The Missing Voice: Disability, Democracy and the National Dialogue in South Africa

The Citizen

2 days ago

SEDIBENG.- The recently announced commencement of a National Dialogue by President Cyril Ramaphosa should be a wake-up call for the South African Disability Sector.
Framed as an inclusive effort to unify South Africans and shape the country's future, the Dialogue is composed of eminent persons from various sectors. However, upon closer examination, it becomes clear that there is a glaring omission, the deliberate exclusion of the Disability Sector. This is not only a political oversight but a failure of democratic integrity.
Perhaps it is time for those of us within the Disability Sector, particularly those who assume leadership roles, to align our sector proactively rather than reactively. This means moving beyond waiting for recognition or reacting to marginalisation after it happens. Instead, it calls for building a strategic, unified and assertive movement that positions disability at the center of national debates, not on the margins. We cannot expect national healing and democratic renewal while the voices of millions of South Africans with disabilities remain unheard.
There is no sector in this country without a rich leadership history, and the Disability Sector is no exception. From the dark days of apartheid to the hard-won gains of democracy, disabled South Africans and their allies have fought, organised, and built institutions not just for themselves but for a more just society. The role of history, after all, is not merely to remember the past but to ensure that its mistakes are never repeated and its strengths are intensified. The silencing of disability voices today, in the context of the 'inclusive' Dialogue, is a repetition of an old mistake, one we can no longer afford.
Let us not forget that during the Convention for a Democratic South Africa (CODESA) negotiations in the early 1990s, the Disability Sector was initially excluded from key discussions. But rather than accept this invisibility, disability activists and leaders mobilised and protested, forcing their way into the national conversation. That struggle was not in vain. It inspired none other than President Nelson Mandela to begin recognising disability not merely as a welfare issue but as a human rights and developmental issue, in essence, a national question.
The lesson is clear: self-representation is not a luxury; it is a non-negotiable democratic principle. When disability is treated as an add-on or a footnote, it leads to policies that fail to address the real material conditions of disabled people. Inclusion cannot be symbolic. It must be structural, strategic, and substantive.
We are also reminded of the words of President Thabo Mbeki, who once said: 'Among the yardsticks by which to measure a society's respect for human rights, to evaluate the level of its maturity and its generosity of spirit, is by looking at the status that it accords to those members of society who are most vulnerable – disabled people, the senior citizens, and its children.'
This profound statement should serve as a moral compass to the current leadership corps and all those entrusted with shaping South Africa's social contract. It is not enough to host conferences, dialogues, or policy discussions if they exclude those most affected by injustice. Inclusion must be active, not passive. And the test of our democracy lies not in the speeches of our presidents but in the everyday experiences of disabled South Africans, many of whom still endure disproportionate poverty, unemployment, inaccessibility, and systemic neglect.
Yes, we have a Ministry for Women, Youth, and Persons with Disabilities, and yes, we have some policy documents and action plans that mention disability. But representation is not bureaucracy. It is about voice, power, and agency. If a National Dialogue is to truly 'unite all South Africans to shape their future,' then the absence of the Disability Sector is an indictment. It reveals that disability is still seen as peripheral, not foundational, to the national project.
We still have living legends in the Disability Sector, leaders who were instrumental in building the disability rights movement over four decades ago. These are individuals who resisted apartheid, challenged ableism, and laid the foundation for future generations of disabled activists and leaders. To exclude such individuals from the National Dialogue is to erase not only their personal contributions but the collective memory and vision of an entire movement. It suggests that the future is being imagined without us, rather than with us.
And what of the youth? Young disabled South Africans are watching. They are absorbing the messages sent by institutions and government. If they see that national spaces for dialogue and policymaking exclude disability perspectives, they internalise the idea that they do not belong therefore their issues are not important, and that the fight for recognition must still continue. That is a betrayal of both history and hope.
The question then becomes: What must we do?
First, the Disability Sector must organise with renewed urgency and clarity of purpose. This means strengthening Disabled People's Organisations (DPOs), investing in leadership development for young disabled people, and building coalitions across sectors including with labour, civil society, faith-based organisations, and political allies.
Second, we must insist on nothing about us without us. This rallying cry, born from global disability activism, must be more than a slogan. It must be a non-negotiable principle in all national processes especially those that shape the future.
Third, we must hold our leaders accountable. We cannot allow Ministries, Parliament, or even the Presidency to claim inclusion while practicing exclusion. We must use every tool of democracy, from litigation and protest to public advocacy and media engagement to make visible the systemic exclusion that too often hides behind bureaucratic language.
Fourth, we must use this moment to reimagine the Disability Sector itself. Too often, fragmentation, competition for resources, or donor-driven agendas have weakened our collective voice. This is a call for unity and solidarity, not just among disabled people but with all those who believe in justice.
Finally, we must ensure that the National Dialogue and every other major national initiative, includes Disability at the table from the very beginning. Not because we are asking for pity or charity, but because we are claiming our rightful place in the national imagination.
The future of South Africa cannot be built by silencing its most marginalised voices. It cannot be sustained by erasing history or overlooking those who built the path to democracy. If the National Dialogue is to have legitimacy, then it must include all of us, black and white, rich and poor, urban and rural, disabled and non-disabled.
If it does not, then it is not a national dialogue. It is a national monologue, one that speaks of unity while practicing exclusion.
And so we return to the question of leadership. Will the Disability Sector wait to be invited? Or will it reclaim its voice, its power, and its place? The answer will determine not only the future of disability rights in South Africa, but the very soul of our democracy.
Lucky Tumahole – Disability Advocate
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