Latest news with #TaxiRecapitalisationProgramme
Daily Maverick
09-05-2025
- Automotive
- Daily Maverick
Hallelujah and praise be, give thanks for the humble N2 and our national highways
Gather round, people and join me in celebration. I wish to sing a paean of praise for… the N2. The nation's coastal artery runs from Cape Town to Hluhluwe through divergent and often glorious landscape before twisting north past Eswatini and (who knew?) ending its 2,214km life deep inland on the eastern highveld at Ermelo. I have no knowledge of anything on the N2 north of King Shaka Airport, but much of the rest in KZN, the Eastern Cape and the Western Cape I have travelled on in recent times and can report very positively. Sanral – the government organisation responsible for our national roads – gets a bad rap, largely because of its poorly thought-through and costly idea to toll the commuter motorways around Johannesburg. But, to my eyes, they are a functional bunch who do a pretty good job. Our major road infrastructure is generally solid and a source of wonder to visitors from the US, Italy, the UK and even Australia, where their equivalent routes are either crumbling or permanently under laborious repair. Sanral's R100-billion budget seems to represent good value by parastatal standards. And before you scream 'what about the potholes?', those tend to be on municipal roads, which are not within Sanral's remit. On the 870km from Cape Town to Makhanda last week, I did not encounter a single piece of unsafe surface. There is work to be done on the patchwork quilt of bitumen east of Swellendam, and some of the markings are perilously scant, but that's not a bad report card, especially given the pressure that the collapse of the rail freight system has put on the roads. There were three sets of road works under way – which is a good thing. Stop/Goes may irritate, but they demonstrate that maintenance is being done. And on that subject, I spotted five verge clearing crews mowing and trimming diligently. And, while I am in a positive mood, allow me to reflect on a few other N2 things. In 20 hours of easy driving, I did not encounter a single piece of the insane overtaking-on-a-blind-rise kind of driving that used to be routine. Are we becoming safer drivers? The polite yellow line passing dance with flashing lights in thanks is done by pretty much everyone. The route was well policed with a regular presence of flashing blue lights, which generate a Pavlovian response of good behaviour, and a couple of roadblocks. And I saw not a single rust bucket, held-together-by-wire-and-duct-tape taxi. They also used to be commonplace. I appreciate that the Taxi Recapitalisation Programme, begun in 2006, was deeply flawed and has many critics. But the government claims 84,000 old taxis have been scrapped at a cost of R6-billion, and I suspect that the overall outcome is positive, given that almost every taxi I see now is in decent condition. The vibrant health of our agriculture was in abundant and constant evidence all along the N2. The extraordinary orchards of Elgin; shiny new seeding machinery in action near Bot Rivier; the immaculate vineyards of Gabrielskloof; vast oceans of pristine netting covering fruit trees in the Overberg; healthy herds of ostriches, cattle and sheep everywhere; barns, fences and warehouses in good condition. And, where traditional farming has proved burdensome, the owners have reinvented themselves into thriving game farm destinations like Amakhala in the Eastern Cape. Or they farm the wind. The massive sets of metal sails at Caledon and Humansdorp represent huge investments. Thinking of investments, there's new housing in abundance beside the N2 in Mossel Bay and Plett, and even whizzing past much-maligned Gqeberha, some serious evidence of fresh economic activity can be spotted. And who remembers a time, not so long ago, when a journey on the N2 was a culinary desert in which a Wimpy coffee was your best option? Not any more. The route is littered with magnificent offerings: the astonishing Peregrine Farm Stall, Houw Hoek, the Ou Meul at Riviersonderend (which was running full throttle at 7am last Friday), Tredici at Swellendam, Ikigai at Riversdale, the venerable Blue Crane at Heidelberg, 'Thyme and Again' at Keurbooms – just some of the superb roadside outlets, along with countless other splendid padstals, all of which seem to have excellent, friendly staff. Please don't take this for granted. My international guests marvel at these places, saying they have nothing remotely like them on their primary routes for the quality of what they offer. Yes, questions abound and the true picture of the journey is complicated. How much are the farmworkers paid? Will Trump, the ANC and Portnet between them shaft our successful farmers? What is life like in the ever-sprawling townships outside Grabouw and Mossel Bay, and in the backstreets of those country towns? What on earth is going on with the forestry land at Knoflokskraal? That 60kmh speed limit on the downhill to Kaaimans before Wilderness is a straight revenue gouger. The sulking, hulking, mothballed Mossgas refinery near Mossel Bay is a monument to the incompetence and corruption of PetroSA. Makhanda is still a mighty municipal mess. And every river you cross raises an alarm on water quality. All valid and true. Our land is both beautiful and ugly. But can we, just for once, don the rose-tinted glasses and celebrate something that works remarkably well? Please give me a hallelujah for the N2. Thank you, brothers and sisters. Amen. DM
Daily Maverick
24-04-2025
- Business
- Daily Maverick
Blood on the tar: The challenge of ending collective violence in SA's minibus taxi industry
In the centre of South Africa's urban transport system, the minibus taxi industry stands as both a lifeline and a battleground. Every day, millions of commuters rely on these vehicles to navigate cities where formal public transport is often unreliable or absent. Yet, beneath the hum of engines and the chatter of passengers lies a darker reality — one marked by violence, territorial disputes, and a cycle of retribution that seems unbreakable. The minibus taxi industry, a R50-billion-a-year sector, is a microcosm of South Africa's broader struggles with collective violence, where the lines between economic survival, criminality, and state failure blur into what philosophers might term an aporia — an irresolvable contradiction. This piece examines the structural, economic, and sociopolitical dimensions of violence in South Africa's minibus taxi industry. It explores how historical neglect, weak state regulation, and fierce competition for routes have entrenched a system where bloodshed is normalised. The discussion also considers potential solutions, questioning whether formalisation, state intervention, or grassroots mediation can break the cycle of violence. The minibus taxi industry emerged in the 1970s and 1980s as an informal response to apartheid-era neglect. Under apartheid, black South Africans were systematically excluded from reliable public transport. Trains and buses were either unavailable or racially segregated, leaving millions with no viable means of commuting to work. The minibus taxi filled this void, operating as a grassroots solution to state-imposed exclusion. Initially, the industry was fragmented, with individual operators servicing local routes. However, as demand grew, taxi associations formed to regulate operations, allocate routes, and negotiate with authorities. These associations became powerful entities, wielding significant influence over urban mobility. Yet, their rise was accompanied by increasing violence as rival groups competed for dominance over lucrative routes. Post apartheid, the government attempted to integrate the taxi industry into the formal transport economy. The 1996 Taxi Recapitalisation Programme aimed to replace old, unsafe vehicles, reduce violence, and introduce regulation. However, corruption, mismanagement, and resistance from taxi bosses rendered the programme ineffective. Decades later, the industry remains largely informal, volatile, and resistant to state control. Violence in the taxi industry is not arbitrary — it is a calculated strategy for economic survival. At the heart of the conflict is route dominance, where control over high-demand routes translates into substantial profits. Taxi associations operate as quasi-governments, enforcing their authority through intimidation, arson, and assassination. The most profitable routes — typically those connecting townships to city centres — are fiercely contested. Associations employ 'queue marshals' to control taxi ranks, often using force to exclude competitors. Disputes over territory frequently escalate into taxi wars, with rival factions engaging in shootouts, vehicle burnings, and targeted killings. The South African government has struggled to impose order on the industry. Police interventions are often ineffective, either due to under-resourcing, corruption, or fear of retaliation. In some cases, law enforcement officers have been accused of colluding with taxi bosses, further undermining public trust. Vigilante enforcement With little faith in formal justice, operators resort to private security firms and vigilante enforcement. Some associations hire armed guards to protect their members, while others engage in retaliatory attacks. This privatisation of security entrenches a cycle of violence, where disputes are settled with bullets rather than legal processes. For taxi drivers, violence is an occupational hazard. Many work under constant threat – extortion, assault, or assassination if they defy association rules. Those who attempt to operate independently risk being ostracised or killed. Commuters, too, are caught in the crossfire. Innocent bystanders have been killed in shootouts between rival groups. For years, the Witwatersrand African Taxi Association (Wata) and the Nancefield Dube West Taxi Association (Nanduwe) have been at odds over routes. Just this year, a staggering 59 deaths have been linked to taxi-related violence. The minibus taxi industry embodies an aporia — an irresolvable contradiction. On one hand, it is an indispensable service, providing mobility to millions in a country where formal transport fails. On the other, it is a source of terror, where violence is institutionalised. Government attempts to regulate the industry have repeatedly failed. The Taxi Recapitalisation Programme's inability to curb violence highlights the difficulty of imposing order on a sector that thrives on informality. Taxi associations resist formalisation, fearing loss of autonomy and profits. At its core, the violence is sustained by economic desperation. South Africa's high unemployment rate (over 32%) means that taxi driving is one of the few viable livelihoods for many. With so much at stake, operators are willing to kill — or be killed — to protect their income. Breaking the cycle of violence Breaking the cycle of violence requires more than policing. Possible interventions include economic restructuring — integrating taxi operators into formal transport networks, offering equity in exchange for compliance — stricter firearm control to limit access to illegal guns used in taxi wars, labour protections such as unionising drivers to reduce exploitation by association bosses, and mediation initiatives through grassroots conflict resolution programmes to de-escalate disputes before they turn violent. However, these solutions face immense challenges. Corruption, political inertia, and the sheer profitability of the industry make reform difficult. The minibus taxi industry is more than just a transport sector — it is a reflection of South Africa's broader crises. The violence on our roads mirrors the country's struggles with inequality, state weakness, and the legacy of apartheid. Until systemic issues — poverty, unemployment, and ineffective governance — are addressed, the wheels will keep turning, leaving blood on the tar as a grim testament to an unresolved contradiction. The aporia remains: the industry is both essential and deadly, a paradox that South Africa has yet to solve. Whether through state intervention, economic reform, or grassroots activism, the path to peace must confront the deep-seated forces that make violence not just a symptom, but a necessity, in the struggle for survival. DM
