There’s a man seated on an empty ledge in the inner city of Johannesburg, he’s a black man, next to him, his friend or colleague, a white man, they having heated debate.
In front of them, a woman. She stands resolute, one arm raised, holding firmly, a bottle with a burning wick. She’s carrying a baby on her back too, bound by a blanket. She’s a mother, a fighter, a leader.
Her right arm raised higher, holding a statement demanding for all of the city to read “Democracy is Dialogue”. She is bold and bronze monument, a symbol of the South African liberation.
Behind her, the words “Libri Thesaurus Anmi” (Books are the treasure house of the mind) are etched into the stone of a building, the Johannesburg City Library, another symbol of South Africa’s democracy.
GRAND DESIGN:The Reference Library is a vast space to explore, holding a range of texts from historical records, to practical handbooks, scientific treaties, literature and contemporary knowledge. The librarian’s desk is long, but the library itself is grand in design. White spherical globes hang from the carved and coffered Italianesque ceilings, while young and old adults indulge in knowledge below.
In the Beyers Naude Square of the Johannesburg inner city, you can see people from all walks of life. A skater passes a homeless man, while a girl and her friend in their school uniforms walk up the 21 steps towards the grand and intricately designed doors of the Johannesburg City Library.
As you enter, a young man behind a counter is the first to welcome you. The lighting is dull and insufficient. The pace is slow, a contrast to the buzzing outside. People inside are either filling their water bottles from the water cooler, looking down from the balcony on the first floor or walking slowly into a section of the library to start studying. It’s exam period, the library has more activity than usual.
The man behind the counter waits to receive your belongings and issues you a worn out card with a number marked on it. While you wait there’s a squeaking escalator on the left, that’s hard not to miss but also easy to get used to.
The Johannesburg City Library (JCL) was opened to all races in 1974, in an attempt to overcome the spatial divide between races. Over time it became a symbol of knowledge, transformation and democracy.
Taking us on a backward journey Des Patel, who worked as a librarian in the 80s, said the library was commonly used recreationally for children and adults. “People would go there to read for pleasure,” she said. Despite being open to all races, Patel said sections of the library were still very racially segregated, the facilities were used differently.
“One thing I do highlight is that people of colour would come into the library and they had this hunger for knowledge and facts – they would take out non-fictional books mostly, while white people indulged in fictional books.”
Through knowledge it was possible for young activists and leaders to inform themselves on the liberation and find ways to transform their society.
Two decades later and living in Johannesburg, in a so-called “new South Africa”, sees many people grappling with the idea of being truly African. The library, located on Albertina Sisulu Road and Pixley Ka Isaka Seme Street, is quite ‘underutilised’, said Patel.
Edgar Serala, 32, a tall and lean man sits in his chair in the Michaelis Art collection on the second floor.
Surrounded with books and art pieces while natural light streams in from the windows in the ceiling, Serala looks around with familiarity before he starts talking.
Serala comes from Soweto and has been a library user ever since he was a young boy. He is a school drop-out but has not allowed that to detour his path. He is an aspiring writer, former miner and now an entrepreneur, who frequents the library to improve his business in Soweto. He is a self-taught man and uses the library as his ‘virtual’ office.
“It’s easier and cheaper, I meet clients here, use the wi-fi to develop my own website and do the digital marketing for my product,” said Serala.
He believes that despite the library being a hoarder of knowledge, it needs more.
“This is more of an academic library, it houses more 20th century material,” he said.
He says to some extent the library does not identify with the majority of South Africans.
“It still has that colonial structure and it houses that material – we need to ask – do we actually know enough to transform our society, maybe the library needs to transform, before we can transform our society,” he said.
“We don’t only reject it, but it rejects us,” he added.
The architecture and buildings around town are still very European and it does not fit in with the identities or understandings of the African majority. “We’re not necessarily doing away with Eurocentric thinking and material, it’s about giving us the opportunity to learn more about Africa,” he said.
Serala enthusiastically made reference to Black-Consciousness leader Stephen Bantu Biko’s I write what I like.
“I read it when I was young, but it ‘fucked me up’, it made me analyse everything, I didn’t realise what was going on around me and it opened my eyes to the potential of transformation – imagine if I had access to more books like that?” he said.
For Serala, in order to transform, there needs to be a transformation of knowledge which allows people to see and discover things for themselves about the world.
In the same space, also comforted by the knowledge on Art and Art history in the Michaelis Art Collection on the second floor, is librarian William Stewart. Sitting by a round desk, Stewart said the JCL is a preserve of the wealthiest collections of knowledge about South Africa’s history.
“During apartheid, there was a ban on certain books, a kind of censorship and librarians had to burn these books,” but Stewart, who has been at the JCL since 1991, said the librarians at the JCL could not bring themselves to burn books or records they kept of the city, they instead hid them, and when the ban on these books lifted, the books resurfaced.
He said the Johannesburg Library, as it operates today, contains books that represent all points of views. This, he said, is so that people who use the library can make their own informed decisions about the country’s politics and social issues.
“The library’s role is to collect and preserve information of local interest,” said Stewart, while adjusting his thick black-framed spectacles.
The Michaelis Art Collection houses the ideas of contemporary artists from Africa and Europe, either on the shelves or as pieces framed against the walls. A colourful but crammed piece by South African artist Helen Sebidi ushers you into the library. Sebidi is a common name among South Africa’s township artists. Her art confronts themes relating to the ‘dislocation and disruption of society’. She drew her inspiration from the happenings and experiences of daily township life during apartheid.
The www.sahistory.org.za website encapsulated: “The life history of the struggle of this consummate artist stands as a metaphor for our collective struggle to define ourselves as a nation – therefore reminding us where we come from and prompts us towards our future.”
Stewart, who commended the library’s wealth of knowledge in art, history, archives, music while also embracing the use of the internet to supplement knowledge, said libraries collect knowledge for the benefit of society, to broaden people’s perspectives and add to their knowledge of the entire world, not just their own continent.
Through whichever means, the library embodies engagement with knowledge. Every fortnight, the Indaba room on the first floor is brought to life through conversation. People with a disparity in age and background gather around rectangular tables to discuss books they’ve read and provide personal perspectives on current affairs.
Rethabile Dladla, who frequents the dynamic space, said these discussions inform her on broader issues about the world without having to read the news.
“It’s about learning through conversation – people talk about what they learn and we share,” she said.
The 23-year-old journalism student from Boston College in Johannesburg said it is a free space and people of all different ages talk about whatever they want.
“Sometimes we discuss countries, books, movies and TV series, we talk about everything.”
The value and significance of the library holding discussions during the information age is relatively rare. Many overlook that knowledge can also be obtained through conversation and by challenging views, as they do in the Indaba room on the first floor.
Dladla added: “Discussions of this nature will help take us forward and that it’s good because it encourages recreational reading.”
Recreational reading is seen as rather rare according to former JCL librarian Shamim Hargovan. She recalls the vibrancy of people who used libraries in 1984 when she worked there. “It was vibrant and busy and now there is no reading youth,” she said.
Drawing from her personal observations, Hargovan said: “People are not critical, they don’t interact or debate and if it doesn’t involve them, it’s fine – what future do we then foresee?”
Libraries in these circumstances have the responsibility to facilitate and make provision for learning and knowledge that is accessible to all. Public libraries are somewhat representative of an informal schooling system, educating on issues that go beyond their own benefit and interests.
Trailing across the open space from the Michaelis Art Collection, towards the left wing staircase, many youth can be seen gathered around tables with white lights reflecting off their faces. Unlike the natural light streaming in through the windows on the ceilings, this light instead comes from the light of smartphone or laptops.
The marble stairs on the left leading up to the Africana section are well lit compared to the rest of the library. Almost like a metaphor for enlightenment of the African child, seeking to quench a thirst for knowledge in a building that looks like it’s been pulled straight out off the page of an Italian architecture book.
The glass doors entering the Africana collection have many instructions on them. “No bags larger than this window allowed.”
More glass casings, to protect the history or to protect the people against the history. There are rows of cabinets, glass and wooden cabinets, holding the books that carry South Africa’s history. Pre-democracy and even the times before that.
History in books is peculiar. They capture the details and ideas of intellectuals, until someone cares to pick it up, page through it and absorb the ideas for intellectual enlightenment.
A definite product of African knowledge is Gugulethu Bodibe, a writer and researcher. He can be found sitting on the cushioned chair, in front of a wooden table, stacked with various political books, reading one of his own. A loose crocheted beanie and a Zulu beaded chain to dress his neck. He uses the fan to cool him in the stuffy preserve of the Harold Strange Africana collection on the third floor.
Bodibe has invested his time in the study of African history, culture, spirituality and politics and published an article called “Culture as a weapon” in an American magazine in 2009. Since then, he has turned his research towards the understanding of Ancient African history and language.
“I wanted to study my father tongue at UNISA but the institution didn’t offer it, I challenged them for it but they rejected me, which brought me to question what does it mean to be an African in the new South Africa – I started questioning everything.”
Bodibe developed a keen interest in Ancient African languages and how they can be used to advance African knowledge systems. He drew his inspiration on this subject from Kenyan author Ngugi Wa Thiongo’s book, Decolonising the Mind, which discusses how African authors have to write in African languages.
“I armed myself with that knowledge and applied myself practically,” he said.
Bodibe started a company called Setheo Seshat Djehuty (the Institute for the Manifestation of Wisdom) that aims to promote the study of African languages and literature in South Africa.
Bodibe, who is very passionate about his research on ancient African languages, said: “Africa needs to look within itself and without- we need to learn from other countries and apply it to ourselves.”
As a researcher on African perspectives and knowledge systems, Bodibe spends at least one day a week in the Harold Strange Africana Collection. He said he wants to use languages and scientific knowledge to motivate and educate others towards transforming society. He said: “As someone interested in linguistics, concentrating particularly on xenophobia – whether it’s something published, or through a public campaign, or using art as a medium – in whatever shape or fashion, I hope to present to the public- conclusively – that xenophobia is senseless.”
Bodibe developed a keen interest in Ancient African languages and how they can be used to advance African knowledge systems. He drew his inspiration on this subject from Kenyan author Ngugi Wa Thiongo’s book, Decolonising the Mind, which discusses how African authors have to write in African languages.
“I armed myself with that knowledge and applied myself practically,” he said.
Bodibe started a company called Setheo Seshat Djehuty (the Institute for the Manifestation of Wisdom) that aims to promote the study of African languages and literature in South Africa.
Bodibe, who is very passionate about his research on ancient African languages, said: “Africa needs to look within itself and without- we need to learn from other countries and apply it to ourselves.”
As a researcher on African perspectives and knowledge systems, Bodibe spends at least one day a week in the Harold Strange Africana Collection. He said he wants to use languages and scientific knowledge to motivate and educate others towards transforming society. He said: “As someone interested in linguistics, concentrating particularly on xenophobia – whether it’s something published, or through a public campaign, or using art as a medium – in whatever shape or fashion, I hope to present to the public- conclusively – that xenophobia is senseless.”
Like the natural light streaming through the glass ceilings and barred windows in the library, individuals take the knowledge and spill it out into the streets. 21 steps, a new outlook and a standing figure to remind you that all you do in the library is a contribution and an effort to further democratize society
FEATURED IMAGE:Books from Joahannesburg Library. Photo; Aarti Bhana
Four years since its doors closed, frustrated city residents have yet to hear any real reason why the Johannesburg City Library remains shut.
On May 18, 2024, scores of demonstrators and several civic organizations gathered outside of the Joburg City Library to protest its indefinite closure.
The library has been closed to the public since March 2020, initially due to Covid-19 lockdown restrictions. However, the library never reopened, and in May 2021 the city announced it would remain closed “for major repairs and maintenance”.
However, after years without progress, civic groups took matters into their own hands. A walk-through of the library conducted in March 2024 by experts brought along by the Johannesburg Heritage Foundation (JHF) found the building “structurally sound” and safe for use.
Flo Bird, JHF founder, protests along Simmonds Street near the city library.
One pressing issue lies in the fire-suppression system, which was installed 12 years ago but never commissioned and “should take no more than three months” to fix said JHF.
Gathered at Beyers Naudé Square across from the library, the protestors grouped under a bronze statue of a woman holding a Molotov cocktail and a placard reading, “democracy is dialogue.”
Speakers from the various organizations present recognized the irony of the statement, as dialogue has virtually broken down between the City of Johannesburg (CoJ) and those seeking accountability over the library’s closure.
“They [the CoJ] see civil society as a nuisance,” said David Fleminger, chair of the Johannesburg Heritage Foundation. As an invaluable communal resource, the library reopening “needs to be treated as a matter of urgency, not as an afterthought”, he said. “A library is not a luxury!”
Professor Achille Mbembe spoke about the political connection between books, knowledge, and freedom. “[Books] are the petrol bombs of the mind,” he said, referencing the statue above him. “There is no democracy without books” he stated – a powerful statement for the CoJ to remember just nine days from elections.
“I’m very encouraged”, said Fleminger about the day’s events. Drawing over a hundred people, the event had a “good spirit” of righteous indignation at the CoJ’s failings. “I’m just annoyed that we have to be here…they [the CoJ] should just do their job”, he continued.
Now, its over to the City and the Johannesburg Development Agency (JDA) as protestors demand an immediate (but partial) reopening. “We don’t want to go the legal route, but it is a public facility, and we have a right to make use of it,” said Flo Bird, founder of the JHF.
As the demonstration ended, protestors gathered in groups, sharing stories about the library and its personal significance to them, from being a place of quiet refuge to an invaluable tool in getting through school and university. “I think visiting the library helped instill a love of reading in me,” Fleminger recounted of his childhood. “So many Joburgers have a similar connection to the City Library. It’s part of the fabric of the city.”
With over 1.5 million books, 140 computers, and free WiFi, the City Library is a resource rich center whose quiet abandonment will not, and has not, gone unnoticed by Joburg residents.
Since, the CoJ have re-emphasized their commitment to reopening the library, and said work will begin on the “much-needed compliance issues” in July 2024.
FEATURED IMAGE: Protestors gathered at Beyers Naude Square, Johannesburg. Photo: Ruby Delahunt
IN-DEPTH REPORTING PROJECT 2025 Joburg, a world-class African city? Is Johannesburg a world-class African city? That was the provocation given to this year’s cohort for consideration and investigation. Their curiosity led them down varied paths, which revealed...
The Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) holds Wits University accountable for silence on Israeli apartheid.
The Wits PSC initiated a campaign calling out Wits’ complicity in Israeli Apartheid.
Wits University has a history of activism against injustice but remains silent to the current conflict.
The PSC accuses the university of platforming Zionism through hiring decisions and by marginalising pro-Palestinian voices.
The history of Wits University is difficult to ignore as you wander through the halls. On every step, there’s a story; on every lawn lingers cries of resistance. As a student, one can take pride in knowing that they are following a generation of activists in an institution which refused to stay silent in the face of apartheid. Today, students continue to hold power to account, yet, with a key difference – Wits University is now the institution that is being held accountable.
The Wits Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) along with their supporters have carried out protests against Israeli apartheid for years, with students gathering, holding red, white, and green flags, raising their voices, calling for Palestine’s freedom. Following South Africa’s International Court of Justice (ICJ) case against Israel, the PSC called on the institution to take a firm stand on the Genocide. Though the university called for a ceasefire in Palestine, the institutions broader inaction on the matter was the driver of a much more cutting campaign: ‘Wits’ Complicity in Israeli Apartheid.’
Collage of PSC campaign posts. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
From liberation to complicity
Affirmed by the university itself, Wits has been an ‘open university’ since its establishment. Committed to maintaining “a firm, consistent and vigorous stand against apartheid, not only in education, but in all its manifestations,” protesting avidly against the Extension of the University Education Act of 1959, which controlled the acceptance of non-white students into South African universities.
In the PSC’s letter of demands to the university, it was noted that while the university confirmed that they have not entered into any new agreements with Israeli companies in the past eight years, but, “are extremely troubled to learn that Wits remains implicit in doing business with Israeli companies, accepting donations from the Israeli embassy, and employing a former IDF officer as one of the University’s professors.”
Though the university stays silent, the PSC campaign alleges that Wits shows its complicity through key administrative decisions made.
Who speaks in our lecture halls?
Karen Milner is an associate professor of psychology at the Wits University; she is also the National Chair of the South African Jewish Board of Deputies (SAJBD).
Following South Africa’s ICJ proceedings against Israel, Milner published a letter addressed to President Cyril Ramaphosa. The letter outlines the board’s disdain with the country’s case against Israel, calling the 7 October 2023 attack, “the greatest tragedy since the Holocaust 78 years ago.”
While acknowledging the severity of 7 October 2023 attack, this concern, however, ignores the history that has led to the current genocide against Palestinians.
The PSC lay the groundwork, highlighting that Milner not only defended Israel against the ICJ and deem the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) Movement as antisemitic, but also dismissed allegations of genocide against Palestinians.
Wits Vuvuzela spoke to Milner who commented, “As an Academic I believe and advocate that institutions of higher education, and especially Wits University, need to be inclusive spaces, that foster diversity and welcome a multiplicity of views. I respect the views of students and staff with views that may differ from mine, and hope that others can do the same. My issue with the Wits PSC’s campaign is that it seeks to silence any dissenting or different opinion and is contrary to the values of our constitutional democracy and intellectual freedom.
“Shutting down and threatening Jewish voices in any environment, because they don’t adhere to a simplistic ideological stance, is deeply problematic, and antithetical to the principles of our university and our country,” she said.
In her concluding remarks, Milner expressed issue with the use of the word ‘apartheid’ in the context of Israel and Palestine, calling it “biased”.
But, for the PSC, Milner’s stance is not an academic one, but one that contravenes the Palestinian reality.
As South Africans we have the best front line to say what apartheid is and what is not apartheid. So, I completely disagree with that. I don’t think it’s a biased notion.”
Much like the pass system of apartheid South Africa, Palestinian movement in Israel has been restricted since the year 2000. According to OCHA(The United Nations Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs), Israel has imposed additional restrictions across the West Bank and East Jerusalem, with over 800 movement barriers, since October 2023. These include checkpoints and roadblocks among others.
These barriers have impacted access to healthcare and food supply among others. According to an update by OCHApublished 28 August 2025, the humanitarian crisis on the Gaza Strip and the West Bank has intensified, with increased famine, loss of life, illness, and displacement.
“So, what is that? If that’s not apartheid, not genocide, please tell me what it is,” Hussain said.
Wits Vuvuzela spoke to Irfaan Mangera, Wits alum, activist, and educator. He said, “as an alum, I feel ashamed that an institution we studied at that claimed to be progressive and justice-centric actually is the opposite, and I think more institutions need to stand up. Apartheid in South Africa didn’t end on its own.
“Institutions globally boycotting South Africa, whether it was the sports boycotts where footballers weren’t allowed to travel, academic institutions that took a principled moral stance that said we can’t be inviting academics from South Africa over if they are complicit in apartheid, and that actually applied the necessary pressure to force the white government of the time to go to the negotiating table. This is what’s required of institutions today. It needs a backbone, and it needs moral clarity on issues like this,” he said.
Opposing narratives
Though Wits has withheld its voice, actions have impact. The PSC further implicates the university in platforming Zionism through the South African Union of Jewish Students (SAUJS) propaganda and marginalising pro-Palestinian voices, with PSC events facing surveillance, censorship, and intimidation.
In response to this allegation, Jacob Boner, Wits SAUJS chairperson, said, “SAUJS operates within the guidelines of the university code of conduct at all times. Our events also often focus on being inclusive and open to all ideas and fostering constructive dialogue. PSC events, by contrast, often focus on large performative gatherings where disruption is favoured over dialogue.”
He continued, “Zionism is also a core ideology and belief for nearly all Jews and, therefore, the call that platforming Zionism on campus is problematic is a call to denounce the right of the hundreds of Jewish students who SAUJS represents to freely express themselves on campus.”
Hussain spoke to Wits Vuvuzela at a Marikana memorial on 22 August 2025, on Amic Deck, she said, “Today’s event took me three weeks to get approved, it’s not a new thing, we’ve done it previously, there’s precedence.”
“We needed an electric source. Vida wasn’t allowing us to use the electric source. Why? Did they say why? Political affiliation. That’s literally all they said.”
Wits Vuvuzela reached out to leadership but are yet to receive a response.
Silence as complicity
Wits University, west campus view of the Great Hall and Library Lawns, overlaid by the Palestinian flag and facts retrieved from OCHA. Photo: Sourced/ Wikipedia [Copyrighted free use, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=98183122]. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
The question that lingers at the steps of the Great Hall, then, is whether Wits will honour its history of resistance or let its silence mirror the volume of its part defiance. The answer to this remains to be seen, but for the PSC and their supporters, the echoes of South Africa’s history of Apartheid are heard in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. Through this we are reminded that silence is, in fact, an act of violence.
FEATURED IMAGE: Wits University, west campus view of the Great Hall and Library Lawns, overlaid by the Palestinian flag. Photo: Sourced/ Wikipedia [Copyrighted free use, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=98183122]. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
The pageantry of a National Convention is a spectacle of modern democracy. But beneath the carefully choreographed display of unity and optimism, a National Convention at its best is something far more profound. It is a stage for tough questions. But it can also be a stage for tragicomedy.
In a speech on the First Day of Convention on August 15, 2025, President Cyril Ramaphosa posed a question that left many South Africans baffled. “We need to ask ourselves why so many people live in abject poverty and so few live lives of opulence,” he said.
One would be forgiven for thinking that the President only landed in South Africa a few months ago. Perhaps it explains why the president’s response to any significant matters is to appoint a commission of inquiry. Our billionaire president is simply out of touch.
The expectation is often that when a country is in a crisis’ such as poverty and inequality, the current reality in South Africa, it is the President who is the first to act. To rise above the crisis, call for policy reform and offer practical solutions to the problem, closing the gaps, rather than asking about the symptoms of this much bigger problem.
The question is rhetorical, deflecting from his government’s role in these long standing and ongoing economic disparities which begs the question, if it is the President asking this question, then who is to answer?
For too long, the national conversation has been about symptoms and not the underlying sickness which is the corruption and mishandling of state funds by those in power and appointed by him. Therefore, it was not his place to ask this question; instead, his place is to come into the gathering with solutions.
The National Dialogue is the opportunity for the President and his cabinet to account for how it is that more that 30 years into democracy, the issue of poverty and inequality in South Africa is still front and centre in and outside of the National Dialogue spaces.
In South Africa, as of 2024 approximately 55.5% of the population lives below the National upper poverty line. This means that more than half of the population struggles to afford necessities, highlighting significant economic inequality.
Abject poverty in South Africa is a daily struggle fought in informal settlements and overcrowded townships, the family that shares a single room, children who go to bed hungry and the parents who are unemployed. It is the lack of clean water, the failing sanitation and the constant fear of crime. The numbers in this category represent much of our population.
When democracy arrived, the hope was that this system would be dismantled. While legal segregation ended, the infrastructure of inequality remains in place, a stubborn architect of our current reality. The question that remains with ordinary South Africans is why has equality not been achieved more than 30 years later?
President Ramaphosa’s question is a diagnosis of what has and continues to be the consequence of the rot that he has power over in government. To answer his own question would require a great sense of accountability for his contribution to the problem. The President posing the question without tangible solutions, inspires debate but offers little practical direction.
FEATURED IMAGE:
Zanele S. Maduma, 2025 Wits Vuvuzela Journalist. Photo: File/Paul Botes
Young South Africans consider the intersections of freedom, art, and activism as a ‘new freedom’ is envisioned.
Thirty-one years into democracy, the question of what freedom truly means remains at the heart of South Africa’s national dialogue. On Thursday, June 26, the Nelson Mandela Foundation provided a space of reflection, resistance, and reimagining as young people from across the country gathered under the theme Born Free but Still Not Bound: Redefining Freedom for South African Youth.
June, known as Youth Month, honours the historic 1976 student uprising and continues to carry the weight of memory. But as many young people shared, the legacy of freedom is still unevenly felt. South Africa remains the most unequal country in the world, with economic hardships and social instability disproportionately affecting the youth.
Quoting her father, Amahle Invelo Jaxa, a passionate social activist, said being “legally free but economically excluded is no better than being in chains”.
Photo of the Dr Naledi Pandor at the podium on Thursday, June 26, 2025. Photo: Phenyo Selinda
“Yes, we are free to speak our minds, but who listens when unemployment is almost at 45%… when 60% of them have never had a job?” She stressed that memory must be a form of resistance. “An idea, unlike walls, cannot be locked down… As young people, we cannot afford to inherit struggle passively but must repurpose it to fuel our ideas and our art.”
Attendee, Marievonne Daya added: “Freedom cannot be measured just by the fall of apartheid alone; it must be stated in every day of our lives.” She mapped out today’s youth challenges of unemployment, crime, substance abuse, and mental health, and called on her peers to carry forward the unfinished struggle of 1976 for a better standard of living.
“Apartheid is a crude, sophisticated system of social engineering,” she said, drawing a comparison to Israel’s ongoing treatment of Palestinians. “The struggle and concept of resistance were enriched through young people’s leadership,” she added, naming icons like Solomon Mahlangu, Steve Biko, and Hector Pieterson. “If we don’t think of the rhetoric of what society we are trying to form, then we are building a dangerous society.”
Programme director and advocacy coordinator at the foundation, Nomahlozi Ramhloki, closed the event with a powerful reminder, “The thing about freedom in 1994 is that the work was only beginning,” she said. It would be a betrayal if we inherited a democracy and did nothing with it.
What unfolded at the Nelson Mandela Foundation was far more than a panel discussion. It lit a spark for the collective reawakening of young South Africans to boldly imagine a future where freedom is a lived experience.
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo of the Nelson Mandela Foundation logo
The first Obiter Lounge at Wits provided a platform for debate and re-imagination of freedom.
Wits students launched the first-ever Obiter Lounge with raw, unfiltered debate on what freedom really means 31 years into democracy.
Tensions flared as students clashed over gender, power and justice proving freedom is still a battleground in South Africa.
It is a bold space for truth-telling, growth, and uncomfortable but necessary dialogue.
Marking 31 years of democracy in South Africa, the Wits Law Students Council (LSC), hosted their first Obiter Lounge at Solomon Mahlangu House on April 25, 2025, designed as a space created for unfiltered, student-led dialogue.
This is in collaboration with the Wits Moot Society, the Black Lawyers Association Student Chapter (Wits BLA-SC), and the South African Women Lawyers Association (SAWLA).
The event invited students to speak openly about the promises enshrined in South Africa’s Constitution and question whether these are reflected in the daily lives of ordinary citizens.
Lesedi Lekoto, LSC gender and transformation officer opening a new topic for discussion. Photo: Lukholo Mazibuko
Initial hesitation gave way to passionate contributions as students reflected on freedom as it relates to race, gender, class, education, and safety. Finger snaps and applause punctuated personal encounters of freedom: from political to academic, economic to social, and from safety to justice.
The turning point of the event came when controversial opinions sparked gasps, murmurs of disbelief, and passionate rebuttals, raising tensions as someone on the floor expressed that that once some black South Africans have been liberated in terms of wealth they isolate themselves from assisting those in lower positions than them, making them the most selfish out there.
This was received with backlash as others critiqued that blaming others for upward social mobility should come with the awareness that many were indoctrinated and fought for their freedom and others reminded the individual that black people must work twice as much to earn half as much and that escaping poverty is the point.
Students attentively listen in as a speaker expresses their thoughts on what freedom means to them. Photo: Lukholo Mazibuko
This conversation was exactly what Mihle Kunju, LSC Chairperson, hoped the session to spark, “The main takeaway I envisioned was the creation of tolerance for unpopular but somewhat logical views.”
He believes that it is through uncomfortable and brutal conversation that the country will realise its true purpose.
“The National Dialogue needs to be spearheaded by young people and requires an unwavering commitment to even the most radical ideals”, he said.
Third-year LLB student Mandisa Khathi captured the spirit of the evening: “It has opened my eyes to how much we can learn from one another. Spaces like this that bring people together are truly special.”
She said: “It’s refreshing to meet like-minded people who are as hopeful about the future of South Africa. Plus, it’s a great space for those who might not usually be heard to share their voices.”
The Obiter Lounge has officially set the tone for a new era of student dialogue that is raw, reflective, and urgently necessary.
FEATURED IMAGE: Students gathered in Solomon Mahlangu House for the Obiter Lounge. Photo: Lukholo Mazibuko
Thirty years after the dawn of democracy, Johannesburg remains a city of profound contradictions.
In 1994, South Africa stood at the threshold of an era that promised equality, freedom and unity under the banner of democracy. The country’s first democratic elections saw the formal dismantling of apartheid – a system of institutionalised racial segregation that had oppressed millions of people for nearly half a century. The world watched in awe as Nelson Mandela cast his vote in South Africa’s first democratic elections, a momentous symbol of the country’s transition from apartheid to democracy.
Johannesburg, a city of gold and dreams, was at the heart of this new South Africa. It was a city meant to reflect the promise of equality, opportunity and freedom for all, including those people who sought refuge in its streets. But 30 years later, Johannesburg tells a more complex story.
Although democracy may have opened its arms to political freedom, it also incubated the rise of anti-immigrant sentiments and left economic divides not only unbridged but, in some cases, exacerbated. As the wealth gap widens, many South Africans are left asking why democracy has not resulted in fair economic distribution. This has led to socioeconomic upheaval and created fertile ground for the anti-immigrant movement in the heart of Johannesburg.
A history of migration
South Africa’s history with migration, both forced and voluntary, predates the advent of democracy. Under colonialism and apartheid, the country’s economy heavily relied on migrant labour from neighbouring countries like Mozambique, Malawi and Lesotho to fuel its mines and agricultural sectors. However, the legal framework of apartheid strictly regulated the movement of black South Africans and foreign workers, maintaining rigid social hierarchies.
With the end of apartheid in 1994, South Africa became a beacon of hope for many people across the continent. Neighbouring countries, having supported the anti-apartheid struggle, anticipated that the new South Africa would lead the charge in promoting pan-African unity and open its borders to fellow Africans seeking better opportunities. Indeed, South Africa has experienced a significant influx of immigrants, particularly from neighbouring countries in southern Africa.
The new government aimed to dismantle the socioeconomic structures that had marginalised most of the population. Economic instability, political turmoil and violence in countries like Zimbabwe, Mozambique and the Democratic Republic of the Congo have driven many of their citizens to seek refuge in South Africa, with Johannesburg being a primary destination.
The post-apartheid government embraced a more open immigration policy, reflecting its commitment to human rights. However, this liberal stance has not been without friction. Jo’burg’s urban environment has seen a rise in competition for jobs, housing and services, often leading to resentment among local communities towards immigrants.
Socioeconomic factors
Johannesburg’s skyline, dotted with high-rise buildings and cranes, suggests a city of unrelenting progress. Yet, beneath this glittering façade lies one of the most unequal cities in the world. The World Bank and various studies indicate that South Africa remains a highly unequal society. A significant portion of the population was denied access to economic possibilities because of apartheid policies and South Africa began the 1990s with already high levels of inequality. The Gini coefficient, a common measure of inequality, places South Africa among the most unequal countries globally, and nowhere is this divide more palpable than in Johannesburg. Wealthy suburbs like Sandton flourish, whereas townships and informal settlements such as Alexandra languish in poverty and neglect.Economic inequality in Johannesburg is not a new phenomenon. Still, the promise of democracy – with political freedom supposed to translate into economic opportunity – has failed many people. Thirty years later, democracy has not led to the mass reduction in inequality that so many people hoped for. South Africa’s high unemployment rate, particularly among the youth, has fuelled frustrations that are often misdirected towards immigrants. Many South Africans perceive immigrants as competitors for scarce resources and jobs. This perception is exacerbated by high levels of poverty and inequality, particularly in informal settlements.
Many immigrants in Johannesburg rely on informal or small-scale businesses to earn a living, facing opportunity and vulnerability in a challenging economic climate. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
As democracy stumbled in delivering economic equality, Johannesburg also became a beacon for migrants across Africa fleeing political instability, war and economic hardship. Zimbabweans, Nigerians, Somalis and Congolese, among others, arrived in the city in search of work and safety. They brought with them their entrepreneurial spirit, opening small businesses in the informal sector and contributing to the city’s vibrant culture.
But for many native South Africans living in poverty, these migrants became convenient scapegoats. As unemployment surged to more than 30% and service-delivery failed, accusations that foreigners were “stealing jobs” or “draining public resources” took root. Anti-immigrant sentiments morphed into violent outbreaks of xenophobia, most notably in 2008 and again in 2015. Johannesburg, the city meant to embody the dreams of a democratic South Africa, became the epicentre of anti-immigrant violence.
Police officers patrolling neighbourhoods known for tensions. South African authorities play a critical role in managing tensions, with police presence aiming to prevent violence and protect communities. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
Perceptions of crime have significantly influenced anti-immigrant sentiment. A series of violent incidents involving immigrants have given rise to the stereotype that foreign nationals are responsible for crime in the city. Although studies indicate that crime is a multifaceted issue not limited to immigrant populations, these perceptions have been manipulated by politicians and media, deepening divisions.
Political rhetoric plays a crucial role in shaping public opinion on immigration. Political parties and leaders have used anti-immigrant rhetoric to galvanise support, portraying immigrants as a burden on social services and a threat to job security. This has led to waves of xenophobic violence, with Johannesburg witnessing several violent outbreaks against immigrant communities. This politicisation has further entrenched negative attitudes, undermining social cohesion.
The rise of movements like Operation Dudula – a vigilante group targeting foreign-owned businesses and calling for the mass deportation of immigrants – reflects how dangerous this scapegoating can become. Such movements frame the immigration issue in narrow, exclusionary terms, reducing it to a zero-sum game in which the presence of foreign nationals is directly correlated with the suffering of South Africans.
Politicians such as minister of sports, arts and culture Gayton McKenzie, the leader of the Patriotic Alliance, and former mayor of Johannesburg Herman Mashaba, who leads ActionSA, are among the politicians who promoted anti-immigrant rhetoric.
McKenzie has called for the enforcement of stricter immigration laws to control the influx of illegal immigrants. He believes that this would help to protect jobs for South Africans, particularly in impoverished communities. In turn, Mashaba emphasises the importance of adhering to the rule of law and has advocated for improved border security and better tracking of immigrants within the country.
Public policy specialist Dr Kagiso “TK” Pooe, says McKenzie and Mashaba have highlighted a problem that is often ignored. The South African government and some liberal-leaning publications have glossed over average South Africans discomfort with illegal migration. “What parties like Action SA, the Patriotic Alliance and the like did was address their long-ignored plea for redress on this matter,” he says.
In response to rising xenophobia, numerous civil society organisations have emerged in Johannesburg, advocating for immigrant rights and fostering dialogue between communities. Initiatives like the African Centre for Migration & Society have sought to document immigrants’ experiences and challenge negative stereotypes. These organisations play a vital role in promoting tolerance and understanding amid the ongoing challenges.
Thandi, who asked that only her first name be used, is a 28-year-old Malawian immigrant who arrived in Johannesburg two years ago, fleeing economic hardship and political instability in her home country. Lacking legal documentation, she found herself in a desperate situation, needing to support her family back home.
After weeks of searching for work, Thandi finally found a job at a local restaurant. However, the experience was far from what she had hoped. Her employer took advantage of her undocumented status, paying her significantly less than other employees and making her work long hours without breaks. “I was afraid to speak up,” Thandi recalls. “I needed the job, but I knew I was being treated unfairly.”
One day, Thandi fell ill and could not report to work. When she returned, her employer informed her that she would not be paid for the days she missed and threatened to report her to immigration authorities if she continued to cause “trouble”. Feeling powerless, she accepted the terms, enduring the harsh conditions for fear of losing her only source of income.
Thandi’s story highlights the vulnerability faced by many undocumented immigrants in Johannesburg. They often endure exploitation, fearing legal repercussions while striving for better lives. “I just wanted a chance to work and support my family,” Thandi says, emphasising the harsh reality of seeking opportunities in a challenging environment.
Democracy, capitalism and the divided city
Immigration to South Africa has been growing, with significant numbers of migrants moving for employment and education. However, there was a decline in migration during the covid-19 pandemic.
Anti-immigrant sentiment in Johannesburg is not only a fringe phenomenon: it has found resonance in political movements and everyday conversation.
One man, who prefers to remain anonymous, speaks honestly about his frustrations. “These foreigners come here and take what’s ours,” he says. “We don’t have enough jobs, houses or food, but they seem to have their own businesses and drive cars. Why should they get what we don’t have? This is our country.”
So, where does the blame lie? Has democracy failed Johannesburg, or has the city’s experiment with capitalism exacerbated the divide? The Human Sciences Research Council’s South African Social Attitudes survey found that only 48% South Africans were happy with democracy. Pooe believes there is a declining satisfaction with liberal democracy.
According to political analyst Dr Thandeka Dlamini, the blame should be shared. “Democracy in South Africa is a political achievement, but without economic transformation, it was never going to be enough,” she says. “The country has followed a neoliberal economic model that prioritises markets and profits, often at the expense of addressing deep-rooted inequalities. Democracy promised the people freedom, but it allowed capitalism to run rampant. The result is a divided society where the elite – both black and white – prosper, while the rest fight over scraps.”
Her words are echoed by migrant advocate and activist Musa Nkosi, who points out the irony in South Africa’s xenophobia. “Johannesburg was built on the backs of migrant labour – first from the rural parts of South Africa, and later from all over Africa,” Nkosi says. “To say that migrants are now the problem is not only false, but deeply hypocritical. The problem is the system that has failed to provide for everyone.”
A fresh wave of xenophobic tension now threatens to tear apart the fragile social fabric of South Africa’s largest city. Recently, in Soweto’s Naledi township, a tragic incident underscored how deeply these divides run. Five children, aged between 6 and 7, lost their lives after allegedly consuming snacks purchased from a local spaza shop. As news spread that the shop was operated by foreign nationals, rage and grief morphed into violence, reigniting simmering anti-immigrant sentiments.
“We’ve been complaining for a long time about the conditions in these shops,” says Zandile Tshabalala, a Naledi resident. “But no one listens. Now, children are dead. These foreign shops come here, sell us expired goods, and no one cares until something like this happens.”
For many people, the presence of foreign-owned spaza shops is symbolic of their broader economic exclusion. Many South Africans feel that migrants have cornered the informal retail market, while locals struggle to find jobs or open their own businesses. The economic frustration, coupled with poor regulation and governance, has turned foreign nationals into easy targets for displaced anger.
Amid the escalating crisis, the South African department of labour has weighed in, taking a balanced stance. The department has expressed concerns over the conditions in which many spaza shops operate, calling for stricter compliance with labour and health regulations. However, it has also emphasised that the violence and destruction of foreign-owned businesses are unlawful and counterproductive.
The tragedy in Naledi is a stark reminder of the fragile state of democracy in Johannesburg. Although the city has politically transformed over the past 30 years, it remains economically divided. Democracy in Johannesburg has undeniably brought political freedom, but it has failed to dismantle the economic disparities that plague its residents. The rise of anti-immigrant sentiments is an unfortunate byproduct of this failure, with migrants often bearing the brunt of frustration in a system that seems rigged against the poor.
FEATURE IMAGE: Immigrants residing in the informal settlement of Hillbrow gathered together. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
A national dialogue on stabilising coalitions in our democracy was held to find common ground; but was overwhelmingly met with disagreements, walkouts, and boycotts.
Picture this – it is 2026 and South Africa is on its tenth democratic president. Public confidence in the government is at an all-time low shown by well over half of eligible voters not turning out to vote.
Power and water cuts are frequent, wastewater treatment plants are spilling raw sewage into rivers and unemployment, inequality and poverty levels remain on an upward trajectory. Yet, no administration has enough power to implement policy or provide service delivery because another motion of no confidence is around the corner, threatening their tenuous positions in key national departments.
This hypothetical becomes a reality if coalitions at a provincial and national level operate similarly to coalitions in the country’s wealthiest city, Johannesburg.
Since the 2021 local government elections, Johannesburg has seen a revolving door of executives – five administrations in two years. Three of the five have seen partnerships with the African National Congress (ANC), Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) and other ideologically aligned parties. The other two seeing coalitions with the likes of the Democratic Alliance (DA), ActionSA, the Inkhata Freedom Party (IFP) and other largely anti-ANC and EFF parties.
This is why a dialogue on developing a framework for stabilising coalitions was hosted by Deputy President Paul Mashatile for political parties on August 4 to 5. However, it caused more friction than consensus – with an expert suggesting that a national referendum is needed for people to democratically decide how coalitions function before next year’s election.
Referendums are nothing new to our country in formulating a working democracy, as evidenced by the one in 1992, when (only) white voters indicated whether they supported the negotiations with newly unbanned political organisations, leading to the proposed end of the apartheid system.
In his analysis of the event hosted at the University of the Western Cape, a senior lecturer of political science and governance at Wits University, Dr. Kagiso Pooe, said that the dialogue did not provide a solid framework for stable coalition governments because “power politics was the main game.”
Quelling the chaos
In May 2023, a conceptual document was created by the Institute of Elections Management Services South Africa (IEMSA). The document identified the dysfunctionality of local government because of coalitions and provided suggestions to stabilise these marriages of convenience to best serve residents rather than party interests.
Instability at the local government level has “resulted in diminishing public confidence, poorer service delivery and allegedly millions of rands squandered.” as said by the author of the document Nkululeko Tselane.
However, coalitions are here to stay. The 2016 and 2021 election results in major municipalities showed no political party emerging with an outright majority. Something the ruling party is alive to, ANC secretary general Fikile Mbalula admitted: “We are fully confident that 2024 will result in not us or anyone having the outright majority to govern.”
The DA, ActionSA, IFP, Vryheidsfront Plus (VF+) and three other ideologically aligned parties have already signed a pre-election coalition pact with one another, in anticipation of this reality.
Infographic: These are the 2021 municipal results in metropoles of Gauteng, with no outright winner, each municipality was forced into unstable ‘marriages of convenience’ to achieve a 50% + 1 to form a government. Graphic: Seth Thorne
Blame game ensues
Although the consensus from parties was that they believed that the issues of coalitions stemmed from their formation, those hoping for an agreement on the way forward were left bitterly disappointed. This is because political party leaders sought to shift the blame of instability from themselves, rather than meet each other in the middle.
As has been the case at the municipal level, larger parties blamed smaller parties for the instability, and smaller parties pointed the finger right back.
The “[root of the issue is] not about the formation of coalitions, but the reality that politics in South Africa is failing and cooperation is going to be needed,” argued Pooe.
Thresholds and boycotts
The EFF boycotted the initial dialogue citing the “ANC’s involvement in the formulation of the framework… [is an] attempt to protect their fading grasp on power.”
The two current largest parties, the ANC and the DA, are suggesting implementing legislation which would ensure that the party that receives the most votes within a bloc governs the coalition. They also argue that should be a minimum threshold for parties to join any coalition (1%).
Pooe said this is an example of power politics on full display, and “gives insight into the fractured nature of power politics in South Africa, the ANC and DA in one corner and other smaller ones [in the other].”
Parties such as the VF+, Good, the African Christian Democratic Party (ACDP) and the United Democratic Movement (UDM) are strongly opposed to these legislative suggestions. Dr Pieter Groenewald of the VF+ said that these suggestions were “not based on true representative democracy.”
Pooe expected opposition given much of the country’s link to kingmaker politics at the local government level – which is a system where smaller parties generally decide the fate of larger parties. “[The opposition to the threshold] only makes sense [because] parties like them and others would want to negotiate what the new rules of the game might look like.”
It is important to note that these suggestions could inhibit the growth of other parties and arguably prove hypocritical from some of the contributors. “It’s rather odd that had… this proposed action occurred in 1994, there would be no DA today,” said Pooe.
The horse has bolted
Backlash arose when Cooperative Governance minister Parks Tau revealed that a bill on coalition governments was already in the process of being developed and is expected to be finished by the end of the year. Pooe believes that this lies at the heart of the problem.
Some parties are accusing the ANC and DA of sidelining contributions from smaller parties and using these dialogues as a coverup of a preexisting deal between the two largest parties in the country.
However, both parties refute this. Mashatile criticised the accusations from opposition parties arguing that “inputs saying that the ANC and DA have a grand deal… there is no deal.” Meanwhile, DA leader John Steenhuisen responded on social media saying “[The DA] want to build an opposition majority that will unseat the ANC, not keep (them) in power.”
In an open letter to Mashatile, UDM leader Bantu Holomisa slammed both the bill and dialogue: “… it is safe to assume that the Bill has, firstly, already taken into account the ANC’s basic ideas and secondly, it does not take into account the majority of opposition parties’ views on most issues, for example on the issue of thresholds.”
A way forward
Pooe believes a referendum is the only way forward. “We have had a multiparty approach, and to change the game so drastically needs a referendum. This referendum should speak to things like thresholds,” he said.
“Unfortunately, the ANC in government has a history of feigning public participation and then simply ramming through policy positions… and given the ANC and DA seem to have a spotted a chance to resolve their failures to map actual coalition talks, it only makes sense for them to create new barriers to entry,” Pooe added.
Coalitions are seemingly here to stay and legislation would shift how our democracy currently operates. With no real consensus amongst parties as to the way forward, maybe it is best for us, the everyday citizen that feel the negative effects of bad coalition deals, to be as decisive as possible at the polls come 2024 to decide how our democracy should operate and function going forward.
Summary of the views of each of the parties represented. Graphic: Seth Thorne
FEATURED: IEC officials alongside political party representatives counting the secret ballot votes at the Joburg City Council on May 5, 2023, electing its 5th mayor in two years. Photo: Seth Thorne
Students weighed in on whether the ANC will remain relevant in a South Africa that is getting increasingly younger, report by Ayanda Mgwenya and Morongoa Masebe.
Twenty-nine years on, young people feel alienated from the ruling party and think it’s time for change. This was the overwhelming sentiment at a dialogue hosted by Wits University’s Amnesty Society.
The privilege walk
The event hosted as part of Freedom Month celebrations saw the Wits outdoor ampitheatre transformed into a stage on which student’s varying levels of privilege was put to the test.
All attendees were instructed to stand in a horizontal line and asked a series of questions pertaining their geographical background, parental presence, financial status, race and more.
The attendees were asked questions about their experiences with skipping meals, worrying about school fees, and being the first in their family to graduate. Depending on these answers, students had to step forwards or backwards.
Mthobisi Thwala, Wits student said, “I thought more people would be in the frontline just like me, but this exercise has made me aware of the existence of dynamics around different geographical backgrounds.”
While performative, the exercise drives home the point about the very real implications of living in one of the most unequal countries in the world.
Attendees of the community dialogue responding to the ‘privilege walk’ questions asked by the Wits Amnesty Society Chairperson Photo: Morongoa Masebe
The dialogue session
The second part of the evening opened a dialogue with attendees. Deputy chairperson of Wits Amnesty, Florentine Vangu asked “Twenty- nine years on, should Nelson Mandela’s legacy be celebrated for the democratic and human rights change it brought to South Africa or should it be criticized for focusing too much on peace and reconciliation and not enough on addressing the historical impact of apartheid on the socio- economic status and problems still faced by black, coloured and Indian people today?”
Responses were mixed but most attendees expressed dissatisfaction over what they called the “negotiated settlement” and the lingering legacy of Apartheid in their everyday lives.
UNICEF chairperson of the Wits branch, Siphesihle Mkhwanazi told Wits Vuvuzela that youth-led conversations like this need to be “broadcast nationally because [citizens of South Africa] have to have uncomfortable conversations in order to have a feasible future”.
When Vungu asked, “to what extent do you agree or disagree that the ANC is no longer relatable to the everyday black South African”? Most of the students who responded, agreed with the statement.
Wits SRC Compliance Officer, Karabo Matloga was in awe of the discussion because he admires the gathering of active young people who “shape discussions and the narratives to change the state of the economy [in South Africa]”. The hope is that more engagements like this will take place ahead of the 2024 nation election.
FEATURED IMAGE: Attendees seated during the community dialogue. Photo: Ayanda Mgwenya
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