Bifurcated political systems

ANTHONY BUTLER: Does Mamdani have what it takes to deliver change in New York?

First published in Business Day

November 07, 2025

New York City mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani holds a press conference at the Unisphere in the Queens borough of New York City, US, in this November 5 2025 file photo. (Kylie Cooper)

Right-wing curmudgeons around the world are eagerly anticipating New York mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani’s forthcoming collision with reality. They are certain there is no way a 34-year-old political novice can transition from fronting a campaign to running a huge city such as New York. I’m not so sure.

Mamdani’s operation was close to flawless, propelling him from little-known state assembly member to Democratic Party nominee in months. He secured the right endorsements from prominent figures such as Alexandria Ocasio‑Cortez. And he raised large sums from small donors ― the average donation was about $80 ― and so avoided indebtedness to powerful interests.

His campaign focused on the affordability crisis in the city, proposing rent freezes, free transit systems and higher taxes on the wealthy. Such complex issues will not allow for simple solutions. As equally great cities like Paris and London have shown, however, there are plenty of interventions that are both pro-poor and pro-economy.

Mamdani has credited his parents for stimulating his interest in politics, and he may have imbued from his mother, the brilliant filmmaker Mira Nair, an intense sense of appearance. Like the most natural politicians, Mamdani has crafted a persona that appeals to a wide constituency. He engages seemingly effortlessly in a continuous self-narration, an autobiographical performance of that persona embedded in his daily conduct.

He has campaigned on complex and sensitive issues, including the conflict in Gaza, without making mistakes and without simply rehearsing talking notes prepared for him by others. This suggests ― to a degree more and more unusual among professional politicians ― that he understands what he is saying, even when he is traversing a political minefield.

His father, the Ugandan academic Mahmood Mamdani, once wrote a critique of Americans’ framing of Islam and Muslims, pointing out that it was US support for anti-Soviet campaigns in Afghanistan during the 1980s that gave birth to modern militant jihad. This had the merit of being true.

Mahmood senior’s most influential book, however, was Citizen and Subject,published in 1996. Drawing on his research in SA and Uganda, he argued that the legacy of colonialism lived on in a distinct form of state power. Colonial rule in Africa created a dual or “bifurcated” political system that separated people into urban citizens and rural subjects. In cities, colonial governments established a civil legal order resembling European political rights, accessible only to settlers and a narrow African elite. In rural areas, colonisers ruled indirectly through customary authorities — mostly chiefs who were appointed and empowered to enforce “tradition” and control local populations.

Mamdani’s conception of the bifurcated state has travelled beyond African studies, not because of its nuance and accuracy, each of which is questionable, but because of its intrinsic political appeal. Researchers and activists have found parallels in India, where colonial indirect rule through princely states and tribal areas produced enduring differentiated citizenship, for example, through scheduled tribes.

In Indonesia and Malaysia, customary law and “native” political authority ostensibly continue to shape local governance and group rights. In Latin America, colonial authorities have arguably maintained communal land systems and traditional leaders as instruments of rural control.

Bold scholars have even applied the concept to Israel and Palestine, suggesting that the legal differences between citizens and people under military occupation echo the divide between citizen and subject. And in the US, indigenous nations and racially segregated governance carry echoes of a similar bifurcation.

This is a powerful sentiment that the mayor-elect has tapped into. Many people intuitively understand the idea of a contemporary subjecthood, a bifurcated reality in which it is we who are the subordinate population lacking substantive citizenship. The young Mamdani may have inherited a formula for fighting back against right-wing populism.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Elections no longer secure democracy

ANTHONY BUTLER: Trivial elections and decline of electoral democracy

First published in Business Day

October 24, 2025

Anthony Butler

A voter holds a ballot paper during the country's general election at Thyolo District, south of Blantyre, Malawi, September 16, 2025. REUTERS/Stringer
A voter holds a ballot paper during the country’s general election at Thyolo District, south of Blantyre, Malawi, September 16, 2025. REUTERS/Stringer

The daily news from Donald Trump’s America has alerted people worldwide to the fragility of democratic regimes. The truth is that global democracy was already in sharp retreat.

The democratic ideal, celebrated in 1994 as SA transitioned to freedom, assumed a simple equation: prosperity begets democracy, and elections define democracy.

Yet as we survey the political landscape of 2025 the pillars that supported such optimism are crumbling. The Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) Project reveals a dire trend: 72% of the world’s population now live in autocracies, the highest number since 1978.

Countries such as China have become prosperous while remaining steadfastly autocratic, destroying the old confidence that development causes democratisation.

Elections occur more than before, but fewer of them are meaningful. Countries with huge populations such Indonesia and India have slipped into “electoral authoritarianism”: they hold elections, but incumbents rig the outcomes not by simple ballot box stuffing but rather by media capture and censorship, undermining election management bodies, weaponising tax and prosecuting authorities, repressing or banning civil society organisations and using social media to amplify manufactured polarisation.

Elections are historically recent devices that are increasingly unable to deliver government in the interests of the governed.

Ancient Athens, credited in the West as the birthplace of “rule by the people”, deliberately avoided elections for almost all roles, relying instead on random selection, which embodied equality and averted domination by entrenched elites.

Similarly, former president Nelson Mandela described the Thembu tribal meetings of his youth as “democracy in its purest form”, characterised by deliberation and consensus, where “majority rule was a foreign notion” and all men (if not women) were heard. These earlier systems focused on direct participation in the interest of the governed, not the selection of rulers through the ballot box.

When modern electoral systems did emerge they were driven by the impossibility of direct democracy in large societies. As the franchise expanded from wealthy males to the poor, political elites created safeguards to protect their property from redistribution: indirect elections, judicial review by conservative constitutional courts, independent central banks, and other instruments to frustrate popular agency.

We are seeing the rise of “democracy with Chinese characteristics” as a substitute for today’s shambolic but autonomous collective action. Under this model the state uses pervasive surveillance and data analytics to identify social grievances in real time, responding to them to maintain legitimacy without the cost and noise of democratic protest and campaigning.

While emerging AI technologies initially promised better governance, they are better still at spreading disinformation, manufacturing deepfakes and undermining trust in institutions. These technologies move faster than our capacity to regulate them. AI-powered anticipatory governance could soon harness big data and predictive analytics to prevent crises before they emerge, which risks bypassing public debate entirely.

A fightback for electoral democracy may be a long shot, but it is conceivable. Recent U-turns in countries such as Brazil and Poland demonstrate that autocratisation can be reversed. Key to these successes has been countering orchestrated disinformation, exposing corruption linked to strongman leaders and restoring the institutional infrastructure for meaningful elections.

The African continent faces unprecedented demographic growth alongside an unfolding climate change-induced collapse of livelihoods, which together will bring widespread, poorly planned urbanisation and politically destabilising population movements across borders.

SA is meanwhile seeing a sharp drop in electoral participation, with just four out of every 10 of the eligible voting age population participating in last year’s national elections.

It is a cruel fact that democracy is not an institution granted, but rather requires a constant state of defence and active participation if it is not to be lost just a few decades after it has been found.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

A president and a PM, at home and abroad

ANTHONY BUTLER: Ramaphosa excels as president but prime ministerial duties are lacking

While shining at UN General Assembly, at home he fails to address stagnant economy, failing municipalities and dodgy police leaders

First published in Business Day

26 September 2025

An SA president has to be both a president and a prime minister, because the country’s modified parliamentary system merges the roles of head of government and head of state into a single office.

As prime minister Cyril Ramaphosa is the head of the executive branch of government, chosen by and accountable to parliament and required to maintain the “confidence” of the legislature to remain in office. He sits at the apex of a centralised administrative system, controlling cabinet appointments, influencing budget allocations and wielding authority within the governing coalition. He also has to win elections on his party’s ticket.

Simultaneously he is the head of state, a role that in most parliamentary systems is held by a separate, often ceremonial, figure such as a monarch or a figurehead president. As head of state he has to rise above daily partisan politics to represent and speak for the entire nation.

These two roles sit uneasily together. The partisan and inherently divisive nature of a prime minister’s job repeatedly conflicts with the inclusive, unifying responsibilities of a president. A successful leader must navigate these tensions, but no postapartheid president has fully succeeded in this task.

Nelson Mandela was a president but not a prime minister, excelling at the symbolic, unifying presidential role but showing little interest in the administrative machinery of state, delegating those prime ministerial duties to his deputy, Thabo Mbeki.

Mbeki was the opposite: a prime minister but not a president. He expertly managed the state apparatus and policy process, but his political style was divisive and factional, and he failed to provide the unifying presidential leadership the country needed.

Jacob Zuma used his prime ministerial power to appoint cabinet members as a tool for patronage, disrupting the state for personal and factional goals. His presidential leadership was limited, appealing mainly to his provincial base and traditional leaders rather than the whole nation.

Ramaphosa has done his best to combine these roles with some dignity, rebuilding state institutions undermined by his predecessors and keeping his party together while also looking to provide unifying and symbolic leadership during crises such as the Covid-19 pandemic.

However, the tensions in SA’s political system become extreme when overlaid by a second challenge: a president has to lead overseas but also address crises at home. As Ramaphosa addressed the 80th UN General Assembly this week he cut a strikingly presidential figure, laying out his priorities for SA’s foreign policy: global justice, peace, trade, and UN reform.

He strongly condemned what he described as violations of international law in Gaza, Democratic Republic of Congo and Sudan, voiced concern over genocide findings, called for an end to a vindictive embargo on Cuba, and reiterated support for rights to self-determination.

He reminded listeners that climate change is an existential threat, highlighting how Africa, despite contributing little to the causes of climate change, suffers disproportionately from its effects. He sounded the alarm over cutbacks in international development assistance; collapsing health programmes; and weakened maternal, child and adolescent health indicators; and proclaimed that the world must “fight poverty, not wars”.

The strain between foreign commitments and domestic politics troubles leaders in almost all countries. Look at UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer, who can claim some remarkable achievements abroad — re-establishing relations with European partners and keeping the Trump administration onside — while confidence in his leadership has collapsed at home and his party is already scrabbling round to identify a new leader.

As president Ramaphosa was eloquent in New York. Back at home though, there was no prime minister to talk to the nation about a stagnant economy, municipalities that can no longer provide water and a police service leadership in whom the public has lost almost all residual trust.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Time for leadership turnover in the DA?

ANTHONY BUTLER: Whitfield debacle boosts DA activists who want leadership change

First published in Business Day and BusinessLive

04 July 2025

President Cyril Ramaphosa’s calculated and clinical firing of DA-affiliated deputy trade minister Andrew Whitfield brought only a mild financial market reaction. 

No professional observer of coalition governments worldwide is surprised when tensions escalate as elections draw closer. Coalition partners prioritise their own party’s identity and voter base, adopting distinct or populist positions to differentiate themselves. They distance themselves from unpopular policies.

Moreover, pre-election periods are times of intensified disagreement over budgets, appointments and key reforms. Coalition manoeuvres are usually calculated moves that reflect the shift from co-operation to competition as parties prepare to face voters alone. 

However, key DA leaders responded to Whitfield’s sacking with heart palpitations and pointless bluster. Federal leader John Steenhuisen, in particular, launched an ill-considered rhetorical fusillade and upped the stakes with a 48-hour ultimatum. This all ended with the damp squib of withdrawal from a national dialogue that has not even started. 

Federal council chair Helen Zille made matters worse by denying that Whitfield’s private, party-sponsored mission required permission. Why then did Whitfield write to ask for permission, or apologise after the event for going without Ramaphosa’s agreement? After all, Whitfield was reportedly part of a DA delegation that engaged with senior US officials regarding SA-US relations.  

The Whitfield debacle will strengthen the hand of DA activists who believe the topmost leadership of the party needs to change at the DA’s elective federal congress, due to be held in April 2026. 

Steenhuisen was an excellent parliamentary leader and he has been a decent minister, but recent events have highlighted his limitations. Zille is enormously accomplished, but she is a polarising figure who antagonises not only her own activists but also potential coalition partners.

The pivotal position she holds as federal council chair surely requires a lower key figure in the mould of long-term former incumbent James Selfe. Many DA activists hope Zille will depart to contest the Johannesburg mayoral seat, where her rebarbative qualities could be more fruitfully employed. 

DA delegates might well face a choice between two candidates for the federal leadership in April: communication minister Solly Malatsi and Cape Town mayor Geordin Hill-Lewis.  

Malatsi has been in the DA for 20 years, and in parliament for a decade. His messaging offers a welcome contrast to wordy and rambling leaders such as Steenhuisen, former federal leader Mmusi Maimane, or basic education minister Siviwe Gwarube. For his part, Hill-Lewis has accomplished much — and been a brilliant communicator — as mayor. 

Coalition politics is a long game. In the natural cycle of a coalition government it is likely that the existing coalition will dissolve under pressure as the demands of maintaining support, managing defections and preparing for future elections escalate. Disputes between parties are inevitable in a coalition. As time passes and the next election approaches, the incentive to emphasise difference over cohesion will only grow.  

We may even find the unity government dissolving. Confidence-and-supply agreements, in which smaller parties support the government on key votes and keep the president in office, are not impossible. A minority ANC government, backed by legislative agreements or informal pacts, in which parties work together to pass specific pieces of legislation, is also quite conceivable. 

In such circumstances party leaders need cool heads. Moreover, parties such as the DA have strong reason to avoid the alienation of potential future partners, and to strive to retain the trust of their activists and voters. All of this would be easier without the baggage — and the temperamental shortcomings — Steenhuisen and Zille bring to coalition politics. 

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Thinking long term about coalition government

ANTHONY BUTLER: GNU parties should beware myopic short-term pact

Coalition partners will need to stick together and learn from one another

12 JULY 2024 – 05:00

First published in Business Day

by ANTHONY BUTLER

As post-election euphoria subsides, the underlying character and longer-term prospects of the GNU are attracting interest. Is the current coalition government here to stay?

The answer may simply be that this is up to the bigger parties involved. At the core of GNU it remains a coalition between the ANC and DA, with the IFP — and other small party participants — that make the whole enterprise regionally and racially credible.

The bigger parties may decide to treat the coalition instrumentally, as a mechanism to protect their vote shares, enhance their public profiles and secure public office for their leaders in the short term.

As the 2026 local government elections approach, party leaders may choose to minimise the immediate electoral costs of the elite pact they have struck, deploy divisive public relations strategies that belittle coalition partners, and focus on boosting their individual vote shares.

After all, the default position of political parties, especially larger ones, is to stay the same. Large organisations find change painful because foundational values infuse everything they do, party elites are tied into intricate regional and ideological power balances, and links to key constituencies and donors have made the party what it is.

Party success and endurance has often relied on an ability to channel resources such as jobs and public services to particular constituencies, or on a dogmatic assertion of anachronistic ideological nostrums.

Political parties sadly resemble football clubs — with managers, players, funders and fans symbolically fused into a happy mob — rather more closely than they resemble repositories of wisdom and the rational calculation of interests.

While a short-term pact between football teams is the easiest way forward for the GNU parties, such an approach would be shortsighted. The idea of sufficient consensus between the ANC and the DA that underpins the current coalition will not survive very long. By providing an effective veto to the DA, it will antagonise smaller parties as conflicts over policy choices escalate.

The major opposition parties that remain outside the charmed circle, notably the MK party and the EFF, already account for a quarter of seats in the National Assembly. Once they learn how to work together and fuse their electoral offerings they will pose a growing challenge.

To fight off this anti-constitutionalist menace, parties in the GNU should stick together — but also to change. With all due deference to party leaders’ sensitive feelings, this process must start with a recognition of failure. Fewer than one in three of the eligible voting age population actually turned out for the two parties — ANC and DA together — at end-May.

The ANC has become addicted to patronage as a tool of political management, even as the power brokers it creates have generated insurgent factions that now threaten to destroy it.

The DA remains in deep denial about its image as a white-centred party, attributing this representation to an antagonistic media, confused citizens and the alleged bitterness of former black party leaders who have left.

Coalition government institutions, properly designed, can help struggling leaders face up to their deficiencies and begin to overcome them. As long-term partners the ANC and IFP can help the DA reconsider how it looks to those who do not trust it. The DA and the IFP can meanwhile assist the ANC to overcome its enduring legacy of struggle accounting.

It would be sad if the GNU was just a short-term stopgap. If it is to be more than that, the parties involved need to adopt attitudes — and create institutional mechanisms — that allow them to learn from, as well as advise, one another.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Why manifestos matter

ANTHONY BUTLER: Promises, promises: it’s party manifesto season again

Three reasons to read manifestos — but cautiously and in full recognition of their limitations

26 JANUARY 2024

First published in Business Day

As SA enters party manifesto season, many of the journalists and academics who are paid to study politics have been wondering whether they really need to read them.       

After all, only a tiny minority of citizens ever leaf through the pages of a manifesto. Party platforms tend to be long on good intentions but short on detail. Because they are the outcome of internal party compromises, they contain promises that the party does not intend to keep and goals it does not know how to realise.

Campaigning politicians understandably tell electors what they want to hear. They run into trouble pretty quickly when they write down what they really think. In one famous cautionary tale from 1983, the endearing but shambolic leader of Britain’s Labour Party, Michael Foot, decided to incorporate the actual policy resolutions adopted at the party’s national conference into the manifesto.

These included unilateral nuclear disarmament, higher taxes, withdrawal from the European Community and widespread nationalisation. One of the party’s MPs described the manifesto as “the longest suicide note in history”. This judgment proved correct on election day.

For its part, the ANC has a dangerous habit of setting out some concrete goals. Its 2019 manifesto, for example, promised that freight would be shifted from road to rail, clean water would reach all citizens, local government finances would be transformed and “decisive action” would be taken against corruption. In the light of what actually transpired we can expect clear targets to be replaced by vague generalities this year.

Rise Mzansi has already got our manifesto season off to a hilarious start. There is much to admire about the new movement and its leader. But the party for some reason insists that its manifesto was written by the people themselves — “an outcome of almost a year of listening and discussion with hundreds of communities across our land”. It is not clear who is expected to believe this claim.

Despite their limitations, we should nonetheless read manifestos. First, citizens view an election win as a “mandate” for implementing a manifesto. While this claim is problematic — voters can choose only one party and they may not agree with all of its policies — this is a key element of democracy.

Second, manifestos are important benchmarks for accountability. Given citizens’ short attention spans and politicians’ unreliable memories, a party platform is essential for assessing if a party has done what it promised — or anywhere close. Door-to-door campaigning and targeted social media communications now allow differentiated campaign messages — or lies — to be disseminated to individual voters.

There is a shift under way in democratic societies towards strategic deception. The traditional media can no longer perform their traditional role as gatekeeper of the truth because of the volume of information on social media platforms and a decline in citizens’ deference to expert and media authority. A manifesto document is now the only place in which the party’s values and central policy can be explored by all citizens together.

Third, there is evidence that the stability of coalitions is related to the policy congruence of the parties that make it up. In the possible absence of a majority victor this May, party manifestos — once they are appropriately interpreted — are an important tool for predicting the likelihood of enduring coalitions.

We evidently need to read manifestos cautiously and in full recognition of their limitations. Some parties do not seem to believe what they say — who believes the DA’s policies on social grants and public health, for example? Other parties offer no indication whatsoever that they know how to accomplish their supposed goals (the EFF?).

However, citizens remain capable of making a judgment about the credibility of such parties’ manifesto pledges.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.