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07 February 2023 | Story Dr Ina Gouws | Photo Supplied
Dr Ina Gouws
Dr Ina Gouws is a Senior Lecturer: Programme: Governance and Political Transformation in the Department of Political Studies and Governance, University of the Free State (UFS)

Opinion Article by Dr Ina Gouws, Senior Lecturer: Programme: Governance and Political Transformation, Department of Political Studies and Governance, University of the Free State.
The State of the Nation Address (Sona) of 2023 is upon us. What can South Africans look forward to in this address this year? According to the Presidency, the President will focus on the energy crisis and the rolling blackouts. He will hopefully also shed some light on the disaster legislation government intends to implement to address the energy crisis. Reports that the ANC wants Dr Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma to oversee the load-shedding state of disaster does not inspire confidence at the onset. What we should take serious note of is what the President will have to say about the plans to move Eskom to the Department of Mineral Resources and Energy; a move widely criticised and frankly, feared. 

No new policies, focus on resolving policy implementation failures

Also, according to the Presidency, the outcomes of the Investing in Africa Mining Indaba taking place from 7 February 2023, will receive attention in the Sona. This event attracts more than 6 000 delegates comprising comprising investors, innovators, companies in the mining and natural resources sector etc. No doubt the President will paint a picture of substantial investments to look forward to which will lead to job creation, development, and growth; a promise made in every Sona of every year of his term without fail, for which there has been very little evidence. 

The Minister in the Presidency, Mondli Gungubele, also told the media that government will not look to introduce new policies but focus on resolving existing policy implementation failures since this is the final year of this government’s term. 

Other than these areas of focus, we can surely expect the usual stats and figures to indicate “progress” or evidence of a caring government; more people receiving social grants instead of no longer needing this assistance, and entirely unrealistic job creation numbers to name two. Collapsing municipalities and ongoing corruption will also probably get mentioned under the umbrella of service delivery with futile promises of eradicating corruption and appointing qualified cadres. This administration’s score card of the past four years justifies cynicism. 

From what I have heard among fellow South Africans and seen on social media, the interest in the Sona is at an all-time low because of the miseries mentioned. We are tired of politicians talking, promising, stating the obvious (a particular skill our President has polished) and blatantly underestimating our collective intelligence. We KNOW there is no concrete plan to address the energy crisis. We SEE incompetent ministers still have jobs. Promises for growth and job creation do not resonate at all because South Africans LIVE THE REALITY of unemployment and poverty. South Africans cannot be blamed when the idea of sitting through an address covering more of the same with no expectation of positive change is something we are not prepared to do.

Indifference towards Sona 2023

Does this indifference towards the Sona this year necessarily mean that the nation has lost interest in politics in general? Many would argue that this is indeed the case. I do not agree. The abject apathy that is taking hold of (especially young) South Africans concerning our country’s formal political processes is an issue widely researched and debated. Apathy is essentially having no feeling or connection to a situation or a complete lack of desire or interest to act or participate. Youth find the formal political processes frustrating, alienating, and less likely to yield desired results, consequently the evident apathy. More and more older South Africans are joining them in these attitudes and therefore have developed feelings of apathy of their own. However, apathy towards the formal political process and politicians (elections and electorates) does not mean that South Africans are not interested in politics in general. To be indifferent is to decide to show no interest and to not care or have any opinion about an issue, situation, or event. It differs from apathy because sufferings, experience and disappointment breeds apathy which is therefore not a decision, but a condition. Indifference towards the Sona 2023 is a decision South Africans make, but their interest, involvement and participation in civic organisations and representative processes remains vibrant. Therein lies our strength and in my opinion, the revitalisation of grassroots influence on South African politics. 

So, if you have better things to do on the evening of the 9 February 2023, go and do them. Spend the time with community members talking about what can be done where you live to help each other and hold your officials accountable. It might also be your group’s turn for a blackout, so spend the precious time with loved ones around a candle or that rechargeable LED light. Do not feel any guilt or that you are missing out. You are not apathetic, merely indifferent. An understandable choice.

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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