As South Africa prepares to host the G20 Summit in Johannesburg, we are once again witnessing a disturbing trend that has become all too familiar in both government and daily life: the culture of cleaning up only for guests.
It’s a pattern rooted not in genuine care for public spaces or long-term well-being, but in image management and surface-level fixes designed to impress outsiders.
From the gleaming streets around Nasrec Expo Centre to the sudden “repair blitz” of potholes, streetlights and traffic signals, the urgency is undeniable. But what about the underlying truth behind this sudden flurry of activity?
In reality, this behaviour isn’t unique to government administrations, but is a broader symptom of a culture that prioritises perception over substance. We see it in workplaces, homes and even in the governance of our cities: a frantic scramble to appear organised and spotless right before visitors arrive, then a rapid retreat into neglect and disorder once the pressure has passed.
This is not just a matter of aesthetics; it speaks to a larger issue of long-term neglect, burnout and missed opportunities for meaningful change.
The harsh truth is this is a far too common pattern: repairs happen only when there’s a perceived external benefit. When global delegates arrive, the system works. When they leave, the potholes return, the lights dim again, and the chronic service delivery issues resume.
This pattern of last-minute “clean-up” creates an environment that breeds resentment among residents and workers. Why? Because it implies that their everyday quality of life isn’t worth the same attention, effort and resources.
The residents of Johannesburg know the truth, infrastructure delays are not due to lack of resources, but because the political will is frequently absent. Potholes are left to grow deep, streetlights burn out and go unfixed for months, and water and electricity outages drag on endlessly.
But, when the G20 comes to town, the government pulls out all the stops, as if to say, “See, we can do it, we just don’t prioritise it for you.”
The cynicism and distrust is based on history, on poor reputation. We hope mayor Dada Morero will surprise us by keeping the momentum until his term runs out. But we are not holding our breath. We have seen this movie before.
For instance, Gauteng premier Panyaza Lesufi and minister Ronald Lamola argue that events like the G20 act as catalysts for lasting improvement, claiming that the improvements we are seeing are not merely for show. But why does it take an international summit to “kickstart” service delivery? Why does the city and province have to wait for the world to descend before it takes meaningful action on infrastructure?
Residents of Johannesburg have been waiting for years — some even decades — for these same issues to be addressed with true, sustainable solutions.
To be fair, though, no-one can tell today if the clean-up momentum will die down shortly after the G20. The cynicism and distrust is based on history, on poor reputation. We hope mayor Dada Morero will surprise us by keeping the momentum until his term runs out. But we are not holding our breath. We have seen this movie before.
This approach fosters resentment, encourages complacency and ultimately fails the people who are expected to live in the aftermath of these fleeting moments of cleanliness. It also invites burnout; the regular residents and workers become disillusioned with the constant cycle of temporary fixes and last-minute scrambles. Instead of addressing problems head-on and building systems that consistently deliver, we’re left with a culture that only cleans when there’s an audience.
What’s needed is not another “G20 clean-up” or a new round of cosmetic fixes, but a shift in the mindset that values long-term, sustainable solutions over short-term appearances. Cleanliness and infrastructure maintenance should be driven by the needs of the everyday person, even if occasionally we clean up to create the right impressions about ourselves.
True improvement happens when we stop focusing on how we appear in the eyes of others and start addressing what’s actually needed at home — in our cities, our workplaces and our daily lives. Only then will we begin to break free of the toxic clean-up culture that has plagued us for so long.
Until then, the cycle will repeat itself. We’ll clean up when the guests arrive, only to let things slip back into disrepair when they leave. That’s no way to run a city. That’s no way to live.
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