has been all of us—collectively, citizens, business, and the government—who have allowed failure to be the norm and not an outlier. The government derives its power from the people, gains its legitimacy through the ballot, and receives its funding from those who operate in the economic environment and climate that allows them to donate millions of rands a year to campaign to the people. It is us who have been to blame for the failure of this country, and it can be us who work towards a solution.

Instead of being plagued by pessimism that claims it will never work, we must become the people who find ways to make it work. To be the people in community spaces who put their hands forward to be leaders in their communities, to provide a vision for what the future holds, rather than being commentators and detractors who further diminish our pride.

The South African story has been a great one, but it is now waning and needs a new narrative that is created by the people of South Africa—inclusive of people from all races, all economic classes, and from urban and rural communities. To find a way forward that does not only happen at the hand of the government, but rather starts with the people.

It is the small things: organising community meals, community centres for recreation and sports, and creating literacy classes to help those who have not had the same privilege as the most well-off South Africans. It goes beyond telling people that they should vote, by engaging in political classes explaining what we need to vote for to see the South Africa we dream of.

Sometimes it is even smaller than that and simply starts with talking to one another in South Africa and understanding the extent of each other’s hardships. As South Africa belongs to all who live in it, it extends to dealing with the hardships of foreign individuals and finding solutions to their problems, whether it be here in South Africa or their native land. It means being willing to do things together as a community rather than as individuals or isolated communities defined by race, religion, class, creed, colour, or nationality.

There is no telling what the future holds in South Africa if we are unwilling to listen to one another. There will never be a feeling that suffering anywhere is suffering for all in this country and abroad.

South Africa has been a country that prided itself on its ability to speak to humanity, to call out injustice in the world, and to take decisive action when necessary. It is about time that it happens here at home, with everyone.

This country is nothing without its people. It cannot be and will not be this beautiful place called South Africa if it does not derive its identity from the soul of each and every South African. If it lacked the cultural diversity that teaches us to appreciate and understand each other.

The ideas that once stemmed from democracy—being the rainbow nation, truth and reconciliation, and a unified country where every person was seen as equal—were not flawed ideas, but ideas that became too easy to recite without there ever being an actual understanding of what that truly meant for all South Africans.

What the future holds is not a turning back on all of the ideals that came before, that allowed people to be represented in government, but a reteaching and relearning of how these things have mechanisms that can lead to change.

Absent our understanding of what they meant or how they failed us will allow the country to lose sight of what it was meant to be, or what it should be when it is said that we are South Africa.

The need for a national identity that binds everyone from Soweto to Sandton, from Cape Town to Khayelitsha, and Umlazi to Durban means we will otherwise continue to become a country that is separated by class, access to opportunities and education, and access to basic healthcare, instead of a country working to resolve those separations.

As Nelson Mandela puts it in his book, the start of South Africa’s journey was the start of freedom and the need for there to be more freedoms—freedom from poverty, crime, gender-based violence, unemployment, lack of healthcare, lack of education, and lack of economic participation. For it is this fight for freedom that we need to start in South Africa, and not harp on the endless joy our history once gave us.

More specifically, it is the freedom given to us in the past that today young South Africans must collectively use to define their future. It is us who ought to be willing to do the hard work to set up organisations that speak for our needs and potentially represent our beliefs. It is this freedom that we must use to elect officials that prioritise our vision and our future—not the other way around, where politicians speak to us about how they intend to use our freedom.

For all of us, South Africa as a whole shall remember there are no easy victories. Change does not happen overnight, it does not happen if we are not committed, and it does not happen unless we do it together, hand in hand. For it is only once we are willing to sacrifice ourselves for a better tomorrow that things will get better.

As South Africa goes into another election year, it is us who truly need to ask ourselves and introspect: what does our future hold if we allow it to be marketed to us as a privilege rather than a right?

Maybe it is us who need to start our journey—our long walk to freedom. specifically, it is the freedom given to us in the past that today young South Africans must collectively use to define their future. It is us who ought to be willing to do the hard work to set up organisations that speak for our needs and potentially represent our beliefs. It is this freedom that we must use to elect officials that prioritise our vision and our future—not the other way around, where politicians speak to us about how they intend to use our freedom.

For all of us, South Africa as a whole shall remember there are no easy victories. Change does not happen overnight, it does not happen if we are not committed, and it does not happen unless we do it together, hand in hand. For it is only once we are willing to sacrifice ourselves for a better tomorrow that things will get better.

As South Africa goes into another election year, it is us who truly need to ask ourselves and introspect: what does our future hold if we allow it to be marketed to us as a privilege rather than a right?

Maybe it is us who need to start our journey—our long walk to freedom.

Minister Gwarube made commentary on Monday, the 13th of January, claiming that the boy child is being left behind. “The boy child is being left behind and is less likely than the girl to return.” The News24 Instagram comment section was flooded with comments like “Who ‘s leaving them?”, “Are they not sitting in the same classes?”, and “Being left behind by whom?” Similar discourse arose on platforms like TikTok and X ; however, this sentiment’s popularity does not reflect the nuance of the matter.

Firstly, it assumes, in a similar sense to respectability politics, that the problem is an individual and value composition error rather than a structural and socialisation quagmire. It shifts the blame off masculinity and its relationship with race and class and rather onto victims themselves. It tells young boys, predominantly of colour, that their failure is their own fault and that they acted with agency. The rebuttal that conventionally arises is a remark on how young women, particularly those who are poor or of colour, are able to succeed in education despite barriers too. The flaw in calculus here is that it ignores how socialisation is different and often how nicety lies in gender. This is NOT to say that being a poor young woman of colour is easy or easier than being a poor man of colour; it is simply to say that a difference exists, particularly in attitudes toward education. Masculinity establishes social currency, wealth, and the ability to provide as desirables, but it does not attribute any of these things to education. In fact, where masculinity is most intense, it directly detracts from educational aims. Bell Hooks, in her book “We Real Cool: Black Men and Masculinity,” explains, “And even when that right was gained, the immediate need for material survival often disrupted the efforts of black males to acquire education. Nowadays, in the imperialist white-supremacist capitalist patriarchal culture, most boys from poor and underprivileged classes are socialized via mass media and class-biased education to believe that all that is required for their survival is the ability to do physical labor. Black boys, disproportionately numbered among the poor, have been socialized to believe that physical strength and stamina are all that really matter. “ Furthermore, class and masculinity struggles mean young boys of colour are more than likely to be forced or incentivised to drop out , pushed into either blue-collar work or crime in order to “man up” and provide. Gwarube notes the disproportionate rate at which boys drop out between grades ten and twelve, and yet no structural or sociological explanation is offered. Even in the instance where young boys of colour are genuinely disinterested in education, one must ask why this disinterest exists. Bell Hooks said, “Oftentimes separate schools for black boys are presented as the best educational alternative because of their emphasis on strict discipline instead of learning. Yet often it is not the strictness that leads boys to do well in these schools ; rather, it is the fact that they are cared about, given attention, and perceived to be learners who can excel academically.” When a paradigm exists placing a group’s mediocrity and failure as justified, the result is one where that group’s failure is not only justified but expected as the norm. Only in these manufactured bubbles where the catalyst factor is care, love, and attention do the results change; yet , in a refusal to challenge masculinity, societies wrongly conflate better results to strictness, discipline, or the “take no shit” older mentors.

The difficulty in defeating masculinity lies in the refusal to place men, and particularly men of colour, as victims too . It is often the reluctance of Black men and boys to see themselves as vulnerable or weak and also the rest of society’s discomfort at the inability to antagonise them. If we want better outcomes, we must learn to love and seek deeper understanding. “Everywhere we learn that love is important, and yet we are bombarded by its failure. In the realm of the political, among the religious, in our families, and in our romantic lives, we see little indication that love informs decisions, strengthens our understanding of community, or keeps us together. This bleak picture in no way alters the nature of our longing. We still hope that love will prevail. We still believe in love’s promise.” Bell Hooks explains that in our hearts, despite how seemingly improbable its existence is, we still long for love because perhaps , in the deepest region of our souls, we know that love is cultural, systemic, and above all, revolutionary.

Another name. Another face. Another woman taken.

In South Africa, it is not a matter of if there will be another Gender-Based Violence and Femicide (GBVF) case this week – it’s a matter of when. Women For Change frequently reports cases of GBV, and the nation’s silence is deafening. What does it mean to be a woman in this country where your safety is never guaranteed, even in your own home?

In South Africa, GBVF is not an isolated incident. It is a constant nightmare. Everyday, women scroll through headlines that feel like warnings. Women For Change, an organisation advocating for women’s rights, has reported new GBVF cases frequently in recent months. The organisation has called on President Cyril Ramaphosa to declare GBVF a national disaster – a call that reflects the urgency of a crisis that has already claimed far too many lives.

According to Stats SA 2023, South Africa has one of the highest femicide rates in the world – five times the global average. According to the South African Medical Research Council (SAMRC), a woman is killed every six hours in South Africa, often by a family member or intimate partner. That is approximately 1,460 women every year, which serves as a chilling reminder of the violence that defines women’s everyday reality in this country. Behind each number is a person, a stolen future, a grieving family, a shattered community. These acts of violence are not sporadic, contained occurrences, but are deeply ingrained in a patriarchal system that normalises perpetual violence against women.

In 2006, South Africa watched as Fezeka Khuzwayo, publically known as “Khwezi”, stood in court and accused the then-Deputy President Jacob Zuma of rape. The trial was not just a legal proceeding, but it became a battleground for the soul of the nation grappling with its attitudes towards gender, violence, and power. They called her Khwezi. They vilified her in the streets while she was on the witness stand. And when she fled the country in fear, the country turned the page. Fezeka Kuzwayo didn’t just stand trail as a rape victim – she stood trial for daring to speak out against power in a country that insists it protects women. But nineteen years later, her story is the reality of many women. In fact, Fezeka’s story is an example of why many survivors do not even report their assaults. And some don’t even make it out alive.

Yet, even in the face of relentless violence, the state has not responded with the urgency this crisis demands. Declaring GBVF a national disaster would be more than a policy decision. It would be symbolic – a public acknowledgement that the lives of South African women and girls matter. It would unlock emergency funding, establish specialised task forces, prioritise survivor-centred services and prevention education, and catalyse a coordinated multi-sector response that includes policing, justice, and health services. More importantly, it would signal a national shift: that GBV is not a “women’s issue” but a crisis of citizenship, governance, and human rights.

Symbolically, such a declaration by the country would affirm what millions of women already know: that we are living in a state of emergency. We have been for years. It would tell every survivor that her pain is not invisible. That her safety is not negotiable. And it would challenge every citizen, particularly the youth, to rise against a culture of silence, complicity, and normalisation.

The myth that gender-based violence exists only in the shadows or in “unsafe” areas is just that: a myth. GBVF cuts across race, class, gender, age, and location. Chera‑Lee le Roux is an example of this. On the evening of 14 November 2024, 27-year-old Chera-Lee, used an Uber to get home – what should have been a safe, routine trip turned bad, when four men reportedly forced their way into the vehicle and attempted to rape her while the driver did nothing to help. She survived and reported the crime to the South African Police Service (SAPS), who confirmed the attack through Close Circuit Television (CCTV) footage – but weeks later, the case remained stalled. There reportedly was no compensation or assistance from Uber and the government treated it as a low-priority personal complaint, not as it was: a national emergency.

While there has been a sensationalisation of a so-called “white genocide” of Afrikaner farmers, it is important that we clarify the truth: there is no statistically substantiated genocide against white South Africans. What is happening, and has been for decades, is a relentless, widespread, and under-acknowledged war on women. This is the real genocide. It is slow. It is personal. And it is deadly.

Because, to be a woman in South Africa is to live in constant negotiation with fear. From checking the backseat before driving, to sending live locations to friends, to being taught to lower your voice and be nice when confronting a man – these are not quirks of femininity, but survival strategies. Yet, GBVF is not just a woman’s issue. It is a societal issue. It is a human issue. And it requires everyone, especially men and boys, to be part of the solution.

This is not just a hopeless fight. Around the country, young activists, students, and community leaders are pushing back. Social media has become a powerful tool to raise awareness, mobalise protests, and demand justice. Campaigns like #AmINext, #JusticeforUyinene and #JusticeforCwecwe has forced the nation to recon with its violence – even if temporarily. But we cannot afford to let these moments pass as mere hashtags. We need more than state action. We need a generation that refuses to be silent. We need young people to organise, to speak up, to challenge harmful norms in their schools, relationships, and communities.

To those reading this: your voice is powerful. Whether you’re posting, protesting, volunteering, or simply having difficult conversations with people around you – you are part of the change.

And to the leaders of this country: How many more?

Posted on the 23rd of June 2025

In the lead-up to South Africa’s 2024 General elections, TikTok was flooded with political memes, Instagram stories carried threads about destruction in Gaza, and Whatsapp group chats buzzed with voice notes about which party was the least bad option. When election day came, over 11,5 million eligible voters didn’t show up – and many of them aged between 18 and 35 years old.

To many observers, this confirmed what has become a familiar complaint: young people in South Africa are apolitical. They don’t care. They are disengaged. But speak to them, really speak to them, and you will quickly see that is not the case. The truth is far more complicated – and revealing of a generation that may be turning its back on the ballot box, but not on justice.

South Africa’s political history is one of deep struggle, mass resistance, and hard-won liberation. For decades, black South Africans were denied basic human rights under the apartheid regime. Youth-led movements – like the African National Congress Youth League (ANCYL) and the South African Students’ Organisation (SASO) – helped dismantle that brutal system. However, it’s been 31 years into democracy, and many feel the liberation promise remains unfulfilled. The streets still echo with inequality, unemployment, and corruption. Every year, on the 27th of April, we are reminded of what this day was meant to signify. As political analyst and lecturer Dr Mmabatho Mongae aptly puts it, “Democracy isn’t a once-off achievement. Democracy is an ongoing achievement.”

It’s not that young people don’t care about politics – we just no longer believe that traditional political structures are where change happens. We’ve grown up watching corruption scandals pile up while communities remain without clean water or safe housing. We’ve seen power used not to uplift, but to protect the powerful. So we resist in different ways. We resist through lifestyle choices, through cultural expression, and through digital protest. We boycott brands that fund genocide, we circulate community ad fundraisers, we mobalise behind movements like Fees Must Fall and Am I Next.

We’re making political choices – just not always the traditional ones, because politics doesn’t live in Parliament for us – it lives online, in the streets, in communities, and in the everyday decisions we make about how we show up in the world. Even those inside politics are voicing this shift. Fasiha Hassan, a former student leader and South Africa’s youngest politician, aged 30, called for urgent new leadership and fresh ideas, expressing that “the ANC must evolve or die,” warning that the born-free generation, who are unbound by ANC loyalty, are ready to act.

Part of the tension stems from how politics is communicated. Dense manifestos, long debates, and performative speeches feel disconnected from the lived realities of young people. We aren’t disengaged because we don’t care. We’re tuned out because politics isn’t speaking our language. However, it’s important to emphasise that silence has its repercussions. Every time young people abstain from politics in whichever form, others are deciding our future for us. The true danger isn’t just that we’re absent from political spaces – it’s that our futures are being shaped without us. And despite our digital activism, policy is still made in rooms we’re not in.

The challenge now is to reimagine participation – to bridge the gap. Not by demanding young people return to outdated forms of political participation, but by reimaging what participation can look like. We need metropolitan spaces that work like youth spaces: digital, honest, collaborative. That means supporting youth-led media, investing in civic education that is creative and culturally relevant, and treating young people not as a problem to be solved and contained, but as a political force to be reckoned with.

Young people aren’t apolitical. We’re politically awake in ways this country hasn’t learned to recognise yet. We’re not too young to care, we’re just too tired of being ignored.

The year comes to a close, and South Africans celebrate the festive season of December. I hope to leave one lasting message as I too hope to reflect, recover, and make sense of a year filled with drama both locally and internationally.

It goes without saying 2025 was intense: the return of Trump to the White House, two failed budgets, the Madlanga Commission of Enquiry, South Africa’s G20, and the ongoing battle between the White House and the government of South Africa. There was a lot happening and not a lot of time to make sense of it all.

For what felt like a flurry of political crises and battles, much remained unresolved, prolonged, and unclear in terms of a way forward. The world is truly asking: Where to from here? What next? And who will lead us out of these trying times that face us collectively?

Still currently without an answer or breakthrough, the world carries on tentatively as it holds out for the next big event, moment, or crisis that will shape the world.

Already the ceasefire in Gaza has held little of its promise as violence continues almost daily on civilians and children in Gaza. South Africa is faced with the unfortunate events that led to young men being on the frontlines of Russia and Ukraine. The world asks whether the G20 will hold as the United States takes the summit to Miami as they take the presidency from South Africa.

It would be hard not to acknowledge the hopelessness and apathy that face the world as things improve, but at a pace far too slow to address the problems confronting us. But that does not mean there is no hope at all.

The small victories—the recognition of Palestine as a state, historical allies of the United States defending South Africa from the exclusion of the G20 next year, and committed calls for peace to be found between Russia and Ukraine—are progress.

Furthermore, locally, though it has not been great, attempts by the government to govern have been seen and made. Hosting the G20 led to the refurbishment of Johannesburg. Though incremental—street lights, potholes, and traffic lights—it was a sign that good governance is possible when there is concentrated effort by the government.

Additionally, the declaring of Gender-Based Violence and Femicide as a national crisis, though long overdue, was a step in the right direction. Of course, it requires adequate planning and implementation by the government and civil society to truly make progress, but recognition is a step closer to the change we hope to see in South Africa.

So it is never too bad or too good; it is always somewhere in between. The hope is to eradicate suffering from the world, but the reality is sometimes far from that. Still, it is the small changes that lead to actual change. It will be, and forever will be, a continuous battle without a finish date in sight—but one that, when change does happen, can be good for all if we think about things in the right manner.

Thinking in the right manner is not only thinking but listening to those who are not being heard—those who are not given the privilege and platform to represent themselves and their issues. But most importantly, it is to represent each other and to start thinking not only for the individual but with the collective.

If there were more time to hear one another, to see one another, and to truly recognise the pain and suffering that everyone has felt collectively, then maybe we would take a step in the right direction.

Reminding ourselves that sometimes it is more important to make someone’s presence and existence seen and appreciated, instead of excluded or ignored due to differing ideologies. To have the willingness to see humanity before the ideas of the person. To truly remember that a person is not their ideas, and everyone—regardless of who they are or how they might present—is deserving of love.

In a world where algorithms skew our views of the world, reward us through engraving hate more deeply into the human fabric, and eradicate our ability to appreciate and listen to nuance and context, we have to simply find a better way to preserve our humanity and premise our existence on love and not on hate.

There will be thousands of discussions throughout the holidays, many of them political. Let these be conversations that spark growth, innovation, and respect for our shared democracy. Let it not be a place for hate, othering, and exclusion. This is our collective country, and it will be our collective future—so it is both ours to protect but also ours to break if we do not find a better way that speaks to all of us.

This year has exposed how easy it is to declare someone the enemy, to lose relationships over politics, and to be forced into the world of dichotomies. The reality is that there is far more to us and to life than politics. There are connections that span much longer than the terms presidents have, and there are friendships that run far deeper than political ideology. It is important we learn to disagree healthily with one another, appreciating what it truly means to agree to disagree, to preserve the human value of community.

The world has lost sight that this thing we call politics is about people. Its failure affects people’s lives, their beliefs in tomorrow, and their ability to dream for the future. It is not just ideas; it’s decisions that define the reality of so many lives. It cannot be about the individual—it has to be about the collective.

I hope for there to be a way where peace, love, and positivity are the foundation for our political interactions, our application in designing policy, and our core principle when there is suffering anywhere in the world. But more importantly, for it to be an ideal shared amongst us all regardless of how different or similar our stories are. In learning to appreciate each other, we learn to appreciate the differences through listening openly, not only with our ears but with our hearts.

2025 showed me the world needs more love, more light, and more care. It only happens once we are willing to listen, to seek commonality, and to appreciate differences. Politics should not be used as a force to break the world, but rather to build and make it anew.

Over the past few days, purple has taken over South Africa’s social media feeds. The online movement, led by the Women For Change organisation, known as the G20 Women’s Shutdown, has urged women across South Africa to turn their profile pictures purple, wear black on the 21st of November and to refrain from attending work and spending money in protest of the country’s on-going femicide crisis. This movement has spread rapidly online, creating a sense of unity, urgency, and hope. But it also raises important and difficult questions.

In 2025, South Africa continues to experience a severe and alarming crisis of gender-based violence (GBV), often referred to as the “rape capital of the world.” It has been declared as a national crisis – something women have to live with daily, in their homes, on university campuses, at church, and in their relationships. So when a campaign calls on women to take a stand – to pause their daily lives in protest – it raises the question: why does the responsibility to fight a system that harms women so deeply still fall primarily on women themselves?

There is no doubt that solidarity is powerful, and that women standing together sends a message that cannot be ignored. But should the fight against GBV not also include men, families, communities, and institutions? Shouldn’t the fight be shared equally and urgently across society?

Why is it always women’s responsibility to fix a system that fails them?

Men and boys are beneficiaries of a patriarchal system that protects them, excuses them and fails to teach them empathy, consent and accountability. They are not taught to love without dominance, to treat women as human beings deserving of respect and safety. Until this changes – in homes, in schools, in workspaces, and in communities – we will keep marching in circles, keep reposting another tragic loss, and keep changing our profile pictures, while nothing changes where it truly matters – in implementation.

Social media has been a driving force for modern activism. We saw it during the #BlackLivesMatter, #FeesMuustFall and #AmINext movements. It matters. It’s important. It spreads awareness, creates community, and provides a stage for discourses about pertinent issues. But awareness without action becomes unproductive.

We are already aware. We have been aware. This is not a new issue. There has been an on-going violence against women and girls for years.

What happens when awareness has already been achieved? When everyone already knows the crisis is real, but the system remains unchanged?

Perhaps the question isn’t whether the purple profile pictures matter – they do, symbolically. Instead, it’s whether awareness alone can translate into tangible, on-the-ground change in our justice system, in our schools, and in our homes. It’s whether the lived realities of women and girls change.

What we need now are structural shifts – legal, educational and cultural. Purple profile pictures won’t stop a legal system that allows convicted rapists out on bail. They won’t reform universities and schools that let perpetrators continue their studies while survivors are left to pick up the pieces. They won’t fix police stations where women reporting assault are met with disbelief and laughter.

Awareness campaigns may trend for a couple of days, but justice cannot live in the algorithm.

As powerful as this campaign is, there are some layers of complexity to it. Another question it raises is about accessibility. The #WomensShutdown encourages women to not partake in paid or unpaid labour – a powerful statement in theory. But, what about those who can’t afford to do so? What about women who might lose their jobs, miss exams, or face penalties for their absence? In a country overburdened with high unemployment and inequality, many women cannot afford to take the day off.

Can activism that requires sacrifice be effective if it’s not equally accessible to everyone it hopes to represent?

Perhaps what the campaign truly highlights is not division, but shared desire for action and effective change – from awareness to accountability. Maybe this movement is a reminder that our frustration, grief, and exhaustion are valid, but that we also need to keep asking: what’s next?

How do we create long-term change in how boys are raised, in how empathy is taught, in how consent is understood? How do we hold our institutions accountable – schools, universities, workplaces, courts – for the protection and justice they owe to women?

We need to tackle the problem at the root. We need programs that target men and boys, that teach empathy, respect, and consent. We need psychological support structures for both boys and girls that address the cycles of trauma and violence. We need schools and universities that uphold zero tolerance towards sexual violence. We need a justice system that prioritises survivors instead of protecting perpetrators.

The G20 Women’s Shutdown has definitely struck a chord, reaching both nationally and globally. Whether one chooses to participate or not, the questions it brings to the surface are crucial. Because perhaps the real power of movements like this lies not only in what we do on one day – but in what conversations, questions, and collective actions follow after it.

Awareness is not enough anymore. We need action. We need accountability. We need real change – and it can’t just come from women.

I hope to provide a perspective — one that is not right or wrong but rather a question and probe into what is the way forward for South Africa after another protest about gender-based violence. What collectively can society do to show that there is the will to change?

Throughout social media, the Women for Change “Shutdown G20 March” on the 21st of November continues to grow in popularity. Many South Africans, especially women, are tired of the failure that the South African system and government have caused — failures that have allowed perpetrators to go free, cases not to be taken seriously enough, and a lack of culture to show that there is action being taken.

This initiative is a great one, as it further asks the question of what the government is doing to fix the system. However, I do believe it still does not ask the question: how do we actively alter the cultures and spaces that allow for both men and women to recognise that there are victims in a system? Both are victims that are as responsible for maintaining the patriarchy that a multitude of boys are developed in, and are responsible for deconstructing that culture — more than just through a social protest.

The reality of the situation is that South Africa has had its match — from 2019 with Uyinene, to early this year with Cwecwe, to the endless protests of both named and unnamed victims. The situation has not improved. The stories that have come out have only affirmed the failure of our system, but similarly, even though it is not discussed, the failure of our collective societal culture, independent of gender.

Evidently, looking at the South African story, many young men who commit these crimes grew up in homes that socialised them to be patriarchal — to be the man of the house and to be the provider. Not only in dual-parent households but also in single-parent households where the only person of input is the mother.

Both men in society, who socialise amongst one another and with their families, strip themselves of their need to be intimate, to care for the other person, and to be vulnerable because of the perception that vulnerability is weakness. The idea that love itself is harmful has meant that not only have they been unable to love, but also unable to receive love.

In the worst-case scenarios, when the patriarchy that benefits some men more than others fails to reap the “rewards” believed to come with “being a real man,” society does not do enough to show these men that there is no such thing. Moreover, there is little discussion and real unpacking of what it means to be masculine in a world absent of the dominator model, provider model, and ideas deemed to affirm masculinity.

I truly intend to extend this even to social relationships. The common criticism or thought is that men are placed in a constant battle of receiving the approval of their partner through the affirmation of their work and manhood. Colloquially, it is expressed as “a real man would…” — indicating that, absent that action, your masculinity is of lesser extent to a “real man.” This reaffirms the need to both appear and act a certain way in public — you need to be seen manifesting whatever is deemed “real man” energy.

Even friends — men who claim to be progressive and even some feminists — are still unable to access their feelings. Not only to stand in solidarity with women but to truly empathise with their struggle. To be a person who is willing to listen openly, accept critique, and apply it in ways that lead to lasting change.

The reality is that, yes, the state is horrible at dealing with these cases, but it is the culture in which both men and women are socialised that truly molds the understanding of many of these boys and men in society.

In saying that, I go on to say this: this need not be just a conversation that happens when the government seeks to show itself on the international stage. This needs to be a committed space in which there is willingness to build spaces and institutions for everyone to be heard and listened to.

Absent listening, the world gets more extreme. Already the world has felt the effects — and to some extent is still feeling the effects — of the return of hypermasculine men such as Andrew Tate and Donald Trump, who constantly stand as light bearers for men who feel as though they lack community and space to truly express both themselves and their feelings.

Similarly, there has been a push by some activists to move towards isolationism and denouncing men and their existence because they have benefitted from the patriarchy for so long. Thus, being unable and unwilling to hear instances that the same culture that was meant to benefit them could have harmed them — and that maybe men are victims of patriarchy too — and that it may not be the same across race, class, and gender, is also an extremely important discussion.

These conversations take time. They take being willing to listen to each other — being willing to listen to people that you do not agree with and to understand their perspective. Not ascribing value at the onset on whether it is good or bad, but challenging the notion that thought and people will go unchanged.

In that same vein, it would be a disservice if, collectively as a country, we were to partake in the conversation and underwrite the reality of women — the pain they have gone through and how badly the situation has worsened over the years. That means being willing to take accountability for the role you played.

But this cannot just be a conversation. There needs to be a place where men can speak openly and women can speak openly about their experiences — where there can be an actual long-term dissection into what patriarchy has done to all of us collectively. Whether it be in gender roles, the application of oppression, or the failed narrative that promised much but delivered little. We need to be willing to do the hard work that forces us to unpack the nuance and not dismiss it.

The reality is that it has felt as though South Africa has been embattled with itself — with its government and with each other. The cycle continues of failed systems and more protests, but the will to change is not something that we all collectively buy into.

After this protest, once all the dust settles and society returns to regular programming, collectively there needs to be a calling out of not only the formal system — being the government — but the social one. That callout is not to identify another issue, but to find solutions collectively, together.

The reality is that everyone has been hurt by the system. Everyone’s pain ought to be acknowledged if we are ever to get to a place of love. It will need a great deal of forgiveness for the past to embark on a journey where love and the unwillingness to accept the oppression of anyone — regardless of race, gender, creed, or sexuality — is a belief held by everyone, independent of what they believe.

I truly think we need to learn to love again. Men need to learn how to access their emotions and get rid of their need to be seen as strong, allowing space for vulnerability — first with themselves, then with their community and family.

There needs to be a redefining of what it truly means to be masculine — a willingness to forgo being seen as the person inherently atop a hierarchy but rather as a person who is part of the community. A place where the pain and suffering of anyone would lead to action.

A place where the silence imposed on your emotions and environment is broken. A place where, if you are to speak about your pain, it is validated and listened to — that allows for self-reflection and hopefully correction.

More importantly, I think collectively, as a whole, we need time, love, and forgiveness to undo what years of patriarchy — that has gone unchecked, untested, and unspoken about in the deepest corners of South Africa — have resulted in for the country as a whole.

Our country is suffering, and it takes us to diagnose the problem and find a solution. That is not in a single protest but in prolonged, hard conversations that truly explore why and how we can find a new way for us to exist — to truly ask all of us: do we have the will to change?

It needs to be stated for everyone, informed and uninformed, that it is unlikely that President Cyril Ramaphosa will step down before 2028. Not because he is running the country well, but rather that there lacks the precedent to show that any ANC president has resigned prior to the ANC elective conference.

Recently, watching a conversation on SMWX between political analyst Tara Roos and Dr. Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh, there seemed to be a strong belief that the president would step down before the soon expected 2027 election date. This was mainly due to the ongoing commission of enquiry that has the African National Congress, the president’s party, at the forefront.

It is extremely important to give insight into the fact that the currently suspended police minister, on special leave, Senzo Mchunu, has been a key figure in the allegations of Lieutenant General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi. These allegations suggest there are close ties between criminality, politics, and policing in the country—particularly expressed and manifested through the disbandment of the political killing task team.

What is becoming more and more clear is that the president had no oversight over these processes but is believed to have known something as a result of his role and the expectations for him to be clear and aware of all the directives that occur in government.

Furthermore, there are close ties between Senzo Mchunu and President Ramaphosa dating back to the CR17 campaign when Senzo Mchunu was named as President Ramaphosa’s preferred Secretary-General candidate. This subsequently failed to happen after he narrowly lost to Ace Magashule. However, independent of the outcome, there has appeared to be close ties and a great deal of allyship between the two, dating far earlier than the allegations that occurred eight years later.

However, it is also important to note that, at the moment, there is very little tying the president directly to any of the allegations that have occurred. Yes, it may be believed that because it is his party, there may have been a willingness to look the other way; however, that is not a declaration of criminality.

Furthermore, looking more closely at the allegations themselves, Lieutenant General Mkhwanazi clearly stated his directive is to the premier and the National Commissioner of Police, and there is no need to approach the president. Additionally, Minister Mchunu seems to be acting on his own accord, absent of following protocol, and provided a directive in his own personal capacity—at least from what is known—absolving the president further from any apparent and evidentiary wrongdoing.

This does not rule out the belief that President Ramaphosa may have intended to protect his ally by implementing a commission of enquiry rather than an investigation. Furthermore, he allowed Mchunu to maintain all of his ministerial benefits while he was on special leave—an argument that even gave way to the uMkhonto WeSizwe Party taking the president to the Constitutional Court.

Nonetheless, it is apparent that the wave of optimism that once swept the country when President Ramaphosa was announced as the president of the ANC, and then the country two months later, has simply disappeared and, to some, may even be returning to resentment. But it is here that, as a nation, there has to be recognition that there has never been public pressure that has forced an ANC president out.

President Mbeki, after losing his re-election as ANC president for his third term, decided to resign as president of the nation after there was belief that he illegitimately used political power to find Zuma guilty of corruption. It was at his own choosing, nearly an entire year later after the election of President Zuma as the ANC president, that Mbeki resigned and was ousted from the job on 20 September 2008.

Similarly, after President Ramaphosa ascended to the seat of ANC presidency, accompanied by growing resentment and pressure from opposition parties and the ANC itself, President Zuma opted to resign on 14 February 2018 and gave way to our current president.

What is evident is that neither prior president has left the role of presidency prior to the ANC elective conference and until they themselves had lost control of their influence in the party. The same has to be believed for President Ramaphosa.

The impact of leaving the presidency, furthermore, does not only impact the president himself but additionally his party. Early resignation means that the ANC would need to find a new president absent a majority in parliament, but additionally with the president still having some degree of influence in the party—assuming he does not leave the post before 2027.

Already, the ANC, embroiled in a commission of enquiry, absent a clear successor, and currently planning for the 2027 election in and of itself, shows there is no apparent consolidated base that can push for the removal of the president while simultaneously working to find a replacement for him.

The ANC, over the years, has only become more factionalised and more competitive as access to state resources falters with the decline of the party’s electoral representation—meaning that the party that was once decisive about the way forward may lack that same clarity now.

Furthermore, there is no disregarding the fact that the ANC would have to work to find a solution with the other political parties in parliament to get a president to win a simple majority—fifty plus one. It was evident in this election that there is little that the two largest parties agreed upon other than President Ramaphosa continuing his presidency for a second term.

The incoming president does not have to maintain the current cabinet; they are allowed to elect their own cabinet and lead the executive in the manner that they see fit. This raises questions about the other partners who make up the Government of National Unity and their own futures in government if Ramaphosa were to depart prior to 2027.

Furthermore, where would stability be established if President Ramaphosa were to resign prior to 2027? It would not only mean a change in the president in the years leading up to 2027 but also potentially even more changes after the ANC elective conference.

The reality of the matter is that it would be a strategically bad decision for the ANC to have any more leadership discussions when the party is already under a microscope. Furthermore, Ramaphosa truly has nothing to lose by staying in the presidency.

Phala Phala is already in the public eye, and the commission is ongoing. Unless there are any more expected allegations, the country is set for a path that is focused on 2026. The ANC, out of all the parties, needs to appear unified with a definitive leader rather than the proposed world where they scramble to find who will lead them out of an extremely dark time politically.

If anything is to be believed, it’s that history repeats itself with different details. There is no world where either the ANC or President Ramaphosa intend to place pressure on the seat unless they, too, concede their governing ability in the lead-up to 2026.