This is the fifth in a series of columns on “What 10 words best describe our South Africa?” Today’s word is VOICE. Read the first four parts of the series here, here, here and here.

Back in 1952 the Kliptown protesters sang Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika, while at Voortrekkerhoogte the faithful sang Die Stem, their voices raised to the sky, deaf to one another. Thus was apartheid in its effort to stifle voice and dissent.

There we were this Easter Saturday in the Toringkerk, Paarl, transfixed by the Cape Opera and Cape Philharmonic’s rendition of Mozart’s Requiem, that most beautiful opus. The soloists, two men and two women, people of colour, in perfect harmony, a beauty to behold and hear. A mixed choir, and somewhat mixed orchestra, all professionals. The audience predominantly white, but so it goes. That’s the legacy of cultural and spatial apartheid for you.

Out at Moria in Limpopo it was a different shade of dark as the Zion Christian Church gave expression to African Christianity. Sympathies for the worshippers and families who lost lives en route to that gathering.

When it comes to music and song we do voice with power and grace. Our singers and musicians stride the world. Church and school choirs are found across the land. They are organised, brilliant and inspiring.

When it comes to listening, however, it is less grace, more disgrace. Out in QwaQwa, Andries Tatane raised his fist in protest. The response was a plastic-coated steel ball fired into his chest at close range that stopped his heart dead. Raise your fist to the sky, goodbye.

Giving voice, and being heard, this goes to the heart of nation-building and the redress project.

And in the grim 1980s, chant we did against the tri-cameral hegemon. Snippets from Pink Floyd’s The Wall were bellowed along Belgravia Road, Athlone. This was voice in action. Graffiti expressing contempt for the state machine served as the medium of record. Remember the slogan “the purple shall govern” that graced a wall in Orange Street, Cape Town? Voices of the United Democratic Front ridiculed PW Botha’s securocrats.

In the 1970s, economist Albert Hirschman criss-crossed Latin America trying to understand the failure of development projects. What was it that led to such colossal waste of resources, he pondered? Hirschman presented his conclusions in a seminal book titled Exit, Voice, and Loyalty, a primer for those who engage in politicking.

He identified exit, voice and loyalty as responses to perceived organisational or institutional failure. His analysis was informed by psychology, not econometrics. He was father to behavioural economics, ahead of psychologist Daniel Kahneman, who died in March 2024 and who gained the 1992 Nobel prize for his work on irrational decision-making. Exit homo economicus.

Exit involves rational choice in opting for another supplier, leaving an organisation or even emigrating. It applies to rejecting a brand, avoiding a grim eatery or withdrawal. Voice (refer Tatane) is to approach elected officials, or a boss, using persuasion, advocating reform, or even protest to bring about change.

When all else fails, there may be a resort to violence and consequential irrationality. The scorched roads outside informal settlements and apartheid-era townships are testament to being unheard. “They only listen when we block the N2, so vokof, julle.” The highway is blocked, voice notes on talk radio advise motorists to use alternative routes; the police maintain watchful waiting. Come nightfall the protests subside. Point made; perhaps a repeat in the morning. Sigh.

In the ideal case, voice and exit are in balance and constructive dialogue and change emerge. Loyalty is the glue that holds things together, even where this involves staying in an abusive relationship. The fact that so many remain supporters of the ruling party despite electricity blackouts, dry taps and the generally lacklustre performance of local government describes loyalty to perfection.

There is voice and voice. What shall one make of the voices cheering the convicted Tony Yengeni and Allan Boesak as they surrendered to prison? Was this an expression of voice, or exit? On reflection, exit, a rejection of the rule of law. Naked buttocks exposed to party leadership; another form of exit, this time by the ANC Youth League. Rejection of parliamentary debate in favour of abuse from the Economic Freedom Fighters. Voice? Exit? No, loyalty.

Some may remember the Saatchi & Saatchi poster of a snakelike queue of apparently unemployed Britons standing under the strapline “Labour isn’t working”. That masterpiece was credited as pivotal to Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative Party victory of 1979.

Imagine the power of that strapline in our context, assuming that Saatchi did not obtain an interdict to prevent its use or adaptation. “ANC isn’t working.” What a chant that would be. 

Commentators are tempted to make comparisons of the times before democracy and now, as the epoch of “khakistocracy” elided into that of today’s kakistocracy. That is somewhat glib, as the “khakistocrats” did not serve all the people, and truth be told, the apartheid hegemon was not all that efficient.

Hirschman’s analysis suggests that mitigating violent protest calls for the restoration of trust in institutions that are legitimate not because of kinship ties, but because officialdom actually delivers. And building trust requires open and accurate communication.

The ancestors may gasp, but Jacob Zuma (and Bheki Cele) tell it like it is. They may need the occasional spin artists – remember that a swimming pool is a fire pool; remember that crude oil must be sold when it is “old”; remember that Koeberg’s 2007 failure was due to a stray bolt. Shoot first; ask questions later. Gottit, yes.

What level of trust prevails? Afrobarometer reports a steady decline in levels of trust with 26% of respondents stating that they trust the police “somewhat/a lot”, down from 48% in 2003. As to trust in the president, this has slumped from 70% to 38%. We are a low-trust society stumbling towards an election in which criminals and gangsters vie for public office.

Our democracy allows citizens to give expression, or voice if you like, by silently marking their X on a ballot paper in the privacy of a cardboard booth. Oft-maligned Winston Churchill remarked that “democracy is the worst form of government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time…”.

So here we are, as in 1994, silently giving voice through a flawed, but lively democracy. DM