In 1994, South Africa stepped back from the abyss. Sworn enemies accepted the futility of a winner-take-all approach to settling the country’s future, and, in doing so, the country defied the widely held expectation at the time that this was bound to be a drawn-out war of attrition until the bitter end. This did happen. And while referring to it as a miracle today is bound to invite controversy, it cannot be denied that we avoided the cataclysm that became the fate of many before and after us. This was and remains exceptional.

To be clear, this was not the kind of ‘miracle’ that was precipitated by Damascene experiences on either side of our historical divide. Instead, a convergence of fortuitous global and domestic circumstances changed the calculus of those involved in the conflict. It was foisted upon us. This was the first part of the miracle: that the stars aligned for this moment to occur at all. The second was that astute leaders on all sides recognised the moment for what it was and risked all to bring their followers with them. In a polarised country where diametrically opposing narratives of belonging were defended with the blood of young South Africans on either side, this was a brave thing to do. It did not erase the hurt, hate, and distrust that permeated South Africa for generations, but it put us on a different track to the future that we were heading for.

During the first post-apartheid administration, much effort and energy went into exploiting the opportunity that this moment presented. A government of national unity (GNU) was established to forge a sense of inclusive governance; the creation of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) provided a platform for the process of national healing to start, and former President Nelson Mandela, in particular, set the tone for the prioritisation of a focus on our common destiny over our divided history. It was a project that held promise while it lasted.

Much has since been written about the moments and events that marked its unravelling. The conflicting perspectives on these are revealing in themselves about the country that we have become. At its core, however, was a collective failure to envision and give meaning to our national motto, ! ke e: /xarra //ke, and what it really meant to unite, for better or for worse. As the country moved further away from the abyss towards the mundane task of creating a new nation, our politics reverted to familiar patterns that emphasised difference and distrust. When faced with fundamental questions of justice, truth, and meaningful inclusivity at critical points, leadership in public and private life failed to stay the course. Under these pressures, the country gravitated back towards being a fragmented nation, where almost every form of negotiation, regardless of the issue, sphere of government, social sector, or society, became viewed as a zero-sum game, where threat loomed larger than opportunity; and where the indulgence of stereotypes and demonisation of opponents were leveraged for self-preservation at the expense of the national collective and, at times, the institutions created to protect the rights of this collective.

At best, this resulted in gridlock; at worst, in slow decline. It is no coincidence that mention of the 2030 targets of our National Development Plan (NDP), deemed pragmatic at their launch in 2012, has all but disappeared from our public discourse. Of course, by now we know that they are bound to be missed by a mile. As suggested above, it would be disingenuous to single the government out as the only culprit for high and rising poverty rates, stubborn inequality, and the alarming percentage of South Africans that cannot find work. Business, labour, media and yes, also civil society, have much to reflect on how their posture over the past three decades contributed to these circumstances. But it would be remiss not to point out how the ANC’s own vicious factionalism, resulted in a weakened state apparatus, bereft of the vision and capacity required to strengthen the centre. In the course of the past decade and a half, public institutions were neutered out as they became tools of party patronage, or discredited in instances where they dared to cross lines with factional party interests. In instances where public and party interest overlapped, it increasingly became coincidental rather than intentional.

The damage is there for everyone to see. A recent Afrobarometer pre-election survey, conducted by the Institute for Justice and Reconciliation (IJR) in April and May this year, shows that a full 85% of South Africans believe that the country is moving in the wrong direction. In 2011, when this question was first posed, the corresponding figure was 46%. During the same period, satisfaction with the way in which our democracy works dropped from 60% to 39%. As a result, trust in public institutions has been in free fall. Worryingly, public opinion appears to conflate the performance of the legislative and executive arms of the state, with that of the judiciary, which in many instances has had to compensate for the absence of functional checks and balances elsewhere in the state. In the 2022 round of the survey, close to a quarter of South Africans indicated that they do not trust our courts of law at all—something that does not bode well for the longer-term consolidation of the rule of law.

This is where we find ourselves in June 2024, shortly after a landmark general election. A country that has fallen far short of what it is capable of, that is adrift in an increasingly hostile global system, and struggling to calibrate its economy to meet the needs of its people. Probably most disappointingly, it is also perpetually prone to self sabotage.

This will also be the country that a new, fragile GNU will have to preside over. While there is little to compare the circumstances that shaped the 1994 political transition with those of today, we are once again presented with a brief window of opportunity to change course on a road that leads nowhere. Once again, this opportunity has been foisted upon an unlikely collection of role players with diverse political cultures and reluctant constituencies. Once again, the risk of failure is unfathomably high. And ironically, for this arrangement to have any prospect of success, the first order of business for this new government will, once again, have to be to nurture a sense of trust in each other’s primary commitment to the country as a whole over the preservation of their respective political constituencies.

With multiple obstacles ahead, many are already betting on its imminent collapse. Establishing and entrenching consultative processes in government where previously there were none will take time and effort. And no doubt, those operating within the old winner-takes-all paradigm will also actively seek to exploit the GNU’s initial frailty as it attempts to establish itself, irrespective of its cost to South Africans. This is unfortunate, but a predictable reality. One would hope that maturity within the mitigates against similar impulses when faced with internal disagreement. What would be truly tragic is if this moment were squandered by self-sabotaging egos within the new government. South Africans deserve better. It is time for their interests to prioritised. It is time for change.

Jan Hofmeyr