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10 February 2025 Photo Supplied
Prof Theo Neethling
Prof Theo Neethling is from the Department of Political Studies and Governance at the University of the Free State.

Opinion article by Prof Theo Neethling, Department of Political Studies and Governance, University of the Free State.


In recent days, 14 South African soldiers have died in clashes with the Rwandan-backed M23 rebels in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Several analysts argue that this marks a low point for the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) and that it is almost too late to implement the reforms needed to restore the military to an institution South Africans can once again take pride in. The incident recalls the so-called Battle of Bangui in March 2013 during the Central African Republic civil war — a major defeat for the SANDF that led to the Séléka rebels seizing control of the country.

This article aims to shed light on the challenges facing the South African military.

Following the historic transition of 1994, South Africa’s foreign policy shifted from a stance of conflict with its neighbours to one centred on regional relations built on the principles of common destiny, friendship, cooperation, and conflict resolution. The South African government sought to take on a leadership role on the continent, creating new opportunities for the SANDF as a military instrument.

Towards the end of the Mandela presidency, South Africa’s involvement in peace and security operations became a defining feature of its post-1994 foreign policy. The government demonstrated its firm commitment to regional stability by deploying the SANDF in peacekeeping operations — first in Lesotho in 1998, followed by the DRC in 1999 and Burundi in 2001.

Dwindling defence budget

However, since 1998 it became evident that the SANDF found it increasingly difficult to conduct operations as a declining budget started to constrain the SANDF. This is linked to the fact that between 1995 and 1998, the defence budget was cut by 11.1%, which eventually resulted in a growing mismatch between policy intent and execution. As a percentage of gross domestic product (GDP) South African defence spending had been reduced to less than 3% in the mid-1990s, which boiled down to less than 10% of total government spending. The defence budget then further decreased to 1.54% of GDP in 2004/05 and levelled out in 2014/15 at around 1.2% to 1.1% of GDP.

Despite a dwindling defence budget, the government increasingly expected the SANDF to support the SAPS as murder and death rates rose to levels comparable to — or in some cases even exceeding — those in high-intensity war zones internationally. This has placed the SANDF in an almost impossible position, forced to balance its demanding regional deployments with ongoing appeals from politicians and the public to intervene in crime-ridden hotspots where the SAPS is unable to fulfil its constitutional duty to protect South Africans.

Given these constraints and the changing global and regional geopolitical landscape in which the SANDF operated, the government appointed a task team to draft a second defence review, following the South African Defence Review of 1998, which was finally published as the 2015 South African Defence Review. The task team made it clear that the decrease in funding levels was highly problematic, and that inadequate funding would eventually severely compromise the defence capabilities of the SANDF. They emphasised that the government had to decide on one of two options: approving a greater budget allocation to the SANDF or alternatively opting for a significantly scaled-down level of ambition and commitment which is aligned to the budget allocation. One thing was clear: South Africa’s spending was low in terms of comparative international military spending practice. Since 2015 defence spending in South Africa has declined even further to about 0.7% of GDP, which is way below the international norm of more or less 2% of GDP.

Despite its budgetary challenges, in 2023, the SANDF was the fifth largest troop-contributing nation in the UN’s operation in the eastern DRC and played a key role in the SADC operation against insurgents in northern Mozambique from 2021 to 2024. However, considering the history of SANDF operations, a major problem is that the SANDF’s deployments tend to be open-ended, resulting in protracted deployments with serious implications for the defence budget. Moreover, there is no plan to either opt for an adequate defence budget on the one hand, or to scale down the level of political ambition on the other.

It should also be noted that border protection and support for the South African Police Service (SAPS) in internal operations have become increasingly important and demanding in the SANDF’s activities and responsibilities and can even be regarded as among its primary functions. However, a major concern is that the SANDF is too often used as a stopgap in South Africa’s domestic security landscape — hindering its ability to function as a professional, well-equipped armed force with a clear mandate.

For instance, in 2023, politicians called on the SANDF to assist in combating violence linked to zama zamas after the government deployed soldiers in large numbers to curb illegal mining activities. Even local communities expect the government to utilise the SANDF internally, adding pressure on the state to consider such deployments. In this context, the SANDF has little choice but to respond to political calls to assist the SAPS in maintaining internal security. Another recent example of internal deployment was the government’s decision in 2023 to deploy the SANDF to safeguard the coal power plants of South Africa’s major power utility, Eskom.

In conclusion, it should be clear from the above that there is a significant mismatch between what is expected of the SANDF at the political level and its budget and capabilities. The challenge for the SANDF is that defence remains central to its raison d’être, yet it must also be ready to respond to political calls for assistance in peace and security operations across the continent. Additionally, the SANDF is expected to support the SAPS in providing security services in a crime-ridden and fragile South African society — all while operating on a budget of approximately 0.7% of the country’s GDP. It is therefore no surprise that the SANDF is often described as institutionally overstretched and has, in fact, been in a state of ongoing decline for some time.

Critics can rightly argue that the South African government has shown little to no political will to address the SANDF’s financial challenges over the past two decades, contributing to the difficulties its members face in defending themselves against the M23 rebels in the DRC. At the same time, growing fiscal pressures and severe socio-economic challenges leave the government in a weak position to significantly increase the defence budget. Be that as it may, the SANDF’s troubles in the DRC mark a low point for the institution. Perhaps now is the time to reassess both its mandate and funding, particularly in light of the persistent gap between political expectations and available resources.

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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