Creeping out of Madiba's shadow

On 11 February South Africa marked the 20th anniversary of the release of Nelson Mandela from Victor Verster prison. The image of Nelson and Winnie Mandela walking away from the facility - hand in hand and with their clenched fists in the air - are amongst the most iconic of the twentieth century. Although the event is still recent enough for people 'of a certain age' to relive the frisson, the moment also belongs to a bygone era when there were sharp lines separating the heroes from the villains. Arguably, the release of Mandela was both the crowning moment in a greater liberationist history, but also the turning point. Mandela was, in a sense, the very last of the heroes.

Neville Alexander, the veteran intellectual-cum-activist, has remarked that South Africa is now 'an ordinary country', having long considered itself as a special case. This is true to the extent that that South Africa grapples with problems that are shared by many countries in Africa and beyond, such as inadequate resources to cope with the realities of hyper-urbanisation. But there is also something distinctive about countries that went through a liberation struggle. A country that has such a large settler population belongs to a further sub-set. It is salutary to remind ourselves that the release of Mandela, and the unbanning of the African National Congress (ANC) and other political organisations in 1990, underlined the failure of an attempt at racially-based social engineering. The manner in which the Constitution now protects the rights of ordinary South Africans cannot be underestimated, and it is something of which South Africans are immensely proud. And yet South Africa is a country that is ill at ease with itself.

In general, post-liberation states have struggled to create a sense of political normality out of structural abnormality. A common pattern is one in which leaders have re-constituted their movements as political parties, but have continued to behave as if old-fashioned loyalty was what really counted. In the days of the armed struggle, dissident voices were thought to threaten the movement and were typically dealt with in a forthright fashion. In countries like Eritrea and Zimbabwe, a culture of intolerance has been one of the most stubborn legacies of the armed struggle. It is typically justified on the basis that the struggle—in this case to build the nation—is uncompleted business. Things were always likely to be somewhat different in South Africa, because the ANC was a broad church and because its armed wing played second fiddle to a civilian alliance that included the trade unions and civic associations. Moreover, in the South African case, there was to be no decisive victory for the forces of liberation. Most white South Africans did not believe they had been defeated and, given that they intended to remain in the country, had to be accommodated at some level. This is where Mandela came in. Clearly, his greatest achievement lay in reaching across the divide between the black majority and the white minority. But this has not been without its problems in the longer term.

Mandela has been virtually deified, as all sides have found it convenient to invest in a powerful collective myth. For whites, the veneration of Mandela provides proof of their non-racist credentials and a psychological reassurance that not all blacks represent a threat. For blacks, Mandela embodies—in his frail frame—the continuity in the long struggle for liberation. The amount of actual reconciliation that has taken place is limited, with whites stubbornly clinging to their privileges and much of the black population feeling resentful at the fact that so little has changed since 1994. Investing in the Mandela myth represents a way of glossing over these unpalatable realities. If only there were more like Mandela we are told, South Africa would be a very different place. But the reality is that there can only be one Mandela.

At one level, the cult of Mandela is harmless enough, and it is even faintly amusing to watch celebrity types —from the Spice Girls to Oprah—lining up to bathe in the reflected glory. But at a deeper level, it adds to the problems of transition. First of all, there was bound to be a vacuum once Mandela left the political scene as an active player. Thabo Mbeki assumed an almost impossible inheritance as South Africa’s second president. The more Mbeki was attacked for his failings, the more he retreated into a conspiratorial view of the world. From the sidelines Mandela sometimes praised his protégé and sometimes chided him, most notably for his refusal to accept that HIV caused AIDS. But it was clear that the moral authority continued to reside with Mandela.

Secondly, the Mandela years in office were a missed opportunity in terms of making a definitive break with the liberation years. Since 1994, there has been abundant evidence of an inclination to be indulgent towards corruption and abuse of office by those who were previously part of ‘the struggle’. The ANC has also revealed a growing tetchiness towards those who criticise these unseemly trends. It is striking that white liberal critics are considered the enemy now, much as they were under the apartheid regime. There are other historical resonances as well. The Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) agenda was introduced as a means of redressing the stark reality that economic wealth was concentrated exclusively in white hands. Under the enabling legislation, companies and organisations are required to meet targets for black ownership if they are to receive any state support, while government contracts are awarded to black-owned businesses where possible. In some respects, BEE is a close copy of Afrikaner nationalists’ efforts to use state power to redress the economic dominance of English-speaking whites after 1948. The debate that is currently raging in South Africa is whether the so-called ‘black diamonds’ are instant millionaires who have selfishly played the system, or whether they will provide the entrepreneurial talent and leadership to lift their people out of poverty. At the present time, there is scant evidence for the latter.

Today, it is not merely whites that are cynical about the ANC leadership. There is currently an ongoing spat between two of the ANC’s partners, the South African Communist Party (SACP) and the ANC Youth League. Julius Malema, who heads the Youth League, has been arguing for the nationalisation of the gold mines, while the SACP maintains that this would amount to giving a financial bail-out to BEE carpetbaggers. In the war of words between them, accusations of abuse of office have been just as damning as those that routinely appear in the white press.

Although there is a widespread perception that things have deteriorated, the rot actually began during the Mandela administration. Mandela was an inspirational leader, but an indifferent governor—he did not chair cabinet meetings for example—and it was his failure to insist on the highest standards of leadership and probity that is arguably costing South Africa today.