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SA may want to take on a global and African leadership role, but we do not as yet have the maturity to do so. And unless all South Africans, from all sectors, unite to exercise their constitutional rights, we will remain vulnerable, argues Mamphela Ramphele.
South Africa’s democracy is 18 years old. Yet the nation united in diversity which was ushered in by President Nelson Mandela has reached maturity in a profoundly conflicted state.
On the one hand, SA leads many of its peers on key indicators such as the strength of its democratic institutions, macro-economic stability, press freedom, and business sophistication. These indicators clearly reflect the fact that the country’s middle and professional classes have embraced their freedom with open arms.
On the other hand, a large proportion of South Africans remain impoverished, undereducated, underemployed, as well as beset by a dispiriting array of social problems.
It is clear that democracy has failed to reverse the far-reaching personal disempowerment inflicted on many black South Africans by the apartheid system. Unless this deep wound is healed, the country’s liberation will remain incomplete and will be at risk.
So why is the job of transition to democracy so far behind where we had dreamt it would be by now? What is working but needs strengthening, and what would need to change for us to attain our goals as a society? What role can citizens and the private sector play to turn our challenges into opportunities?
In our excitement about the transition to democracy, we under-estimated the challenge of mindset change that goes with any change to ensure its sustainability. This omission was a result of over-confidence in our ability to tackle any challenge having slain the dragon of apartheid.
It was also the result of fear that any admission of vulnerability would be playing into the hands of those resisting change and holding prejudicial views about black people’s competence to govern. But the reality is that both black and white people would have benefited from a preparatory “education for democracy” programme.
I would like you to come with me into that space we are afraid to enter – the space of honest conversations with ourselves that allow us to move beyond denial towards acknowledgement of our own failures as individual citizens, communities, private-sector actors and society to rise to the role of stewards of our constitutional democracy.
Our past has left many deeply wounded. To be treated with disrespect because of the colour of your skin or your gender or your geographic location is the ultimate trauma.
This is particularly the case in a society such as ours, which is both hierarchical and one of the most unequal in the world.
Shame and humiliation become more sensitive issues in more hierarchical societies. In such societies, status becomes more important, status competition increases, and more people are deprived of access to the markers of status, wealth and social success.
Relative deprivation in terms of incomes can result in absolute deprivation in terms of capabilities – it is context-dependent. Being poor in an opulent community constrains social functioning in that community.
We need to create the time to come to terms with the woundedness that we came into this democracy with, and acknowledge that the attempts at transformation have not succeeded to the extent we had hoped thus far.
We need to draw on our strengths to tackle the wounds and scars that are undermining our performance as a nation destined for greatness.
This is the imperative that prompted the formation in 2011 of the Citizen Movement for Social Change (CMfSC), along with the active involvement of a range of senior and respected South African leaders.
The vision of the movement is to build a powerful “change engine” for wide-scale citizen empowerment, called Subject to Citizen (S2C).
But we first have to educate citizens about the rights they are entitled to under the constitution, as well as the equally important responsibilities that such rights confer.
The bitter experience of the courts and other organs of the state being held hostage to an unaccountable executive prompted the choice by our leaders at the negotiation table led by the ANC in the mid-1990s to opt for a constitutional democracy with an entrenched and justiciable bill of rights. The courts were expressly given the power to strike down laws and conduct which were contrary to the constitution.
This ensures that citizens are empowered to hold both the executive and the legislature to account, while the judiciary is compelled to operate under, and ensure that the other organs of state respect, the precepts of the constitution.
Our desire to be a society united in its diversity can only be enabled and supported by adherence to that which unites us – our common commitment to the founding values of our constitution. Yet our everyday experiences remind us of the gap between commitment and daily practice.
Just think about your workplaces. How respectful are they? How affirming are they of diversity in terms of race, class, age and gender? How are we modelling the values we signed up for in our social relationships?
Tough as it is, we have to live the values we profess as individual citizens – at home, at work and in the political choices we make.
SA entered its democratic phase with a huge advantage. The World Economic Forum 2011 Report rates us 1 or 2 on the really tough elements of success in the 21st century competitive global economy. We excel in banking, audit and risk, as well as financial management.
We have managed to dig ourselves out of the hole of the huge macro-economic imbalances inherited from apartheid to become one of the shining lights of fiscal prudence, rectitude and restraint.
Yet on the “soft issues” of human, intellectual and social capital, we are at the bottom of the same rankings. We are 131 out of 142 countries in the world in terms of our primary education and health system – in education terms, we are behind poor African countries such as Malawi, and even Swaziland.
So how can we explain this under-performance given that we are the highest spender in public education and health system budgets?
Something else is at work here. It is partly the woundedness I spoke of earlier. But then Swazis and Malawians are also wounded. Why us?
Part of the explanation is that other African countries did not have to deal with the dissonance of starving in the midst of plenty at such close quarters.
Our teachers are not comparing themselves with teachers in Malawi, but with other well-paid public servants in our system. Status competition is what drives them, rather than professional performance.
But what has this got to do with the private sector?
Lots! The private sector would be short-sighted not to be materially interested in the performance of the public sector. You as business people have to ensure the sustainability of your businesses. That depends on human, intellectual and social capital as much as it depends on ecological and fiscal capital. Any other view is misguided. You have a responsibility to ensure good governance in society. This is good for business.
We have pretensions to be a global player. We have signed up as part of the Brics grouping of developing countries. We want to be a major player both in African and global affairs. That requires a level of maturity we have yet to demonstrate.
Take, for example, our ambivalent relationships with the rest of the continent. You as business people have yet to be heard speaking out against xenophobia. This is a particularly virulent and violent form of discrimination – one that targets fellow Africans. Why? We do not seem to fight Europeans, Asians or Americans, but those who look like us are given special brutal treatment at the hands of our own citizens.
Is this not a sign of the social pain and woundedness that sees them as direct competitors, rather than people we have no aspiration to compete against?
We also have to ask about the extent to which the private sector that has such a strong muscle has exercised its corporate citizenship.
During the apartheid era, the private sector played the role of a compliant partner with government until the very end when it attempted to push for reforms which were too little too late.
Are there any lessons for you now as the private sector and the role you have played so far to promote transformation?
Take the extent to which we have failed to leverage Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment to promote substantive broader economic participation in the economy.
Why did we focus on short-term relationships of convenience at the expense of medium- and long-term engagements to transform the sectors we operated in?
Why has there been so little change in the institutional corporate cultures of private-sector companies operated by black people, as opposed to those run by the traditional white male captains of industry?
We now have the opportunity to be part of the journey from “subject” to “citizen” and free ourselves from the legacy of undermining our own success. Greatness is for us to embrace, but we have to be willing to shed the façade of crass materialism and the pursuit of status symbols.
We have the human, natural and mineral resources to make us a great country. But we have to assume our stewardship of these resources and not act like pirates on the high seas with no regard for the common good.
We need to make a commitment to the future of this country and live that out in our personal and professional lives, as well as in our political practices.
Our children and grandchildren do not listen to what we say is right. They follow the example we set in what we do.
We have the opportunity to conclude the unfinished agenda of our transition to democracy. Do not be tempted into the short-termism that has damaged and destroyed so much of our continent.
We owe it to our children. But we owe it much more to their children’s children.
l Dr Mamphela Ramphele is a businesswoman and a former vice-chancellor of the University of Cape. This is an edited version of her speech delivered last night at the annual Durban Chamber of Commerce and Industry dinner.
