Exploring the evolution of South Africa’s music copyright laws reveals significant shifts in creative rights for artists, particularly during the transition from apartheid to democracy.
The development of music copyright throughout South Africa’s democratic transition in the 1990s demonstrated how musicians battled for recognition and rights in the face of institutionalised persecution.
The Separate Amenities Act of 1953 posed a significant obstacle for renowned saxophonist Winston “Mankunku” Ngozi during South Africa’s apartheid era. Because of legislation that forbade mixed-race concerts, Ngozi had to perform with white musicians behind a curtain, thus keeping the audience from seeing him. In a degrading incident, he was forced to perform behind the curtain at a 1964 Cape Town City Hall show with an all-white big band, while a white impostor claimed to be the saxophonist on stage.
In addition to restricting Ngozi’s ability to express himself artistically, this discriminatory regulation kept him from receiving the proper credit and payment for his contributions. Despite the commercial success of his famous 1968 record Yakhal’ Inkomo, which documented the challenges of Black artists under apartheid, Ngozi did not receive much financial gain because copyright protection was not in place. Ngozi’s experience illustrates the systemic abuses that Black artists experienced: their rights disregarded and their artistic work exploited.
According to an article in The Funambulist, apartheid-era musicians faced severe restrictions. The Separate Amenities Act, coupled with the Group Areas Act and pass laws of the early 1950s, imposed stringent mobility constraints. To move freely, musicians needed a ‘day pass’ or ‘night pass’ and had to adhere to a mandatory 10pm curfew, referenced in the African Jazz Pioneers’ song Ten Ten Special. These interconnected laws stifled artistic collaboration, social cohesion and overall freedom.
Before the country gained its independence, Black artists in South Africa worked in a closed-off environment with almost no copyright protection, leaving them open to exploitation and receiving only small compensation for their artistic efforts. This harsh environment not only suppressed artistic expression, but also failed to give musicians the recognition they deserved for their contributions.
Contemporary resonance
The legacy of apartheid-era struggle music continues to resonate with contemporary artists. One of these is Johannesburg-based musician Ofentse Sebula, who attests to this enduring impact. “The legacy of the struggle music from the apartheid era plays a significant role in my music, as I too share the same sentiments,” he says. “The sentiments I share with apartheid-era musicians include resilience, cultural pride and a commitment to authentic emotional expression. Growing up in democratic South Africa, my music reflects on our nation’s complex past, its ongoing impact and the hopes for a unified future.”
Sebula emphasises that music from that era transcended mere entertainment: “It was a voice of the people, reflecting the times they lived in,” he says. Sebula’s own music may not be overtly political, but he acknowledges the importance of storytelling through song. “My music isn’t always in line with political issues as before [in] the apartheid era, but the goal is to tell my stories and remind people that we’re still going through the same battles.”

Music promoting social justice and resistance was particularly targeted by the apartheid administration’s severe censorship laws. Politically charged songs that dealt with issues of injustice and inequality caused artists like Hugh Masekela, Miriam Makeba and Brenda Fassie to be targeted, censored and sometimes overtly mistreated by the apartheid government. For instance, Makeba’s song Pata Pata was banned from radio stations due to its alleged anti-apartheid sentiments, which restricted her ability to perform for a larger audience in South Africa.
Similarly, Fassie’s song I’m a Good Woman tackled themes of empowerment and defiance in the face of oppression, marking her as a voice for marginalised people. Although the song was not overtly political in comparison to some protest songs, Fassie’s bold expressions of resilience were interpreted as a challenge to the status quo. Radio stations banned her song Black President, which was a tribute to Nelson Mandela, for its anti-apartheid connotations. The government kept a close eye on Fassie’s activities, making it difficult for her to express herself freely.Masekela also suffered greatly because of his musical advocacy. His popular anti-apartheid protest song, Bring Him Back Home (Nelson Mandela), demanded the release of Mandela, who had been detained by the government since 1962. The song, composed and recorded during Masekela’s exile, rose to fame and became an unofficial anthem of the anti-apartheid struggle. The upbeat tune, with its strong chords and trumpet riffs, masked a pointed political statement that directly challenged the South African apartheid government. The fact that musicians jeopardised their freedom and careers to speak out against injustice underscores the complex relationship between politics and music.
Lack of legal protection
Musicians frequently found themselves in a vulnerable position during the apartheid era due to the lack of strong legal protections for their artistic creations. At the time, the Copyright Act of 1978 offered creators limited rights and failed to address the specific challenges faced by South African artists, particularly Black musicians. Although the act was meant to protect intellectual property, it operated within a framework that largely ignored the systemic inequities of the apartheid system.
A glaring example was the ‘Lion Trial’, involving the globally famous song The Lion Sleeps Tonight, originally written by Solomon Linda. Despite the song’s enormous financial success, Linda received little recognition or compensation, exposing the exploitative practices that thrived under the apartheid-era copyright regime. The law’s focus on formal, written agreements and legal representation left many black musicians – who often had limited access to legal resources – vulnerable to exploitation by record companies and intermediaries.
In addition, the harsh restrictions placed on artistic expression by the apartheid administration meant musicians were forced to communicate their discontent using subtle themes, risking further marginalisation. In the end, Black artists were not protected by the 1978 Copyright Act, which was meant to update South Africa’s copyright regulations. Significantly, the Act denied many Black artists the right to their previously created works, because it did not offer retroactive protection for works created before 1978.
Unfair ownership arrangements favoured record companies and publishers owned by white people, leaving Black musicians open to exploitation due to a lack of effective enforcement measures and restricted access to the legal system. Neither did the Act address cultural appropriation, through which white artists make money from traditional Black music without acknowledgment or payment.
These flaws led to the exploitation of Black artists’ creations, a loss of royalties and creative control, and relatively little acknowledgement. The shortcomings of the 1978 Copyright Act necessitated the revolutionary shifts that came with the emergence of a democratic society, in which the defence of artists’ rights and reform of copyright were top priorities.
Protecting artists’ rights
The democratic era has introduced stronger legal frameworks that protect intellectual property, enable artists to defend their rights, and promote a more egalitarian music industry. These advancements show the vital role copyright plays in sustaining musicians’ livelihoods and fostering innovation in South Africa’s diverse musical landscape
Sebula acknowledges the significant progress made in protecting artists’ rights. “I haven’t stumbled upon challenges when it comes to full control of my music and its ownership,” he says, recognising that this is largely due to the advancements made since apartheid. “I believe this is because post-apartheid South African artists have experienced increased autonomy in the production and ownership of their music, also thanks to organisations such as Samro [South African Music Rights Organisation] and Mpasa [Music Publishers Association of South Africa],” he says. Sebula’s experience highlights the transformative impact of democracy on the music industry, with artists now enjoying greater creative control and financial benefits.

Record companies and the government organisations that had previously controlled the intellectual property and copyrights of many songs were overthrown, giving Black South African musicians more freedom to create and own their music when apartheid ended. The Copyright Amendment Act of 2019, which attempted to improve the protection of authors’ rights and remedy some of the injustices ingrained under apartheid laws, is a prime example of this change. In contrast to the 1978 Copyright Act, the new regulations improve intellectual property protections and support equitable compensations for artists.
Tsenolo Ntsane, operations manager at Mpasa and a renowned songwriter, underscores the vital significance of copyright protection for musicians. “Copyright is essential for safeguarding artists’ rights and ensuring they receive fair compensation for their work,” she emphasises.
As a champion of music, Ntsane, also known as Nolo Harmony, has navigated both the performance and regulatory sides of the industry. Her passion for music began in high school, when she developed a love for song writing. Ntsane licensed her songs at a young age and pursued music contract law in her studies.
She stresses the transformative power of copyright knowledge for musicians. “Understanding copyrights is the very thing that can help a musician create a profitable career and that’s why it is so important,” she says. This insight stems from her unique blend of artistic experience and regulatory expertise. At Mpasa, Ntsane seeks to contribute to the value of artists’ work. Through partnerships with stakeholders, Mpasa aims to safeguard musicians’ rights and foster a fair, profitable environment.
Artists who do not copyright their work face potential revenue loss, lack of recognition and exploitation, she says. Without protection, musicians risk losing ownership and control over their creations and how their music is used and distributed.
One song, two rights
“When somebody creates a song, two rights are born,” Ntsane says. “The first is the master right, which refers to the actual sound recording of the song. This right is controlled by either the artist or the record label and generates income through mechanical royalties.
“The second right is the publisher’s right, pertaining to the composition itself – the lyrics and melody. This right represents the individual creative work underlying the sound recording, earning performance royalties whenever the song is performed publicly, played on the radio, or used in a live setting.”
Ntsane emphasised that this knowledge is particularly crucial in South Africa, where historical injustices have left a lasting impact on the music industry. “During apartheid, many Black artists were disenfranchised and lacked understanding and access to these rights, often losing control and revenue from their creative work,” she says.
To address this legacy, Mpasa prioritises empowering its members through education. “We recognise the historical disparities and strive to bridge the knowledge gap,” Ntsane says. “Through regular webinar sessions and workshops, our members gain a deeper understanding of music copyright, mastering the intricacies of master and publisher rights to safeguard their creative and financial interests.” By fostering awareness and expertise, Mpasa aims to ensure South African artists, particularly those from historically marginalised groups, can protect their intellectual property, secure fair compensation, and build sustainable careers in the music industry.
“South African musicians need to adjust to the changing landscape of the music industry as streaming services and digital platforms do, all the while fighting for just recompense and the defence of their rights,” Ntsane says. “While post-democracy laws have made a great deal of progress, there are still many challenges in the way of long-term success, which means that attempts to empower artists and increase their visibility in a more competitive market must continue.”
South Africa’s musical journey reflects its complex history and vibrant democracy. Visionary artists like Ngozi, Masekela and Fassie defied apartheid’s censorship and exploitation. Today, Samro and Mpasa champion artists’ rights, allowing musicians like Sebula the freedom of not experiencing challenges when copyrighting their music.
The Copyright Amendment Act of 2019 has improved protection for authors’ rights, addressing historical injustices. As the music industry continues to evolve, Ntsane says Mpasa “will continue to prioritise education and empowerment, ensuring artists can protect their intellectual property and secure fair compensation.”
FEATURED IMAGE: Lost in the melody. Photo by: Katlego Mtshali
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