The Obama-Mandela Conundrum
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31 March 2009: The Obama-Mandela Conundrum
America, this is your Mandela Moment! In the days following Barack Obama’s inauguration as President of the United States, South African media repeated the refrain with both reverie and muted remorse. The revelry described in news articles invariably spurred comparisons to South Africa’s own political scene, and its potential to foster a candidate who appeared the embodiment of hope and change.
At first, the symbolic links between the young president and the elder statesman – leaders of countries once epitomized by racial segregation – offered low-hanging fruit to those of us eager to feast on the euphoria of the moment. Yet as South Africa prepares for elections next month, its Obama infatuation stands tempered by a sense among many that its own Mandela Moment has come and gone. And, fifteen years later, precious few have enjoyed the spoils of democracy.
There is, accordingly, a somewhat bittersweet irony to the ANC’s latest rallying cry – “Njengo Barack Obama owaleth’ ushintsho e-America, votelani i-ANC kube nokuthula e-Africa” (Just as Barack Obama brought change to America, vote ANC so there will be peace in Africa).
On the surface it works. With its “second-coming of Madiba” symbolism, the Obama brand enables its bearer to proclaim South Africa’s once and future hope - reminding voters that the world first celebrated their own transcendent leader, and promising further glory to come. Yet while tapping the emotional high that gripped much of the world from November to January, the comparison acts as a double-edged sword of sorts. For invariably it highlights a series of familiar, yet discomfiting, discrepancies between the nation’s past hopes and present realities.
It is no great revelation that apartheid left in its wake socio-economic disparities that stand firm today. The nation’s economy has grown exponentially since 1994 and, as South Africa prepares to host the World Cup, the half-constructed stadiums rising over its roadsides seemingly forecast its emergence on the world stage. Yet one need not cite the nation’s unacceptably high unemployment rate – or await civil society critiques of its service delivery record – to recognize that the audacity of hope remains illusory for many. A glimpse of just one informal settlement should suffice.
None of this is news. Yet viewed through the Obama – or rather Obama-Mandela – prism, those contrasts and contradictions appear sharper, more brazen. It is not simply, or reductively, that poverty persists in the new South Africa. Rather, the additional rancour and fractiousness that has pervaded the nation’s political discourse seems to defy symbolic allusions to unity, and the figures that embody them.
Few can contest that last May’s xenophobic violence ran roughshod over the inclusive spirit of a Rainbow Nation. The confluence of conflicts within government’s own institutions further spurns the promise of hope and unity.
In the last half-year, one embattled president “resigned”, while a prospective one (by all predictions) faced corruption charges from the National Prosecuting Authority over which he may soon preside. A National Director of Public Prosecutions stands sacked, a National Commissioner of Police stands suspended – and the bodies they directed mired in alleged conflict over the dissolution of the Scorpions and criminal case against Jackie Selebi. Even the judiciary fails to escape unscathed; the ongoing legal battle between the Constitutional Court and Cape Judge President John Hlophe has seen to that.
All this before one considers the partisan sabre rattling that accompanies election seasons, and the intrigue of a new political party born of disaffected ANC members. Real or imagined, the fault lines have become so numerous, and pronounced, that symbols of unity may fall between their cracks.
Jody Kollapen, Chairperson of the South African Human Rights Commission, recently gave voice to these contradictions. “We’re just South Africans sprouting out words of hatred towards each other,” he was quoted as saying at the Commission’s annual human rights conference. “I think we’ve probably taken too seriously the fact that we’re this wonderful rainbow nation, a miracle nation, we’re not, we’re an ordinary country.”
This is not to scorn the invocation of Obama-Mandela imagery. While the allusions reveal their own limitations, one can hardly fault parties for striving to claim the mantle of hope and change as April 22 approaches. If the nation could experience such excitement over a U.S. election, why not seek to replicate that engagement for its own election? And if striking the Obama chord imbues a campaign with a newfound organisational zeal that fosters a more active base, it is hard to argue against it.
Except, the pursuit proves precarious and perhaps the lesson is to tread carefully in embracing iconic “moments” that, safely frozen in time, have a way of accentuating the present’s imperfections. Cope may have learned the hard way. The insurgent party capitalised on the resonance of the Obama moment, employing online outreach and change rhetoric to catapult itself into the (inter)national spotlight. Perhaps a prisoner of the very image it burnished, the party now fights to regain momentum – its ascendance stalled by divisions over who would lead the party, a sluggish ground campaign, and a candidate list with a few blemishes of its own. The party is hardly alone in its dilemma; the ANC may invoke Obama in song yet is unlikely keen to compare iconic reprints of the U.S. president’s visage with the showerhead caricatures of its own leader.
In the end, channeling Obama to recreate a Mandela Moment makes good political theater, and may serve some utility. Yet, with the same broad stroke with which it inspires, it highlights the disparities and contradictions that still beset the nation, and remain daunting enough to remedy on their own terms.
How then to “find” South Africa’s Obama and replicate that elusive moment? Maybe one must rethink the question itself. Moments come and go, even if their images linger in the nation’s memory. Tomorrow may see a new transcendent figure capture the country’s imagination, and perhaps it is our responsibility to now ensure that a generation of leaders-in-waiting finds space to break through the bonds of party patronage and make a lasting imprint on the political scene.
This entails more than an “every fifth year” endeavor. Though iconized in the media as their “moment” approaches, such leaders do not simply materialize on the eve of elections. In the interim, we must actively support the development of young voices less rigidly beholden to party loyalty, and create avenues for them to change, rather than conform to, the political landscape and parties of their choosing.
Their emergence will not eliminate the disparity between hope and reality, but may newly challenge its existence as status quo. Obama, Mandela, South Africa’s next transcendent leader; they all faced or will face realities that test the endurance of their moment. The innovation with which they endure will distinguish the promise of change, from change the nation can believe in – and help bring about.
Chartey Quarcoo is a research volunteer in the Corruption and Governance Programme, ISS Cape Town and a Harvard University Sheldon Fellow
