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CAIPHUS KGOSANA | Is SA a failed state? It depends on how you look at it

We might not tick all the failed state boxes, but we’re not exactly flourishing

Transport minister Fikile Mbalula has been around the block. He's been ANCYL president, sports minister and minster.
Transport minister Fikile Mbalula has been around the block. He's been ANCYL president, sports minister and minster. (Freddy Mavunda)

A lot is being said and written on whether we are a failed state. There seems to be major disagreement among different observers on the subject. Of the academic references I consulted, Britannica.com perhaps provides the best definition of a failed state, which I’ll juxtapose with present-day SA.

“A failed state is a state that is unable to perform the two fundamental functions of the sovereign nation-state in the modern world system: it cannot project authority over its territory and peoples, and it cannot protect its national boundaries.”

SA has solid authority over its territory and the people within its boundaries, and is capable thus far of protecting those national boundaries against external threats. Given the relative strength of our army, also the next-to-zero possibility of any African country dreaming of invading us, we can safely conclude SA scores well here. But we battle to control movement in and out; our physical borders are porous and illegal economic migrants from neighbouring states come and go as they please.

Britannica further defines a failed state as one that is unable to fulfil the administrative and organisational tasks required to control people and resources.

On this score our performance is a mixed bag of success and frustration. We have a civil service — from national to municipal — which reaches every corner of the country. You can be in Mbizana or Donkerhoek; somewhere nearby there’s an administrative office meant to service your community, a police station, or something of the sort. But the people who staff those bureaucratic offices are often uncaring, unwilling, lazy or not competent enough at the organisational tasks meant to make government work for you.

A failed state, the definition continues, is one where citizens no longer believe their government is legitimate, and the state becomes illegitimate in the eyes of the international community.

While President Cyril Ramaphosa can claim to lead a functioning executive; the actions of some of his senior ministers point to the contrary.

The apartheid state was rightly considered illegitimate by the majority of the people of this country and a large section of the international community. When the ANC came to power it did so on the back of huge legitimacy at home and internationally. Mandela could bring a flurry of investment here with just one call. However, the governing party has squandered most of that goodwill with its shoddy performance in power characterised by mismanagement, greed, factionalism and weak leadership. It is becoming illegitimate in the eyes of many, here at home and internationally. From dizzying heights of an almost 70% majority in 2004, it would be a miracle if it attained more than 50% at the next national elections.

As a state fails, its institutions also fail.

“The executive barely functions, while the legislature, judiciary, bureaucracy and armed forces have lost their capacity and professional independence,” Britannica further explains the traits of failed states.

President Cyril Ramaphosa claims to lead a functioning executive; the actions of some of his senior ministers point to the contrary. Bheki Cele has no idea how to politically manage a police service and crudely uses people’s misfortunes at the hands of criminals as a sickening photo op. Fikile Mbalula spends his time posting gobbledegook on social media instead of attending to our public transport needs. In fact, the Sunday Times’ lead story about how Intercape long-distance buses, its drivers and passengers are caught in a horror crossfire as armed minibus taxi thugs hijack routes, is a sad example of the failure of these two ministers to secure a service that has served South Africans for decades. Taxi bosses are aware that in a failed state there are no consequences for criminal action, hence they murder, maim and bully with impunity.

Our legislature, though dominated by a single party, still passes laws that affect our lives. But its legitimacy is eroded by theatrics that play out in the National Assembly whenever there’s an important gathering such as the state of the nation address or the president taking questions from MPs.

The judiciary — alongside our media and civil society — was a bulwark against state capture. It’s no surprise black judges are finding themselves at the end of vitriolic attacks by desperate politicians trying to hog the limelight. Frustrated at failure to capture the judiciary, they choose to insult it instead.

Our armed forces might be starved of adequate operational budgets and forced to use ageing equipment, but their legitimacy is not in question. We don’t live in fear of a powerful political warlord able to command a coup at the snap of a finger. We must remain grateful for that.

Britannica goes to describe a failing state as a place “suffering from crumbling infrastructure, faltering utility supplies and educational and health facilities, and deteriorating basic human-development indicators such as infant mortality and literacy rates. Failed states create an environment of flourishing corruption and negative growth rates, where honest economic activity cannot flourish.”

On the above score we are guilty as charged. All our development indices are pointing downwards. Unemployment remains high, hitting especially hard the portion of the population that should be economically active. Our growth rate is negative, corruption is high and honest economic activity struggles to flourish.

So are we a failed state? you may ask. I don’t know; you be the judge.

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