Protest clouded by selective white outrage
Civil society is mobilising for political change, but why does suburbia only step up when it’s in peril?
Amidnight Cabinet reshuffle by President Jacob Zuma awakened the spirit of mass mobilisation among some sectors in South Africa this past week, as civil society groups and political parties rallied behind calls for the president to step down.
The reshuffle, which involved the axing of finance minister Pravin Gordhan and replacing him with home affairs minister Malusi Gigaba, resulted in public concern about the struggling economy and the weakening rand. It later prompted a ratings downgrade by S&P Global, which served to intensify calls for Zuma to step down.
The protests started on a small scale. First, there was a minuscule gathering on Friday March 31 by civil society group Save South Africa outside the treasury, where Gordhan gave his final address as finance minister.
Then the crowds grew as the memorial service of liberation hero Ahmed Kathrada was used by Gordhan to call for mass mobilisation against corruption and the country’s current leadership.
“You can’t govern if you remain in your comfortable lounge. Become organised, part of something,” he told the gathering.
Heeding Gordhan’s call to mobilise, civil society groups such as Right2Know, Save South Africa and the Federation of Unions of South Africa announced plans to hold mass marches calling for Zuma’s removal. Opposition parties such as the Democratic Alliance, the Economic Freedom Fighters, Cope and the African Christian Democratic Party joined the fray, announcing a national day of action.
But the first of the mass mobilisation efforts — the declaration of Monday as “Black Monday” — failed to mobilise the support necessary to give sufficient legitimacy antiZuma calls. The initiative, led by Save South Africa, encouraged South Africans to wear black in anti-Zuma solidarity. Yet the initiative saw more resistance than support: social media platforms buzzed with selfies of floral dresses and colourful shirts. The movement had been resisted.
Despite a planned DA march for change in Johannesburg on Friday April 7, a Save South Africa march in Pretoria on the same day and various initiatives in other parts of the country, Zuma’s hold on power has remained firm, threatening the ability of organisations to attract the numbers they need.
How come South Africa’s oncevibrant civil society sector, which played a pivotal role in putting pressure on the apartheid government, now struggles to draw mass support and attract crowds large enough to give credibility to its calls for the resignation of the president?
Part of the problem has to do with the changing nature of South Africa’s civil society sector post1994. The other part is rooted in race and class relations.
Historically, civil society organisations were pivotal in the resistance to apartheid. They grouped themselves in umbrella bodies such as the United Democratic Front, which had about 400 civic groups under its banner. In the quest for liberation, many relied on a link to the ANC for legitimacy. It was also important for them to be independent of the state.
In the transition to democracy, civic organisations were forced to renegotiate their relationship with the ANC, which was now running the state and falling short on some of its promises. They also faced an exodus of skilled personnel to the government and business. As clean corporate governance became key to funding, nonprofits without mechanisms to show transparency and accountability lost out.
The result is what we see today: a solid civil society sector, mostly nestled in a space of privilege and access. Smaller, more localised movements exist, but they are largely overlooked and less resourced than counterparts such as the Black Sash, Equal Education and Section27, which do well in fighting for the needs of the poor, whether in education, service delivery or human rights.
But because they exist in spaces far from the masses, it’s difficult for them to mobilise South Africans from all races and socioeconomic backgrounds. Hence, these organisations find themselves attracting middle-class crowds of largely white faces. This is the same problem facing protests now.
The main challenge rests in race relations. The main criticism of those calling for Zuma to go has been their apparent silence on issues involving the black majority. White South Africans are seen to want sympathy from black people, to whose struggles and protests they often turn a blind eye.
Social media commentary is not entirely representative of South Africa’s population and its thinking, but the resistance to anti-Zuma protests evident on social media is revealing. Here are some examples:
“Now that it’s convenient for white people, we have to march with them? Where were they during our struggles?”
“I’ll march because one day my white counterparts will march for me to get the same pay as him if we have the same job. YEAH RIGHT!”
“It’s not that I like what Zuma is doing, I just don’t like taking orders from white South Africa.”
It is also important to dispel the notion that black people won’t join these marches because they are apathetic or because “poor black people have been living under junk status for decades and wouldn’t know the difference after a ratings downgrade anyway”, as some have argued.
Black people, especially the poorest, will know the difference when food prices soar. It is the selective outrage exhibited by their white counterparts that holds black people back. A Twitter search for #PeoplesMarch shows this:
“Amazing how these people who are making the march to be about race still take their kids to former Model C schools.”
“Why must everything be black and white? We all want Zuma to stop destroying our country.”
But it is about race. It is almost always about race in a South Africa still suffering the effects of a racially oppressive system. Race in South Africa has created a prism through which the same events and experiences are viewed and reacted to differently.
Should black South Africans, who are criticised for blocking a road to protest for access to housing, suddenly show solidarity with their white critics, who now want support because their investments may be affected by a downgrade?
This is a small but real example of the dilemma black South Africans face when deciding whether to join “nonracial” movements.
The problem is deeply rooted in race, class and inequality, not only among individuals but also in relation to the nongovernmental organisations and movements that seek to represent them. For white South Africans, the challenge is either to step up fully or to stand alone.