Tag: philosophy

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Dangers of AI training

ANTHONY BUTLER | What if AI trains using Mbeki’s speeches?

Argument in a report by former president’s foundation ignores the real issues

First published in Business Day and BusinessLive

1 October 2026

Amid all the brouhaha about the threat that Artificial Intelligence (AI) poses to the future of human life, one even more frightening prospect has hitherto been overlooked. Rather than killing us, AI may instead subject us in perpetuity to the eternal guidance of large language models trained on the collected speeches and writings of former president Thabo Mbeki.

This terrifying spectre has been raised by the Thabo Mbeki Foundation’s release of a new report entitled The United States of America and the Future of Afrikaners in South Africa.

A pithy 123 pages long, and so relatively condensed for a contribution to the Mbeki oeuvre, the paper reinterprets the current disputes between the two countries as a manifestation of the “national question” in both countries.

In Mbeki’s usage, the national question refers to the resolution of colonial conquest’s legacy by freeing the dispossessed indigenous majority and building one united, non-racial nation where race no longer determines wealth or opportunity. The basic parallel the report draws is that the US has faced its own national question exhibited in slavery, segregation and the continuing socioeconomic marginalisation of Black Americans.

From this perspective, the Foundation argues that it is historically inconsistent for Washington to demand that SA abandon racial redress only three decades after 1994 when the US continued to use affirmative-action and other remedial policies long after emancipation.

This is not a very good argument, of course, which is one reason we can speculate that Mbeki played a personal role in the preparation of the report.

There is further evidence of Mbeki’s hand in accounts of transition era negotiations with Constand Viljoen which seem to be presented from his personal perspective, and the text slips into the first person singular when describing Mbeki’s interactions with Inkatha Freedom Party leader Mangosuthu Buthlezi.

To its credit, the foundation assembles empirical material to contest American misconceptions about SA, deploying the analyses of notable Afrikaners Frans Cronje and Herman Giliomee to argue that Afrikaner living standards rose faster between 1994 and 2004 than during any comparable 20-year period since 1945.

This certainly suggests that a genocide or persecution narrative cannot plausibly describe the socioeconomic condition of Afrikaners as a whole (but then we all knew that already).

The report then veers rather alarmingly in an Mbekian direction by equating the building of Afrikaner community institutions with a revival of apartheid-style “separate development”. It also speculates that the current US administration has aligned itself with a “white supremacist faction” in SA, citing as evidence US connections of Solidarity and AfriForum, the refugee programme, and opposition to land reform. There is evidence for each element of this narrative, it is true, but this does not amount to proof of such an alignment.

For now, Mbeki Foundation’s work still clearly draws on Mbeki’s intellect rather than on AI. A sophisticated language model would usefully have placed more weight on Trump’s domestic political coalition, US polarisation over racial preferences, immigration politics, evangelical and conservative networks, SA foreign policy with regard to China and Iran, US commercial interests, and SA’s involvement in the International Court of Justice against the government of Israel – all matters elided by Mbeki’s abstract and characteristically paranoid theoretical generalisations.

It is therefore essential that any future global AI safety plan prohibits the training of language models on archival materials gathered by the Mbeki Foundation. In the centuries ahead, when human beings send robots between the stars in fleets of interstellar rockets, we cannot take the risk that their interactions with alien civilisations will be mediated by Mbeki-trained embodied AI. Such robots will surely antagonise Daleks, Vulcans and Klingons by presenting reports about how to avert threats to the national democratic revolution, and by ruminating at great length on the application of the national question to human-alien relations

Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town

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Fruits of GNU

ANTHONY BUTLER | Coalition government reshapes ANC’s constitutional stance

GNU reasserts communitarian values that are threatened in these polarising and populist times

First published in Business Day

September 03, 2026

The end of the year will be marked not just by local government elections but also by the mid-point of the government of national unity. GNU is approaching an accountability phase, because enough time will soon have passed for voters to make considered judgements about its performance. That makes late 2026 and 2027 a particularly revealing period for coalition stability and positioning ahead of 2029.

So far, citizens seem to have embraced the idea of coalition government quite readily while at the same time expressing growing unhappiness with the GNU’s execution of policy.

Many political observers have meanwhile adopted a cynical interpretation of GNU, viewing it as essentially a coalition between the African National Congress (ANC) and the Democratic Alliance (DA), which between them hold more than enough seats to form a government. The function of the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), on this account, is primarily to obscure the true nature of the coalition. The other seven parties are there mostly to dilute the influence of the DA.

There are, however, also positive interpretations of the role that the GNU is performing in the political system. First, it tentatively reaffirms an ideal of societal unity that has been in danger of dissipating under the pressures of economic stagnation, government dysfunction, and enduring inequality. A unity once embodied in SA churches and in the ANC itself has dissolved, whereas GNU reasserts communitarian values that are threatened in today’s polarising and populist times.

Second, the GNU holds out the possibility not just of respecting but also of changing the constitution. The ANC, DA and IFP together fall just short of the two-thirds majority needed for constitutional change; the GNU parties together, in contrast, command more than 70% of national assembly seats.

A range of intractable problems have been posed by the growing dysfunction of the local government sphere, not least in the distribution of electricity and water services and the collection of user charges and property taxes. A successor GNU may well be a necessary precondition for constitutional changes that will be needed to resolve these key challenges.

Third, GNU has established a degree of rational economic policy consensus, in large measure through the self-exclusion of the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) and the MK Party from participation. The EFF argued that it could not enter government with parties that opposed large scale land expropriation without compensation, and the nationalisation of mines and large businesses. The MK also portrayed GNU as a grand coalition designed to preserve existing economic power rather than transform it.

Fourth, the GNU has brought together the major parties that remain broadly committed to the post-1994 constitutional settlement, while leaving outside government the two parties — MK and the EFF — that have mounted the most sustained challenges to constitutional supremacy.

MK’s 2024 manifesto proposed a referendum to scrap the 1996 Constitution which it views as a colonial settlement that gives excessive power to unelected institutions. The EFF’s manifesto, for its part, proposed substantial constitutional restructuring, including abolishing the provincial sphere and moving towards a unitary state. More recent discussion documents question constitutional supremacy itself.

In all these ways the GNU may have permanently changed the ANC itself. The liberation movement has always enjoyed a decidedly ambivalent relationship with both economic orthodoxy and constitutionalism. Prominent ANC figures have often criticised “neo-liberal economics”, constitutional supremacy, and judicial power, particularly when financial markets and courts have constrained governments. GNU is significant because it has pulled the ANC towards a more explicitly constitutionalist and economically orthodox position, even though the parties in the GNU continue to disagree profoundly on specific policy choices.

Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town

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Post-truth democracies

ANTHONY BUTLER: Popular instinct rises against elite judgment in post-truth world

First published in Business Day

January 23, 2026

US President Donald Trump speaks during the 56th annual World Economic Forum meeting in Davos, Switzerland, January 21 2026. (Picture: DENIS BALIBOUSE/Reuters)

When Donald Trump addressed world leaders at the World Economic Forum in Davos on Wednesday it felt like the much-heralded “post-truth” world had truly arrived.

The US president strung together a litany of demonstrably false claims, such as that the US “gave Greenland back” to Denmark after World War 2 (it had never become US territory) and that there are no wind farms in China (it generates more wind energy than any other country).

But none of this is entirely new. As the historian Sophia Rosenfeld has observed, democracy has always been about who decides what is true. Representative democracy embodies the promise that citizens, drawing on their lived experience and common sense, can collectively judge what is right and good.

Governing complex societies requires specialised knowledge, such as a mastery of statistics, law and economics, which must be generated and interpreted by experts. Citizens bring values and practical insight to democracy; elites filter information, weigh evidence and transform competing ideas and claims into feasible policies. Democracy does not capitulate to expertise, but it cannot dispense with it either.

For much of the history of Western democracy popular participation grew while states created professional public services, universities trained experts and ostensibly objective methods for justifying policy, such as statistical analysis, acquired the appearance of neutrality.

This settlement always carried the seeds of its own destruction. Whenever knowledge becomes purely technical and self-referential the ability to participate in debate narrows and decisions are taken without popular engagement.

In populist counterreactions, citizens reject the monopolisation of truth by elites and reclaim a place for common sense and ordinary judgment. This can widen participation and break the spell of elite and expert complacency, but it can easily slide into contempt for knowledge, the treatment of evidence as manipulation and the castigation of experts and expertise.

The contemporary “post-truth” moment in the West is therefore not an unprecedented collapse of reason but rather the breakdown of a long-standing and unstable balance. Today’s struggle over what Rosenfeld calls “epistemic authority” — who decides what counts as fact — is worsened by social media’s circulation of information, stripped of context, while algorithms reward novelty, outrage and tribal loyalty.

All democracies, not just Western ones, are vulnerable to “epistemic breakdown”: distrust of institutions, populist suspicion of experts and competing truth claims. Even in the Thembu tribal meetings of Nelson Mandela’s youth, where “all men were to be heard and a decision was taken together as a people”, there was an elite side to the epistemic bargain. The regent would sum up what had been said and form a “consensus” among the diverse opinions. Democracy survives only if truth is filtered, stabilised and institutionalised.

Elites and experts have to accept that knowledge without legitimacy will cause a backlash. Citizens must recognise that popular common sense without evidence and expertise invites manipulation. Democracy fails when either becomes predominant; it survives only when a precarious balance between them is maintained.

The greatest challenge for all democracies — and perhaps especially for newer democracies in middle-income countries such as South Africa — is that the factors that disrupt the uneasy balance between elite judgment and popular instinct are not easy to control or change.

We can in principle regulate social media and contain the potential threats posed by fresh technological developments such as AI. But declining trust in institutions, resentment of elites and the circulation of conspiracies all feed on deeper social divisions, including economic inequality and exclusion from meaningful citizenship.

When material divides widen, institutions lose credibility and become deeply detached from expert knowledge. When citizens inhabit dramatically different material worlds, it becomes impossible to sustain a shared account of reality and expertise starts to look like privilege hiding behind a different name.

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

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Undesirable leaders

ANTHONY BUTLER: No avoiding the glut of putrid political leaders

Does power attract twisted personalities, or does it turn decent people into monsters?

First published in Business Day

January 09, 2026

'Failed politicians never go away. At best they linger and whinge. At worst they re-invent themselves and return to power.'
Power-hungry individuals are certainly drawn to high office, craving status, recognition and control. (123RF/prazis )

As citizens embark on this year’s political journey, they must reckon with the disconcertingly wide array of unappealing political leaders worldwide.

According to contrarian political scientist Brian Klaas, three character traits are widespread among such leaders. The first is Machiavellianism, defined by scheming and interpersonal manipulation.

Machiavellians use deceit, fabrication and inflated credentials to secure positions of authority, and they treat colleagues as pawns rather than human beings.

A second trait is psychopathy — an inability to feel empathy — which is accompanied by impulsivity, recklessness and aggression. Psychopaths can ascend to political office by employing superficial charm: they do not react to the pain of others, but they can mimic empathy to manipulate those they intend to exploit.

Psychopaths’ brains are inactive in regions associated with moral decision-making, allowing them to view people as tools rather than as human beings, facilitating amoral choices, and reducing hesitation when committing monstrous acts.

The third trait, narcissism, is characterised by arrogance and grandiosity. Narcissists are disproportionately drawn to power because they possess an inflated sense of entitlement and seek constant fawning from subordinates. Because they are so confident, they fail to recognise their own incompetence until the system they lead suffers catastrophic failure.

Attracting the corruptible

Why are such traits so widespread among political leaders? Do positions of great power attract twisted personalities, or does political power turn decent people into monsters? As Klaas puts it, does power corrupt, or does it simply attract the corruptible?

Power-hungry individuals are certainly drawn to high office, craving status, recognition and control. They may be unusually effective at navigating party selection processes and political campaigns. Their superficial charm makes them appear likeable and competent, and they are willing to fabricate credentials or lie about their past. They project a sense of certainty easily mistaken for competence.

Humans are hardwired to favour leaders who project strength, masculinity and dominance, which were survival advantages on the prehistoric savanna but can be irrelevant or dangerous today. These archaic biases persist, leading to an irrational preference for physically imposing men — a shirtless Vladimir Putin comes to mind — during perceived security threats, which can be fabricated.

Power also changes incumbents, however humbly their careers may begin. Psychologist Dacher Keltner has shown that gaining power can shift one’s cognitive orientation from cautious to proactive and risk-oriented. Powerful individuals come to believe, wrongly, they can control outcomes, which results in flawed risk assessments and ultimately gambling with people’s lives.

Moreover, as people feel more powerful, they lose social inhibitions, eat impulsively, drive recklessly or engage in sexual affairs, because they no longer worry what others think of them.

Most important of all, even decent political leaders face “dirty hands” problems — moral dilemmas in which they must commit unprincipled acts to achieve a greater moral good.

Machiavellians and narcissists can do wrong easily, untroubled by conscience, but the dilemma has also confronted moral leaders throughout history.

Winston Churchill allowed the HMAS Sydney to be sunk by Nazi forces to protect the secret that the Enigma codes had been cracked, sacrificing lives that could have been saved to help win the wider war.

Abraham Lincoln used bribery to secure the passage of the 13th Amendment, acting dishonestly to end the greater evil of slavery.

Less grandly, and more ubiquitously, politicians everywhere make trades with nefarious funders whose backing is required to win elections. In middle-income countries such as SA, such disturbing moral calculations are routine.

Ultimately, the public expects politicians to be principled, but leaders must perform unprincipled acts to survive and, perhaps, to preserve society.

What appears to be a corrosion of character is frequently just the weight of governing in an inherently immoral situation.

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