South Africa has an undignified democracy

South Africa’s democratic promises of dignity, equality and justice for all lies in tatters. The Constitution guarantees every citizen the right to “administrative action that is lawful, reasonable and procedurally fair” (section 33) and names human dignity as its bedrock (section 10). Yet, too often, poor and rural South Africans experience the opposite — endless waits, casual corruption and bureaucratic indifference. 

Former president Thabo Mbeki once praised the remarkable patience of the poor but that patience has been weaponised to defer accountability and dilute real change. Today, we face an “undignified democracy” — one that lectures its citizens on forbearance while its own machinery betrays them.

In 1994, millions queued in hope under the African sun, believing a better life was imminent. The end of apartheid was negotiated on the premise that trust, patience and reconciliation could safely replace revolution. And by most measures — free elections, a robust Bill of Rights, a Truth and Reconciliation Commission — South Africa looked like a global exemplar. Yet that very patience has become a vice. Long-simmering frustrations have been funnelled into short-lived protests rather than sustained pressure for systemic reform.

The shameful irony is that, three decades on, black South Africans are still waiting for rights written into law. When people patiently fill out housing applications, they can expect a wait of 20, 25 or even 30 years. In Gauteng alone, more than 1.2 million RDP housing applications remain unresolved — some dating back to the mid-1990s. Soweto residents who applied in their twenties are now pensioners still living in shacks or overcrowded hostels. Bribes and “queue-jumping” have become as common as electricity outages and the backlog only fuels recurring service-delivery protests.

The core of this failure lies not in policy gaps but in execution. Ministers routinely appear on television asking, “What is happening?” when their own departments falter. Political appointments often prioritise loyalty over competence, hollowing out institutional skill and morale. Under the banner of “managerialism”, state departments track key performance indicators while losing sight of people’s real needs. A health clinic’s success becomes a matter of filling out the right forms, not treating the sick. A backlog of identity documents is chalked up to “system downtime”, while citizens sleep overnight in long queues.

This bureaucratic dysfunction is no minor inconvenience — it strips people of their dignity. When a woman spends the day clutching her pensioner’s ID only to be told to return tomorrow because “the system is down”, her right to dignity is as much violated as any overt act of discrimination. Administrative justice demands respectful, timely service; South Africa’s public service too often delivers neither.

Several emblematic examples illustrate the scale of this democratic deficit:

• Truth and Reconciliation Commission reparations. In the late 1990s, the TRC promised six years of reparations to victims of apartheid-era atrocities. Instead, survivors received a once-off grant and have since watched as nearly R2 billion set aside for reparations sits unspent. Aging heroes of the struggle camp outside courts, still demanding the material recognition that was once assured in exchange for their forgiveness.

• Military veterans. Anti-apartheid fighters were to be honoured with pensions, housing and healthcare under the Military Veterans Act. Instead, many former combatants live in poverty. In 2021, veterans held the minister of defence hostage in protest of unpaid benefits — an act so extreme it underscored the depth of their neglect.

• Land restitution. Land dispossession was apartheid’s hallmark atrocity, yet only about 10% of commercial farmland has been redistributed, far short of initial targets. District Six — infamous for the forcible removal of 60 000 residents — remains only partly restored; families waiting decades to return to their homes face the prospect that they could die before seeing justice.

Meanwhile, corruption scandals pile up. The arms deal, Nkandla and state capture scandals, and the subsequent commissions, have laid bare how the political elite feasts on public funds with almost no consequences. Judicial inquiries produce pages of damning evidence, only for prosecutions to stall or stall indefinitely. The prevailing message is grim — if you hold power, you can bend the rules; if you don’t, you must wait — and keep waiting.

The clearest symptom of this broken bargain is voter apathy. In 1994, 86.9% of registered voters cast ballots. By the 2024 general election, turnout had plunged to 59 percent% — a participation rate representing barely 41% of eligible adults. Local elections in 2021 saw turnout sink below 46%. When those most affected by service failures (the poor) stop voting, democracy itself sees its foundation crumble.

Compounding domestic grievances is a global narrative that paints white South Africans as victims under siege. Groups such as AfriForum have lobbied powerful friends abroad, convincing the administration of US President Donald Trump to publicly investigate alleged “farm seizures”, despite white people still holding more than 70% of farmland and enjoying far higher living standards. Elon Musk’s inflated tweets about white “genocide” in South Africa only magnify extremist rhetoric, diverting international empathy away from actual oppressed communities. As elites worry about imagined perils, the palpable suffering of the majority goes unaddressed.

South Africa’s journey from 1994 was always meant to be a marathon, not a sprint. Yet three decades of patient hope have given way to frustration at a pace of change too slow to protect human dignity. To reclaim that dignity, we need:

1. Genuine accountability. Corruption must meet swift, visible punishment. Commissions should be catalysts for prosecutions, not sleight-of-hand delays;
2. Responsive administration. We must professionalise and empower our civil service, re-centre Batho Pele (“People First”) principles, and measure success by human impact rather than paperwork;
3. Tangible deliverables. Fast-track housing backlogs, disburse TRC reparations, finalise veterans’ benefits and accelerate land reform. Small victories restore trust;
4. Inclusive economic reform. Redistribute assets meaningfully and equip the youth with skills and opportunities to participate fully in the economy; and
5. Energised citizen engagement. Strengthen civic education, reduce barriers to voting and treat protest as essential feedback, not a security threat.

South Africa’s Constitution remains a world-class document — but empty words do nothing for a mother sleeping in a queue, a veteran begging for his pension or a family waiting 30 years for their home. Democracy must deliver dignity, not just discourse. If citizens are to reclaim hope, they need to see that the state honours its social contract. Only then can we transform our democracy from undignified to truly just — and ensure the promise of 1994 finally becomes the reality of all South Africans.

Ali Ridha Khan is a fellow at the Centre for Humanities Research at the University of the Western Cape.