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June 2002
Dear Friends,
As South Africa and other countries across the continent struggle
to nurture fragile democratic institutions, one of the continuing
challenges is to create space for greater popular participation
in policy formation.
When I arrived in Cape Town four years ago, in the final year
of South Africa’s first democratic government, public officials
were justifiably proud of the great strides that had been made
in opening up the country’s institutions to input from all
sectors of society. "The doors of Parliament are open!"
was more than just a slogan. For over one hundred years, the vast
majority of South Africa’s population had been actively excluded
from the corridors of power. The doors of the Parliamentary committee
chambers, where most of the real legislative work is conducted,
had been firmly bolted to outsiders. All this had changed. Civil
society representatives, journalists, monitoring organisations,
and other members of the public were free to come and go at virtually
all Parliamentary meetings. Invariably, I encountered a dozen
or more observers at every committee meeting I attended. I was
often thrilled to come across groups of school children—sometimes
even church or community groups—touring Parliament, sitting
in on debates, and gaining a sense that this was truly their
government.
So it was startling to be refused admission to Parliament this
week, however briefly. I had arrived to attend two meetings: one
at which the Defence Committee was discussing control of the sale
and transit of conventional arms, the other at which I was to
join colleagues in making a presentation to parliamentarians on
the proposed Basic Income Grant, which has the potential to reduce
dramatically the incidence of extreme poverty. "Sorry, no
visitors allowed," a security officer at one of the two main
entrances to Parliament told me flatly. I queried this with no
small degree of astonishment. He was adamant. A protracted scene
unfolded, during which the crowd of excluded observers grew to
such an extent it began to clog the doorway, blocking the entry
of parliamentary staff (who had only to flash their identity badges
to gain admittance). In desperation, several of us trekked to
the other entrance to try our luck there. Although we were initially
sent back to the first entrance (as it was much closer to the
relevant committee rooms), we explained the situation and were
eventually allowed into the building—a half an hour later
than anticipated.
I tell this story not to suggest that South Africa has abandoned
its commitment to democratic participation. In South Africa, as
in other parts of the world, security concerns have assumed increased
importance since September. I doubt there was anything more sinister
to this incident than yet another short-lived attempt to implement
impractical security arrangements, coupled with some spectacularly
poor communication between top security officials and the functionaries
responsible for administering the system. (It must be said that
I experienced no further problems later in the week, though I
did make a point of sticking to the "friendlier" entrance.)
Besides, the obstacles to genuine public participation are far
more daunting than overly-officious parliamentary doorkeepers.
But the episode illustrates two important points. First, there
is an ongoing tension between continuity and change in South Africa’s
approach to public administration. On one hand, laws and policies
have been radically overhauled in a number of key areas. On the
other, many of the civil servants responsible for executing these
new directives remain the same, and their adherence to old perspectives
and methods often act as a brake on effective implementation.
In some cases, they have even transmitted their views to more
recent appointees.
Second, the success of efforts to expand public participation
and accountability in policy-making depend both on the effectiveness
of institutions and on popular confidence in them. Even where
governments take seriously the need to create opportunities for
public input, the initiative can fail if people lack either the
resources or the inclination to use them. People can easily be
discouraged from taking advantage of new opportunities if they
feel that they are encountering a "business as usual"
approach.
This latter concern is particularly relevant with regard to the
growing debate around the New Partnership for Africa’s Development
(NEPAD). NEPAD is an ambitious set of political and economic proposals
intended to kick-start development across the continent. It is
an amalgamation of ideas that emerged more or less simultaneously
from several of Africa’s new generation of leaders, particularly
the presidents of South Africa, Senegal and Nigeria. It purports
to be a "homegrown" set of principles and programmes
designed to foster peace, better and more accountable governance,
regional cooperation, fairer trade, and a climate conducive to
international private investment and economic growth. These are
seen as essential steps to enable African nations to achieve the
globally-shared goal of halving poverty by the year 2015. The
plan formed the basis of discussions between selected African
leaders and the heads of industrialised nations at this week’s
G8 Summit in Canada, a meeting where Africa was to be at the top
of the agenda (at least until President Bush’s astonishing
speech on the Middle East stole the limelight).
Churches, labour unions, and other civil society organisations
have given NEPAD very mixed reviews. Many have praised the plan
for putting Africa back on the agenda and for drawing attention
to the devastating impact that globalisation and skewed terms
of trade have had on ordinary people across the continent. NEPAD’s
proposals for conflict resolution and governance have also been
seen as promising. However, many groups have been extremely critical
of the economic model underlying the plan, which they see as a
thinly-veiled rehash of the disastrous prescriptions foisted upon
so many developing nations by international financial institutions
over the past decades. These emphasise deregulation and integration
of markets, privatisation of state resources, a diminished developmental
role for the state.
But the aspect of the plan that has drawn the most fire is the
lack of broad consultation in its formulation. A discussion document
on NEPAD adopted last month by South African churches notes: "Local
communities and civil society organisations had no meaningful
opportunities to influence the development of NEPAD’s process
or content. This illustrates the problematic trend in the ‘globalised’
world for major national and international priorities to be decided
by elite groups using opaque, unaccountable processes that bypass
democratic institutions…. The issue is not whether a particular
group or social sector was consulted; it is about the strategic
orientation and content of NEPAD. In its current form, NEPAD is
not informed by the lived experience, the needs and knowledge
of the communities who are meant to benefit from its new vision
for Africa’s development. There can be no sustainable development
without the informed participation of the communities affected."
If NEPAD, or any national development initiative, is to succeed,
it must provide meaningful opportunities for people to articulate
their needs and interests, to share their "lived experience"
in ways that can shape the policies and priorities of national
institutions. And it must ensure that people perceive these forums
as genuinely open and responsive to their input. This is not a
simple task, but its very difficulty increases the need to take
it seriously.
In South Africa, the signs are by no means as gloomy as my opening
tale might imply. Indeed, following my disheartening run-in with
security, the day improved markedly. At the Defence Committee
meeting, the chair encouraged her committee to take its oversight
role seriously, posing challenging questions to the civil servants
who had responsible for preparing the legislation under consideration
and insisting that they revise several sections with which the
committee was unsatisfied. Significantly, she also invited an
outsider, the head of a civil society arms control organisation,
to take part in the discussion and the drafting. At the second
meeting with one of the Social Development committees, we found
members of parliament who were eager to hear the positions of
civil society representatives and to engage the research we presented.
But the struggle, as they say, continues. Even in South Africa,
one of the continent’s most affluent (and economically unequal)
nations, the effort that the vast majority of people must expend
to meet their basic needs for food, clothing, and shelter leaves
little time or energy for political participation. Tackling poverty
remains the top imperative.
Salani khahle,
Doug Tilton
The 2002 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 46
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