On the 15th of September 2023, countries all over the world celebrated the International Day of Democracy. A day that calls for deep and honest reflection on what democracy has come to mean, this includes looking at the failures and imposition of this approach to governance. With this year being a big year for democracy in Africa mainly because over a dozen African countries are set to hold elections, this reflection is needed.
The idea of having a voice in one’s country is very empowering. Especially for a continent like ours where so often than not, this voice has been stripped away – no voice, no autonomy, no say. The narrative around the history of African countries has shown the complex and dynamic nature of the political space. A terrain that is ever-changing and evolving. With this being said, I found myself asking why we are still committed to democracy, or rather why we should be.
Democracy for many was like the first breath after years of suffocation, the first sign of freedom and liberation after centuries of colonisation and oppression. So many people were given a voice after years of being silenced by systems that refused to afford them recognition. One of the first ever images I linked to the idea of democracy is that of black/African people lining up for the first time to vote in a newly democratic and independent South Africa. An image that showed millions of people, young and old, standing up to exercise a right they so valiantly fought for. This was the first sign of positive change and transformation but, fortunately, it was short-lived.
Given the complex nature of Africa’s past that reflects the struggle and fight for inclusivity and recognition, one would ask themselves what went wrong, and why are so many of us indifferent to the idea of democracy? It may be because of its evident failures in the context of African countries, and maybe it is time to confront the reality that democracy was never really ours to own, to claim and incorporate into our narrative.
Democracy, at least the Western conceptualisation of it, is clearly failing. This failure has nothing to do with the capability of African countries to build strong institutions, we have seen them do that in the past. The main problem is the imposition of this Western modern democracy on traditional African societies. An imposition that was sold as the only and best approach to governance for many African countries post-independence.
Western democracy is an approach to governance that continues to fail in Africa as a result of what can be considered a cultural and historical mismatch that manifests itself in the marred nature of the electoral systems, the lack of accountability, the corruption, the continued lack of accountability, the lack of or decreasing confidence in the leaders, the failures to govern the people, and the lack of transparency when it comes to the decision-making process which all erode enthusiasm to participate in democratic processes that were ones so closely treasured by a nation. This mismatch is shown also in the fact that there are only eight countries in Africa classified as democracies, seven of which are considered to be flawed democracies. Mauritius is the only fully democratic state, while Botswana, Cabo Verde, Lesotho, South Africa, Namibia, Ghana, and Lesotho are flawed democratic states. The rest fall under hybrid regimes and authoritarian states. Is this not a sign to reconsider our approaches to governance, and find an approach that is “for African people, by African people”? We need an approach that is specific and particular to us.
Democracy has failed to meet our people where they are, and this has led to increasing levels of cynicism, especially among younger people. Although we know that young people are an intrinsic part of electoral mobilisation in many African countries, young people have taken a step back from exercising their "democratic" right and social responsibility to vote or take part in political participation in any way, shape or form. Looking at where most of the countries are, with different social issues, the inequality, poverty and lack of substantial development justify the decreasing levels of hope, year after year, it is fair to say that people are disappointed and feel betrayed by a system that was put in place to govern for them and benefit the people. We have young people living in a country that fails to give them the opportunity to make a living; young, capable people are sitting at home with their degrees. It is a tall order to expect them to stand up and take part in elections that have resulted in the same outcomes and the same issues. We are living in a place where the ground can collapse and explode at any minute, literally. Instability and uncertainty are our reality. These feelings and experiences have led to what can be considered detachment as a form of a coping mechanism, an approach that allows us to expect the worst outcomes so that we are not heartbroken all over again.
I want us to understand this phenomenon through the lens of philosopher Peter Sloterdijk. He aims to understand why different social and political movements tend to fail and the atmosphere of pessimism and disappointment that comes with this failure. Why do utopian projects fall short? Similar to that of South Africa’s democracy and the idea of a rainbow nation, a utopia that was never reached. He further aims to look at why true freedom and liberation are often unattainable for most.
During the first democratic elections, people were excited, anticipating the changes and the attainment of a dream that could turn into a reality, a utopia for people who went through hell. Twenty-nine years later, 29 years into our democracy, years of disappointment in the government have resulted in South Africans sliding into a state of cynical consciousness. So many of us have chosen to simply not partake in the elections and remove ourselves completely from all things politics. This adoption of a cynical consciousness is a defence mechanism to protect ourselves from any future disappointment.
I’m arguing that young people hold cynical consciousness and the unconsolable belief that the poor state of our country is just the way things will always be. We are aware of our right and responsibility to vote, and the power that comes with that single vote, but we are still cynical.
Cynicism assumes the worst in order to be a step ahead. There is a false sense of security and superiority in cynicism because we believe that we cannot be fooled or deceived. After 29 years of policies and manifestos that sound great on paper, young people in South Africa have become jaded. A recent example is the jokes that came out during the water shortages or loadshedding. This cynicism is enlightened false consciousness that does not take us anywhere, instead it is a kind of resignation to our current circumstances.
We are thirsty for change, but the various issues found within governance and the political space have been disheartening. We need to find a way of shifting from this cynicism to a more enlightened consciousness that leads to effective change. We need to reflect more on what democracy has come to mean for so many of us, to have open conversations about the disconnect in our stories, our experiences and this approach to governance that continues to be merely an idea for the current generation, something that has never been successfully implemented. Maybe, if more people come to the fore of political participation and mobilization, actual change will take place, Utopia will be reached, and freedom will be realised. Until then, there is little hope for significant change through the upcoming national elections.