What does activism in South Africa look like? Is it the angry face of a protester in Tembisa (or De Doorns, Thembelithe or Tzaneen) clashing with police? The balaclava clad shadow who paints incendiary graffiti on city walls in the dead of night? The person in a suit making oral submissions in Parliament, or the placard-holder outside? Middle-class people with a red plastic rhino horn on the grill of their 4×4, or an openly gay woman trying to live a normal life in Khayelitsha?
Democratic South Africa was born out of activism, citizens standing up against a government they found unjust – from small acts of dissent to a life of exile or imprisonment, and sometimes death.
But what does activism mean in 2014?
It is determined mainly by the class interests of the activists and can be divided roughly according to "niches": they include poor communities taking on what they see as an uncaring state, progressive-leaning nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) forcing the state, often in the courts, to provide what the Constitution promises, activists who organise around special interests, and middle-class activists.
There is a broad spectrum, says Right2Know (R2K) spokesperson Mark Weinberg, himself from a family with a long tradition of left-wing activism.
"We're talking about social change, so it's everywhere – interpersonal relationships, families, institutions … There are formal spaces [such as Parliament] but the informal spaces are everywhere."
One of the major challenges is the dominance of the ruling party.
"Formal spaces are treated with the spirit of compliance rather than participation. They ask for submissions … but they are just going through the motions and not taking people's concerns on board."
Although both activism and politics are important, activism has been subsumed by politics, says Janet Jobson, project manager of Activate, a network of young South Africans. "Party politics is about power; activism is about principles. Both are necessary but, unfortunately in South Africa, party politics have overwhelmed the conversation on every issue."
Most activists the Mail & Guardian spoke to have called for more creativity in activism. The most vivid memory of activism in apartheid South Africa is protest: Sharpeville, the Soweto Uprising and the United Democratic Front (UDF) ungovernability campaigns of the 1980s.
"The problem with this is that, post-apartheid, we have adopted protest politics, without the deep level of community organising, political education and navigation of the democratic system that we should have," Jobson says.
Visual artist and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex (LGBTI) activist Zanele Muholi says: "As artists and activists, we have to find alternative methods to make sure that we're heard."
Regarding formal NGO-based activism, "the massive frustration and anger among poor communities have often been demobilised by such movements or [have been] disorganised and focused myopically [on] local issues", says a spokesperson from Tokolos Stencil Collective, an anonymous group of graffiti artists and activists.
"These struggles have often petered out after a few weeks when unable to link up with similar communities.
"Another result of the weakness of broad-based activism in South Africa is that people think the only alternative is to resort to electoral politics."
Activism is often synonymous with service delivery and forcing the state to fulfil its function. Although the shack-dwellers' movement Abahlali baseMjondolo is often cited as an example, it goes way beyond that. "Abahlali is not just about housing and service delivery, but about creating a society wherein dignity becomes the order of the day," its chairperson S'bu Zikode says.
At the other end of the political spectrum, there has been widespread growth in middle-class activism, often based on issues such as crime and violence, but also on issues such language, culture and animal rights.
Such activists are mostly white people who often feel excluded from the political process. But they are criticised for loudly voicing concern about issues such as rhino killings when they were silent when people were suffering under apartheid.
Community activist
S'bu Zikode: Chairperson, former president and founding member of Abahlali baseMjondolo
It was to study law and "not demand houses" that S'bu Zikode left his rural abode in Estcourt for Durban in 1997. With little financial support, he found himself living in a shack in Kennedy Road and his experiences there motivated him to become one of the founding members of the Abahlali baseMjondolo movement, the vision of which is to fight for, promote and advance the interests and dignity of shack dwellers and the poor in general.
The education activist
Ntuthuzo Ndzomo: Equal Education
Ntuthuzo Ndzomo grew up in Cape Town's Khayelitsha township and, like so many other South Africans who attended a township or rural school, he received an education inadequate in quality. He knew he and his peers deserved better so he became a member of nongovernmental organisation Equal Education. After school he decided to study towards a BA majoring in history and politics at UCT as doing so he would be able to do his job, and his work in broader civil society, better.
Why did you choose this area?
I could very easily relate to what Equal Education was campaigning for, like poor infrastructure in schools and teachers who aren't properly trained. I know what it feels like to go to a public library and wait three hours to use a computer and sometimes have to go home without using one. When I asked questions in high school I didn't get answers if it wasn't in the textbooks. Why didn’t we have textbooks? I used to ask myself. When I left school, I realised my younger cousins, and other children I knew would still have to face these problems for years to come. I thought: "It needs to be us who changes this."
What do you think your impact has been?
I joined Equal Education as an equaliser (a pupil activist) in 2008 and later became one of its leaders. I can say that most of what I have done is prove what the statistics have already said – that South Africa's education system is messed up. I've helped the movement by educating pupils about their rights and taking photos of schools. I've spoken to people about what it’s like to learn at theses schools and I've told their stories.
What are your frustrations?
Most of the time my frustration is with government. It sees us as an enemy and anti-government but we're not. We're saying these are the problems, these are the solutions, let's work together on this.
Who are you trying to speak to, how do you speak to them?
We campaign in a democratic and reasonable way and we use what was given to us in the Constitution. We never go beyond that. The Constitution says we have the freedom to protest nonviolently. We have the freedom to speak out about our dissatisfactions. We have the freedom to gather. We have the right to join social movements. We educate pupils, parents, citizens, and schools about their rights. We make them aware that the bad situation in schools shouldn't be seen the norm. It should be changed. We use the media to tell South Africa about our campaigns. South Africa's constitution allows us to do this.
What is your weapon of choice, spray can, pen, petrol bomb?
We use the pen, figures, facts and mobilisation. We have strength in numbers.
Where does your funding come from?
International and local donors, like Atlantic Philanthropies and Open Society Foundations. You can see them on our website and in our annual reports.
What do you think about the state of activism in South Africa?
Young people need to be more involved. They're angry and tired of inequality. Their involvement is important for us to move forward. Actually, it's not even anger, it's just that people are tired. We might have figures and statistics but their reality is the most powerful encourager to get involved.