Subverting democracy a key objective of anti-transformation movement
Abbey Makoe
NEVER in the history of democratic South Africa has so few caused so much pain to so many and with impunity.
The preposterous saga of a very tiny minority of Afrikaners who this week flew to the US under the utterly false pretence of escaping persecution has pooh-poohed Mandela's dream of a South Africa for all races regardless of history.
My fellow writer, Gillian Schutte, captured it all so well when she posted on X: 'This is not the Great Trek of wagons and rifles. It is the soft trek of displaced entitlement. Just the silent movement of whiteness away from discomfort and toward re-absorption into a global order that still centres it.' Phew!
President Cyril Ramaphosa has been at pains attempting to convince the Trump administration that empirical evidence shows no proof of any iota of the alleged persecution of the Afrikaner community in democratic SA.
The country's Minister of International Relations and Cooperation, Ronald Lamola, has also done his bit, trying strenuously to push back against the false narrative of discrimination against the Afrikaner based on their skin pigmentation, beliefs, religion or any basis for that matter.
Thus far, Pretoria's decorous diplomatic engagements with Washington appear to have fallen on deaf ears.
The most unfortunate consequence of this developing sorry saga is that some, perhaps many, outside of SA, believe this balderdash.
For in plain language, the claptrap behind allegations of persecution is indefensible in any court of law, including the public court of opinion.
The flight of unpatriotic Afrikaners who are reeling from the displeasure of losing the privileges of institutionalised racial discrimination triggered by the advent of democracy and equality before the law has cast misplaced scrutiny on SA's transformative agenda.
A flurry of twists and turns, laced with utter falsehoods and geopolitical bullying of the weak by the powerful, all this is a concocted recipe to discredit a developing democracy that seeks to write the wrongs of the past in pursuit of a brighter future for all citizens.
Amid the ensuing brouhaha, South Africa's sovereignty somehow stands in the dock of America's kangaroo court that has arbitrarily found Pretoria guilty as charged by the likes of AfriForum, sections of the DA, Institute of Race Relations, Solidarity and others overtly or covertly.
Taking advantage of a hugely liberal Constitution that guarantees freedoms such as that of speech, thought and association, the fake refugees take umbrage with the country's developmental agenda without any fear of repercussions.
Had it not been of the liberal nature of the predominantly Western-aligned Constitution, surely to travel abroad and speak ill of SA, conniving with foreign forces against the sitting administration, would constitute high treason.
I also want to argue that this debilitating litany of lies about our country exposes the lingering fault lines in geopolitics and modern-day international relations practices. In my book, it reveals the extent of overbearing ideological power and dominance of the global neo-liberal forces that are premised on the notion of universal racial solidarity.
Let's call it for what it is: The anti-transformation movement against South Africa is a heavily-funded, well-oiled machine that assumes various forms and postures.
It seeks to portray, sadly with great success, the ANC-led governance of the country as anti-White and hell-bent on victimising minority groups, particularly Afrikaner farmers.
The movement is also hugely networked in a world that has become interconnected and inter-dependent thanks to globalization. Inside the Trump administration, it boasts powerful contacts such as SA-born Elon Musk, who also happen to be world's wealthiest person.
For the uninitiated, SA's democracy was founded on the back of hard negotiations between the Mandela-led ANC and the De Klerk-led segregationist white minority regime of the National Party.
The CODESA negotiations produced a negotiated settlement and later a liberal Constitution that guarantees the protection of property rights. This section of the law insulated the minority white population of the country against any threat to the wealth they had amassed over more than 350 years of Black subjugation. For the record, to this day, there is no single member of any minority group, including Afrikaners, ever to be threatened with the loss of any rights under the challengeable laws of the land.
The dirty campaign against South Africa by a tiny minority of South Africans, therefore, serves as a blatant affront to the inclusive foundations of our nascent democracy.
Since the first batch of Afrikaners flew out in a chartered plane from OR Tambo International en route to the land of Coca-Cola and hamburgers that symbolise the mink and manure, there has been a heightened debate about race relations in our country.
The conclusion is, however, not difficult to reach: Despite a myriad of dichotomous standpoints, the centre first built by Madiba and De Klerk still holds firm.
But that said, it would be foolhardy to ignore the reputational damage and significant harm caused to the international standing of SA by the Trump administration's mischievous peddling of falsehoods about our country's complex and difficult transition from the old to the new order.
Just as President Trump believes in the misrepresentation of facts, so too do millions of people, especially the Republican voters who believe the balderdash espoused by some among us, against us.
It is this certainty of the looming damage to SA's good name that pains me more. It hurts deeply, because our citizens have elected to disown us in the most ignominious fashion – hanging our dirty linen in public and inconsiderately seeking to throw us to the wolves.
President Ramaphosa-led government has been accused of enacting the Expropriation of Land without Compensation to the detriment of the Afrikaners who own large swathes of land acquired at the height of apartheid through the displacement of Black people.
Yet the truth is, the Act speaks of a careful need to free relevant portions of land parcels for 'public good' should the need arise.
No single Afrikaner farmer has been targeted. But for those who are hankering for the preservation of apartheid-era white privileges, they'd like the US and the rest of the West to view SA with jaundiced eyes, and accordingly punish the country by imposing sanctions.
The hurt that all patriotic South Africans should feel at this point is owed to the sheer impunity that the Judases who flew out as refugees this week enjoy, thanks to the most powerful nation on Earth. Just the other week, our Constitutional Court also ruled that people such as the fake refugees may never lose their citizenship even if they take up the citizenship of another country.
In my view, and that's the view of many others, SA is being punished through a malicious public relations campaign for not kowtowing to the whims of Washington's foreign policy dictates.
The membership of BRICS is also not helpful for SA. The Trump administration regards BRICS as an aberration.
Additionally, SA's claim of non-alignment of foreign policy is also viewed by Washington and the West as a load of baloney.
Lastly, tackling the untouchable Israel and hauling Tel Aviv before the International Court of Justice on charges of genocide against the Palestinians was the last straw that broke the camel's back.
These are unstated truths at the centre of the deteriorating bilateral relations between Pretoria and Washington. Being the weaker economy, and refusing to be bullied in internal affairs, we can expect that the plot against our nation will continue to thicken.
The first batch of Afrikaner refugees is only a ploy and pawn in the greater scheme of things. By all accounts, more Afrikaners will leave soon on a ticket of blatant lies about being persecuted. Let's connect the dots here. The US is boycotting our presidency of the G20. Mark my words: It will be a miracle if the US does not kick SA out of AGOA in a jiffy. Our sin is one - We are too independent for a 'small' country. But then again, they forget that we are Mandela's and Tutu's rainbow nation, replete with imperfections but morally upright.
*Abbey Makoe is Publisher and Editor-in-Chief: Global South Media Network (gsmn.co.za). The views are personal.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL, Independent Media or The African
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Daily Maverick
11 hours ago
- Daily Maverick
The man in the three-piece suit — imagery and identities in Mandela's leadership (Part 3)
The use of imagery is well interred within the history of the ANC. When Nelson Mandela came onto the scene, wearing smart suits, it's legitimate to read some of his identity from the clothes that he wore. This is the third in a five-part series on Mandela's leadership. Imagery has always been important in liberation movement politics and history. In the case of the South African Native National Congress (the name of the African National Congress at its inception), the question of dress was always important. Many people responded with ridicule, suggesting that ANC leaders were dressing like their masters to beg the king and his government to provide some reforms that benefited a section of the ANC. Cultural writer John Berger said that the suit emerged as the dress code of the ruling class. What one can legitimately say is that wearing the dress of the ruling class is in a sense a claim for rights which the ANC was making. Likewise, when they sang Rule Britannia, it's important to understand that the ANC was still grappling for its identity as an African organisation. But in the context of competing powers – the Afrikaner Nationalists and the British – the ANC sided with the British and played divide and rule in reverse (a phrase I owe to Professor Peter Limb, a very significant Australian historian of the South African Struggle), with a claim to British subjectivity, meaning the rights of the British men and women. Rule Britannia has such words as 'Rule Britannia, Britannia, rule the waves: Britons never, never, shall be slaves'. In other words, having the rights of the British meant one could not be a slave, one had to be treated equally. The use of imagery is well interred within the history of the ANC. When Nelson Mandela came onto the scene, a man who was very self-conscious about his dress, wearing smart suits and similar attire, it's legitimate to read some of his identity from the clothes that he wore. (On dress and other cultural representations, see Raymond Suttner 'Periodisation, cultural construction and representation of ANC masculinities through dress, gesture and Indian Nationalist influence': Historia 2009, vol. 54, n.1, pp. 51-91). From early in his life Mandela was very conscious of who he was in relation to others – his identity or identities and the imagery that he deployed to reflect these. Given the pre-eminence in leadership that Mandela attained in later life, how he was perceived could have real material effects on the success of the often-fragile transition to democracy. It could impact on the state of conflict, whether or not the violence would increase or be reduced and ultimately eliminated. In the eyes of many white people, Mandela was a dangerous man who threatened their wellbeing, or this idea of Mandela was conjured up to scare the followers of certain organisations. To secure peace Mandela and the ANC had to counter that. On the side of very many black people, Mandela was admired for representing implacable opposition to apartheid domination, manifested through his unrepentant stance in court, after being the founding commander of uMkhonto weSizwe (MK). (This is, of course a perception that is being challenged by a new generation and some commentators who see Mandela as having 'gone soft' and actually having compromised the freedom for which he had fought, a claim that does not stand up against the evidence. This and negotiations need thorough probing, especially examining the tactical and strategic objectives at stake). After 1990, following the release of his comrades, return of exiles and the unbanning of organisations, but also earlier, from prison, Mandela took actions aimed at unblocking the stalemate that had developed between the apartheid regime and the forces of liberation. These were manifested in various agreements but Mandela then, and indeed throughout his life, also deployed symbolic gestures, ways of being, ways of self-representation that communicated messages about what he exemplified. Insofar as he was the primary figure in the leadership of the ANC and many looked to him to give a lead, what he did and how he appeared often mattered as much for the success of steps forward as what was contained in organisational decisions. It used to be wrong, in the organisational self-understanding and practices of the ANC and the SACP, for an individual to loom larger than the organisation, but it was a fact that Mandela may well, at certain times, have enjoyed substantially greater popularity than the ANC itself. In fact, this was largely a result of the ANC's campaigning. It had decided to galvanise international solidarity around Mandela as a leading political prisoner. Conscious of the place he occupied in the international pressure it faced, in 1985 the apartheid regime offered him conditional release, requiring him to renounce violence. But he rejected the offer, making it clear that he and the ANC had not sought violence but responded to the attacks of the apartheid regime. His standing had political effects. How Mandela conducted himself had more significant consequences in many ways than decisions of conferences and National Executive Committees in the period after his release. Mandela was conscious of the need to bear himself and represent himself in a manner that was inclusive and reinforced a peace process. In many ways there was a break with the Mandela of before, especially the man who went to prison. But in many respects the identities and imagery associated with him earlier were not erased but would periodically reappear when required, as when he felt betrayed by the primary negotiating party, the apartheid regime. Radicalism, as we saw in this and other instances, does not mean lack of flexibility. Early life Throughout Mandela's early life until after he arrived in Johannesburg, he was very conscious of what he was destined to be, not what he considered as existentially desirable or undesirable for himself or in a human being more generally. This was because he was 'destined' to become a counsellor to the future Thembu King, Sabata Dalindyebo. In consequence of this responsibility, the regent had often told Mandela that it was not for him 'to spend your life mining the white man's gold, never knowing how to write your name'. Shortly after his initiation ceremony, he was driven by the regent to attend the Clarkebury Boarding Institute in the district of Engcobo. For the first time at Clarkebury Mandela encountered a Western, non-African environment. He understood his life to be governed by his lineage, what he owed in respect to people like the regent, what was expected of him and the respect owed to him by virtue of his own position. But Clarkebury was not run on this basis: 'At Clarkebury… I quickly realised that I had to make my way on the basis of my ability, not my heritage. Most of my classmates could outrun me on the playing field and out-think me in the classroom and I had a good deal of catching up to do.' Despite his attempts to meet the criteria for excellence at Clarkebury, he remained psychologically and socially located in a manner that displaced individual agency, for Mandela's life had been preordained: 'I never thought it possible for a boy from the countryside to rival them in their worldliness. Yet I did not envy them. Even as I left Clarkebury, I was still, at heart, a Thembu, and I was proud to think and act like one. My roots were my destiny, and I believed that I would become a counsellor to the Thembu king, as my guardian wanted. My horizons did not extend beyond Thembuland and I believed that to be a Thembu was the most enviable thing in the world.' (My emphasis). Healdtown In 1937, at the age of 19, Mandela joined Justice, the regent's son, at Healdtown in Fort Beaufort. Like Clarkebury, Healdtown was a Methodist mission school. The principal, Dr Arthur Wellington, claimed to be a descendant of the Duke of Wellington who had saved civilisation 'for Europe and you, the Natives'. Mandela joined others in applauding, 'each of us profoundly grateful that a descendant of the great Duke of Wellington would take the trouble to educate natives such as ourselves'. Mandela's pride in being Thembu was not seen to be incompatible with aspiring to British subjectivity, an aspiration that was common to the early bearers of African political thinking in the Cape and even later in the ANC (Raymond Suttner, 'African nationalism' in Peter Vale, Lawrence Hamilton and Estelle Prinsloo (eds), South African intellectual traditions, (UKZN Press, 2014), 125, 129-132). The 'educated Englishman was our model; what we aspired to be were 'black Englishmen', as we were sometimes derisively called. We were taught – and believed – that the best ideas were English ideas, the best government was English government and the best men were Englishmen.' At Healdtown, Mandela mixed with Africans from a range of backgrounds and started to develop a cautious sense that he was part of something wider than the Thembu people, an African consciousness, though this was limited. When Mandela and Justice fled to the Rand to escape forced marriages, Mandela's consciousness was still primarily that of a Thembu, not even an African. The 1950s: Peaceful struggle but preparation for illegality and war During the 1940s a new radical current of thinking emerged under the leadership of the ANC Youth League (YL) and Mandela, although a relative political novice, became part of this. It is interesting to note that radical though they may have been and critical of their predecessors, the dress code of the YL was formal and by no means represented the type of associations that later generations of radicalism would have with casual or military dress. The Youth League dressed very much like their predecessors, with the exception of top hats and bow ties. In fact, some of these individuals like Mandela, especially when he qualified as an attorney, paid considerable attention to their appearance and the suits they wore. Ellen Khuzwayo writes: 'I remember the glamorous Nelson Mandela of those years. The beautiful white silk scarf he wore round his neck stands out in my mind to this day. Walter Max Sisulu, on the other hand, was a hardy down-to-earth man with practical clothing – typically a heavy coat and stout boots. Looking back, the third member of their trio, Oliver Tambo, acted as something of a balance with his middle-of-the road clothes!' This was a period when dress clearly served as a signifier of specific identities, notably masculinities. It was a time when gangsterism was rife in the townships and the main gangs were always distinguished not only by their daring law-breaking, but their flashy clothing. The 1950s was an era that comprised lawyers in suits, defendants in many court cases, volunteers who engaged in mass democratic campaigns collecting demands for what later became the Freedom Charter, just one of a number of mass activities of the time. In some ways, the Fifties, which are generally portrayed as struggling legally and nonviolently, were an interregnum between nonviolent, peaceful activities and the formal adoption of armed struggle by the ANC in 1961. In this period the imagery around Mandela as a boxer, a sport in which he engaged with considerable discipline, prefigured his later becoming a fighter of a different type. The image of Mandela as a boxer coexisted with his wearing a suit as a conventional lawyer. It also resonated with his militant image. Letsau Nelson Diale, recruited to the ANC while working as a waiter, read the newspapers: 'The people I worked with said: 'This young man is very clever.' They asked me: 'What's in the Rand Daily Mail?' I told them: 'Mandela is coming to court.' They said: 'He will beat the hell out of the boers. He is going to beat them.'' Here we see this image directly translated in the minds of ordinary waiters and patrons into violent action against the apartheid regime ('the boers'). Mandela: Black man in a white man's court In the first of Mandela's cases, after the banning of the ANC, where he was charged with incitement, having been underground for 17 months, he appeared in Thembu attire. This was at once an assertion of his lineage, deriving from a long line of warrior-leaders, and a declaration of the alien character of the white man's (for it was an almost exclusively male) judiciary. The imagery associated with his dress was used to deny the power and authority of the alien court. He tells the court of the bygone days when men were warriors fighting for their people and their land. He asserts what often tends to be submerged by an overarching African nationalism, his identity as a Thembu. He shows that he was a person with multiple identities, suppressed under apartheid. Mandela took this defiance into court proceedings, where he challenged the right of the court to preside over the case, in applying laws that he, as a black person, had no part in making. It was Mandela the lawyer and also the revolutionary speaking. It was more radical than delegitimising the apartheid state for Mandela refused to recognise the right of a key state institution – the judiciary – to hear his case. Dancing for freedom vs dancing as threat: The toyi-toyi of Mandela and Zuma In the post-1976 period the toyi-toyi emerged as a dance accompanying militant and military action. When Mandela was released from prison, it was a time where many ANC cadres were geared for war and felt disappointment at the onset of negotiations. As indicated earlier, many had not been adequately briefed on this changed direction, for they had been instructed to prepare for insurrection. One of the manifestations of the militaristic orientation then prevailing was the toyi-toyi. The dance was accompanied by aggressive chants with words exhorting people to hit and shoot the enemy. Mandela entered the groups who were dancing with his distinctive 'shuffle dance', smiling to all South Africans, affirming and evoking inclusivity, reaching out and unthreatening, as was the case with military exhortations. Jacob Zuma also deployed the toyi-toyi, notably in his rape trial, but it was very different. Zuma's demeanour was aggressive (then as it is now). After emerging from court Zuma would sing his 'favourite song' – Umshini wam/Bring me my machine gun. Singing about machine guns was itself at one level a manifestation of male power over women, a symbolic representation of the power of the gun – a phallic symbol. The firing of the gun is a well-known representation of ejaculation. In effect the song was a re-enactment of a rape (that the court found did not take place). Unlike Mandela's toyi-toyi-ing, Zuma's was threatening. Mandela's legacy of peace Mandela's gestures were never random and ad hoc. He knew that how he represented himself and how he was understood by others was important, bearing symbolic importance. He did not want a civil war. Whites had to be reassured, while simultaneously having his base constituency among oppressed black people understand that what he wanted to do would lead to political freedom. Graça Machel remarks: 'He knew exactly the way he wanted to come out, but also the way he addressed the people from the beginning, sending the message of what he thought was the best way to save lives in the country, to bring reconciliation.' Many people have remarked on the stolid, sometimes tedious way in which Mandela delivered his speeches. This, he told Richard Stengel, was deliberate in that he wanted to impress upon people that he was serious and could be relied upon and did not resort to rhetoric in order to please. (Nelson Mandela: Portrait of an Extraordinary Man. 2012, page 51). At the same time, in this period, some of what had been part of Mandela's private self became part of his public persona. In Fatima Meer's biography of Mandela, one sees the tenderness towards his children (Higher Than Hope: The Authorised Biography of Nelson Mandela, 1990). One of the features of Mandela as president and retired president has been his obviously unaffected love and gentleness towards children. What we see here is how aspects of his personality that had been submerged under the tough image of guerrilla leader and uncompromising triallist became foregrounded in the context of his changed life conditions. The Mandela who was imprisoned was remembered as a dignified yet angry man. The Mandela who emerged had become sober and evoked gravitas. He would often smile, yet the angry Mandela had not disappeared and could re-emerge where conditions made that necessary. On occasions where he felt betrayed by the last apartheid president, FW de Klerk, Mandela's anger would rise to the surface. In general, however, when we review the imagery surrounding Mandela, we see, as suggested earlier, a series of journeys, where he constantly changes, but without abandoning everything that he has been before. Even in his last days he remained attached to his Thembu identity and was buried near his place of birth. The Mandela who found peace for the country also found peace with himself as a man. DM
Daily Maverick
11 hours ago
- Daily Maverick
Scores of South Africans retrenched by NGO processing Trump's Afrikaner ‘refugees'
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The South African
11 hours ago
- The South African
Ian Cameron, DA MPs injured in brutal ‘targeted' attack
Ian Cameron injured in smash and grab. Images via X: @iancameron23 Police Portfolio Committee Chairperson Ian Cameron has recounted a horrific smash and grab he experienced alongside two fellow Democratic Alliance (DA) MPs in Cape Town's Philippi township. The trio – which includes Lisa Schickerling and Nicholas Gotsell – were ambushed after visiting a nearby SAPS training academy. IAN CAMERON AND OTHER DA MPS INJURED IN CAPE TOWN SMASH AND GRAB On Tuesday, 19 August, Ian Cameron and fellow DA MPs Lisa Schickerling and Nicholas Gotsell escaped a smash-and-grab after conducting official duties. ADVERTISEMENT The trio were returning from a surprise inspection of the SAPS Philippi Training Academy when their vehicle was ambushed. A group of unknown suspects broke the window of their car with bricks and brutally assaulted Cameron and his colleagues. The quick-thinking Police Portfolio Committee Chairperson retaliated with his own firearm, firing shots at the suspects. A bloodied Cameron suffered broken teeth and required facial stitches. His colleagues sustained minor head and neck injuries. Ian Cameron believes that it was a targeted attack on himself. He posted on his X account: 'This was a serious and deliberate attack, and it underscores the risks faced during oversight work. But incidents like this will not deter us. We remain determined to carry out our responsibility to ensure accountability and safety. ADVERTISEMENT According to authorities, the motive for the attack is not yet known. 'OUT OF CONTROL CRIME' The DA condemned the attack, calling on police to increase their presence in high-crime areas. The party's Chief Whip, George Michalakis, told IOL: 'This incident is a portrayal of the out-of-control crime that South Africans face daily. No one is exempt from it. 'We again call on the Minister of Police to properly resource SAPS in crime-ridden areas such as Philippi.' Ian Cameron is lucky to be alive after a horrific smash and grab. Image via X: @iancameron23 Parliament also denounced the criminal attack. 'The Presiding Officers express deep concern, noting that such shocking acts of criminality not only endanger the lives of elected representatives and members of the public but also undermine Parliament's constitutional duty to hold organs of state accountable through oversight', read its statement. HELEN ZILLE'S NARROW ESCAPE Ian Cameron isn't the only DA member to fall victim to a brutal attack. In 2003, Helen Zille narrowly escaped death when her Corsa was shot at in an attempted hijacking in Khayelitsha. At the time of the attack, Helen was driving home one evening after doing constituency work in the informal settlement. The bullet struck the back of her car seat, with Helen claiming that the springs of the cushion likely shielded her. DO YOU THINK IAN CAMERON'S SMASH AND GRAB WAS A RANDOM OR TARGETED ATTACK? Let us know by leaving a comment below, or send a WhatsApp to 060 011 021 1. Subscribe to The South African website's newsletters and follow us on WhatsApp, Facebook, X, and Bluesky for the latest news.
