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IOL News
3 days ago
- Politics
- IOL News
Madiba's legacy: Time to reclaim the soul of the struggle
ANC president Nelson Mandela smiles on April 27, 1994, as he casts his vote at the John Langalibalele Dube's Ohlange High School in Inanda, near Durban. We were once a society celebrated for the moral imagination of our negotiated settlement, hailed as a Rainbow Nation that chose dialogue over destruction, political patience over military confrontation. That fragile consensus has disintegrated, says the writer. Image: AFP Zamikhaya Maseti As the world paused to observe Mandela Day this week on July 18, 2025, we are reminded that this day, solemnly declared by the United Nations in 2009, stands not as a decorative event on the calendar but as a global summons to political and ethical conscience. Mandela Day was never meant to be reduced to a moment of philanthropy. It is a moral provocation. It demands reflection, honesty, and action from all of us, particularly those who profess to walk in the shadows of the long and unfinished journey that began long before 1994. On February 11, 1990, President Nelson Mandela emerged from Victor Verster Prison with his fist raised high in the air, a gesture that immediately entered the symbolic archive of revolutionary imagery. It was not a sign of triumphalism. It was a signal. A political message carved into the conscience of this country and the watching world. That image did not mark the end of the struggle. It marked its transformation. It did not signify closure. It announced a continuation. It called upon the oppressed and the marginalised, the landless and the working poor, to pick up where he and his fellow Rivonia Trialists had left off. The prison gates had opened, yes, but the gates of justice remained locked for millions. He did not emerge bitter after twenty-seven years of carceral humiliation. He came out with the integrity of purpose intact, preaching reconciliation, peace, and coexistence. The reconciliation was meant to be just, it was meant to be transformative, and it was meant to be rooted in redress. This year's Mandela Day finds South Africa at a historical crossroads. It coincides with the build-up to what may become a defining moment in the life of our post-Apartheid democratic project, the much-anticipated National Dialogue, now just a month away. In a previous reflection, I described the National Dialogue as a conversation we did not know we truly needed. It is now apparent that we are a society adrift, lacking a common moral vocabulary and torn apart by deepening social fragmentation. In the context of Mandela Day, we must be courageous enough to pose the most uncomfortable but essential questions. Have we remained faithful to the founding ethos of our democratic transition? Have we honoured Mandela's radical legacy, or have we betrayed it? We were once a society celebrated for the moral imagination of our negotiated settlement, hailed as a Rainbow Nation that chose dialogue over destruction, political patience over military confrontation. That fragile consensus has disintegrated. Today, we speak less like a Nation and more like a federation of bitter factions divided by race, class, geography, and ideology. The dream of non-racialism has withered into suspicion. The national unity once imagined in the fervour of 1994 has been replaced with racial scapegoating and retreat. This is not the country Mandela sacrificed his freedom for. This is not the inheritance his fellow Rivonia Trialists hoped to bequeath to future generations. Mandela Day must not be reduced to cooking for communities or painting classroom walls. These gestures are not inherently wrong, but they are dangerously insufficient. They become symbolic bandages on wounds that require political surgery. We need to elevate Mandela Day beyond gestures. It must become a platform to interrogate structural injustice, economic exclusion, and the social distance that continues to define our post-1994 reality. The uncomfortable truth is that we have regressed. The South African Nation, post-February 11, 1990, defined by an ethos of Rainbowism, has collapsed into a contest of parallel grievances. The original project of inclusive nation-building has been corroded by policies that, while well-intentioned on paper, have had contradictory consequences in practice. The Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) policy, for instance, while aimed at redressing apartheid-era dispossession, has inadvertently alienated certain sections of the Black majority (Africans, People of Colour, People of Indian origin, and the Khoisan People). When I refer to Black people, I do so in the tradition of the liberation movement as a historically defined social category forged through a collective struggle against colonialism, land dispossession, and Apartheid. That Black unity, painstakingly built in the trenches of resistance, is today fraying at the seams. We are witnessing a tragic reversal, a balkanisation of the oppressed into fragmented groupings, each speaking a different political grammar, each wounded by a different historical wound. Instead of deepening national unity, certain policies have created perceptions of intra-Black competition, fuelling resentment, bitterness, and ultimately disunity. We must confront the ideological implications of this drift. The emergence of what I call the Lumpen Bourgeoisie, a predatory class in itself, lacking revolutionary consciousness, obsessed with accumulation and proximity to power, stands in stark contrast to the National Bourgeoisie, a class for itself with a progressive mission, national vision, and clarity of purpose. The former is transactional and extractive. The latter, at least in theory, is meant to be developmental and historically conscious. The BEE unintentionally fostered the rise of the former while neglecting the ideological nurturing of the latter. This is not an attack on BEE per se. It is a call for its recalibration, for its redistributive potential to be realigned with the historic aspirations of the Freedom Charter and the social compact imagined at the birth of our democracy. Policies must not only transfer wealth, but they must build productive capacity, foster unity among the oppressed, and dismantle systemic privilege at its root. Equally important is the role of White South Africans in the post-1994 Nation. We cannot build a united country if significant sections of the population continue to self-isolate and insulate themselves from national challenges. The recent episode involving forty-nine self-exiled White farmers who left South Africa under the illusion of genocide and were caught in the geopolitical crossfire of a now-fractured Trump-Musk alliance is telling. It reveals the continued racial distrust, the misinformation industry, and the alienation of White South Africans from the collective destiny of this country. It also reveals a troubling reality that we are once again singing from two hymn books, one Black, the other White. These wounds will not heal through sentimentality. They require political honesty, institutional courage, and leadership with historical memory. That is why the National Dialogue is important. It must be a space where these contradictions are surfaced without fear. The Dialogue must ask why Mandela's Rainbow Nation has faded. The reconstruction of national unity cannot be subcontracted to slogans. It must be lived, nurtured, and constantly renewed. Mandela Day offers us a moment to recommit to the work of Nation-Building. It invites every South African, Black or White, rich or poor, urban or rural, to become an active participant in the unfinished struggle for a just and equal society. We all have a role to play in bridging the fissures of mistrust and despair. Mandela Day must be a call to civic renewal, to ethical leadership, and deep, principled reconciliation. Not the reconciliation of forgetfulness, but the reconciliation of truth, justice, and inclusion. In the name of Mandela, we must confront the fractures, realign our compass, and rebuild a Nation worthy of his legacy. * Zamikhaya Maseti is a Political Economy Analyst with a Magister Philosophiae (M. PHIL) in South African Politics and Political Economy from the University of Port Elizabeth (UPE), now known as the Nelson Mandela University (NMU). ** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL, Independent Media or The African.
Sydney Morning Herald
14-07-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
It's supposed to be a no-go city. But I went anyway, and loved it
Our guide for the day is Dominic Madoo, a sixth-generation South African of Indian descent who grew up during the apartheid era in an Indian group area called Chatsworth. You can learn a lot from a good guide, another reason to take a shore excursion The first Indians arrived in South Africa as indentured labourers in the 1860s. The country has 1.2 million people of Indian origin. Apart from Birmingham in England, Durban has more ethnic Indians than any other city outside India. Mahatma Gandhi spent two decades of his early life in Durban, working as a lawyer and getting involved in the civil rights campaign. Our next stop is his house in Inanda township, which tells the story of his activism among the Indian community, and its influence on black activism. The story has a fitting coda as we continue on to nearby Ohlange High School, founded by John Dube, first president of the African National Congress (ANC). Nelson Mandela cast his vote in the first democratic South African election here in 1994. He walked to Dube's grave afterwards and said: 'I have come to report, Mr President, that South Africa is now free.' Later we arrive in our guide Madoo's home district, Chatsworth, to visit Sri Sri Radha Radhanath Temple, a moated, lotus-shaped eruption in marble, brass and glass, hung with chandeliers and bright with Hindu ceiling frescoes. Loading Beside the temple, a vast catering tent is doling out free lunches to anyone who wants one. No sign of police officers or dark alleys here. The only strangers are ladies in gaudy saris eager for a chat, jewellery clanking from their ears. I've had a great day. I like Durban, which is just as well, because we're in port overnight. I'm emboldened by my first encounter with it. Tomorrow I'll be off on my own, discovering more of a city that deserves attention. THE DETAILS CRUISE Regent Seven Seas Cruises' 14-night Lagoons, Safaris and Dunes cruise return from Cape Town departs January 13, 2026, and visits Walvis Bay, Port Elizabeth, East London, Durban and Mossel Bay. From $13,390 a person including all dining, speciality restaurants, beverages, Wi-Fi, gratuities, laundry service and shore excursions. See The writer travelled as a guest of Regent Seven Seas Cruises.
The Age
14-07-2025
- The Age
It's supposed to be a no-go city. But I went anyway, and loved it
Our guide for the day is Dominic Madoo, a sixth-generation South African of Indian descent who grew up during the apartheid era in an Indian group area called Chatsworth. You can learn a lot from a good guide, another reason to take a shore excursion The first Indians arrived in South Africa as indentured labourers in the 1860s. The country has 1.2 million people of Indian origin. Apart from Birmingham in England, Durban has more ethnic Indians than any other city outside India. Mahatma Gandhi spent two decades of his early life in Durban, working as a lawyer and getting involved in the civil rights campaign. Our next stop is his house in Inanda township, which tells the story of his activism among the Indian community, and its influence on black activism. The story has a fitting coda as we continue on to nearby Ohlange High School, founded by John Dube, first president of the African National Congress (ANC). Nelson Mandela cast his vote in the first democratic South African election here in 1994. He walked to Dube's grave afterwards and said: 'I have come to report, Mr President, that South Africa is now free.' Later we arrive in our guide Madoo's home district, Chatsworth, to visit Sri Sri Radha Radhanath Temple, a moated, lotus-shaped eruption in marble, brass and glass, hung with chandeliers and bright with Hindu ceiling frescoes. Loading Beside the temple, a vast catering tent is doling out free lunches to anyone who wants one. No sign of police officers or dark alleys here. The only strangers are ladies in gaudy saris eager for a chat, jewellery clanking from their ears. I've had a great day. I like Durban, which is just as well, because we're in port overnight. I'm emboldened by my first encounter with it. Tomorrow I'll be off on my own, discovering more of a city that deserves attention. THE DETAILS CRUISE Regent Seven Seas Cruises' 14-night Lagoons, Safaris and Dunes cruise return from Cape Town departs January 13, 2026, and visits Walvis Bay, Port Elizabeth, East London, Durban and Mossel Bay. From $13,390 a person including all dining, speciality restaurants, beverages, Wi-Fi, gratuities, laundry service and shore excursions. See The writer travelled as a guest of Regent Seven Seas Cruises.
The Star
27-04-2025
- Politics
- The Star
A time for honest reflection on South Africa's dream deferred
Herman Mashaba | Published 4 hours ago Former president Nelson Mandela smiles on April 27, 1994, as he casts his first vote at the polling station at John Langalibalele Dube's Ohlange High School in Inanda, near Durban, in South Africa's first democratic general elections. Freedom Day reminds us of where we come from as a nation, but it should also be a celebration of unity, says the writer Image: AFP As South Africans gather to mark our 31st Freedom Day since the end of apartheid, we do so with a mixture of pride, pain, and even trepidation. We do so with pride because, despite its imperfections, April 27, 1994, remains an indelible milestone in our country's history — a day when millions cast aside the shackles of apartheid to claim their dignity and their right to choose their leaders. And we do so in pain because the promise of April 27 has been betrayed over the decades through missed opportunities, broken promises, corruption, and a general failure of leadership. Looking back, I was 35 years old in 1994. Like so many at the time, I stood in one of the long queues that snaked for hours, my heart pounding in anticipation. I believed, as did millions of other South Africans, that our country was on the cusp of greatness. I truly did, and it was. We had the world's goodwill, a constitution that was the envy of many, thanks to its inclusive, progressive foundation, and a people united by the desire to build a just, prosperous, and inclusive society. But as I reflected yesterday, I feel compelled to ask: How far have we strayed from realising that vision? Economic Dream Deferred We all know that attaining political freedom was just the beginning. Even the architects of our democracy understood that true liberation would be incomplete without economic justice. Yet, three decades later, South Africa remains one of the most unequal societies on Earth. Unemployment, especially youth unemployment, is at crisis levels. Millions of South Africans live in poverty, their dreams deferred by an economy that works for a few, including the politically connected who managed to position themselves at the forefront of transformative efforts, while excluding the many. Let me be clear: the state our country finds itself in is not merely the result of global forces beyond our control or historic injustices that some would like to blame for all our troubles. It is the direct consequence of policy failures, toxic cadre deployment, and a state that has too often served the interests of politicians and their cronies rather than the people. Corruption's Tentacles Remain Embedded in the System Corruption has become the defining feature of post-apartheid South Africa. It has given fuel to the negative predictions of Afro-sceptics who warned that a black-led South Africa would eventually implode, just like many failed states elsewhere on our continent, due to greed, unethical leadership, and a lack of vision among those entrusted to lead. Billions have been stolen from the public purse — money that should have been used to build schools, hospitals, public infrastructure, and to educate our nation. The Zondo Commission — and similar commissions before it — laid bare the rot at the heart of our institutions, but accountability remains elusive. Too many implicated individuals walk free —including those serving as "lawmakers" in the corridors of parliament — their impunity a daily insult to the millions who struggle to survive. This culture of corruption has not only drained our resources; it has eroded public trust in government and undermined the rule of law. It has turned hope into generalised cynicism and bred a generation that doubts whether honesty and hard work are still rewarded in our land. Education was meant to serve as the foundation for equality and a ladder out of poverty, yet our schools remain deeply unequal, with township and rural children condemned to overcrowded classrooms, underqualified teachers, and a lack of basic resources. The failure to fix our education system is perhaps the greatest betrayal of our children's future. We have failed to equip them with the skills needed to thrive in an increasingly competitive global economy, trapping millions in a cycle of dependency and despair. Missed Opportunities for Growth and Innovation Our country is blessed with abundant natural resources, a youthful population, and a strategic location. We could have become a continental powerhouse — a hub for innovation, manufacturing, and trade. Instead, we have chased away investment with policy uncertainty and endless red tape. Our infrastructure is crumbling, our state-owned enterprises are bankrupt, and many of our cities are plagued by decay, thanks to poor maintenance and mismanagement. Let us not deceive ourselves: the world doesn't owe us prosperity. We must earn it by creating an environment where entrepreneurs can thrive, small businesses are supported, and hard work is rewarded. Instead, we have stifled initiative and driven many of our best and brightest to seek opportunities elsewhere. We Must Invest in Strong Social Cohesion Freedom Day reminds us of where we come from as a nation, but it should also be a celebration of unity. Today, our society is more divided than ever. Race, class, and political affiliation are often used to sow discord and distract from the real issues we face. We forget that our struggle for freedom was rooted in solidarity, in the belief that South Africa belongs to all who live in it. It is not enough to mourn what has been lost. We must act together — united in our diversity—to reclaim the promise of 1994. This must begin with honest, accountable leadership — leaders who serve the people, not themselves. We must end toxic cadre deployment and appoint the best people to run our institutions, regardless of their identity. We must restore the rule of law and ensure that those who steal from the public are prosecuted, no matter how connected or powerful they may be. Corruption is our number one enemy and must be treated as such. Involvement in corruption must be career-ending, not a stepping stone to higher office. We must invest in teachers, infrastructure, and curricula that prepare our youth for the jobs of tomorrow. We must unleash the potential of entrepreneurs by cutting red tape, protecting property rights, and opening our markets. Above all, we must rekindle the spirit of unity and shared purpose that defined our transition to democracy. As someone who grew up during apartheid, built a business from the boot of a car, and more recently entered politics to serve as an Executive Mayor of a major South African city, I know that South Africans are resilient, resourceful, and generous. I have seen, time and again, communities come together to solve problems when the government has failed them. I have also seen young people defy the odds to build better lives for themselves and their families. All of this gives me hope in our potential as a nation, despite the challenges we face. But I also know that we cannot afford another lost decade. The time for excuses is over. We owe it to the generation that voted in 1994 — and to those who will inherit this land—to build a South Africa that lives up to its promise. Freedom is not a gift that comes without obligations. It cannot be taken for granted. It is a responsibility that must be renewed each day through our actions and the choices we make. As we mark Freedom Day in 2025, let us not do so with empty slogans, but with a renewed commitment to justice, accountability, and a determination by each one of us to play our part in building a better, more inclusive South Africa. Let us also remember Nelson Mandela's words: 'After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.' Our journey is far from over. But with honest leadership, united purpose, and an unwavering belief in our individual and collective potential, we can still build the South Africa we dreamed of in 1994. As we move further into this new era of multiparty politics, let us work together, as we did recently in removing the punitive VAT increase, to build a future that works for all. * Herman Mashaba, ActionSA President
IOL News
27-04-2025
- Politics
- IOL News
A time for honest reflection on South Africa's dream deferred
Former president Nelson Mandela smiles on April 27, 1994, as he casts his first vote at the polling station at John Langalibalele Dube's Ohlange High School in Inanda, near Durban, in South Africa's first democratic general elections. Freedom Day reminds us of where we come from as a nation, but it should also be a celebration of unity, says the writer As South Africans gather to mark our 31st Freedom Day since the end of apartheid, we do so with a mixture of pride, pain, and even trepidation. We do so with pride because, despite its imperfections, April 27, 1994, remains an indelible milestone in our country's history — a day when millions cast aside the shackles of apartheid to claim their dignity and their right to choose their leaders. And we do so in pain because the promise of April 27 has been betrayed over the decades through missed opportunities, broken promises, corruption, and a general failure of leadership. Looking back, I was 35 years old in 1994. Like so many at the time, I stood in one of the long queues that snaked for hours, my heart pounding in anticipation. I believed, as did millions of other South Africans, that our country was on the cusp of greatness. I truly did, and it was. We had the world's goodwill, a constitution that was the envy of many, thanks to its inclusive, progressive foundation, and a people united by the desire to build a just, prosperous, and inclusive society. But as I reflected yesterday, I feel compelled to ask: How far have we strayed from realising that vision? Economic Dream Deferred We all know that attaining political freedom was just the beginning. Even the architects of our democracy understood that true liberation would be incomplete without economic justice. Yet, three decades later, South Africa remains one of the most unequal societies on Earth. Unemployment, especially youth unemployment, is at crisis levels. Millions of South Africans live in poverty, their dreams deferred by an economy that works for a few, including the politically connected who managed to position themselves at the forefront of transformative efforts, while excluding the many. Let me be clear: the state our country finds itself in is not merely the result of global forces beyond our control or historic injustices that some would like to blame for all our troubles. It is the direct consequence of policy failures, toxic cadre deployment, and a state that has too often served the interests of politicians and their cronies rather than the people. Corruption's Tentacles Remain Embedded in the System Corruption has become the defining feature of post-apartheid South Africa. It has given fuel to the negative predictions of Afro-sceptics who warned that a black-led South Africa would eventually implode, just like many failed states elsewhere on our continent, due to greed, unethical leadership, and a lack of vision among those entrusted to lead. Billions have been stolen from the public purse — money that should have been used to build schools, hospitals, public infrastructure, and to educate our nation.
