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Human Rights Month reminds us to reclaim the promise of the right to vote

21 March 2024 Photo SUPPLIED

Opinion article Dr Ina Gouws, Senior Lecturer: Political Studies and Governance, University of the Free State.

In a year where at least 64 countries will hold elections, it is inevitable that we reflect on issues such as the right to vote, the importance of voting, and the role of elections in a democratic process. The truth is, since the earliest elections were held in Greece in around 508 BC, exclusions were part of the process. Only wealthy landowners were allowed to vote. Male landowners, that is. The first popular election where all citizens could vote, and the majority vote won, is believed to have taken place in Sparta in 745 BC. For many centuries, examples like these were very few.

The right to vote

The history of the right to vote is mostly depicted in the history of suffrage – defined as ‘franchise’, or the right to vote – and the exercising of that right. These movements are rooted in the plight of minority groups and generally disenfranchised groups (those discriminated against, such as the poor and the landless), and their fight for the right to vote. You can easily read up on the most chronicled movements in history, such as Women’s Suffrage. The bravery, determination, and suffering endured to secure the right to vote is legendary. And once they finally won the right to vote, this did not mean they could run for office. Another fight was ahead for this democratic right. The Civil Rights movement in America is another example of a movement where the disenfranchised fought for, amongst other civil rights, the right to vote. This included, of course, black women, who were discriminated against from within various Women’s Suffrage movements.

In South Africa, the history of the right to vote is entangled with our colonial history. After the two Boer Wars, decisions had to be made as to who would be the decision-makers going forward. In the Cape Colony, all races had the right to vote – but only if you were male and had the economic qualifications, which means only the male elite across races could vote. In the negotiations to unify the Boer republics with the Cape Colony and Natal at the time, black people’s right to vote came under scrutiny. When South Africa finally became a union, its Constitution was put forward to the British government for approval. The British government was not keen to allow voting rights for black people. Thus, in the 1909 Constitution, only black people in the Cape retained their right to vote. The prevalent racial intolerance in South Africa kept this issue very high on the agenda, and in the 1930s the South African Parliament finally had the two-thirds majority needed to remove voting rights for black people from the Constitution. Finally, in 1951, the Coloured Voters Roll was also scrapped. In resistance against the diminishing civil rights experienced by these groups in South Africa, liberation movements such as the ANC were formed. One of the civil rights they fought for, for many decades, was the right to vote; a right finally won and exercised for the first time in 1994.

The value of voting

So why am I providing this VERY brief look at history and the right to vote?

The value of voting has lost its lustre in South Africa. Despite all this history of the disenfranchised winning the right to vote, and the great enthusiasm for and faith in this aspect of the democratic process, South Africans look at voting with far less excitement only 30 years after the first democratic elections. Of course, we come by our growing indifference honestly. Those the majority have given their vote to have let us down greatly. And when we look at the candidate lists for the governing party for our upcoming elections, it doesn’t seem that we can expect better.

But this is still a democracy, dear voter! There will be more parties than ever on the ballot in 2024. We have a Constitution protecting this right to vote for any party you choose. What a notion! Looking back at history, especially from the vantage point of this current Human Rights Month, this right to vote is still at the centre of a system where the people have the final say. You must exercise this right with vigour, with determination, and with defiance against anything or anyone who wishes to weaken our country even further.

I mentioned decision-making earlier. This is what voting is. Look around you and decide if you are content with your circumstances. Look at your wider community and communities in your province and how they make an existence, and decide if you are satisfied with what you see and hear. The vast majority of people in this country can’t possibly be content or satisfied with what they see or what they LIVE through every day. Dear voter, neither are you, right?

So, VOTE in these elections if you are eligible. VOTE. It is your RIGHT.

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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