South Africa’s story is often presented as a triumph of new over old, but while formal apartheid was abolished decades ago, stark and distressing similarities persist. Dr Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh explores the edifice of systemic racial oppression — the new apartheid — that continues to thrive, despite or even because of our democratic system.
Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh is a South African author, musician and activist. Mpofu-Walsh was president of the University of Cape Town Students' Representative Council in 2010. He holds a DPhil in International Relations from the University of Oxford. In September 2017, Mpofu-Walsh published his debut book, Democracy and Delusion: 10 Myths in South African Politics. Along with the book, he released his debut rap album, also titled Democracy and Delusion.
First off, I have such a bad habit of not completing my non-fiction. I need to quickly read it up before my brain decides to call it quits and not because the book is boring or anything - just nje. I've paused on so many good ones I've lost count. I think it is because of reasons such as "they are my books, I can always come back to them" that has me feeding this bad habit. And it's definitely just my non-fiction.
With that said, I paused something like 80% into this book. Sizwe does such a good job of exploring and highlighting what has not changed in our country. The "rainbow nation" that somehow neglected to seep into the townships and parts of the suburbs.
We are in some sort of pseudo reality - roll with it - which also allows us to choose not to see what is right in front of us. We have so many excuses as to why things are the way they are. Am I going on a tangent yet?
The book has 5 chapters or topics that the author touches on which are:
1. Space 2. Law 3. Wealth 4. Technology 5. Punishment 6. Conclusion
And actually the introduction was fairly long if I recall so make the 6 Chapters. The longest intro I've ever read. And I read all of it!
I found the story about Orania and its orgins quite interesting (Space chapter, page 35). Hendrik Verwoerds son in law made Orania into what it is today. I found that quite interesting how it played out.
In Wealth he concludes this chapter with the following:
" the decentralisation of wealth since 1994 has not meant the redistribution of economic power. Rather, power has simply morphed. The picture painted in this chapter connects to the larger story told in this book: the increasing privatisation of wealth has facilitated the privatisation of apartheid itself, since economic power is closely tied to political power in South Africa."
And I completely agree. I remember an interview with Pam Golding in some documentary whose name I don't remember - don't think I ever knew the name. Something I stumbled upon after reading and not completing 'Country of my skull' by Antjie Krog- where PG was asked whether her customer base had changed at all. She responded that it hadn't. So basically rich Whites were buying property along the Cape town coast (still) while black people were (still) plummeting wood frames into the ground to help hold together their homes. Democracy was indeed achieved but it didn't mean equal ground. Life just went on like nothing was stolen.
According to my bookmarkers I still had Punishment and Conclusion to polish up. But uhm..sis just moved on with her life. This is definitely a book I'd go back to for references and what else to read on particular topics - this book has references from page 180 up to 219 - so yeah. This is definitely a book that challenges you to read up and build your basis for your own analysis. I loved what it provided to my sometimes idle mind.
The subtitle of this book is a bold statement: ‘Apartheid did not die; it was privatised.’ I was still pondering this statement when I read the following explanatory addition: ‘I am not arguing here that the state was privatised, but that its governing ideology and modus operandi were.’ The author then proceeds to apply this statement to various areas of life: space, law, wealth, technology and punishment.
In the ‘Space’ chapter the focus is first on new forms of urban segregation, such as Orania, gated communities and private powers. Consequences that negatively impact those exluded by such communities (deflection of crime and traffic congestion) are also discussed. The focus then shifts to implicit rural segregation occuring as a direct result of the then Bantustans, now replaced by tradional leaders exercising exclusive ownership by means of the regime of customary law.
The ‘Law’ chapter does not spare the Constitution and claims that constitutional triumphalism today is more a political than a legal phenomenon. The fact that the Constitution’s focus is on dignity, freedom and equality rather than on justice, is also scrutinized.
The chapter on ‘Wealth’ defines privatization as ‘the transfer of state assets to private ownership, control and maintenance’ (p. 88) but does not hesitate to add ‘Often the party has diverted itself of state ownership and control while maintaining a pretense of state ownership’ (p. 101) with specific reference to SAA, Telkom, SABC, Denel and Eskom.
The ‘Technology’ chapter makes another bold statement: ‘New apartheid has increasingly evolved into a computational system…. spurred by the privatisation and corporate control of personal data.’ (p. 106). This is motivated with reference to today’s algorithms predicting everything from creditworthiness to the likelihood of committing crime; providing increasing influence on the public discourse.
The final chapter, ‘Punishment’, raises interesting points: economists like Haroon Bhorat finding links between economic inequity and resource crimes, but none to violent crimes; the history and origins of the Numbers Gangs that lead to Black warders inheriting an unstable, overcrowded and violent Department of Correctional Services and the ineffectiveness of the minimum sentence legislation as contained in The Criminal Law Amendment Act, 1997.
The credibilty of the author (son of the advoctate, Dali Mpofu) might have been questioned had it not been for the honest disclaimer contained in the introduction: ‘I…. have experienced unprecedented privilege in comparison with previous generations. I was educated at elite South African schools and universities, enabling me to win a scholarship to Oxford to pursue and complete my doctorate. I have never known material want.’
The book by Dr Mpofu is in no way an easy read, but it raises necessary discomfort regarding our country and its people. ‘Unless we understand the new apartheid, we cannot start the urgent task of dismantling it.’
The National Party, which seized South Africa’s mantle and instituted its apartheid system in 1948, was booted from power almost 30 years ago in the nation’s first democratic elections. Since then, South Africa continues to see high rates of poverty and disease, unemployment, and crime. Add to this a deterioration in the quality of infrastructure (including state-owned enterprises like Eskom). Not to mention a truculent racial divide, belying the fanciful notion of the emergence of a “rainbow nation” in the wake of the tempest of colonialism and apartheid. Who or what is to blame for this?
It’s a bit of a simplification, but there are basically two camps. One blames the ANC, which assumed power in 1994, for corruption, negligence, and incompetence. According to this group—a certain percentage of whom view this as vindication of the idea that blacks cannot manage a government, maybe even that ending apartheid was a bad idea—the ANC’s mismanagement of infrastructure, its graft, and advancement of unsound policies like BEE (affirmative action) have unraveled the little bit of good that the apartheid government did leave us with. The other group points the finger at “white monopoly capital.” What exactly is that? The simplest understanding is that ownership and control of corporations, land holdings, minerals and mines, and other assets have remained largely in the hands of white South Africans. Although a small black middle class and even smaller bourgeoisie/elite has emerged to partake in some of the benefits, by and large the masses of black South Africans have been systematically locked out. These masses face poorly resourced and managed primary and secondary education systems, prohibitively expensive tertiary education, an anemic job market, reliance of public assistance, and a spate of other systematic barriers, disproportionately.
So much has changed. On the other hand, so little has. Why? Why, in spite of free and fair elections, the abolition of de jure racism, the elevation—in fact, majority presence—of blacks to political office, even the presence of some blacks in the C-suite, has the needle not really moved on so many submeasures as well as the composite measure of that which we call “equality”?
Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh argues that South Africa has seen so little progress because the stakeholders and beneficiaries of South Africa’s wealth and economic systems largely remain the same. Why is this? Apartheid was privatized. Whereas in the 1960s, the apartheid government under Hendrik Verwoerd began an ambitious project of strengthening state ownership of enterprise with companies like Eskom, SABC, SAA, Armscor, and beyond, prior to the fall of apartheid, both government and private sector actors took preemptive measures to devolve state power over these and other entities into the private sector. With this, they laid the groundwork for the devolution of South Africa’s social, economic, and political structures from the public into the private sphere to enable apartheid’s stakeholders to continue to enjoy and exercise economic and political control from behind the curtain.
Mpofu-Walsh looks at this phenomenon of privatization in five spheres: space, law, wealth, technology, and punishment. Space is crucial—anyone who has spent even a day in South Africa knows that the country remains highly segregated. Under apartheid, Bantustans were the culmination of decades of displacement and dispossession of indigenous communities, effectuated by the power of laws like the Group Areas Act and Natives Resettlement Act. Why do the barriers which created these racial distinctions still exist? We see a continuance of de facto segregation—albeit more fragmented, but nonetheless divided (e.g. as opposed to the stark demographic divides which were hallmarks of apartheid, one today witnesses areas that one might deem “mixed” looking at data only to find a more enclaved, pocketed type of segregation). Mpofu-Walsh also details the ways in which commercial centers perpetuate these dynamics as well as the vestiges of the Bantustan system (which trial chiefs often benefited from). He also cites some interesting cases on farm tenancies and efforts of laborers to lodge ownership claims on parts of farms in SA courts. In his words, “private security companies, residential associations, gated communities, and bodies corporate” are all part of the agents driving and controlling space in a way not unlike the apartheid government.
Another point I love on the subject of space is how segregation and exclusion not only deflect but also help to sustain crime, as the ability of economically privileged South Africans to shield themselves from crime diminishes the drive or impulse to devise and implement solutions to the problem of crime. He is not saying that they are totally insulated from crime—that’s far from the case. However, because they are victimized to a much smaller degree it goes down the list of priorities and is displaced onto the vulnerable masses. This is particularly problematic given their outsize influence on the political process, that they do not exercise this power in sufficient measure in the interest of crime or, rather, only do so to a degree commensurate with their exposure or victimization.
The chapter on law is interesting, as he cites numerous court cases, one of which raised a question on the tension between contractual freedom and contractual equity. Essentially, the point here is that the law allows for private actors to discriminate on the basis of race. Meaning, if a white South African does not want to enter into a contract with a black South African for reasons of race, recourse is limited. Nevermind whether such discrimination is overt or not; the law gives broad latitude for this action. He kind of gets into a lot of legal jargon and philosophy and theory, but this is the main takeaway—private actors can act in a discriminatory fashion, however unfair, and even in the incidence of disparate impact the law provisions little in the way of mechanisms to counteract or discourage such discrimination. If this is the case, how do you effectuate opportunity in ownership, employment, etc. with a group that is historically advantaged and really has no practical incentive to relinquish or change that?
The chapter on wealth is probably the clearest exposition on the implications on privatization. In 1987, the apartheid government commissioned a white paper making the case for the privatization of numerous state owned enterprises like Eskom, Foskor, and Iscor, mandating that state-owned enterprises operate on a profit and loss basis, and overall making a case for neoliberal policy with the belief that such enterprises—“businesses”—would operate more efficiently as a result of the “invisible hand.” Mpofu-Walsh covers a lot of ground on other aspects and examples of the effectuation of neoliberalism in “new apartheid South Africa” and goes in-depth on ANC collusion (the revolving door) in the erection and maintenance of these systems (through leveraging BEE, sitting on corporate boards, appointing corporate executives to positions, etc.)
The chapter on technology is interesting, if less clear on how it's sort of uniquely instrumental in creating and sustaining the new apartheid. He’s talking about algorithms in social media platforms and how the dissemination and portrayal of stories and information reinforce biases and perceptions and with that social divisions. He also talks about the way in which digital media chronicles and illustrate racialized images and narratives, both historic and more recent, and how algorithms govern the ways these media are distributed and received and how they do so on the basis of profit and oftentimes in a manner that is at odds with the public good (he goes into some detail on neurochemical implications). If it seems like, “Well, isn’t that a problem for every society pretty much?”, his argument is that South Africans spend a lot more time on their phones and on these social media platforms than others and therefore, particularly given the context of the recent history of racialized and ethnic tension, this makes them uniquely vulnerable. I am not completely sold, but regardless in a big picture sense I get how this is a problem. He also talks about surveillance (how gated communities, shopping malls, etc. track one’s every move) and biohacking as reproducing apartheid.
Lastly, Mpofu-Walsh assays justice in modern South Africa. Most salient and troubling is that, when apartheid fell, 96% of prisoners were black South Africans. Today, 98% of them are. I do think it stands to reason that, given blacks were third class citizens and unjustly targeted by numerous mechanisms of the state for suppression, with the carceral system being one, albeit powerful and crushing mechanism, with the abolition of such a system and its modes of discrimination one should expect to see this percentage decline. Uh, instead it got worse? We receive detail on the systematic forces underlying this, such as the introduction of minimum sentences as a result of the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1997–mandatory minimums often have the effect of increasing incarceration rates.
There are other problems, like the fact that blacks are more likely to be punished for crimes their white counterparts go unpunished for, including victimless drug crimes. He discusses the instability of the prison system under apartheid and how it was handed over to the new regime without appropriate “correctional” measures. Femicide is also a carryover from the patriarchal apartheid system. Privatization of policing in the form of private security is a major contributor to the exclusion of blacks from social life. He also touches on the ludicrousness of the idea of farm murders as “genocide” and the complete absence of any legitimate empirical support for this but the propaganda value this provides for white South Africans. He also talks about public prosecution and Afriforum and the problems that come with this phenomenon. A lot of interesting and compelling arguments here.
Mpofu-Walsh quite clearly connects these phenomena; they are interrelated and mutually reinforcing. He notes that if space permitted, he would add chapters on healthcare, education, and media. The overarching theme with all of these areas, again, is that of privatization and how social, economic, and political control of South Africa has withdrawn into the background. But such withdrawal is surely no indication of a diminishment of power of the agents of the new apartheid. One might, in fact, argue it is just the opposite, as it confers tremendous political capital to be able to enjoy the riches and spoils to the same degree since the colonial era yet escape scrutiny and criticism and in fact levy much of the scrutiny and criticisms on the ANC and other parties as scapegoats. By no means is Mpofu-Walsh saying the ANC is beyond reproach; he is only saying the ANC and the “new apartheid government” operating from being the scenes are better viewed as part-and-parcel.
I do have some real problems with the book. First, much of his argument hinges on the weaknesses or failures of the South African constitution. He was saying things like the language is not progressive or protective enough. As examples, its usage of the term “justice” is tenuous and prevaricating, the constitution doesn’t even really use the word “apartheid” which omits extremely important context given the constitution is a response to and, more over, a repudiation of apartheid and human rights violations carried out under that regime. Of course he challenges s25, which basically makes land equity impossible. These parts make complete sense. What does not make sense is that in the same breath he says that even if South Africa did have a more progressive constitution, we would likely still see a new apartheid system. Okay. Subsequently, in the conclusion for example, he proceeds to make the recommendation of a new constitution. Huh? How does this make sense? This is a clear contradiction.
Moreover, he cited countries like the United Kingdom, France, and India as examples of countries that reformed their constitutions (the UK he really cites for reforming electoral procedures, since it has no real constitution). First off, the UK and France are not great comparisons with South Africa for a number of reasons. India is a better comparison, but, um, hello? Have you heard of Hindu nationalists? And in addition to religious schisms and repression, the persistence of abject poverty, caste-based violence, not to mention it being probably one of the most anti-African countries? How is this an example? I think the reasoning here is questionable given the examples that he cites. He’s also talking about the idea of changing the government so that the president is elected directly among other reforms. Look, I am all for weighing and assessing options, but I only go as far as his point that no matter the constitution or the system they would have likely found a way. This does NOT mean I am entirely dismissing the point, purpose, or potential in considering structural modifications and more importantly the procedures, processes, and negotiations surrounding them. Yet it is a massive question, how do you prevent the concessions and missteps that characterized the constitutional process leading up to 1994 from playing out again in such a scenario?
Secondly, he seems to side step and sort of dance around naming the real issue. I think with books like this, the authors often seem to have an allergy to the words “white supremacy.” I understand the scope of the book is more systemic in nature, and anatomical, and therefore we must talk of and accordingly term different vehicles and concepts that are corollary or adjacent. Still, I just think the way Mpofu-Walsh illustrates issues and uses language leaves areas where we can be clearer about the issue at hand. Yes, it’s racism, yes it’s exclusion, yes it’s discrimination, yes it’s segregation, yes it’s apartheid. But at the root of it all is white supremacy. I think that definition is critical.
I hope I am not being unfair here (since I am not going back and re-reading the book writing this review), but to me some of the criticisms of tribalism or traditional leadership seemed peculiar, if not modernist (I won’t call it colonialist since I think without further explanation from him that’s unfair). I am not saying that we are going back to the governments of Shaka or Mbandzeni or anything, but I think tribal leadership should and can play an important role in modern and future society. In terms of the origins of our problems today, we have to go back to the wars of genocide waged by the forebears of settler colonialists in which they undermined and effaced indigenous systems and institutions. In the vein of Cabral—who himself challenged tribalism and tribal leadership, thoughtfully—I am about assessing and salvaging aspects of indigenous culture in such a way that promotes the elevation of African dignity and consciousness. While no institution or domain is or should be beyond reproach—hey, no sacred cows in Nguni culture—traditional leadership has been a pivotal and empowering form of identity. This must persist.
Another argument that did not make a lot of sense to me was in the chapter on justice. He was talking about femicide, which is a serious issue worthy of the highest elevation, examination, and constructive action. But he made some statement like, the concept of gender based violence is too inclusive of males and this is problematic. Um, maybe I just speak for myself but all the portrayals of gender-based violence that I have been aware of seem to center women as victims of gender-based violence. So I thought this was a strange controversy to invoke. Furthermore, Mpofu-Walsh said something like shelters for gender-based violence include men and that this is problematic.
Okay, so the first issue here is we need empirical support for his claim. Like, what percentage of victims of gender-based violence permitted to shelters are men? To the extent he has that data, I think he should lay it out and not bury it in an endnote (even if it is). Secondly, what if those males are actually victims of gender based violence? See, the problem you see with these types of arguments in gender politics is that we are dealing with so many different understandings, interpretations, perceptions, and opinions of identity that so often they wind up rolling up into arguments that are untenable because assumptions are offsetting. So, on one hand we have the presumption that gender is a social construct and therefore one can identify with whatever gender they choose. Not saying this is the only notion, but it seems to be a prevalent one in gender theory. On the other hand, we can harbor the idea of “men” as beings who are oppressive and either not worthy or needing of protection. Did he survey these men to see how they identify? Better yet, if we take the idea of fluidity to an extreme, does it really even matter? If it is a social construct, is there really any meaning to being male?
Secondly, and I think overarchingly—what if those men ACTUALLY are victims of gender based violence? Tommy Curry cites an abundance of data on the bidirectionality of intimate partner violence and intimate partner homicide and finds the rates at which males are attacked and killed by their female partners is often as high as in the reverse. His data pertains to the US, however I would be curious to see what the South African data shows. What if those men are LGBT men and victims of attacks by male partners? Does that make their status as victims more tenable? If so, why? People scoff at and dismiss these types of questions, but they are entirely reasonable. It’s frustrating that you cannot even make certain arguments or ask certain questions because you are misunderstood or mischaracterized as an apologist for violence against women. Wrongly. I could keep going on the various problems with these types of reasonings and portrayals, but I do think it’s important to expose the flaws inherent with these kinds of notions and understandings because they often reinforce the same types of racist attitudes and stereotypes (e.g. “black male brutes”) that were and are used to justify oppressive structures such as apartheid.
My last criticism is not unique to his book. With books like Mpofu-Walsh’s, you basically get a list of 1000 things that are wrong with the system. They are extremely well-written, immaculately researched, in some parts convincingly argued. And then they conclude by talking about the country’s great ideals and the need for salvation and so on. The quixotic rhetoric and pleas. And the fixes. I am sorry, that does not add up. Not based on everything you spent 200 pages laying out. Please, let’s decouple—I am not saying he is wrong, I am not saying throw the country out. I am saying these types of books, usually which are tied to left-wing liberal publishers or institutions—which are uniformly reformist, almost never revolutionary—rarely give you a cogent reason why for all of these ills and unmitigated incidences of structural violence, the persistence of appallingly racist attitudes and practices, and broad social malaise and deprivation, these “ideals” are veritable and worth saving. Again, it’s not just him. This is a common sort of structure with “reform” treatises like this.
I think Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh does a phenomenal job of dissecting the anatomy of the new apartheid, which is where most of the book’s value lies. I came into this book with a lot of excitement. But the conclusions and proposed solutions, to me, do not follow from what he presents.
Compulsory reading for South Africans and anyone else interested in decolonisation. Gives us important pause for thought around how effective the constitution we enacted in 1994 has been for actual justice as SMW defines it in the book.
It feels like a work that can inspire a generation of thought that leads us to an ACTUAL “post-apartheid” South Africa.
Feels poignant in most of the arguments, speculative and farfetched in a few. South Africa’s troubles are clearly not going to be solved overnight, and there are artificial, robust barriers between its different ethnic groups and social classes - some of which do indeed seem to have been put in place by the outgoing apartheid government and upheld or reinforced by the ANC. Several of the arguments presented, though, are arguably to do with products of global (technological) development rather than purely South African challenges. Furthermore, Mpofu-Walsh ignores SA society’s power to break down these barriers by themselves, bridge the gaps and educate themselves on how to better help themselves, each other and their country. Then again, this isn’t really about that, it’s about presenting the introduction to a paradigm theory. It would be more useful - as he acknowledges himself towards the end - to explore the idea/prevalence of a new, privatised apartheid in all aspects of South African life, which simply was not possible with the resources available if he wanted to get something published. The result feels rather thin, and certainly needs fleshing out and inclusion of the other areas he mentions in order to really be taken seriously.
I am currently reading The New Apartheid after spending two weeks with a tour company, which started in South Africa (Johannesburg) and ended in South Africa (in Capetown). I see Mr. Mofu-Walsh's book as an interpretation of what we could see of the politics and interpersonal relationships in South Africa (which was little, indeed; the focus of tour groups seems to be intentionally on ''seeing stuff", and never discussing politics or allowing for a cultural exchange with the citizens). This book reveals the nasty under-belly of what we only viewed at a distance from the tour buses - that the actual laws and written underpinings of apartheid have been swept away since the ANC took power over the country in 1994, but the structure of apartheid remains IMPLICITLY in place. When political negotiations were ongoing in the '90's, the leadership had two conflicting 'audiences': First of all they wanted to support all those SAs who had fought for democracy, equality and freedom; but they also needed to address the economic disparities - and this second goal fell to the wayside. Highly, highly recommend this book and the author, and wish I could find it in hardbound, because the author refers to maps and tables that I haven't seen so far on Kindle.
I am a fan of Sizwe's writing and this is a very very important book which breaks down clearly some of the large and invisible issues we are facing in South Africa today. Because of this, I found it difficult to engage with critically. However I would say that the chapter on technology draws significantly from the US context and while he makes an important caveat for the probability of this being relevant in South Africa (as we inherit much of US's technology and are similarly racially segregated), i felt more rigourous engagement which actual technological apartheid happening in SA would make the book more rigourous. The final chapter is excellent and should be a compulsory reading for all South Africans!
I enjoyed Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh's writing style and the structuring of the book. This book is an ambitious feat, trying to tackle the pervious nature of Apartheid. My favourite chapters were 'Space', 'Law', 'Wealth', and 'Technology'. I felt however that 'Technology' and 'Punishment' could have delved a little deeper. The Conclusion tied his entire argument together and I enjoyed hearing the author's perspectives about what solutions lie ahead, and that he mentions the limitations of the main argument in the book.
One does not need to be a law graduate to understand this book. It’s quite accessible.
Each chapter was fascinating and well arranged. Everything built upon that which came before and the presentation of historical context, the modern day reality of the consequences of decisions that were made in the past and the arguments he makes, are skillfully done. The research is profound.
I was left feeling reflective and emotional as I pondered the ideas that were put forward. Lots to chew on, but I will definitely be returning to read this again.
This was a thought provoking book which I enjoyed reading. I found myself agreeing with certain topics mentioned in the book but disagreeing with others. This is a must read for any South African interested in politics, history and social sciences.
Exquisitely researched and quite frankly brilliantly executed. It presents complex political concepts in a very accessible way. A must read for anybody interested in understand the history and current state of South African democracy.
Not entirely convinced that what the author describes is a “new apartheid” and not neoliberalism in late-stage capitalism, but a compelling read for class nonetheless