LESS THAN A YEAR following the May 2019 election, South Africa’s democratic government—like governments all around the world—faced an unprecedented new burden when it was forced to confront the deadly coronavirus pandemic. In fact, one particularly contagious strain came to be known as the “South African variant,” and its prevalence intensified the challenge to keep citizens healthy and alive under already difficult conditions.
The human toll has been devastating: as of December 2021, the country was home to the largest number of documented cases on the African continent (3.2 million), and over 90,000 Covid-related deaths.1 These deaths came over multiple waves of rapidly accelerating case counts. The first confirmed case of Covid-19 in South Africa was diagnosed on March 5, 2020, the first death on March 25, and the first death in Gauteng Province was a seventy-nine-year-old man in Krugersdorp.2 As of early July 2021, there were at least 500 confirmed deaths in Mogale City, and at least one of the people I interviewed for this book (Pamela Esso) was included in this tragic statistic.3 Moreover, the pandemic seems to have slowed already slow economic growth and to have increased already high levels of unemployment.
Once again, reminiscent of so much I have written in this book, it might be tempting to blame the government for these tragic outcomes—one more deadly mishap in a string of failures. For the history of modern epidemics, long-predating Covid-19, observers have wondered whether democracy is well suited for controlling outbreaks of contagious disease. Would it be better to have a government that insisted on conformity without dissent in order to ensure compliance with demands for contagion-reducing behaviors?4 Among other things, the pandemic put an accent on the severe inequalities between and within countries in terms of capacities to adapt and the needs of the most vulnerable. As such, it put questions about the value of democracy for dignity and development squarely on the global agenda.
In the South African case, even as we must recognize the enormity of what citizens have been forced to endure, we should not conclude that outcomes would have been better if government leaders could have operated without democratic oversight. In fact, much of the response was impressive, though not perfect; and democratic feedback helped push the government toward a more just and human-centered approach. In short order, Cyril Ramaphosa’s government announced a deliberate and aggressive response plan. From the very start, government leaders tried to demonstrate that they would not repeat the Mbeki fiasco with respect to AIDS. In facing Covid, the government would adopt science-based strategies in line with emerging global best practices.5 It also drew heavily on the administrative resources developed in combatting HIV and tuberculosis in order to try to stem the tide of infections.
Covid quickly became a priority for all levels of government. On April 1, 2020, the Krugersdorp News reported on local councillors checking in on local retail outlets to make sure citizens were practicing social distancing and that stores were prioritizing the needs of the elderly.6 On April 3, the BBC reported on South Africa’s “ruthlessly efficient fight against coronavirus,” highlighting that the country already had drive-through testing centers and that the political leadership was acting urgently to prepare for what might come but that police were harshly enforcing lockdown rules.7 And on April 9, the president announced that he and cabinet ministers and deputy ministers would take a 33 percent pay cut for three months, donating the proceeds to a national solidarity fund; he encouraged private business leaders to do the same.8
At the time, President Donald Trump was still proclaiming that the pandemic was no big deal, the stance he would largely maintain throughout the remainder of his term in office.
As in the United States, as restrictions on movement and activities were put into place, it soon became clear how much more difficult this would prove to be for the large, poor, and mostly Black majority, living cheek by jowl in smaller domiciles and crowded townships and often relying on publicly shared water sources and toilets. For middle-class and wealthier families, living in larger homes with high-speed internet access, quarantine was more of an inconvenience than great sacrifice.
The government initially failed to address the needs of the most vulnerable in many important ways, opting for a strict and uniform approach. It faced a barrage of criticism, from the press, academics, and civil society organizations, and reports mounted of corruption and mismanagement. Government security officers were frequently too quick to use force to maintain order in the name of social distancing, and the police made a shocking number of arrests—over 200,000 during the initial lockdown.9 And in turn, political opponents took aim at perceived shortcomings; for example, the EFF’s Julius Malema proclaimed, “Our government loves … to keep white people happy and safe, even at the expense of Africans.”10
Nonetheless, in a vein reminiscent of much of the rest of the book, I would highlight that the South African national government readily acknowledged the Covid threat early on and attempted to tackle it using the best available public health policies. A main source of concern has been that the government was too aggressive and not sufficiently respectful of people’s autonomy and individual needs. And true to the democratic form I have described throughout, challenges to government Covid policy frequently resulted in procedural and practical adjustments. These included even more expansive social protections—for example, cash transfers.11
On May 18, 2020, President Ramaphosa shared his weekly letter from the desk of the president, “The government welcomes dissenting viewpoints around our Coronavirus response,” in which he sought to explain the government’s approach while also celebrating citizen engagement.12 One could counter that talk is cheap, but when we consider both the actions and the rhetoric of so many other government leaders around the world, and again, especially the words from the office of President Donald Trump, it is hard not to admire aspects of the emerging South African response at least in relative terms.
Similarly, when compared with the persistent denialism and lack of respect for the poor and vulnerable ethnic and racial groups observed in countries such as Brazil and India—and observing the horrendous ways in which those epidemics progressed—the South African political and government response during the first eighteen months of the pandemic appears far more impressive than many critical commentators have acknowledged. In the case of Brazil, where President Bolsonaro took a “hands-off” approach, the poor suffered far worse than their South African counterparts.13 India’s populist prime minister, Narendra Modi, did impose some early lockdowns, but again, several accounts link his brand of autocratic populism to the unfolding of a disastrous response with a staggering human death toll.14 In many authoritarian governments, we have little accurate picture of how the epidemic unfolded because information has been so tightly controlled. Along these lines, in November 2021, South African scientists and government officials openly shared their findings about the Omicron variant, a contribution to global public health that might not have been forthcoming from a closed society. Compared to many other countries, including those with greater financial and administrative resources, South Africa’s liberal democratic order fared admirably in terms of initial process and outcomes.
Whether such efforts will have been in vain given the spread of new variants and the challenge of obtaining and dispensing vaccines remains to be seen.
Just as South Africa was facing a painful third wave of Covid infections, the country also suffered an outbreak of violence, looting, and arson. This unrest was an almost immediate response to the incarceration of former president Jacob Zuma, who began a fifteen-month jail term for contempt of court in early July 2021. For many, although Zuma’s imprisonment was hardly compensation for the harms he wrought on the country, it offered a bit of public reassurance during a particularly trying time that even heads of state must be held accountable under democratic government. For Zuma loyalists, they supported his innocence and rejected his incarceration as unjust.
Most of the unrest occurred in Zuma’s home province of KwaZulu-Natal, where throngs of looters, not necessarily politically motivated, ransacked shopping malls. Much of the same transpired in parts of Gauteng, and it is still not entirely clear why it occurred there but not in other parts of the country. It amounted to the most violent episode of the post-Apartheid era, with more than 350 dead, many more injured.15 While the motivations for all large-scale episodes of such nature are multifaceted, it seems clear that a combination of political rivalry, long-standing frustration, and more recent exhaustion from Covid all contributed.
Facing the twin challenges of Covid and unrest, many South African commentators resuscitated some of the very questions that motivated this book: Was South Africa a “failed state”? On the verge of collapse? Once again, news of the demise of South Africa’s democracy landed as premature. As I write, the country remains under enormous stress, and its future is uncertain. However, we cannot lose sight of the fact that citizens were quite resilient and a wide range of civil society groups, the news media, churches, and government officials all stepped up to try to stamp out intolerant attitudes and behaviors and to restore order with a minimal amount of force, and the spate of violence was largely contained to a less than two-week period.
South Africans are frustrated and angry, and understandably wonder about how to achieve systemic change. The notion of abandoning liberal democratic government will continue to be a tempting option. However, the alternatives are unlikely to solve the extraordinary challenges before this diverse society, and democratic government still holds the greatest promise for dignified development.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I HAVE ACCUMULATED A mountain of intellectual and personal debts during several decades studying South African politics and society. And while I can’t possibly acknowledge them all here, I am enormously grateful to an amazing assortment of individuals and organizations, including my extended family, friends, and mentors, for their generosity and support.
Most important, I want to thank the hundreds of people in Mogale City who recounted the histories of their lives and took time to help me understand the politics of this extraordinary place. Several individuals met with me on multiple occasions, including Nomfezeko “Fezi” Mgilane and the staff of the Krugersdorp library, the speaker of the Mogale council, Noluthando Mangole, Councillor Tshepo Nzwane, Councillor Amanda de Lange, Councillor Jacqueline Pannall, Bianca Grossett, and Leslie Gama. Rev. Monwabisi Moses hosted me at his Kagiso Methodist Church and kindly introduced me to several of his parishioners. Mariette Liefferink provided a jaw-dropping tour of the environmental damage associated with mining excavations. Janine Viljoen and the staff of the Krugersdorp News welcomed me to their offices on multiple occasions.
A small army of research assistants helped out with various aspects of the project and I couldn’t be more appreciative of their diligence and feedback. In South Africa, Sinoxolo Hashe interviewed dozens of residents and provided feedback on the pilot of the Historical Memories Survey in addition to carrying out other research. The research firm Plus94 did an excellent job fielding the survey. I am also grateful to Tshegofatso Shibuyi and Gabo Kgomongwe, who helped me organize and conduct interviews my first weeks in Mogale; and to Gillian Jena for help with library research based in Johannesburg. At MIT, several doctoral students contributed to various aspects of the research and analysis of troves of data: thanks to Jasmine English, Nicole Wilson, Paige Bollen, and Blair Read; and in particular to Rorisang Lekalake and Gabriel Nahmias—South Africanists in their own right who each provided terrific research and feedback. Thanks also to key members of the research support staff, Eliza Riley, Danny Tobin, and Nico Studen. I was lucky to collaborate with Daniel de Kadt, Philip Martin, and Nina McMurry while they were graduate students on various papers that helped inform my thinking about accountability, and those works are cited in the pages above. I am grateful to Julia de Kadt—a former student who went on to do great work at the Gauteng City Regional Observatory—for making various introductions and helping me gain access to the terrific data they have collected.
I started my research while a fellow in the democracy program of the Ash Center for Democratic Governance at Harvard’s Kennedy School. I am particularly appreciative of Archon Fung’s generosity in allowing me to be part of this group and for his friendship and advice along the way, as well as for the feedback and encouragement from the other fellows in my cohort. I am also grateful to MIT, my home Department of Political Science, and the School for the Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences for financial and other support. In particular, thanks are due to Maria DiMauro, Susan Twarog, and Paula Kreutzer for helping me sort out various administrative issues that make such work possible.
I value the encouraging and constructive feedback from several readers and audiences, especially the two anonymous reviewers from Princeton University Press, Gwyneth McClendon, Richard Goldstone, and Joel Motley. I presented a few chapters at the Oxford University Comparative Politics Series (via Zoom) and am particularly grateful for comments from Giovanni Capoccia and Rosie Pinnington. I also received terrific feedback from my colleagues in the Boundaries, Membership and Belonging working group sponsored by the Canadian Institute for Advanced Research.
Thanks to Greg Bates, who provided helpful early editing on a few chapters; Rachel Schultz, who created the GIS-based maps; and Jocelyn Capshaw, who created the illustrated maps based on my (far less attractive) sketches.
The manuscript benefited from the helpful comments of several good friends. Marc Favreau and Melani Cammett both offered sage advice when I was just getting started and several times along the way. I was inspired by the message and impact of Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt’s terrific book, How Democracies Die. They each provided characteristically smart feedback—Ziblatt did so on many masked walks during the height of the Covid pandemic. I am lucky to have started my long South African journey with Michael Goldberg, and I am grateful for his willingness to again share memories with me for this book.
I am also eternally grateful for the friendships that began during my years at IDASA in Cape Town, particularly with Helen Macdonald and Albert Van Zyl, which have persisted and extended to their wonderful families. It is always a joy to see them and to learn from them about South Africa; both provided helpful feedback on the research and the manuscript. Albert’s great work at the International Budget Project, including his more recent efforts with Asivikelane, is emblematic of what I have admired about South African democratic practice. Several colleagues, including Gcobani Qambela, Nicoli Nattrass, Jeremy Seekings, Vinothan Naidoo, and Bob Mattes, have guided me sufficiently along the way that I want to acknowledge them here as well. I continue to admire the great work of the LRC and have learned a great deal from my interactions with staff and attorneys there. Various members of the Spira family have housed or fed me in South Africa; I have really appreciated their hospitality and engagement.
Princeton University Press has been a terrific partner in this endeavor. It is no secret that Bridget Flannery-McCoy is an outstanding editor and offered a wealth of helpful suggestions, including the title of the book, and I thank her for believing in this project from the start. I am also very grateful to Eric Crahan, Alena Chekanov, and the whole Princeton University Press staff for their efforts, and to Jenn Backer for copyediting.
I am very grateful to my family, including parents, siblings, and cousins, who have supported me along this journey. Both of my sons, Gideon Lieberman and Jonah Lieberman, read and provided comments on sections of the manuscript, and I appreciated their willingness to discuss related issues around the dinner table on many evenings, especially during our long quarantine together. As always, Amy Lieberman has been my best friend and biggest cheerleader, and she read every chapter, sometimes more than once. I love and appreciate her every day.
Despite all the great help and support I have received, I am sure several errors of fact and/or interpretation remain; and for those, I take full responsibility. Like all democracies, no book is perfect.
AUTHOR’S NOTE ON PRIMARY DATA AND ANALYSIS
Throughout the book, I have made reference to various large-sample surveys, censuses, and cross-country datasets that I have analyzed (and in some cases collected) myself. Below, I provide the full citations to those data along with the acronyms used in the text and notes. Moreover, I provide additional figures, analyses, data, replication code, questionnaires, and details about research designs on a companion website: https://evanlieberman.org/southafricabook. Note that in all analyses, I use survey weights when available.
Afrob_2015, Afrob_2018
· Afrobarometer Data, South Africa, rounds 6 (2015), 7 (2018) available at http://www.afrobarometer.org.
DBE_2019
· Department of Basic Education Republic of South Africa, “School Masterlist Data,” accessed June 25, 2021, https://www.education.gov.za/Programmes/EMIS/EMISDownloads.aspx.
GCRO_2013
· Gauteng City-Region Observatory (GCRO). Quality of Life Survey III, 2013–2014 [data set]. Version 1. Johannesburg: GCRO [producer], 2016. Cape Town: DataFirst [distributor], 2016. DOI: https://doi.org/10.25828/gn3g-vc93
GCRO_2015
· Gauteng City-Region Observatory (GCRO). Quality of Life Survey IV, 2015–2016. [data set]. Version 1. Johannesburg: GCRO [producer], 2016. Cape Town: DataFirst [distributor], 2016. DOI: https://doi.org/10.25828/w490-a496
GCRO_2017
· Gauteng City-Region Observatory (GCRO). Quality of Life Survey V, 2017–2018 [data set]. Version 1.1. Johannesburg: GCRO [producer], 2019. Cape Town: DataFirst [distributor], 2020. DOI: https://doi.org/10.25828/8yf7-9261
HMS_2019
· Evan Lieberman, Historical Memories Survey, Mogale City Local Municipality, 2019.
HSRC_1994
· Human Sciences Research Council, “South Africa—Launching Democracy 1993–4 (Computer File)” (Human Sciences Research Council, distributed by South African Data Archive of the National Research Foundation, 1995).
IEC_2019
· Electoral Commission of South Africa (IEC), “IEC Election Results Portal,” Electoral results downloaded from https://www.elections.org.za/electionresults/
SA_Census_1996, SA_Census_2001, SA_Census_2011, SA_CommSurv_2016
· Department of Statistics, South Africa (“Stats SA”). Census (1996, 2001, 2011) and Community Survey (2016) results, available at http://www.statssa.gov.za. Relevant results from SA_Census_2011 and SA_CommSurv_2016 can be viewed at https://wazimap.co.za/profiles/country-ZA-south-africa/ and downloaded at http://nesstar.statssa.gov.za:8282/webview/.
SACOPS_2017
· Evan Lieberman, Philip Martin, and Nina McMurry, “South African Councillor Panel Study Baseline Survey 2016-7,” Massachusetts Institute of Technology: Cambridge, MA, December 2017.
SASAS_2015
· Human Sciences Research Council, “South African Social Attitudes Survey (SASAS) 2015: Questionnaire 1—All Provinces. [Data Set].” (Pretoria: Human Sciences Research Council, 2016), http://dx.doi.org/doi:10.14749/1476436497.
SASAS_2016
· Human Sciences Research Council, “South African Social Attitudes Survey (SASAS) 2016: Questionnaire 1—All Provinces. [Data Set].” (Pretoria: Human Sciences Research Council, 2017), http://dx.doi.org/doi:10.14749/1476436497.
SCAD_2017
· Idean Salehyan et al., “Social Conflict in Africa: A New Database,” International Interactions 38, no. 4 (2012): 503–11. (Data for 1990–2017). Available at https://www.strausscenter.org/ccaps-research-areas/social-conflict/database/.
TI_2019
· Transparency International, “2019 Corruption Perceptions Index,” https://www.transparency.org/en/cpi/2019/results.
VDEM_2019
· Michael Coppedge, John Gerring, Carl Henrik Knutsen, Staffan I. Lindberg, Jan Teorell, David Altman, Michael Bernhard, M. Steven Fish, Adam Glynn, Allen Hicken, Anna Lührmann, Kyle L. Marquardt, Kelly McMann, Pamela Paxton, Daniel Pemstein, Brigitte Seim, Rachel Sigman, Svend-Erik Skaaning, Jeffrey Staton, Steven Wilson, Agnes Cornell, Lisa Gastaldi, Haakon Gjerløw, Nina Ilchenko, Joshua Krusell, Laura Maxwell, Valeriya Mechkova, Juraj Medzihorsky, Josefine Pernes, Johannes von Römer, Natalia Stepanova, Aksel Sundström, Eitan Tzelgov, Yi-ting Wang, Tore Wig, and Daniel Ziblatt, “V-Dem Dataset v9,” Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) Project, 2019, https://doi.org/10.23696/vdemcy19.
WDI
· World Bank, “World Development Indicators,” World Bank Data Bank, 2020, https://databank.worldbank.org/source/world-development-indicators#.
WVS_multi
· R. Inglehart, C. Haerpfer, A. Moreno, C. Welzel, K. Kizilova, J. Diez-Medrano, M. Lagos, P. Norris, E. Ponarin, and B. Puranen et al., eds., World Values Survey: All Rounds—Country-Pooled Datafile Version: https://www.worldvaluessurvey.org/WVSDocumentationWVL.jsp (Madrid: JD Systems Institute, 2014).