MIKE SILUMA | Our political system is letting the country down

Tuesday’s immigration protests, which disrupted economic activity and caused the nation much angst, must serve as a wake-up call for our political system and the parties participating in it. For how is it that, in the face of a deep crisis severely damaging South Africa’s international reputation, it was none of the political parties and their public representatives setting the agenda on the day, or on the migration issue in general?

First there was the June 30 protest date itself — set not by any political party or the government, but by March and March and its allies. Then, by the end of that day, that organisation’s leaders were declaring that, until their demand for all undocumented foreigners to leave South Africa was met, every Thursday from then on would be a day for marching.

Anti-migrant sentiment has been simmering for years in this country, with this week’s marches just the latest and largest public eruption of it.

The conspicuous absence of political parties from the event, as well as their clear inability to channel or address the obvious groundswell of anger and resentment regarding this issue in many parts of society, speaks to their political importance and social disconnection from large swathes of the population. This applies as much to the bigger parties (such as the ANC and the DA) as the smaller ones. It’s not even about whether a party is in the government of national unity.

It’s not even about whether a party is in the government of national unity.

For its part, the government — reduced to merely responding to events, rather than leading them — was quick to praise the peaceful nature of the marches. Amid the heat of the high political tensions, its statements emphasised more citizens’ constitutional entitlement to protest and less their right to go about their normal business unhindered.

The government ignored the hard truth that working people did not stay at home because of an irresistible urge to exercise their democratic right not to work on the day, or that businesses did not close their doors in new-found solidarity with the marches. The stayaways and the shop closures occurred because of fear of what might happen to those who tried to live their lives normally — most notably, the possibility of violence. In reality, the government, which had declared Tuesday a normal working day, had its hand forced by events.

If the immigration issue goes off the boil, might the anti-migrant movement … settle on new causes to fight?

Many will remember that in the initial stages of the anti-migrant campaign, when March and March and Operation Dudula sought to block foreign nationals’ access to public health facilities and schools, government ministers foregrounded the right of everyone, including non-South Africans, to health care and education.

However, by Sunday night, when it became clear Tuesday’s marches would go ahead according to the organisers’ wishes, it was none other than the president himself who conceded that “South Africans from every walk of life have raised concerns about migration and illegal immigration”. South Africans, he said, were “raising these matters because they are concerned about pressure on public services … [and] about safety, security and the rule of law”.

The president added: “These concerns are real. They deserve to be heard. They deserve to be addressed.”

Addressing the nation ahead of the marches, the lead officer of the government’s security response, Lt-Gen Tebello Mosikili, firmly warned participants not to carry weapons. Yet on the day there were weapons galore on display. Then, speaking at a post-march briefing, acting police minister Firoz Cachalia struck a different note, saying that, though the law banned citizens from carrying weapons, society needed to have a conversation about the issue because some regarded carrying weapons as part of their culture. Indeed, the government’s prevarication would not have been lost on march organisers.

The week’s developments raise a slew of crucial questions. For instance, if the immigration issue goes off the boil, might the anti-migrant movement — having tasted success and now believing the government to be but a paper tiger — settle on new causes to fight? In that case, they would not struggle to find them. They could take their pick from a long list including unemployment, crime and poor service delivery. And they would not find themselves short of followers.

If their agenda were to change, and they latched on to another problem the state was unable to solve, what would the government’s response be? Would it be caught on the back foot again? Or would it try to assert itself by force? That is unlikely, with the ghost of Marikana still haunting the Union Buildings.

On the other hand, the government might be forced to accept a live-and-let-live approach, talking tough but settling for accommodation with social forces, both benign and malign, it considered too powerful to control. In that case, who would hold the line between lawfulness and criminality, order and anarchy?

While most march participants complaining about immigration control would have come from economically disadvantaged sectors of society, concern about the country’s general misgovernance is felt, as the president himself acknowledged, across the broader society.

We may hold different views about the events of the past week and the best way to deal with illegal immigration. We may also engage in endless debates about whether we are dealing with xenophobia, Afrophobia or genuine grievances held by citizens who have their socioeconomic backs against the wall.

But in the final analysis we surely have to agree that South Africa is the only home we have, and that preserving our country’s territorial integrity and maintaining law and order within its borders cannot be up for discussion.

A national consensus, however, will remain elusive as long as the primary actors in our political system, while pretending to cater to the needs of all, continue to disregard the interests of the politically and economically marginalised, or keep speaking above their heads.