Secretary general Fikile Mbalula says the ANC’s top seven leaders will not automatically step down should the party lose the elections. Photo: Delwyn Verasamy, M&G
In 2012, an unidentified author wrote a rather uncharitable opinion piece on the supposed correlations between the George Orwell allegory, Animal Farm (1945), and the ANC democratic regime.
For those who need a refresher on Orwell’s seminal novel, it is an allegorical satire of the immediate events before the Russian Revolution of 1917 through to the early years of the Soviet Union. It is an indictment against communism.
The plot is set on a farm that was initially called Manor Farm, when it was owned by the oppressive Mr Jones, who represents the last Russian tsar, Nicholas II. He was overthrown in a revolution led by the wise boar, Old Major.
The multi-layered story is driven by seven main characters who, at the time, had real-world human counterparts. I want to emphasise here that the anthropomorphic use of animals should never be taken literally. By this I mean that the story is not meant to confer animal characteristics upon humans, but instead, human qualities are allegorically conferred to the animal characters of the book.
The problem with calling humans “animals” in some form or other is that this reduces them to a subhuman status and renders them outside the ethical domain of human consideration and respect. That is unacceptable, no matter how one might disagree with another human.
Old Major represents Karl Marx and Vladimir Lenin, the ideological fathers of the revolution, and they promoted Marx’s ideas of communism. Napoleon the pig depicts Joseph Stalin, the commander of the rebellion, who used the same force to suppress dissent among his own.
Snowball, also one of the pigs, represents Leon Trotsky, a key figure in the Russian Revolution who ended up being caught in a power struggle with Stalin.
Boxer the horse, who is strong, loyal and devoted to the pigs despite their betrayals and abandonment, represents the working class.
Squealer the pig is the master propagandist and responsible for persuasion and manipulation on behalf of the regime.
Finally the dogs represent the security forces and military power used by the regime to suppress dissent and maintain control.
Whereas the narrative is centred on the political climate and dynamics of the Soviet Union, what has given the book extraordinary reach and resonance is how it succinctly captures the dynamics of totalitarianism and authoritarianism globally, even to date.
For example, on the African continent, we are all too familiar with how power, once seized, can lead to the establishment of a totalitarian regime. Revolutionary leaders initially advocate for equality, solidarity and freedom, but then gradually adopt authoritarian tactics and suppression mechanisms to maintain their power.
The theme of the corruption of revolutionary ideals is also a recurring one in Africa, where the values of equality and freedom become eroded and betrayed after a revolution. To keep the masses in check, the new leaders use propaganda and manipulation to control the narrative and maintain their authority, which synthetically shapes public perception and discourages free thought.
Very common is the class struggle and exploitation that paradoxically ensues. Class does not get alleviated by the revolution; instead a new elite emerges, established with its own forms of hierarchy. Cynicism soon sets in about the possibility of genuine political change, suggesting that power struggles and corruption are inherent in all political systems, and the ideals of a revolution can easily be betrayed.
Finally, the twinset of fear and force become the norm because law enforcement and the military are employed to intimidate and eliminate opposition, illustrating the role of coercion in sustaining authoritarian rule.
This is not South Africa’s current political climate and the ANC-led government is not a totalitarian or authoritarian regime. Our Bill of Rights has successfully entrenched the rule of law, equality, various freedoms and accountability. Unlike many other African countries, the principle of separation of powers between the legislature, executive and judiciary has proven to be robust over the past three decades.
Yes, there are mishaps and inconsistencies along the way, but most people who are well versed with the mechanics of how our country operates in theory and practice will tell you that our constitutional democracy is relatively healthy. So what is the source of this malaise that many potential voters in 2024 are struck by?
An interesting principle called the “sin of omission” that derives from Christianity and the Bible (James 4:17) might help to explain the source of discontent, discomfort or disillusionment.This is a useful concept to explain that when someone knows the right thing to do and does not do so, they could be accused of doing wrong by omission. This is contrasted with the “sin of commission” which is the result of a performed action.
For those who don’t subscribe to Christian or religious principles, the same concept of omission can be found in law. It is the failure to act and, depending on the type of law in question, it speaks to positive conduct, a duty to act, a duty of care, or liability, and gives rise to different legal consequences.
When we circle back to the Animal Farm synopsis, and bring it into dialogue with the principle of omission, our government (primarily the ANC ruling party, but together with the main opposition parties and other members of the legislature) could unwittingly bring about Animal Farm-type consequences by way of omission.
The specific consequences are aptly captured by the enduring quote from the book: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”
The South African jazz singer and activist Letta Mbulu is renowned for her socially conscious music, which led to her and her husband, Caiphus Semenya, going into exile in the 1960s. Upon their return, her husband wrote the haunting song Not Yet Uhuru, which struck a chord in the 1990s for the cautionary resonance of its lyrics.
The word “uhuru”, means “freedom” in Kiswahili. I want to focus on one of the verses where she sings: “There are some of us, who consider us to be free, but the underground movement says, ‘Not yet uhuru’”; as well as the final refrain: “Our language says, our language of old, says the spoils of conquest are enjoyed by the wise.”
It is no coincidence that in the context of Animal Farm, Old Major is considered wise. But, in Mbulu’s conception, this wisdom has connotations of being cunning and calculating, and benefits only those that are allied with the revolutionary leaders.
The lyrics of the song caution that on the surface it may appear that uhuru has been attained in South Africa. But the reality is that only a select and privileged few are enjoying the fruit of the “revolution” in much the same way Old Major and his kind ended up being the elite class on the farm after recruiting followers on an “equality ticket”.
When rationales, justifications and excuses are offered for why this elite lives a better quality of life than the masses, the slippery slope to another cycle of discontent, dissent, conflict and revolution ensues.
South Africa is not there yet. But it is neither Animal Farm nor uhuru. We are trapped in limbo, a phase that could go either way. Unlike the scathing opinion piece mentioned earlier, the ANC does not fit the profile of an Animal Farm-type regime. But its numerous “sins of omission”, after a reasonable grace period of 30 years, are too many to ignore.
Omissions caused by negligence, incompetence, lack of integrity and greed could easily breed the same cynicism and dissent caused by totalitarianism and authoritarianism.
Dr Sarah Setlaelo is a writer, researcher and lecturer.